On identifying each other as old antagonists there was a general desire on both sides to be led forward. This impulse, however, was stronger in the breasts of the two leaders; who, without waiting to give the word to their men, put spurs to their horses, and galloped across the intervening space. In a second’s time, both had separated from the general line of battle, and were fast closing upon each other.
Their followers taken by surprise at this unexpected action, for a moment remained without imitating their rapid advance. Two young officers only—one from each side—had ridden after their respective chiefs; not as if stirred by their example, but to all appearance actuated by an analogous hostility.
The action of these youths,—known to their comrades as the cornets Stubbs and Wade—did not attract any particular attention. The eyes of all were upon the two chiefs—Scarthe and Holtspur—each exhibiting that mien that proclaimed him determined upon the death of his adversary.
In the breast of Scarthe raged the fires of a long enduring rancour—fed by the remembrance of former defeats—stimulated to a fiendish fierceness by never-dying jealousy.
In the bosom of Holtspur burned a nobler flame—an impulse altogether unselfish—though not less impelling him towards the destruction of his antagonist.
The proud republican saw before him a true type of the Janizary—one of those minions who form the protecting entourage of tyrants—ready to ride over and oppress the peoples of the Earth—ready even to die in their infamous harness—on the battle-field breathing with their last breath that senseless, as contradictory declaration; that they die for king and country!
Holtspur had no personal antipathy to Scarthe—at least none like that by which he was himself regarded.
Notwithstanding the wrongs which the latter had attempted to inflict upon him, his antagonism to the royalist officer was chiefly of a political character—chiefly the sublime contempt which a republican must needs feel for a partisan of monarchy—whether simpleton or villain: since one of the two he must be. It was sufficient, however, to stimulate him to a keen desire to kill Scarthe—such as the shepherd may feel for destroying the wolf that has been preying upon his innocent fold, or the game-keeper the “vermin” that has been spoiling his master’s preserves.
Nerved by noble thoughts—confident in a holy cause—sure of the thanks of millions yet to be—did the soldier of liberty charge forward upon his adversary.
The action was instantaneous; the event quick as the killing of a stoat, crushed beneath the heel of the irate keeper. In less than a score of seconds—after the commencement of the encounter—Scarthe lay motionless upon the turf of Marston Moor—doubled up in his steel equipments, like a pile of mediaeval armour!