In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young — John Shaqi
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
As for Paul, he had seen and heard little of the new religion, as
he called it, and looked upon it as a terrible and deadly sin. At
the same time, he had knocked about the world enough to have won a
larger toleration for all sorts and conditions of men than he would
have done had he remained master of the ancestral estates at home;
and after a momentary thrill of dismay and repulsion, he decided to
take no notice of what he had inadvertently overheard.
These people had been kind and friendly. If they desired him to
remain a short time beneath their roof until his wounds were
healed, he saw no particular reason against doing so. A spell of
rest and quiet would suit him and Sultan very well, and with their
private beliefs he had no concern; the less he knew of them the
better.
So he finished his toilet, whistling a gay tune to drown the sound
of the unauthorized prayer nigh at hand; and when he had finished
he opened his door, and made his way down the narrow, winding
stairs, into the great kitchen he had entered the previous evening.
The big place looked cheerful enough this bright morning: the door
standing wide open to the October sunlight--the huge fire of logs
crackling and blazing on the wide hearth and roaring up the vast
open chimney--the rude metal and wooden utensils as clean as
scrubbing could make them--and the brick floor clean enough to eat
off, as the saying goes. And this cleanliness was not so common in
those days of partial civilization as it is now: there were
farmhouses enough and to spare in the England of that day where men
and animals herded together amid filth that we should hardly
condemn pigs to in this enlightened age. Wherefore Paul was both
pleased and surprised by all he saw, and his dim misgivings fled
away promptly.
In the wide inglenook before the oak settle a small table had been
drawn up, and upon this table stood one wooden platter, and some
homely viands sufficiently tempting to a hungry man, and a huge
joram of home-brewed ale. Paul did not doubt for a moment that this
was his own breakfast thus temptingly spread for him; and he was
fully disposed to do it ample justice, for he had eaten little
during the past four-and-twenty hours, and had ridden far and done
some good hard fighting to boot. But he did not like to sit down
uninvited, and as he stood warming his hands at the pleasant blaze,
there tripped into the room the girl he had last clearly seen, gun
in hand, in the forest, and she greeted him with the prettiest
smile and blush.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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