Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, lord Herbert set out for
Chepstow first and then Monmouth, both which places belonged to his
father, and were principal sources of his great wealth.
Still, amid the rush of the changeful tides of war around them, and the
rumour of battle filling the air, all was peaceful within the defences
of Raglan, and its towers looked abroad over a quiet country, where the
cattle fed and the green wheat grew. On the far outskirts of vision,
indeed, a smoke might be seen at times from the watch-tower, and across
the air would come the dull boom of a great gun from one of the
fortresses, at which lady Margaret's cheek would turn pale; but,
although every day something was done to strengthen the castle, although
masons were at work here and there about the walls like bees, and Caspar
Kaltoff was busy in all directions, now mounting fresh guns, now
repairing steel cross-bows, now getting out of the armoury the queerest
oldest-fashioned engines to place wherever available points could be
found, there was no hurry and no confusion, and indeed so little
appearance of unusual activity, that an unmilitary stranger might have
passed a week in the castle without discovering that preparations for
defence were actively going on. All around them the buds were creeping
out, uncurling, spreading abroad, straightening themselves, smoothing
out the creases of their unfolding, and breathing the air of heaven--in
some way very pleasant to creatures with roots as well as to creatures
with legs. The apple-blossoms came out, and the orchard was lovely as
with an upward-driven storm of roseate snow. Ladies were oftener seen
passing through the gates and walking in the gardens--where the
fountains had begun to play, and the swans and ducks on the lakes felt
the return of spring in every fibre of their webby feet and cold scaly
legs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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