Beatrix of Clare

by John Reed Scott

"The Countess of Clare."

"Beatrix! You have found her?" De Bury cried.

"No—not her; but her abductor."

"And he is hereabouts?"

De Lacy shook his head. "He is with the army."

"Then in God's Name, why are you at Pontefract?"

"Easy, Sir John, easy," Aymer answered, his hand on the other's shoulder. "Do you think I would be in Yorkshire if Beatrix were not there, also?"—and forthwith he plunged into a narrative of the events from his encounter with Darby at Sheffield to the death of Buckingham.

"A pretty scheme of Darby's, truly," Sir John commented; "and the dog has played it well. He has nerve uncommon so to brave the royal Richard in his very Court. It is well for you there was no battle, or onfall even, else would you have got an arrow or a sword thrust from behind… Now as to Beatrix; is she at Roxford?"

"There or at Kirkstall Abbey."

"True enough; and a most likely place to conceal her the instant Darby was suspected."