Part 19 (1/2)

Marion made no rejoinder. It was at this moment that Scarthe had flung out his taunt, about the glove in the hat of his antagonist.

Maid Marian heard the speech, and saw the action.

”Whose glove?” muttered she, as a pang pa.s.sed through her heart.

Marion Wade heard the speech, and saw the action.

”My glove!” muttered she, as a thrill of sweet joy vibrated through her bosom.

The triumphant emotion was but short-lived. It was soon supplanted by a feeling of anxious apprehension, that reached its climax, as the two cavaliers, each bestriding his own steed, spurred their horses towards the centre of the camp--the arena of the intended combat.

With the exception of that made by the hors.e.m.e.n, as they rode trampling over the turf, not a movement could be observed within or around the enclosure of the camp. The dark circle of human forms, that girdled the ground, were as motionless, as if they had been turned into stones; and equally silent--men and women, youths and maidens, all alike absorbed in one common thought--all voicelessly gazing.

The chirrup of a gra.s.shopper could have been heard throughout the encampment.

This silence had only commenced, as the combatants came forth upon the ground, in readiness to enter upon action. While engaged in preparation, the merits of both had been loudly and freely discussed; and bets had been made, as if the camp were a c.o.c.kpit, and the cavaliers a main of game birds about to be unleashed at each other.

The popular feeling was not all on one side, though the ”black horseman”

was decidedly the favourite. There was an instinct on the part of the spectators that he was the _people's friend_, and, in those tyrannous times, the phrase had an important signification.

But the crowd was composed of various elements; and there was more than a minority who, despite the daily evidence of royal outrages and wrongs, still tenaciously clung to that, the meanest sentiment that can find home in the human heart--loyalty. I mean _loyalty to a throne_.

In the captain of cuira.s.siers they saw the representative of that thing they had been accustomed to wors.h.i.+p and obey--that mysterious ent.i.ty, which they had been taught to believe was as necessary to their existence as the bread which they ate, or the beer they drank--a thing ludicrously styled ”heaven-descended”--deriving its authority from G.o.d himself--_a king_!

Notwithstanding the insult he had put upon them, there were numbers present ready to shout--

”Huzza for the cuira.s.sier captain!”

Notwithstanding his champions.h.i.+p of their cause, there were numbers upon the ground ready to vociferate--

”Down with the black horseman!”

All exhibitions of this sort, however, had now ceased; and, in the midst of a profound silence, the mounted champions, having ridden clear of the crowd, advanced towards each other with glances reciprocally expressive of death and determination.

Volume One, Chapter XX.

It was a terrible sight for the soft eye of woman to look upon. The timid Lora Lovelace would not stay; but ran off towards the house, followed by many others. Dorothy Dayrell called after them, jeering at their cowardice!

Marion remained. She could not drag herself from the approaching spectacle, though dreading to behold it. She stood under the dark shadow of a tree; but its darkness could not conceal the wild look of apprehension, with which she regarded the two mailed hors.e.m.e.n moving from opposite sides of the camp, and frowningly approaching one another.

Out rang the clear notes of the cavalry bugle, sounding the ”charge.”

The horses themselves understood the signal, and needed no spurring to prompt their advance.

Both appeared to know the purpose for which they had been brought forth.

At the first note, they sprang towards one another--snorting mutual defiance--as if they, like their riders, were closing in mortal combat!

It was altogether a duello with swords. The sword, at that time, was the only weapon of the cuira.s.sier cavalry, excepting their pistols; but by mutual agreement these last were not to be used.

With blades bare, the duellists dashed in full gallop towards each other, Scarthe crying out: ”_For the King_;” while Holtspur, with equal energy raised the antagonistic cry: ”_For the People_!”