“Within a mile of Stourbridge,” Clavering replied; “when we were attacked by a troop of the enemy’s horse, and the king was exposed to much peril, running great risk of capture.”
“Capture! ‘Sdeath! you would none of you have suffered those vile knaves to lay hands on his Majesty’s sacred person!” the old colonel exclaimed, his eye blazing fiercely, and his limbs trembling with passion. “Oh! that I had been there, with an arm as strong as that which I boasted before Naseby! What didst thou do, boy?”
“That which you would have done yourself, sir,” Clavering rejoined. “I used your sword to some purpose against the crop-eared curs, and made them feel the edge of the weapon. Finding the king beset by the captain of the troop and three or four of his men, who had recognized his Majesty, and were shouting out ‘that the Lord of Hosts had delivered Abijam, the son of Rehoboam, into their hands,’ and were menacing him with death if he did not yield himself up to them, I fired my pistol at the head of their leader, and throwing myself upon the others, assailed them so furiously, that the king was able to extricate himself from them and get clear off.”
“What! thou hast been the happy instrument of saving his Majesty’s life—thou, my darling son?” the old Cavalier exclaimed, in tones half broken by the deep emotion which he vainly endeavoured to repress. “By Saint George! thou hast done well, Clavering—thou hast done well. And if thou hadst perished in the act, thou wouldst have died the death which I myself should have most coveted—a death worthy of one of our loyal house.”
“But, Heaven be praised, my brave young friend is spared to us!” Mr. Beard ejaculated. “May he be preserved to be a prop to your declining years, sir,” he added to the colonel.
“May he be preserved to aid in King Charles’ restoration, that is all I pray for!” the old Cavalier exclaimed.
“I cry ‘Amen’ to that prayer, father,” the young man rejoined, fervently.
Hitherto Dulcia had abstained from speech, though her cheek had glowed during Clavering’s narration. She now ventured to remark:
“But you have more to tell us of that desperate encounter, have you not? It was there that you received your hurts?”
“You are right, Dulcia,” Clavering replied. “His Majesty, whom Heaven preserve! had got off as I have informed you, but I myself was surrounded, and had a sharp conflict with the base knaves, from whom I neither expected to receive quarter, nor would have deigned to accept it, and who, moreover, as you may guess, were mightily enraged at the king’s escape. Ere long my right arm was disabled by the blow of a pike, and being thus at the mercy of the murtherous rascals, I should have been despatched outright, if it had not been for John Habergeon—”
“Say not a word about me, captain, I beseech you,” the old trooper interrupted, looking up with his mouth full of pigeon-pie.
“I marvelled where John could have been all this while,” the colonel observed. “I thought he could not have been far off.”
“John was by my side, sir,” Clavering rejoined. “By my side, did I say? He was in front—at the rear—on the right—at the left—everywhere warding off blows aimed at me, and doing terrible execution upon the rebels. But even John could not save me from being thrown from my steed, and trampled under foot by the Roundhead troopers, who tried to dash out my brains with their horses’ heels. The stoutness of my casque saved me from their malice, and my breastplate protected me from all other harm except some trifling bruises—”
“Call you hurts such as yours trifling, my good young friend?” the pastor cried. “You must needs have a frame of iron to bear such injuries, and speak lightly of them.”
“‘Fore Heaven! Clavering is as tough as his father,” the old colonel remarked, smiling complacently; “and can bear much knocking about. There is nothing like a close headpiece with great cheeks, and a stout corslet and cuissarts, if you have the ill luck to be hurled on the ground and ridden over. Your well-tempered breastplate stood you in good stead on this occasion, boy.”