Ovingdean Grange by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Having completed their survey, Stelfax and the sergeant quitted the sacred fabric, locking the door as they went forth, and taking the key with them. As they passed through the churchyard, the Ironside leader made some observations upon the strength and security of the tower, and its suitableness for their present purpose, wholly unconscious that his observations reached the ears of Micklegift.

Issuing from the little gate of the churchyard, the Ironsides were about to descend the green slope leading to the valley, when, to their surprise, they perceived a couple of horsemen dash suddenly down the steepest part of the escarpment on their left—the same hillside, in fact, only at a more abrupt declivity, on which the church itself was built. The horsemen were not more than a hundred yards off on first coming into sight, but while they themselves were fully visible to the Ironsides, the latter were screened from view by an intervening hedge, and a cluster of overhanging trees. Both horsemen were remarkably well mounted, and appeared to be making for the Grange. Stelfax and his companion stood still to watch their course. Something there was in the appearance of the horsemen that led both lookers-on to the conclusion that they were fugitive Cavaliers; and the curiosity of the Ironsides was greatly excited to learn who they were, and what could have brought them to the Grange, at a moment of such peril to themselves. Meanwhile, the supposed Royalists, totally unconscious of danger, galloped on, and were now almost at the gates of the mansion.

“If yon madmen be malignants, as I take them to be,” cried Stelfax, with a laugh, “they will fall headlong into the lion’s den. To the house, sergeant, and let us assist in their capture!”

So saying, he drew his sword, and closely attended by Delves, who likewise plucked forth his blade, he ran down the slope, and made for the house-gates with all possible despatch.

Another instant confirmed the suspicions which both Iron-sides had entertained, that the horsemen were Royalists. Scarcely had the twain entered the gates, through which they rode with insensate haste and utter recklessness of consequences, than they were challenged by the sentinels posted within the court. At once comprehending the peril in which their inadvertence had placed them, the reckless horsemen endeavoured to back out. Seeing this, one of the troopers rushed towards the gates, in order to close them, and cut off their retreat, while the other, presenting his carabine, threatened to fire if they moved. Nothing daunted, however, the Cavalier against whom the musket was levelled, and who was but a short distance from the sentinel, having managed to draw his sword, struck the weapon from the man’s grasp. The carabine went off as it fell, but did no mischief.

All this was the work of a minute, and so rapidly had the horsemen turned, that the one next the gates passed through them before the trooper could swing round the heavy iron frames to prevent his exit; while even the hinder Cavalier would have made good his retreat, if Stelfax and the sergeant had not come up at the juncture. Springing at the foremost horseman, Delves made an effort to arrest him, but the Cavalier, plunging spurs into his steed, dashed against him with such force as to hurl him to the ground; in which position the sergeant discharged his pistol at the fugitive, but without effect.

Less lucky than his companion, who thus got off uninjured, the second Cavalier had to encounter Stelfax, who rushed up to him without hesitation, and, seizing his bridle, bade him surrender. The Cavalier replied by a desperate cut at the Ironside leader’s head, which might have cleared the way for him if it had taken effect; but Stelfax warded off the blow, and, catching hold of his antagonist, dragged him by sheer force of arm from his horse. The contest, though taking some time to narrate, had been, in reality, so brief, that no one else could take part in it; though several troopers rushed towards the scene of strife.

The luckless Cavalier who had thus been captured by the stalwart Ironside leader, was tall and well proportioned. His attire was sad-coloured, and of Puritan plainness, and his locks cropped close to his head. Nevertheless, his looks and deportment did not agree with these symbols of Puritanism. He was a man of middle age, but of undiminished energies, as his hardy opponent had discovered.