An hour later, after the repast was served, the trumpet gave the signal for departure. As De Lacy stepped forward to hold the stirrup, Richard waved him aside, and putting one hand on his horse's wither, vaulted easily into place.
"Look to the ladies!" he called; "and do you, Sir Aymer, escort the Countess of Clare. It is meet that the King of the Bow should attend upon his Queen."
Then dropping his tones, so that they were audible only to De Lacy, he said with a familiar earnestness: "And if you do not turn the kerchief to advantage, you deserve no further aid."
Reining over beside the Queen, he motioned for the others to follow and dashed off toward Windsor. In a trice they were gone, and, save for the servants, the Countess and De Lacy were alone.
She was standing beside Wilda waiting to be put up, and when Aymer tried to apologize for the delay, she stopped him.
"It was no fault of yours," she said—then added archly, head turned half aside: "and you must blame Richard Plantagenet for being left with me."
"Blame him?" he exclaimed, lifting her slowly—very slowly—into saddle… "Blame him! … Do you think I call it so?" and fell to arranging her skirt, and lingering over it so plainly that the Countess smiled in unreserved amusement. Yet she did not hurry him. And when he had dallied as long as he thought he dared, he stole a quick glance upward—and she let him see the smile.
"Am I very clumsy?" he asked, swinging up on Selim.
She waited until they had left the clearing and the grooms behind them and were among the great tall trees:
"Surely not … only very careful," she said teasingly.