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OF THE MURTHEROUS ATTACK MADE UPON THE PRINCE IN

THE COURT OF THE HOSPITAL.

“Considering that I have been little more than an hour in England, I have employed my time not unprofitably,” remarked the Prince, gaily.

“If your Highness was in search of an adventure, you have certainly been lucky in meeting with one,” observed Osbert. “But I presume you are now content, and disposed to go on board.”

“Presently,” replied Philip. “But I must pause for a moment to think over the interview—to recall her words, and the music of her voice. She has cast a spell upon me.”

“So it would seem,” muttered Osbert. “Hah! she is here again!” he exclaimed, as Constance and her attendant suddenly re-entered the court.

“Returned so soon!” exclaimed Philip, springing joyfully towards the damsel. Then remarking her agitation, he added, “But what has happened? Have you come to claim our escort?”

“I am come to warn you,” she replied, trembling. “Your life is in danger.”

“The danger is welcome, since it procures me the happiness of seeing you again,” said the Prince.

“Oh! trifle not thus,” she rejoined. “’Tis no imaginary peril. Listen to me, I beseech you. There are some evil-minded men in the street, whose design, I am certain, is to set upon you as you come forth. They have weapons in their hands, and their talk left me no doubt as to their sanguinary purpose.”

“But why should they lie in wait for me?” rejoined Philip, carelessly. “However, be that as it may, I am infinitely obliged to them for proving to me that you are really interested in my safety.”

“How could I fail to be, when I learnt from some words that fell from these miscreants, what I might have conjectured before, that you are no less exalted a personage than the Prince of Spain?”

“In what way did the villains obtain the information?” cried Philip. “It must be mere guess-work on their part. But make yourself easy, sweet Constance. They will not dare to assault me; or, if they do, I shall know how to defend myself. Besides, I am not alone. This gentleman, Master Osbert Clinton, I make no doubt, is a tolerable swordsman, and will help me to give a good account of the rogues.”

“Your Highness may depend on me,” said Osbert. “But you must not place yourself in this jeopardy. The street is dark and lonely, and favourable to a murtherous attempt of this kind. Already, more than one foul deed has been perpetrated within it.”

“The wretches are lying in ambush ready to attack you unawares,” said Constance. “I saw them extinguish the only lamp in the street, and then retire behind a buttress in the wall.”

“By Holy Mary! my young mistress speaks the truth,” said old Dorcas, her teeth chattering with fright. “I counted the villains. There are six of them.”

“Then they will be three to two,” rejoined the Prince, lightly. “We can manage that odds, eh, Master Clinton?”

“Your Highness must not thus expose yourself,” said Constance. “It will be impossible to escape them. I pray you to be ruled by me, and enter the hospital till a guard be procured.”

“I am well content to do so, if you will tarry with me,” answered Philip. “But who will bring the guard?”

“Be that task mine,” cried Osbert. “As soon as your Highness is in safety, I will fly to procure assistance.”

“Nay, you must not go, Sir,” said Constance. “The peril will be as great to you as to the Prince himself. You will only throw away your life in the attempt. I will summon the watch. I shall run no risk.”

“She will, at least, pity me if I fall—I will go!” mentally ejaculated Osbert.

“I will procure your Highness instant admittance to the hospital,” said Constance, “and then——”

“Nay, you must bear me company, or I will not enter,” interrupted Philip.

Osbert waited till they had nearly reached the door of the hospital, and then, drawing his sword, rushed down the passage leading to the street.

“Ah! rash young man!” exclaimed Constance, in accents of pity which might have gratified Osbert if he could have heard them. “He is rushing to certain destruction.”

Scarcely were the words uttered, when the clashing of steel was heard without, accompanied by other sounds, proving that a desperate conflict was going on.

“I must leave you, Constance, and fly to his assistance,” cried the Prince, plucking his rapier from its sheath.

“No,” she rejoined, holding him. “Your life is too precious to be thus sacrificed—too precious to the Queen.”

“I will strike down these assassins in her name,” rejoined Philip. “I am proof against their blades. The son of Charles V. is not destined to perish thus obscurely.”

“’Twere far better you sought an asylum here; but, if go you will, may Heaven and all good saints guard you!”

And as she relinquished her hold of him, and sought to enter the hospital, she found the door was fastened.

Perceiving this, old Dorcas knocked against it, calling out lustily, “Within! I say, within!” But there being no answer to the summons, she added despairingly, “Deaf old Absalom, the porter, must have gone to bed. What will become of us?”

Meanwhile, the Prince had quickly divested himself of his cloak, and, wrapping part of it round his left arm, leaving the other half hanging down, he flew to the passage, rapier in hand. On reaching it, he found it occupied by Osbert and his assailants. The young man was defending himself like a lion against his opponents, one of whom he had already disabled, but he was compelled to retreat; his position being such, that for the moment the Prince could render him no assistance. But the foremost of the assassin band caught sight of Philip, and shouting out to his comrades,—

“There stands the accursed Spanish Prince who would enslave us! We have him now—we have him!” Whereupon, incited by the words, they attacked Osbert so furiously that they drove him down the passage.

“Ah! why do I find your Highness here?” cried young Clinton, despairingly, as the Prince joined him, and helped him to keep off his assailants.

“You hear what he says, comrades,” cried the leader of the band, a formidable-looking ruffian in a buff jerkin and steel cap, who looked like a disbanded soldier. “I was not mistaken, you see. ’Tis the Prince in person. ’Tis the bloodthirsty tyrant who would rob us of our liberties, and place us under a foreign yoke; who would force us by fagot and fire and other severities, conceived in hell, to return to the Romish idolatries we have abjured. But he has been delivered into our hands ere the wicked devices of his heart can be accomplished. It is Heaven’s will that he should die, and in putting him to death we shall earn the gratitude of our country.”

“Besides the hundred rose-nobles each that we are to have for the deed,” cried one of his comrades.

“I would do the deed for nothing,” shouted another of the band, “for it will redound to our credit. So have at him!”

“Harkye, young Sir,” cried the leader of the band, addressing Osbert. “We do not desire your life—nay, we would willingly spare you. Our sole object is to crush this spawn of hell. Retire, and leave him to our justice.”

“Think you I will stand tamely by and see you execute your ruthless purpose?” cried young Clinton. “No; I will defend the Prince to my last gasp.”

“Your blood be upon your own head, then,” rejoined the ruffian. “Upon them, comrades! Strike, and spare not.”

“Thou, at least, will never be executioner,” cried the Prince.

And as the ruffian made a desperate lunge at him, he dexterously caught his sword in the hanging part of his cloak, and returning with a full thrust, transfixed his antagonist with his rapier.

“This comes of Spanish practices,” groaned the wretch, as he fell to the ground. “Had he fought like an Englishman, without the cloak, I had killed him. Revenge me, comrades,” he added, with his last breath.

“I have done thee too much honour in killing thee, vile caitiff,” cried Philip, spurning the body with his foot.

The death of the leader caused a momentary pause in the assault. But determined to make sure of their prey, three of the ruffians now attacked the Prince, leaving the fourth engaged with Osbert. But for his activity and address it might now have fared ill with Philip. His cloak saved him from many a deadly thrust aimed at his breast, and distracted his assailants. Strange to say, he was entirely untouched, though all three of his opponents had felt the point of his weapon. He tried to separate them, but without success. They were too wary to be caught by the stratagem.

In this way, he was driven back towards the door of the hospital, before which stood Constance and old Dorcas, unable to gain admittance, and filling the court with cries for help. Presently at this juncture, and as if to afford him a means of retreat, the door of the hospital was thrown open by old Absalom, the porter, who held a lamp in his hand, and was shaking with terror. While stepping nimbly backwards in the hope of passing through the doorway, Philip encountered some obstacle, and fell, thus lying at the mercy of his opponents.

In another moment all had been over with him, if Constance had not heroically thrown herself before him, and the ruffians, having some touch of manhood in their breasts, forbore to strike. With terrible oaths, however, they ordered her to stand aside, but, with unshaken resolution, she maintained her place, and they were preparing to execute their fell purpose in spite of her, when a loud clatter in the passage leading to the street warned them that succour was at hand, and made them pause. The next moment Rodomont Bittern and his friends, shouting and flourishing their swords, and accompanied by two or three torch-bearers, rushed into the court.

Constance Tyrrell saves the life of the Prince of Spain.
	P. 64.

“A Rodomont to the rescue!” roared Bittern. “Where is Don Philip? Heaven be praised, we are not too late!” he exclaimed, perceiving the Prince, who by this time had regained his feet. “Down with your swords, villains!” he added to the ruffians. “Down with them instantly, or we will hack you to minced-meat.”

“Know you whom you aid?” cried one of the men, regarding him fiercely. “It is the Prince of Spain—the arch-foe of England. But for this foolish damsel we had already destroyed him!”

“Soh! you unblushingly confess your villany?” rejoined Rodomont. “A precious rascal, truly!”

“Ay, and I should have exulted in the deed, if I had accomplished it,” retorted the man. “A day will come when you will regret this interference. Think not to detain me.”

“Stay him! kill him! suffer him not to escape!” shouted Rodomont to his companions.

But, in spite of the many weapons directed against him, the man fought his way desperately towards the passage, and was close upon it, when a cut on the head staggered him, and he was captured and disarmed. He was followed by his two comrades, both of whom were more successful than himself, and effected a retreat. The ruffian who had been engaged with Osbert likewise escaped, having broken away amid the confusion caused by the arrival of Rodomont and his party. Some pursuit was made after the miscreants, but it was ineffectual.

No sooner was Philip freed from his assailants, than he turned to express his gratitude to Constance.

“I owe my life to you,” he said; “nay, more, you have risked your own life to preserve mine. How can I requite you?”

“By forgetting that you have ever beheld me,” she replied.

“That were impossible,” he rejoined. “Ask something that I can perform.”

“I desire nothing,” she returned; “and, indeed, I do not merit your gratitude. It is the hand of Heaven that has guarded your Highness, not mine—guarded you for the Queen, to whom your safety is dearer than her own life, and who might not have survived your loss. I must now retire for a short space, to compose myself ere I return home. Once more, I implore you to forget me. Farewell for ever!”

And without another word, and in spite of Philip’s appealing looks, she entered the hospital with Dorcas.

“It would be well if I could forget her,” thought Philip, as Constance disappeared; “but that is beyond my power. I could not tear her from my heart without a pang greater than I could endure. Yet it would be a crime to trouble the peace of one so pure and holy-minded. No matter! I should be wretched without her. Come what will, we must meet again.”