THE CAPTURED FAVOR

St. George's day was dropping into night. Since early morning the
castle had been busy in the various ceremonies with which mediaeval
England observed the feast of her patron Saint; the garrison had been
paraded and inspected; the archers had shot for a gold bugle, and the
men-at-arms had striven for a great two-handed sword; there had been
races on foot and on horseback, and feats of strength and wrestling
bouts; and the Duke himself had presided at the sports and distributed
the prizes.

It was almost sundown when the last contest was over and the great
crowd of spectators that had congregated within the outer bailey began
to disperse. Richard had dismissed his attendants, with the exception
of Ratcliffe, and leaning on the latter's arm he sauntered slowly
across the stone-paved courtyard toward the keep.

"Methinks," said De Wilton, as he and De Lacy followed at some
distance, "that the order we have so long expected must come to-morrow.
And I, for one, shall be well content; it is many a long day since I
saw London."

"Why so certain of to-morrow?" De Lacy asked.

"Because if His Grace intend to be present at the coronation, he may
dally here no longer. . . Say you not so, Dacre?" as the latter joined
them.

"Verily, yes," said Dacre, "and I have already directed my squire to
prepare for the journey. Marry! it will be a joyous time in London."