The White Horses

WHO RIDES FOR THE KING?Up through the rich valley known now as Wensleydale but in those days marked by the lustier name of Yoredale news had crept that there was civil war in England that sundry skirmishes had been fought already and that His Majesty was needing all leal men to rally to his standard.It was an early harvest that year as it happened and John Metcalf of Nappa Hall stood at his garden-gate watching the sunset glow across his ripening wheat. There were many acres of it gold between green splashes of grass-land; and he told himself that they would put the sickle into the good crop before a fortnight's end. There was something about Squire Metcalf—six feet four to his height and broad in the beam—that seemed part of the wide lush country round him. Weather and land between them had bred him; and the night's peace the smell of sweet-briar in the evening dew were pleasant foils to his strength.He looked beyond the cornfields presently. Far down the road he saw a horseman—horse and rider small in the middle of the landscape—and wondered what their errand was. When he had done with surmises his glance roved again in the countryman's slow way and rested on the pastures above the house. In the clear light he could see two figures standing there; one was his son Christopher the other a trim-waisted maid. Squire Metcalf frowned suddenly. He was so proud of his name of his simple squiredom that he could not bear to see his eldest-born courting defeat of this kind. This little lady was niece to his neighbour Sir Timothy Grant a good neighbour and a friend but one who was richer than himself in lands and rank one who went often to the Court in London and was in great favour with the King. Squire Metcalf had seen these two together in his own house and guessed Christopher's secret without need of much sagacity; and he was sorely troubled on the lad's account.Christopher himself away at the stile yonder was not troubled at all except by a pleasant heartache. He had youth and Joan Grant beside him and a heart on fire for her.You are pleased to love me? she was saying facing him with maddening grace. What is your title to love me sir?CONTENTSWHO RIDES FOR THE KING?SKIPTON-IN-CRAVENSOME MEN OF FAIRFAX'STHE LAST LAUGHTHE LADY OF RIPLEYHOW MICHAEL CAME TO YORKA HALT AT KNARESBOROUGHHOW THEY SOUGHT RUPERTTHE LOYAL CITYTHE RIDING INBANBURY CAKESPAGEANTRYTHE LADY OF LATHOMA STANLEY FOR THE KINGTWO JOLLY PURITANSTHE SCOTS AT MICKLEGATEPRAYER AND THE BREWING STORMMARSTON MOORWILSTROP WOODTHE HOMELESS DAYSSIR REGINALD'S WIDOWMISS BINGHAMYOREDALEIllustrations Old Squire Metcalf as he went out to meet him broke into a roar of laughter.'You're the Squire of Nappa sir?' he said. 'Yes you can be of service' he whispered. 'Say do you stand for the King?' Without a word of any kind a third prisoner was thrown against them. They saw too that his sword was out and naked to the moonlight. 'Well sir?' she asked sharply. 'You rob me of sleep for some good reason doubtless?' They turned sharply as the door opened and reached out for their weapons. 'We hold your life at our mercy' said Rupert. 'Lady Ingilby come to see whether her husband lives or is dead for the King.' 'If the end of the world came—here and now—you would make a jest of it.' Her eyes searched eagerly for one only of the company and disdained the rest.