"Nought, nought," replied Dyram. "You know the terms, and can take or reject them as you think fit. If you like them well, sir knight, and would have your innocence of the crime laid to you proved beyond all doubt--if you would save your friend too, you have nought to do but seek out this fair maiden. She is not far, I am right sure--and if you but bring her in your hand to me, I will condescend to accept her as my wife, and set you free of all calumny. You struck me once, Richard of Woodville. You cannot expect that I should forget that bitter jest, without a bitter atonement."
"Send him away, Sir John, I do beseech you," cried Woodville, warmly. "My temper will not long hold out; and I shall strike him again."
"Ho, without there!" cried Sir John Grey. "Take this man away, Edmond, and put gyves upon him. Have him watched night and day; for I now know who he is; and a more dangerous knave there does not live. He will escape if Satan's own cunning can effect it."
"Well, you know the terms," said Ned Dyram, turning his head as two of the soldiers drew him away by the arms. "Think better of it, noble knights. Ha, ha, ha! What a story to tell, that the fair fame of Sir Harry Dacre, and the life of Sir Richard of Woodville, both mighty men of war, should depend upon one word of poor Ned Dyram!" and with this scoff he was led away.
Dacre paused in silence, leaning his brow thoughtfully upon his hand; and Richard of Woodville for several moments conversed with Sir John Grey in a low tone.
"Ay, you may well think it strange, Richard," said the elder knight aloud, "that I, who at one time was taught to fancy this girl your paramour, should suddenly place such trust in her, as to let her follow her will in all things, and put means at her disposal to effect whatever she thought fit. But do you see that ring?" and he pointed to a circle of gold set with a large sapphire on his finger; "it is a record, Richard, of a quality, which in her race, though it be a humble one, is hereditary. I mean gratitude. I once rescued from injury the wife of a good soldier, named Brune, the son of one of Northumberland's minstrels. 'Twas but a trifling service which any knight would have rendered to a woman in distress; but that good man, her husband, in gratitude for this simple act, sacrificed his own life to save mine. It was on Shrewsbury field twelve long years ago; and when I left him with the enemy on every side, I gave him that ring, in the hope that he might still escape; but he was already sorely wounded in defending me; and ere he died he sent it as a last gift to his daughter. When I saw it by mere accident, and heard that daughter tell her feelings towards you, I recognised the spirit of her race; and had it cost me half the lands I had just recovered, she should not have wanted means to carry out her plan for serving you. What now?" he continued, turning to one of his attendants, who entered.
"The King, sir knight, desires your presence instantly, to consult with Sir Thomas of Erpingham for the ordering of tomorrow's battle."
"I come," replied Sir John Grey; and then turning to Richard of Woodville, he added, "This is fortunate; perchance what I have to tell him this night, may make him somewhat soften the strictness of his orders." Thus speaking, he withdrew, leaving Richard of Woodville alone with Sir Harry Dacre.