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 was in somewhat thoughtful mood that he pursued his way through
the woodland paths. Conversation about the burning questions of the
day always left him with a feeling akin to depression. He longed
for the restoration of the house he loved and served, but knew that
a transitory triumph was not a true victory. There was still much
to be done before Henry's seat upon the throne could be called
secure; and what would be the result of the inevitable struggle of
the next months?
He had unconsciously stopped still in deep thought as he asked
himself this question, and was leaning in meditation against a
great oak tree, when he suddenly became aware of a rapid tread
approaching along the narrow track. It seemed as if some youth were
advancing toward him, for he heard the clear whistle as of a boyish
voice, and the springy tread seemed to denote youth and agility.
Although Paul was by no means afraid of a chance encounter in the
forest, he was well aware that it was possible to be overreached
and taken prisoner by some of the robbers, and that he was an
object of special hatred to some amongst them. He decided,
therefore, to act with caution; and as the spot in which he had
halted was rather an open one, through which meandered a little
brook, he resolved to slip silently into the thicket hard by, and
watch from that place of security what manner of person it was
advancing.
A moment later he had effectually concealed himself, and hardly had
he done so before a figure came into view through the dim aisles of
the wood.
The figure was that of a tall, slim, graceful youth of singularly
winning aspect. His frame displayed that combination of strength,
lightness, and agility which is the perfection of training, and his
face was as full of beauty as his frame of activity and grace. The
features were exceedingly noble, and the poise of the head upon the
shoulders was almost princely in its unconscious majesty. The eyes
were a deep blue gray, and looked out upon the world as if their
owner were born to rule. The hair was golden in hue, and clustered
round the head in manly fashion, not in the flowing love locks that
some in those days affected. The dress he wore was very simple, and
somewhat faded, and in his cap a little silver swan was fastened,
forming the only adornment on his person.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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