A Gentleman-at-Arms: Being Passages in the Life of Sir Christopher Rudd, KnightStrang, Herbert
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A Gentleman-at-Arms: Being Passages in the Life of Sir Christopher Rudd, Knight
Strang, Herbert
Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Juvenile fiction
’Twas as though I hurled myself upon stone, so mighty was the shock of
my entering the water. Methought in my confusion of wits ’twas an age
before I came to the surface, gasping for my breath. In a daze I trod
water until my senses were some little restored; then, hearkening with
all my ears, but hearing nought, I swam close beneath the wall, until I
found my bundle dangling, and thereupon tugging upon the cord I snapped
it, and set the bundle upon my head. There I held it with one hand,
while with the other I struck out towards the shore; at which arriving I
scrambled up the bank, and sped away as fleetly as I might to the
shelter of a copse hard by. Here, all winded as I was with swift
running after my dive and swim, I made short work of stripping off my
wet clothes, and donning the dry raiment and the boots which I had
brought in my bundle; which done, I wrung out my sodden things, tied
them about my back with the cord, and making a cast as well as I could
for the English fort I had lately left, I turned my back upon the lake
and the castle, and issued forth from among the trees to plod over those
unknown barren hills.
*V*
The sky, as I told you, rendered a pale light, it being high summer; and
I was rather dismayed than pleasured when I saw the moon’s pale sphere
stretching a bow beyond the further hills. The more light, the less
chance of shunning an enemy. Truly, I could have been thankful for a
lanthorn upon my path, for I had need to go slowly and heedfully, lest I
should find myself embogged, of which my one experience was more than
enough. I laboured over the ground, making small headway, for where
’twas not marshy ’twas rugged and bestrewn with loose stones, and where
’twas none of these, I was annoyed with pestering thorns or entangled
underwood. And the short summer darkness was already dissolving with
the dawn.
I looked back over the way I had come, and saw the lake not above two
miles off, below me, and the castle rose-tinted in the sun’s ray. Even
now, I thought, the nimble kernes, whose fleetness of foot exceeds that
of a horse, might run me down, if my escape had become known. I
considered whether to seek a hiding-place, in some bosky covert or some
brier-clad hole in the hills; but bethought myself that I must then lie
quiet all day without food, and maybe lose myself when I came forth in
the night. It seemed to me best to keep right on, watching my steps,
and shrouding myself with such brushwood and overhanging cliffs as I
might encounter on my way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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