Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War — John Shaqi
Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
"To fight, certainly," Harry replied. "I am sure that among the tenants
there is not one who could use the small sword as I can, for you have
taught me yourself, and I do not think that I should be more afraid of
the London pikemen than the best of them."
"No, no, Harry," his father said, putting his hand on the boy's
shoulder; "I do not doubt your bravery. You come of a fighting stock
indeed, and good blood cannot lie. But you are too young, my boy."
"But if the war goes on for a couple of years, father."
"Ay, ay, my boy; but I hope that it will be ended in a couple of months.
If it should last--which God forbid!--you shall have your chance, never
fear. Or, Harry, should you hear that aught has happened to me, mount
your horse at once, my boy; ride to the army, and take your place at the
head of my tenants. They will of course put an older hand in command;
but so long as a Furness is alive, whatever be his age, he must ride at
the head of the Furness tenants to strike for the king. I hear, by the
way, Harry, that that Puritan knave, Rippinghall, the wool-stapler, is
talking treason among his hands, and says that he will add a brave
contingent to the bands of the Commons when they march hither. Hast
heard aught about it?"
"Nothing, father, but I hope it is not true. I know, however, that
Master Rippinghall's thoughts and opinions lie in that direction, for I
have heard from Herbert--"
"Ah, the son of the wool-stapler. Hark you, Harry, this is a time when
we must all take sides for or against the king. Hitherto I have
permitted your acquaintance with the wool-stapler's son, though, in
truth, he be by birth no fit companion for you. But times have changed
now. The sword is going to be drawn, and friends of the king can no
longer be grip hands with friends of the Commons. Did my own brother
draw sword for Parliament, we would never speak again. Dost hear?"
"Yes, sir; and will of course obey your order, should you determine that
I must speak no more to Herbert. But, as you say, I am a boy yet, too
young to ride to the wars, and Herbert is no older. It will be time for
us to quarrel when it is time for us to draw the sword."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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