“Again I say, forbear![forbear!]” cried Osbert.
“I owe you no obedience, and will show none,” retorted Carver, fiercely. “Have at thy heart, tyrant!” he exclaimed, drawing his sword.
But ere he could make the meditated attack, Philip placed a silver whistle to his lips, and sounding it, Rodomont Bittern, with his sword drawn in his hand, and followed by half a dozen halberdiers, entered through the window. The party instantly fell upon Derrick Carver, and, after a brief struggle, disarmed him.
“By Saint Thomas!” exclaimed Rodomont, regarding the enthusiast with surprise, “this is the murtherous villain whom we caught at Southampton. I cannot be mistaken in his ill-favoured visage.”
“I will not deny myself,” rejoined the other. “I am Derrick Carver. Heaven has permitted thee to thwart my righteous purpose for the second time.”
“A plain proof that thy purpose is damnable, and that Heaven is against thee, thou bloodthirsty villain,” rejoined Rodomont. “What is your Majesty’s pleasure concerning him?” he asked of the King.
“Take him to the Tower,” said Philip.
“It shall be done, Sire. Have you any further commands?”
“Ay,” replied Philip. “An hour ago I would not have believed that Osbert Clinton would raise his hand against me, but he has done so, and his life is forfeit. Take him also with you.”
“Here is my sword, Sir,” said Osbert, delivering it to Rodomont. “I am ready to attend you.”