"It is hardly fitting, Sire," she said, choosing an arrow, "that I should both contribute the prize and contest for it."
Then Sir Aymer spoke, bowing low: "May it please Your Majesty, I am your leal subject, yet I shall not shoot at yonder mark unless the Countess of Clare consent."
She gave him a grateful look.
"I thank you, Sir Aymer, for the courtesy," she said… "Shoot and welcome;" and she stepped to the draw line.
It may have been that she was careless, or that the scene had made her nervous, for while her first two arrows struck the blanc truly as before, the third went a finger's length above it. With a shrug she turned away, and loosing the string leaned on the long stave, waiting.
De Lacy had purposed letting her defeat him by a margin so slender as not to seem intentional, but catching the dark eyes of the King fixed on him with sharp significance, he understood that he was to win if he could. So he drew with care, and pierced the kerchief thrice.
De Lacy received the bit of lace from the page and proffered it to the Countess.
"It is quite destroyed," he said. "I am sorry."
She laughed lightly. "You owe me no apologies, and need feel no regret. You won it honestly—and I accept it now as a gift; a guerdon of your prowess and your courtesy."
He bowed; and as his glance sought the King, the latter nodded, ever so lightly, in approval.