"For the matter of that," spoke up the fair young knight, "had they been laden with a secret poison I had not lived to bear them within my lord's pavilion; for I sniffed of them a score of times whilst riding hither." "Then, certes, we are double safe," laughed Henry, "for their sweet perfume, Sir Richard, hath filtered to our nostrils through thy good body. But what like, say you, was the messenger by whom they were bestowed?" "It ill beseems me to say that I know not," the young knight replied, "but such is the truth, my lord. I had but finished relieving the guard at the further side of the wood when I heard a sound as of galloping hoofs along the road from Market Bosworth way. Approaching, the rider halted his steed where no ray of light from our blazing links could reach to raise the veil of his identity. Then, calling my name, he laid the flowers within my arms. 'For Henry, our noble liege,' he quickly whispered, and rattled off down the highroad ere I could return word of thanks." "Saw you no cognizance upon his sleeve or upon the trappings of his horse?" queried Blunt. "Methought there was a rayed sun emblazoned on his arm," the young knight answered. "Though, in truth, my lord, 'twas all done so quickly I may not swear 'twas surely so." "A Yorkist gift, by the rood! Marry, and this be true, my friends, it is a good omen indeed," observed the Earl of Oxford, rising and going to the table. For quite a space he leaned above it, gazing fixedly upon the flowers, as though in the hope that they themselves might unravel the mystery their presence had aroused. "But this," he added presently, indicating the solitary white bloom, "doth sore defeat my understanding. Wherefore, prithee, mingle the white with the red?" "Methinks I have the solution of that enigma," spoke up Herbert, whose form was merged in shadow, and who, until then, had taken no part in the discourse. "I would crave his lordship's indulgence, however, before adventuring my lame conjecture." "Surely we would have thy answer to the riddle, Sir Walter," said Henry, yawning sleepily. "My mind doth refuse to probe its baffling depths." "An I mistake me not," Herbert resumed, "my lord of Oxford in the very profession of his perplexity hath reached a good half way to the answer. Methinks 'tis meant to typify the peaceful mingling of the white rose with the red." "Why--body o' God, I see it now!" Henry exclaimed. "But first, by force of arms, the red must overwhelm the white." "Nay--not so, and your lordship, please," interjected Blunt. "But rather, let us hope, a mingling through the milder expedient of marriage." "Ah! Princess Elizabeth!" cried Henry, assuming a sitting posture upon the edge of his couch. "Sir Walter, thou hast given us a fair answer and earned a guerdon for thy keen wit. But enough of soft speech, my noble knights. And now, sirs, to the sterner business of the day! My Lord of Oxford, where say'st thou camp Stanley's forces?"