In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the YoungEverett-Green, Evelyn
History
In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young
Everett-Green, Evelyn
Great Britain -- History -- Wars of the Roses, 1455-1485 -- Juvenile fiction
It might have been minutes, hours, days, or even years before
Paul opened his eyes to the light of day once more, for all
consciousness he had of the flight of time; but when he did so it
was to meet the solicitous glance of a pair of friendly eyes, and
to feel himself supported by strong arms, whilst some potent spirit
was held to his lips, which, when he had drunk of it, seemed to
drive away the mists and give him back his senses again.
He looked round him, and found himself lying upon a bloody field,
dead and wounded strewn about him. He was upheld by the arm of one
of his own stout servants; and no one else save a few wounded men
or dead corpses was near. In a flash it all came back--the fight,
the supposed victory, the disastrous defeat; and he groaned aloud,
and struggled to regain his feet.
"The prince!" he cried, in tones sharpened by physical and mental
anguish, "the prince!--where is he?"
"He is a prisoner; but he is unhurt. A gallant knight took him. His
name, I learned from one of his men-at-arms, is Sir Richard Crofts;
and he called out to his men, after you were down, that he would
have no hurt done to the prince. He was to be taken prisoner and
brought to the king--so he called him; and he had given out by
proclamation that whoever brought to him the prince, alive or dead,
should have a hundred pounds a year; and that the life of the
prince should be spared. This I learned from the man-at-arms who
stayed behind with me a while, to bind up a wound you had given
him, and to help me to unlace your helmet, which was going nigh to
choke you as you lay.
"Fear not for the prince, good master. His life is safe; and
doubtless his noble aspect will win him favour with him they now
call king.
"Nay, why do you struggle with me? you can scarce stand yet.
Whither would you go? Let me catch some riderless steed and carry
you to the town. Methinks the leaders have taken sanctuary with the
queen in the church. You had better join them there."
"Ay, get me a horse," said Paul, with faint but vehement command;
and he leaned heavily upon his sword as his servant departed to do
his bidding.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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