"Leave him alone, Sir Benedict," added Crowleigh. "He will make a sorry example of De la Zouch even yet."

"But," persisted the old knight, "I declare----"

His speech was rudely cut short, for with a yell of pain he darted off across the arena, closely followed by a huge mastiff, whose tail he had been unfortunate enough to tread upon.

With the doctor out of the way the conflict was speedily renewed. It was a terrible combat. De la Zouch, intent on ridding himself of his adversary, declared he would give no quarter, and, altering his tactics, he hewed and lunged away with all the temerity of a man who fights for death or victory.

Manners' superiority with the sword, however, was so apparent that after the restarting of the contest the final issue of it was never for a moment doubted, not even by the veriest tyro present. Sir Henry's wild thrusts were parried with consummate ease, and while the knight's sword moved hither and thither with lightning-like rapidity, the trusty blade of the other moved equally quick, but with far more certainty.

He waited until De la Zouch began to tire before he exerted himself.

The time came at last, and then with a few quick strokes he laid his foeman before him on the ground.

"Strike!" shouted a score of voices. "Strike!"

The victor uplifted his sword, and poised it high above his head to bring it down with all his might. The people waited with throbbing hearts to witness the stroke which should finish the combat, but instead of striking Manners paused and turned round.

"Strike, man, strike!" yelled a chorus of onlookers.

Humbly bowing before Dorothy, he magnanimously declared that the fate of his rival rested with her.

"'Tis a tournament, not a murder," decided Doll promptly; "you have proved your cause, and if your foe will yield we are ready to spare him."

Amid the plaudits of the crowd, Manners bowed low upon his knee, kissed the hand held graciously out towards him. He murmured his perfect acquiescence to her will, and was about to pa.s.s out of the ring, an easy victor, when a horseman rode in, and without in anyway announcing himself, he sprang off his horse and scanned the company.

"What does this fellow want?" growled Sir George, as with knitted eyebrows he scrutinised the intruder. "Thou art a Royal messenger," he added, turning to the man, who had advanced until he stood before the baron.

There was little sympathy between the Court at London and the King of the Peak, and the baron surmised little good from the arrival of the courtier. As the latter urged his horse through the crowd, and entered the arena, Sir George antic.i.p.ated trouble.

"I want the King of the Peak," replied the new comer.

"I am Sir George Vernon."

"Then," replied the other, "I deliver into thine hand this summons, which cites thee to appear at Westminster to answer the charge of slaying Mary Durden."

The baron started with surprise, and thought for a moment of laying violent hands upon the man, but a moment's reflection convinced him of the unwisdom of such an act.

"And if I refuse to come," he doggedly said, "what then?"

"Then you do so at your peril," he replied, and leaping again upon his horse, he departed as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving the awe-stricken a.s.sembly to disperse with much less pleasure than they had antic.i.p.ated from the scene of such an exciting exhibition of manly prowess.

CHAPTER IX.

AT THE c.o.c.k TAVERN, LONDON.

London! the needy villain's general home, The common sewer of Paris and of Rome.

Here malice, rapine, accident conspire, And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush mere relentless villains lay, And here the fell attorney prowls for prey.

JOHNSON.

Five days after the tournament had taken place, two travellers reined in their steeds at the gates of the c.o.c.k Hostelry, just within the Temple Bar. They were dusty with hard riding, and evidently in no good humour with themselves nor with anyone with whom they were brought into contact--a result doubtless attributable to the discomforts of a long journey on roads rough enough to try the patience of any man.

The elder of the two, throwing the reins upon his horse's neck, alighted, and leaving the ostler to take the steed away, he strode quickly into the inn without uttering a word. The young man, however, got off his saddle in a more leisurely fashion, and before he followed his companion he proceeded to the stable to see that the horses were properly attended to.

"The old man is a trifle out of sorts," the ostler ventured to remark, as they entered the yard together.

"Perchance so," returned the other, "but that is no affair of thine; but an you keep good care of his horse he will think well of thee."

"Yes, yes; certainly!" replied the man, grinning. "I always look well after gentlemen's horses, I do. You'll not be wanting them in the morning, I suppose?

"Yes, no; that is--I don't think we shall, but anyway you had better have them in readiness, we may possibly want them for the return journey to-morrow: tend them well;" and leaving a few final instructions, Sir Thomas Stanley, for he it was, pa.s.sed out of the stables and entered the parlour of the inn.

Sir George Vernon was so engrossed in poring over a doc.u.ment which lay stretched out on the table before him that he did not notice the approach of his friend, and it was not until the latter inquired whether the meal was already ordered that the baron looked up and saw him.

"Oh, it's you," he exclaimed; "yes, we shall fall to directly; but I want you just to look at this first."

"What is it," inquired Stanley, "the summons again?"

"The summons, of course," replied Sir George, as he thrust it into the other's hands.

"What did the attorney say?"

"He said it was a bad case; a very bad case. He said, in fact, that he never came across a more unpromising case for a client of his since he set himself up as a lawyer."

"Humph!" returned Sir Thomas, "they always do say so. I tell you it will come out all right in the end."

"Happen so; but he says the ordeal would go for nothing, they don't count now in courts of law here. They would do if the trial came off at Derby, I know."

"Aye," a.s.sented his friend, "I'll warrant it would count there, for no one would dare to resist thee; but you see, Sir George, it's at London, and that makes all the difference."

"Warder, read the summons through," pursued the baron. "I could not understand it, of course, I'm not much of a lawyer; but he says 'tis the work of that villainous locksmith. I wish I had hanged him at the same time, and then--"

"Well, what then?"

"It's too late, now," said Sir George, bitterly. "If they do condemn me I shall claim the benefit of clergy. I know some of the prayers, and if I can only find the right page I shall get on well enough. They will only fine me, though, at worst."

"But you have enemies at Court, remember."

"Well, let them do their worst. I shall not disgrace myself when the time comes, and in the meantime I will address myself to Lord Burleigh; he is all-powerful now."

"And if he fail us," added Sir Thomas, "I will take thee to Sir Nicholas Bacon."

"The Lord Keeper?"

"Yes, why not?"