Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651Ainsworth, William Harrison
History
Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
Ainsworth, William Harrison
Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Fiction
He then set to work himself, and with such goodwill that in a
marvellously short space of time the dish was completely emptied. The
horn cups were then filled, and a fresh attack was made on the cold
meat, and continued stoutly for some time, till both parties were
obliged to give in. Careless, however, held out longer than his royal
master.
Everything being replaced in the basket, it was hung upon a branch, to
be again applied to in case of need. The pangs of hunger, from which
he had been suffering rather sharply for the last few hours, being now
appeased, Charles began to feel extremely drowsy, and at length, being
quite unable to resist the strong inclination to slumber, he reclined
his head on Careless's lap, and almost instantly dropped asleep.
The chief anxiety of the faithful attendant was to prevent his royal
master from falling, but there was little chance of such an accident,
for the king never moved. The real risk was lest Careless himself
should follow his majesty's example, for he was oppressed by drowsiness
in an equal degree, but by a great effort he conquered the feeling.
Thus things continued for some time, during which Careless never
altered his position for fear of disturbing the slumbering monarch. But
Charles was not easily awakened, as will presently appear.
On a sudden, Careless was roused from the dreamy state of mind in which
he was lost by a cry for help, and as he happened to be thinking of
Jasper at the moment, he naturally concluded that the cry must proceed
from the page.
In another moment he became convinced that his supposition was correct.
This was not the first time he had heard that voice in distress,
though under far different circumstances from the present. He could
not look out from his place of concealment to ascertain the cause of
the outcries, but it seemed to him that the luckless page was flying
from a patrol, and in imminent danger of being captured. Had it been
possible he would have flown to the youth's assistance, but he could
not quit his position. His anxiety almost amounted to torture, but he
was obliged to bear it.
Charles slept on soundly as ever.
Listening intently, Careless heard the shouts of the troopers as they
galloped among the trees, and he again heard Jasper's voice, but faint
and far off. Then it ceased altogether. Was the fugitive captured? As
Careless could still hear the fierce shouts of the pursuers he hoped
not. But he was left in a state of agonising suspense, for very soon
the shouts of the troopers ceased also.
Still the king moved not, but continued buried in sleep for some time
longer. At last he roused himself, but it took him some minutes to
completely shake off his lethargy.
"I have had a strange dream, Will--a kind of nightmare," he said.
"Methought that pretty page, Jasper, was calling out for help, and
neither of us could stir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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