Not for an instant did the searching eyes of Richard leave the young Knight's face.
"Why do you prefer the Boar of Gloucester to the Stafford Knot? Buckingham is most puissant."
"A De Lacy, my lord," answered Aymer proudly, "follows none but Plantagenet."
"Bravely spoken," said Gloucester, suddenly dropping his stern air, "and worthy of the great name you bear. I accept your sword. Nay, kneel not, sir; Richard Plantagenet deems himself most fortunate to have you at his side."
At that moment the arras was drawn aside and a young and slender woman entered. Her gown was black, unrelieved by any color, save the girdle of gold; her face was almost flawless in its symmetry; her complexion was of a wondrous whiteness; and her eyes, of the deepest blue, soft and melting, and shaded by lashes long and heavy, were of the sort that bespeak the utmost confidence and know no guile. She hesitated as she saw De Lacy and was about to withdraw when the Duke glanced around.
"Nay, sweetheart," said he, rising and going toward her; "do not retire. … Sir Aymer de Lacy, I present you to the Duchess of Gloucester."
De Lacy advanced and sinking upon one knee touched his lips to the hand she extended to him.
"Surely, Sir Knight," she said, in a voice whose sweetness struck even his Southern-bred ear, "a De Lacy should ever be welcome in the halls of Pontefract."
"Your words, most gracious lady," answered Aymer, "are almost those used by my lord, the Duke, and to a wanderer's heart they are very grateful."
"You are an errant, then; a Sir Guy or Sir Lancelot," said the Duchess.