"Call your officer then!" cried Chartley, "I yield not to a churl."
"Ay, and in the mean time the others escape," cried the man; "that shall not be, by ----! Round, round! Over the banks," he continued, straining his voice to the utmost, to reach the ears of his companions, who were galloping down, "cut them off from the abbey!"
But the others did not hear or understand the cry, and rode on towards Chartley and the rest, whom they reached, just as Iola was borne to the postern gate.
"Hold back, sir!" shouted the young nobleman; "mark me, every one. I resist not lawful authority! But marauders I will resist to the death. Show me a warrant--bring me an officer, and I yield at once, but not to men I know not. As to those who are gone to the abbey, you can yourselves see that they are but a lady and two of the foresters to guard her--"
"The lady is safe within the gates, noble sir," said one of the woodmen, speaking over his shoulder.
"Thank God for that!" cried Chartley.
"We are not seeking for women," answered the soldier, "but there are two men there; and we will know who they are."
"They are coming back. They are coming back," cried one of the men from behind.
The soldiers perceived the fact at the same moment; but their number was now becoming so great, one horseman riding down after another, that they seemed to meditate an attack upon the little pass which Chartley defended; and some of them rode up the bank, to take the party in the flank.
"Mark you well, good men," said the young nobleman, raising his voice to its highest tones; "if one stroke be struck, the consequences be upon your own heads. I refuse not to surrender to a proper warrant, or any officer of the king; but, as a peer of England, I will not give up my sword to any simple soldier who asks it; and if I am attacked, I will defend myself to the uttermost."