Still at a gallop, their hoof-strokes were quickly nearer, sounding clearer. For there was no taking up of trail to delay them now. Away over the white water they saw a long dark line, serried, by a turn in the route which brought Rupert’s following quarter-flank towards them; saw, and knew it to be that they were after.
At the same time seen themselves by Reginald Trevor, who rode back upon his guard. But not to inspire it to resistance, nor place it in a position of defence. Instead, he seemed irresolute, uncertain whether to make stand or retreat. His men, heavy Dragoons, had unslung their dragon-muzzled muskets, and awaited the word “Fire!” But no such word was spoken, no order given. Even when the approaching horsemen were charging up to them, shouting “For God and Parliament!” even then, no command from their officer to meet or withstand the charge.
Nor did they then wish it; they saw the assailants were ten to their one; it was too late, even for retreat. Should he call “Quarter!” they were ready to chorus it. And just that called he, the instant after, to a man among the foremost of the charging party—his cousin! Their swords came together with a clash, Eustace the first to speak.
“At last!” he exclaimed. “At last we’ve met to keep our promise made. ‘No Quarter!’ I cry it!”
“And I cry ‘Quarter’—beg it.”
Never dropped blade quicker down from threatening thrust than that of Eustace Trevor; never was combatant more surprised by the behaviour of an adversary.
“What do you mean?” he asked, in utter astonishment.
“That I fight no more for Prince, or King. Henceforth, if they’ll have it, my sword’s at the service of the Parliament.”
“God bless me, Rej; how glad I am to hear you say that! And so near making mince-meat of one another!”
“Not of one another, Eust. You might have done that with me—may still, if you feel spiteful.”