Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead CavalierDix, Beulah Marie
History
Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead Cavalier
Dix, Beulah Marie
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Butler pulled him outside, where the light was clearer, and after that
instant’s pause turned upon the troopers with a violent demand as to
what they meant. One replied, “’Tis he who killed Master Bellasis;” but
the captain cut him short with a volley of abuse, that they durst hale
thither an innocent man and a friend of his, too, and followed it with
threats of a flogging to them all and bluster and oaths, till the three
were cowed into a frightened silence.
“Well, I’ll be easy with you this time, you rogues,” Butler resumed
after a moment, “for Master Burley is a merciful man, and I’m thinking
would be better pleased that you went free. And, faith, he bears so
little malice he wishes you all to drink his health.” Thus admonished,
Hugh pulled three shillings out of his pocket and tossed them to his
late captors before Butler led him away to the house. “Come have a drink
with me, Burley,” he said, and added, with a chuckle, “I take it you
need it.”
“That was a narrow escape, eh, Gwyeth?” he spoke later, as Hugh was
swallowing down a bumper of Spanish wine in the west parlor of the
house.
“Narrow as I ever wish,” Hugh replied truthfully.
“I think my fellows will hold their tongues now, betwixt threats and
bribes,” Butler went on. “But after this you’d best do as you should
have done at the first, shelter yourself among honest soldiers, who’d
die ere they’d let a comrade come to harm, just for spitting a paltry
civilian.”
In the end Hugh thought it best to take the advice; if he returned to
Ashcroft there was no reason that Cavalier marauders should not stray
thither again, and a second apprehension might not end so happily. Then,
besides, he was glad, after his weeks of illness and dependence, to be
once more among men, who accepted him as an equal and did not fret him
with constant care. Holding this feeling rather ungrateful, he took
pains to write a very civil and thankful letter to the Widow Flemyng,
which George Allestree conveyed to her, when he rode to Ashcroft with
one of the men to fetch away Hugh’s clothes and accoutrements.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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