Ovingdean Grange by W. Harrison Ainsworth

The little church, it will be remembered, was but a short distance from the Grange, standing on the slope of the opposite down, and the two Ironsides soon reached it. On entering the porch, the door proved to be locked, whereupon Stelfax despatched the sergeant to the adjacent rectory for the key. While Delves departed on the errand, his leader strolled about the churchyard, examining the venerable structure from different points of view—not with any feelings of reverence for its sacred character, or admiration of its architectural beauty, but merely with a view to its adaptation to the purpose of a temporary stronghold. All was still around. The evening was serene and beautiful. The sun had sunk below the western hill; and the low square tower of the church was darkly defined against the glowing sky. The only object not in harmony with the peaceful scene was the formidable figure of the Ironside in his martial accoutrements.

Stelfax’s examination of the sacred fabric was quite satisfactory to him. The tower at the west end of the structure appeared to offer all he could desire in the way of security. It had no outlet to the churchyard; its windows were only three in number, placed at a considerable height from the ground, acutely pointed, and so narrow as to preclude all chance of escape by their means. If the interior of the tower corresponded with its outward appearance, it would suit the captain’s requirements admirably.

Proceeding to the parsonage-house, Delves opened the door without troubling himself to knock at it, sought out Micklegift, and, on finding him, authoritatively demanded the key of the church. The Independent minister energetically refused to deliver it up, and hastily rising, strove to snatch it from a nail in the wall, against which it hung. But the sergeant was too quick for him, and possessing himself of the prize, departed with it.

Delves then joined his leader, while Micklegift, sorely annoyed at the occurrence, flew to his garden, which was only divided from the churchyard by a wall, and soon managed to obtain a position whence, without betraying himself, he could, command their proceedings, and overhear their discourse—so long, at least, as they remained outside the church. From the few words which passed between them previous to their entering the sacred edifice, he ascertained their design, and resolved to thwart it.

“So, this irreverend and unscrupulous soldier of the Republic,” thus ran his meditations, “whose doings put to shame and tarnish the actions of his mighty general, Cromwell—this base officer having had the good fortune to capture the young fugitive malignant and his followers, purposes to bestow his prisoners for the night in my church, as in a stronghold or place of duresse. It is well! Not for any love that I bear Clavering Maunsel—for, regarding him as a rival, I cannot but hold him in aversion; not for any desire I have to serve the Royalist cause, for I am strongly and conscientiously opposed to it; but because of the hatred I bear to this detested Stelfax, and because of the dishonourable treatment he hath shown me, will I confound his devices, and deliver these captives from their hands. Yea, I will set my wits to work to accomplish their liberation, and I doubt not of success.”

While the Independent minister was forming this vindictive resolve, Stelfax and his companion had gained an entrance to the church, and the Roundhead leader found, on inspecting the interior of the tower, that the opinion he had formed of its security and fitness were fully justified. “If the place had been built for us,” he remarked to Sergeant Delves, as they stepped into the chamber, “It could not have been better contrived.”

The interior of the church tower formed a small square chamber, very lofty in proportion to its height:—the room, as we have heretofore stated, being used, at the present day, as a vestiary. Above was a little belfry, which could only be entered by a trap-door in the ceiling; but, as a tolerably long ladder was required to reach this trap-door, and no ladder was at hand, little danger was to be apprehended in that direction. The walls were of solid masonry, coated with plaster and whitewashed. Internally, the tower was some feet lower than the ground outside it, so that the windows were elevated in like proportion from the floor, and far out of the reach of the tallest man. We have already shown that they were too narrow to allow even a slightly-built person to pass through them. The chamber was entirely empty. The sole entrance to the tower was from the body of the church; the door being of stout oak, studded with flat-headed nails, and fitted into a pointed arch.

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