"Not so, Sir John," he insisted. "Do you remain quiet; I know the way
to the courtyard."

"It grieves me sore that you cannot stay with me longer," said De Bury,
allowing himself to be persuaded. "Yet I hope that we shall soon meet
again. Craigston Castle is ever ready to receive you."

"And it shall have the chance, I assure you, when I am again in these
parts--though our next meeting is likely to be in London; His Grace
will scarce soon return to the North."

"Mayhap," replied Sir John; "but for the present, my wound and my
duties keep me here. And, to speak truly, I am not unwilling; when you
have reached my age, Sir Aymer, you will care little for the empty
splendor of the Court--and that reminds me: you may meet there my
niece, the Countess of Clare, and if you do--verily, you have met her,"
as De Lacy smiled, "and have been stricken like the rest. Beware, my
son, your corselet is no protection against the shafts of a woman's
eyes."

"In truth, I know it," De Lacy laughed. "I have met the Countess
and . . . it is needless to say more. Yet it was at Pontefract and not
at Windsor that I saw her. She is with the Duchess of Gloucester."

"In sooth! . . . And you are with the Duke of Gloucester," said De
Bury, with a shrewd smile. "It is either fortune most rare or fate
most drear. By St. Luke! I believe the debt has shifted and that you
should thank me for having had the opportunity to save her uncle's
life. Nay, I did but jest," he added hastily. "You have seen many a