Great Britain -- History -- Charles I, 1625-1649 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Temperance -- Fiction
He and my child have indeed forsworn all earthly
love, but their hearts are knit in a bond which would make separation
but a living death! And since I can trust Percival Vere as I would a
saint in heaven, I can depart, leaving my darling safely to enjoy the
shelter of his friendship and counsel. Fain would I bid her
accompany me, as she hath oft entreated me, fearing lest her mother's
spirit should chide her for suffering me out of her sight; but these
are troublous times, and I dare not risk her safety. Every fighting
man is being summoned to the banner of the king or parliament, and I
carry with me, when I depart hence in some three days' time, many
stout youths, who will, I trow, show Charles of what bravery our
little Wales is capable. Poor youths, the Royal Commission of Array
spares none whom Providence hath gifted with a sturdy arm and a brave
heart, and I doubt not, good Jack, an you were now a fiery youth as
of yore, you would be the first to follow me to the field! Ah, well,
fain would I die on the battlefield, and so outwit the curse! Who
knows?"
* * * * * * *
Not many days after this conversation between the earl and his
faithful servant, the Royal Standard was uplifted at Nottingham, and
ere many months had passed the Battle of Edgehill had begun the war,
and Primrose and Lady Rosamond, dwelling together, in the absence of
father and husband, in the lonely fastness of Bryn Afon, were daily
watching with keen anxiety for the news which reached but tardily the
solitary Welsh hamlet, wherein, nevertheless, a fierce strife
reigned, and ever increased in bitterness, between the loyal
followers of the king and the zealous partisans, led by Master Jones,
of the opposing party. A mimic warfare raged likewise perpetually
between Cavaliers and Roundheads of tender years, who, arrayed in
lines on either side of the river, aimed harmless missiles across the
foaming stream, and oft made the old boatman tremble for the fate of
his bridge, which was stormed and taken by each party in turn till
the rush of young feet made its light weight to quiver, and its
timbers to creak ominously, and threaten to plunge the youthful
armies into the swiftly-flowing current below.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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