The dim passageway outside the small room in which Tyrrell had been disposed was filled with the low humming of voices, a subdued sound of clanking swords and the pale gleamings of points of light on polished armor. As Sir Richard stepped through the door, these solemn-visaged knights moved silently against the wall and balustrade, thus opening him an avenue down the stairs. They made him obeisance, one by one, as he passed between; each whispering him a princely name and title, the which sang loud in the young knight's ears of the fame of many valorous deeds long since set down in history. A round dozen of them followed him upon the highway, intending to give him safe conduct to his destination. Experiencing an intense longing to be alone, however, Sir Richard summoned courage to decline their proffered services, and thereupon set his stallion's head again toward the Red Tavern with none but Harold in his train. CHAPTER XXIII OF A VISION IN THE FOREST OF LAMMERMUIR Now that he was no longer moving under the masterful influence of Tyrrell, Sir Richard began to feel brave to throw aside the honors that had been peremptorily thrust upon him. After the manner of an ill-wrought suit of armor, they were galling and wearing upon his unwilling shoulders. Being innately modest and not desiring fame or power, Sir Richard had always shirked positions in which any obligation of assuming the initiative was concerned; and certainly now he felt no desire to leap at once to the very pinnacle of such positions. Contrariwise, he felt a deep and genuine yearning to be once again, to himself and those about him, just plain Sir Richard Rohan, knight, free lance, and good fellow welcome met to all of his friends. He was moved by no impulse to seek revenge upon King Henry. "For," he argued with himself, "the King did but attempt to do the thing which I, were I in his place, would have been deficient of the courage to do; to render my sovereignty unassailable. An such a momentous matter be at stake, of what slight consequence becomes a life more, or a life less? and if, forsooth, it chanced to be the life of a friend ... well, so much the worse for the friend." It never dawned upon Sir Richard in his youthful exuberance to consider that there were two questions involved: the one of claiming the throne, and the other of securing a seat thereon. His belief was genuine that the fate of a great empire was suspended upon the slender thread of his choice. As to his breaking faith with Tyrrell and stealing away without first journeying to the Red Tavern, he did not consider that for a moment. Overburdened with a sense of the grave responsibility thus imposed upon him, he rode straight through the Forest of Lammermuir without once thinking to open the parcel that Isabel had given into his hand. Had this not been so, Sir Richard would doubtless have suspected a circumstance that was soon to burst upon him in the nature of a wonderful surprise.