Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead CavalierDix, Beulah Marie
History
Hugh Gwyeth: A Roundhead Cavalier
Dix, Beulah Marie
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Then he let all that pass, and thought only that the autumn air was
chilly and he was hungry, so that though he pulled his belt a notch
tighter it availed nothing. A man must eat, and out in the world food
came only by work, he realized; and with that he fell to wondering if
there were any labor to which he might turn his hand. A small knowledge
of Latin, small skill with a sword, and the ability to back a
horse,—that summed up his accomplishments. Hugh told them over with a
feeling that either he had not been equipped for such a fortune as this,
or he had struck out for himself long before his education was
completed. But if he could ride and handle a sword he might turn
trooper, so, coming in sight of a smith’s shop and men, one of whom
looked a petty officer, lounging about it, he ventured up shyly and, as
the fellows were in good humor, questioned them tentatively, if they
might not perhaps care to enroll him among them. They only laughed at
him, and the petty officer bade him run home and grow. With his hopes a
bit dashed Hugh walked away, but, strengthened by having a purpose,
tramped the town all the afternoon in search of employment among the
horse soldiery. But those he applied to either lost their tempers and
swore at him, or laughed and chaffed him; and the foot soldiers, to whom
he finally offered himself, were even more contemptuous. “You? ’Twould
need another fellow to bear your musket,” the last man he questioned
answered him gruffly.
That night Hugh slept in the sheltered corner of an alley, and two
officers, tramping through at midnight with a torchbearer, stumbled over
him. One kicked him, the other, glancing at him, flung him a penny
before he passed on. When the coin fell beside him Hugh did not move,
but after the torch had blinked out of sight he groped his hand along
the damp ground, shaking with nervousness that he did not find the
penny, and, as his fingers closed on it, almost sobbed with relief. He
sought out a bakehouse at once, and sitting on some dingy steps opposite
waited the hungry hours till morning broke, the shop opened, and
bursting in headlong he could buy his bread. It went very quickly,
leaving him hungrier than ever, but he got no more till next morning,
when a gentleman paid him twopence for holding his horse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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