A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's InsurrectionHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
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A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's Insurrection
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Tyler's Insurrection, 1381 -- Juvenile fiction
"His share was an excellent one, Sir Ralph," Edgar said. "Two of the
ruffians ran at us as we came up. One, who attacked me, was but a poor
swordsman, and I ran him through at the first thrust. I then paused a
moment to ask Albert if he required aid, and he answered, as quietly as
he is now speaking, 'No, I think that I can manage him.' I had no time
to say more, for I saw that a moment's delay would endanger the life of
the traveller. Just as I reached him I heard a yell of pain, and knew
that Albert had done his work. That howl saved the traveller's life.
The man who was kneeling on him looked round for a moment before
delivering his blow, which gave me time to smite him across the wrist.
The blood you see was caused by dragging him off the traveller."
"By our lady!" Sir Ralph exclaimed, "but you have begun well, lads.
That you would do so, Edgar, was a matter beyond doubt, but that Albert
should stand up so well and so coolly in his first fight surprises me
indeed. I had no doubt of your courage, lad. 'Tis rare indeed for one
of good blood to lack courage, but had you been nervous and flurried
the first time you were called upon to play the part of a man, it would
have seemed to me but natural; now it gladdens me indeed to know that
even in your first essay you should have thus shown that you possess
nerve and coolness as well as courage. Anyone can rush into a fight and
deal blows right and left, but it is far more rare to find one who, in
his very first trial at arms, can keep his head clear, and be able to
reply to a question, as Edgar says you did, in a calm and even voice.
Now, tell me, who was this man to whose aid you arrived just at the
nick of time?"
"He looked like a London trader, father, and was some forty years old;
but it was hard to tell, for by the time we got him to the hostelry he
was well-nigh spent and scarce able to crawl along, even with my help."
"He was wounded, then?"
"Stabbed with a dagger, father, just under the collar-bone. He must
have made a stout resistance, for we heard the clashing of swords for
some time as we ran, and when he was struck down he struggled so hard
that in spite of the efforts of two of his assailants they failed to
slay him. As soon as his wounds were bandaged we left him to the care
of the landlord, and hurried off without thinking to ask his name, or
of giving him ours, but we promised to return to see him to-morrow
morning."
"And what became of the daughter?"
"She swooned, sir, when all was over, and Edgar carried her to the
hostelry."
"'Tis good. You have both entered well upon the profession of arms, and
have achieved an adventure worthy of knights. Now to bed. Your mother
retired long ago, but I know that she will not sleep until she has
heard of your safe return and of this adventure that you have gone
through."
Highly gratified at the knight's commendation, the lads went up to
their room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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