The main gateway that gave entrance to the outer bailey was impressively wide and lofty. Once inside, postern gates opening upon either hand admitted into the great halls, rooms of state, and the donjon-keep. Besides these, and at regular intervals along the vaulted, winding passageway, the walls were pierced by iron-clad doors giving upon the same premises. When the opening of this main artery had been sealed by the drawbridge, which fitted tight against it, nothing of daylight filtered in, and it received its only illumination from a number of huge cressets, two of which were set high overhead at every turning, and kept constantly filled with glowing coals by the castle attendants.

Before each of the nail-studded doors stood two guards armed at point, their halberds planted firm before them, grim and motionless. In the dim radiation from the iron baskets they assumed the appearance of a rank of immovable and awesome statues that might well have been hewn out of the smoke-distained walls before which they were stationed.

When Sir Richard and de Claverlok had ridden past the second turning they were confronted by a solid line of them, stretching from wall to wall across the flagged floor directly in their path. To the right, one of the doors stood wide ajar; a bevy of men and women, sumptuously garbed, appeared within the bright rectangle. A fool in motley was posing against the pillared casement. It was like a painted picture, vivid, touched with brilliant colors, set within an enormous, dark, and gloomy frame.

A train of pages, dressed in liveries of slashed silk and velvet, stood ready to conduct the two travelers before the lord of the castle. At a sign from one, who, because of his distinctive uniform, one would have taken to be the major domo, they dismounted and relinquished their horses into the care of equerries; then, bringing up in the rear of the train of pages, they made their way up the steps and through the thronged doorway. "God's sake! Sir Dick," exclaimed de Claverlok in an agitated whisper as they were traversing the length of the vast hall into which they were come, "Give not that paper to Douglas. Let me have but a word with you in private before adventuring an act so deadly dangerous to your person, ... eh?" In the extremity of his eagerness to gain his young friend's consent he caught his arm in a viselike grip, as though meaning forcibly to detain him.

"Take your hand from off my arm," warned Sir Richard sullenly. "'Twould be most unseemly to have out our quarrel here, de Claverlok."

"Quarrels? What quarrel, ... eh? There's no quarrel between us, my boy."

"Aye?—?but I tell thee there is," maintained Sir Richard. "Much hath thy treachery grieved and amazed me, worthy knight, whom I had come to consider my stanch friend."

"Treachery, ... eh? What the devil! God wot, my son," de Claverlok hurriedly pursued, "I am not traitor?—?listen?—?—"

"Have a care, de Claverlok, the guards are looking," whispered the young knight warningly. "And not a word with you, I say, till I've delivered the King's paper. Think you I have foughten my way here for naught? No inkling have I of the purpose of your company in stealing the parchment and in their attempt to hinder me from reaching here. But the copy goes to Lord Douglas as fast as?—?—"

"Cannot you but wait an hour, ... eh? Hell and furies! Never can I forgive me my stupidity in allowing you to come within this house of death," interrupted de Claverlok. "There's death in that paper, I say?—?death!"

"Death; what mean you?"

"Aye, death! Death to thyself, an thou must hear the truth. 'Tis a warrant for your own execution, Sir Dick."

"De Claverlok, you lie in your bewhiskered throat," returned Sir Richard in a menacing undertone.

"Never before hath man said that word to me and lived," declared the grizzled warrior gloomily. "But I forgive you, Sir Dick. Aye, I forgive you. An you'll but consent to wait an hour, I'll hear you asking my forgiveness. You can do it, my boy,?—?you can wait. Say to Douglas that thou art an emissary of Henry, who hath but journeyed here to yield to him thy sovereign's good wishes. Tell him that I am your companion and squire. Mayhap 'twill answer for my present safety."

"First dive within the moat and fetch me your dripping lance. 'Twould be a most befitting badge of your loyalty to me to lay before him, de Claverlok."

"You would be at this moment in a far better case," observed the grizzled warrior bitterly, "an it had taken you in the small of the back, where I intended it should land. You know damned well 'twas hurled butt foremost, ... eh? By the Rood, boy, answer me."

Sir Richard hesitated; then, measuring his companion's earnest look, nodded in the affirmative.

"I'll do it," said he, "though a plague take me, an I think you deserve it. But whereof be the good, an your act were seen from barbacan or shot-hole?"

"I'll take my solemn oath 'twas driven at the door," observed de Claverlok, smiling in open gratification at having achieved his point. "You'll delay the blessed paper, too, ... eh?" "Nay?—?that I dare not do," whispered Sir Richard decisively. "Even now unmeasured harm may have resulted from my egregious blunder in permitting the original to be stolen. An ill messenger have I been, de Claverlok?—?an ill messenger."

"You'll persist in delivering the paper, ... eh?"

"Upon my soul. Yea."

By now they had reached to the foot of a broad flight of steps leading to a gallery that completely girdled the hall. Already the pages were strung halfway up the stairway, awaiting for the two men to follow.

"Await me here, de Claverlok," added Sir Richard in a tone indicating his determination to finish his errand as he started up the stairs.

"By the gods, you'll not go!" roared the grizzled knight in a transport of infuriated rage, whereupon he made a sudden leap at Sir Richard, catching him with a bearlike hug around the middle and dragging him to the floor of the hall. "Give me that paper," he whispered in the young knight's ear. "Give it to me, Sir Dick!"

"What meaneth this?" shouted a stern voice from above that rang to the vaulted dome of the chamber. "Separate me those brawlers, guards!"

In the wink of an eye a cloud of the Douglas retainers had swooped down and torn the fiercely struggling men apart. There followed a momentary lull during which the two stood glaring into each other's eyes.

"Which of thee hath an errand with Douglas, and what, pray, may it be?" resumed the voice from the gallery.

Ranging along the balcony behind him, Sir Richard's eyes fell upon a burly, broad-shouldered man standing with arms folded on the threshold of an open door.

"I am bearer of a message from King Henry, my lord," answered Sir Richard.

"And who is thy combative friend?" queried Douglas. "Why this row within my very hall, sir knight?"

"'Twas but a slight misunderstanding, my lord," Sir Richard instantly replied. "May I now bring to thee the paper?"

"Aye, that may you. But who is thy friend? Thou hast not answered me."

"My companion and squire, Lord Douglas. I bespeak for him thy pardon. Though he meaneth right well, he is ever thoughtless and rude."

"So it would seem. Bring me King Henry's message. Keep me yonder belligerent in leash, my men," Douglas added, pointing toward de Claverlok, who was still tossing the guards about in a vain endeavor to free himself from their smothering grasp.

Sir Richard strode past the struggling, heaving mass of humanity, and then, on up the stairway. Upon reaching the landing he turned to his right to where Lord Douglas stood within the door leading off the jutting balcony. The young knight paused for a moment to glance downward above the railing toward de Claverlok. The grizzled warrior had evidently signified his intention of remaining quiescent, for the guards had loosened their hold of him and he was standing mutely against one of the columns that shot from floor to ceiling at regular intervals around the entire length and breadth of the hall. His arms were folded, and he was gazing straight up into the face of his young friend. The beribboned courtiers and brightly dressed women were standing at a discreet distance, gaping at him. It reminded Sir Richard of an eagle that had dropped its pinions in the midst of a swarm of brilliant-winged, fluttering moths. He noted as well the expression of sad reproach with which the veteran was regarding him. If ever sincerity was stamped in the features of man it was surely displayed in the rugged countenance of de Claverlok, and from that instant the young knight divined his erstwhile companion to be as stanch and true as the steel of the Damascus blade at his side.

"Thou'lt find me here, Sir Richard," de Claverlok called up as the young knight turned to enter the door through which Lord Douglas had but just preceded him. When he came into his cabinet, after traversing a number of curtained passageways, Sir Richard found the bluff Scotsman pacing impatiently back and forth across the floor. He paused when the young knight entered, greeting him formally from his station in the center of the room.

"From King Henry," said he, when the document, fresh from its hiding place, had been surrendered into his hands.

Signing Sir Richard to be seated near a massive, carved oak desk, Douglas dropped into a high-backed chair before it, broke the great red seal and addressed himself to the business of reading. When he had finished perusing the document he laid it face downward upon the desk and leaned back in his chair, tugging at his wiry, black beard, and knitting his fierce brows deeply. During an interval of several minutes he remained in this attitude, stealing occasional glances of searching inquiry in Sir Richard's direction and muttering inaudible sentences to himself.

"That this paper hath reached within the walls of Castle Yewe, sir knight," he at length said, speaking with a cold deliberation, as though carefully weighing each word, "is certes an indisputable proof of thy absolute integrity as a messenger."

"Nay?—?but?—?—"

"Tut, tut! Say not a word till I have digested this matter within my mind," interrupted Douglas. Whereupon he took up the parchment and read it through carefully a second time. Then, getting up from his seat, he resumed his impatient march across the floor. As Sir Richard sat studying the Scotsman's movements, he fancied that he had never seen a combination of features more suggestive of unfaltering determination and grim pugnacity. Douglas's head was not over large; and his cheek, chin, and crown were covered with a thick mop of jet black beard and hair. He moved his burly figure awkwardly, like one who was more accustomed to riding than walking.

"By the mass!" he suddenly ejaculated. "'Tis, in truth, a riddle far too deep for me to unravel. Why hast thou delivered me this message, sir knight?" he queried sharply, halting before the bench whereupon Sir Richard was sitting.

"Why?" returned the surprised young knight. "Does it not speak for itself, my lord? At the behest of my sovereign liege have I brought it here; and much doth it shame me to confess that ill have I requited my beloved and noble master's trust?—?—"

"Ill requited? What's this the young knight's saying?" Douglas burst forth. "Beshrew me, young sir, an I wot how!"

"Well?—?'tis but the duplicate I have rendered unto thee, Lord Douglas. The original I carelessly allowed to be stolen by a band of free-lances from whom I did escape but yester eve. Tell me," he added anxiously, "will harm result because of my unpardonable lack of caution?"

Douglas, with arms akimbo, was standing directly in front of Sir Richard and looking straight down into his eyes.

"Save to thyself," he replied slowly, apparently having satisfied himself as to the truth of the young knight's statement, "no harm can possibly befall. Mayhap, an thou hadst not lost the original, I should have adopted another course than the one now forced upon me. But?—?wherefore, Sir Richard, didst thou not join issues with Tyrrell withal?"

"Tyrrell?" the young knight replied in a thoroughly puzzled way; "i' faith, my lord, I know not the man?—?though I did hear that name called by the outlaw band by which I was held captive."

"Well, well?—?so thou knowest not Tyrrell?" ejaculated Lord Douglas. "Yet certes, man, you tarried a night under the roof of the Red Tavern, and rode for a day in his company of conspirators? Either you are the cleverest of dissemblers, sir knight, or else, forsooth, the embodiment of sluggishness! Nay?—?regard me not thus in anger?—?I accept every word of your astonishing denial as God's truth?—?every word. Have I not before stated that this document here proves your steadfast honesty? Have you never heard of Tyrrell, hireling of Crookback Richard?—?strangler of two drooling boys in the tower? By my soul, man, where have you been reared?"

"In Brittany, my lord," Sir Richard returned, his face aflame with honest resentment. "There, in Duke Francis's court I learned my lessons with the Earl of Richmond, now my beloved King. I do recall that once, on London Bridge, I saw the head of one, Dighton, slewing on a pole. 'Twas he, methought, who did the tower murders."

"Tut, tut! What ignorance! Somewhat of history, Sir Richard, you have yet to learn. That fellow was but Tyrrell's tool and groom whom Tyrrell himself murdered for playing him false. Lady Douglas shall take you in hand and teach you a thing or two of past events. I would hear now," he added, seating himself beside Sir Richard, "your account of your journey from Kenilworth. I beg of you, omit no incident that may seem to you trifling, as you love your King. It is a most important and grave matter, this, Sir Richard."

"I'll do it willingly, my lord," the young knight acquiesced, and thereupon began narrating his adventures. It took him an hour or more to finish, during all of which time Lord Douglas sat quietly beside him, with his elbows planted firmly upon his knees and his face pressed against the palms of his hands. At times he would run his fingers through his hair, or tap with the heel of his boot upon the floor. Sir Richard's tale ran smoothly enough till it came to the point of accounting for de Claverlok's companionship. Here he stumbled slightly, being obliged to draw largely upon his imagination. He accomplished it in a fairly acceptable manner, however, and in a way that he hoped would seem natural. Though he was unable to see how harm could befall either the grizzled knight or himself in the event of the truth being told. Not for a moment had he credited his companion's statement in respect of Henry's message containing matter inimical to its bearer. But he paid the veteran the tribute of believing him to be absolutely sincere, and forgave him accordingly, absolving him from any blame because of that which Sir Richard supposed to be his misjudged zeal in attempting to withhold the delivery of the parchment.

When the young knight had finished his story, Douglas arose and took a few turns across the room.

"Extraordinary," he kept repeating half to himself; "most extraordinary!"

Presently he resumed his seat before the desk, remaining silent there for awhile, and tapping with his fingers upon its polished top.

"Thou canst not appreciate, I know," he said at length, "how completely thy story hath absorbed my interest. I would that I could delve beneath the surface and unearth some of its mysteries. Tut, tut! What am I saying? Let them take care of themselves. Full often have I found, Sir Richard, that the deepest mysteries of to-day become the most loudly heralded sensations of to-morrow. Now, an thou'lt but sign thy name across the back of this parchment, I'll take thee into the presence of the lady of the castle. But?—?hold! I'll have witnesses."

Then?—?"MacGregor," he called aloud, and in reply to his summons a lank individual arose above a tall desk standing in a corner of the cabinet quite as though he had been materialized out of a world of spirits. Douglas whispered his instructions in the scrivener's ear, and he hurried away, presumably to gather them in.

They entered presently?—?ten of them there were?—?mumbling, whispering, shaking their powdered heads in a kind of unison, till the white dust sifted upon the floor like particles of glittering snow. Standing somberly in line behind a long table, awaiting turns to set their names beneath Sir Richard's, they reminded him of a row of solemn, nodding jackdaws. Not being in a position to appreciate its gravity, the scene amused rather than awed the young knight. Not in the remotest degree did he surmise that he was henceforth to be but a wooden image?—?a carved knight, if we may be allowed the simile?—?progressing obediently from square to square over the checkered board of a complex conspiracy whenever they extended their lean fingers to make the move.

"Remain," Lord Douglas said, when the last of them had written his name beneath the young knight's. "Await my return and we'll hold further council here," whereupon he took Sir Richard's arm, expressing his intention of presenting him to the lady of the castle.

"Now that I have delivered the King's message, my lord," said the young knight as they were passing along the gallery and down the stairs, "it is my desire to be soon upon my way. On the morrow, an there be nothing further here for me to do, I shall fare southward toward Kenilworth."

"Tut, tut! Sir Richard. Be not in such haste to bid us adieux. We are a right merry throng here in Castle Yewe, and thou canst pass thy hours with us full pleasantly. Thy errand, besides, is not yet done. 'Tis thy sovereign's wish that thou shalt bide in Scotland yet awhile as my guest. But yonder is Lady Douglas, to whom I shall surrender thee for the present."

After introducing the young knight, Douglas begged the privilege of talking a moment with his wife in private. A page led Sir Richard to a seat within an alcove of the hall, where he remained, looking out of a window at a company of infantry drilling in the castle yard till Lord and Lady Douglas had finished their rather lengthy discourse.

"I'll see thee at the wassail board this evening, Sir Richard," said Douglas, who had accompanied his wife as far as the curtained entrance to the alcove. "Thou art indeed happily come. To-day is the twenty-fifth of the month?—?the feast of Crispian will be spread in the state hall. I have made thy squire comfortable in my retainer's quarters," he added, and then retired to his room above where the jackdaws were awaiting to hold their council.