The next moment a troop of arquebusiers galloped up, with their swords drawn, and drew up in front of the mob.
After commanding a halt, their captain rode up to the front ranks of the crowd, and called out, “In the Queen’s name, as good and loyal subjects of her Majesty, I command you to disperse, and go peaceably to your homes.”
A general refusal was the response.
“You had best not be obstinate,” retorted the captain of the guard. “Mark what I say. You have got amongst you several traitors, who are conspiring against their Majesties and against the safety of the realm.”
“We are all traitors and conspirators,” cried several voices. “We have thrown off our allegiance to the Queen and the Pope. We will have no Spaniard for King.”
“Hear me,” shouted the officer. “If you do not instantly deliver to us Sir Henry Dudley, Sir Anthony Kingston, Thomas Stafford, Osbert Clinton, and other traitors and conspirators whom ye have among you, we will cut you to pieces, and take them.”
“Make good your threat, Sir,” rejoined Osbert. “I am one of those you have named. Advance and take me if you can.”
The officer instantly pushed forward his horse, but at that moment a bullet from an arquebuse, fired behind Osbert, crashed into his brain, and he fell heavily to the ground.
On seeing their leader fall, the arquebusiers instantly charged the mob, cutting at them with their swords and hewing down a considerable number. Still, as the sturdy citizens, encouraged by their leaders, stood firm, and received their assailants on their pikes, less mischief was done them than might have been expected.
A dreadful mêlée now took place, which endured for nearly a quarter of an hour; and while it was going on fresh parties, both of Protestants and Romanists, arrived at the scene of strife, and at once engaged in the conflict.