Shakespeare's Christmas, and other storiesQuiller-Couch, Arthur
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Shakespeare's Christmas, and other stories
Quiller-Couch, Arthur
English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
I wish to waste no words over that foolish combat. We were a hundred
a side, drawn up in our shirt-sleeves on two opposing slopes, and we
encountered in the hollow between. Digby, who led us, had given the
word to hold our pistol-fire for close quarters, and I on the left
had wasted an harangue on my troopers to the same effect. But, once
the trumpets had sounded "charge," the whole affair became but a wild
paper-chase. At forty yards' distance some young fools on the extreme
right began popping off their pistols, and in half a dozen strides
this infection had run like a wildfire along one line. With ordinary
seasoned men of my own troop I had done far better; but these were the
picked fools of an army, and the main of them under twenty years old.
It is always short work between two bodies of horse meeting in full
shock: one swerves and flies, or else goes under; the other presses on:
there can be no other way. For me, I managed to unsaddle a man and
break through the enemy's right with three troopers after me. Wheeling
then, we saw the body of our friends in full flight; and a dozen of
our foes, wheeling at the same instant, bore down on us nimbly. We
spurred to meet them in second shock: but, as we encountered, one
clever round-pate, who had reserved his fire, sent a bullet through
my charger's shoulder-pin. I had at that instant a thrust to deliver
under the arm of another fellow, and the poor brute's fall took me at
unawares. I was flung heavily and stunned; and, the game being over, no
doubt his Majesty rode moodily off to supper. Like other Kings, he was
trained to sport; but I doubt if he ever arrived at enjoying it.
II
The main body of the Parliament horse and two regiments at least
of their foot were quartered at Lestithiel, in the valley under
Boconnoc--a neat tidy town, but not commodious for so great a mob. It
stands by an ancient bridge of eight arches, where the tidal water
running up from Fowey spends the last of its strength; and there is
a Hall and Exchequer where the Dukes of Cornwall had been used to
receive their Stannary accounts, with a small prison beside for debtors
and offenders under the laws of Stannary.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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