John Enderby | Page 4

of the company passing on to Horncastle, while Charles, Lord Rippingdale and two other cavaliers proceeded on a secret visit to a gentleman at Louth.
It was dark when the King and his company came to the combe. Lord Rippingdale suggested to his Majesty that one of the gentlemen should ride ahead to guard against surprise or ambush, but the King laughed, and said that his shire of Lincoln bred no brigands, and he rode on. He was in the coach with a gentleman beside him, and Lord Rippingdale rode upon the right. Almost as the hoofs of the leaders plunged into the stream there came the whinny of a horse from among the boulders. Alarmed, the coachman whipped up his team and Lord Rippingdale clapped his hand upon his sword.
Even as he did it two men sprang out from among the rocks, seized the horses' heads, and a dozen others swarmed round, all masked and armed, and calling upon the King's party to surrender, and to deliver up their valuables. One ruffian made to seize the bridle of Lord Rippingdale's horse, but my lord's sword severed the fellow's hand at the wrist.
"Villain," he shouted, "do you know whom you attack?"
For answer, shots rang out; and as the King's gentlemen gathered close to the coach to defend him, the King himself opened the door and stepped out. As he did so a stilt struck him on the head. Its owner had aimed it at Lord Rippingdale; but as my lord's horse plunged, it missed him, and struck the King fair upon the crown of the head. He swayed, groaned and fell back into the open door of the coach. Lord Rippingdale was at once beside him, sword drawn, and fighting gallantly.
"Scoundrels," he cried, "will you kill your King?"
"We will have the money which the King carries," cried one of his assailants. "The price of three knighthoods and the taxes of two shires we will have."
One of the King's gentlemen had fallen, and another was wounded. Lord Rippingdale was hard pressed, but in what seemed the last extremity of the King and his party there came a shout from the other side of the stream:
"God save the King! For the King! For the King!"
A dozen horsemen splashed their way across the stream, and with swords and pistols drove through the King's assailants and surrounded his coach. The ruffians made an attempt to rally and resist the onset, but presently broke and ran, pursued by a half-dozen of his Majesty's defenders. Five of the assailants were killed and several were wounded.
As Lord Rippingdale turned to Charles to raise him, the coach-door was opened upon the other side, a light was thrust in, and over the unconscious body of the King my lord recognised John Enderby.
"His Majesty"--began John Enderby.
"His Majesty is better," replied Lord Rippingdale, as the King's eyes half opened. "You lead these gentlemen? This should bring you a barony,--Sir John," my lord added, half graciously, half satirically; for the honest truth of this man's nature vexed him. "The King will thank you."
"John Enderby wants no reward for being a loyal subject, my lord," answered Enderby.
Then with another glance at the King, in which he knew that his Majesty was recovered, he took off his hat, bowed, and, mounting his horse, rode away without a word.
At Sutterby the gentlemen received gracious thanks of the King who had been here delivered from the first act of violence made against him in his reign.
Of the part which Enderby had played Lord Rippingdale said no more to the King than this:
"Sir John Enderby was of these gentlemen who saved your Majesty's life. Might it not seem to your Majesty that--"
"Was he of them?" interrupted the King kindly; then, all at once, out of his hurt vanity and narrow self-will, he added petulantly: "When he hath paid for the accolade of his knighthood, then will we welcome him to us, and make him Baron of Enderby."
Next day when Enderby entered the great iron gates of the grounds of Enderby House the bell was ringing for noon. The house was long and low, with a fine tower in the centre, and two wings ran back, forming the court-yard, which would have been entirely inclosed had the stables moved up to complete the square.
When Enderby came out into the broad sweep of grass and lawn, flanked on either side by commendable trees, the sun shining brightly, the rooks flying overhead, and the smell of ripe summer in the air, he drew up his horse and sat looking before him.
"To lose it! To lose it!" he said, and a frown gathered upon his forehead.
Even as he looked, the figure of a girl appeared in the great doorway. Catching sight of the horseman, she clapped her hands and waved them delightedly.
Enderby's