Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'Fangs of biggest dog in Gwent never tore him like that, master Heywood.
Heark'ee now. He cannot tell his tale, so I must tell thee all I know of
the matter. I was over to Raglan village three nights agone, to get me a
bottle of strong waters from mine host of the White Horse, for the
distilling of certain of my herbs good for inward disorders, when he
told me that about an hour before there had come from the way of the
castle all of a sudden the most terrible noise that ever human ears were
pierced withal, as if every devil in hell of dog or cat kind had broken
loose, and fierce battle was waging between them in the Yellow Tower. I
said little, but had my own fears for my lord Herbert, and came home sad
and slow and went to bed. Now what should wake me the next morning, just
as daylight broke the neck of the darkness, but a pitiful whining and
obstinate scratching at my door! And who should it be but that same
lovely little lapdog of my young mistress now standing by thy knee! But
had thou seen him then, master Richard! It was the devil's hackles he
had been through! Such a torn dishclout of a dog thou never did see! I
understood it all in a moment. He had made one in the fight, and whether
he had had the better or the worse of it, like a wise dog as he always
was, he knew where to find what would serve his turn, and so when the
house was quiet, off he came to old mother Rees to be plaistered and
physicked. But what perplexes my old brain is, how, at that hour of the
night, for to reach my door when he did, and him hardly able to stand
when I let him in, it must have been dead night when he left--it do
perplex me, I say, to think how at that time of the night he got out of
that prison, watched as it is both night and day by them that sleep
not.'
'He couldn't have come over the wall?' suggested Richard.
'Had thou seen him--thou would not make that the question.'
'Then he must have come through or under it; there are but three ways,'
said Richard to himself. 'He's a big dog,' he added aloud, regarding him
thoughtfully as he patted his sullen affectionate head. 'He's a big
dog,' he repeated.
'I think a'most he be the biggest dog _I_ ever saw,' assented mistress
Rees.
'I would I were less about the shoulders,' said Richard.
'Who ever heard a man worth his mess of pottage wish him such a wish as
that, master Heywood! What would mistress Dorothy say to hear thee? I
warrant me she findeth no fault with the breadth of thy shoulders.'
'I am less in the compass than I was before the last fight,' he went on,
without heeding his hostess, and as if he talked to the dog, who stood
with his chin on his knee, looking up in his face. 'Where thou, Marquis,
canst walk, I doubt not to creep; but if thou must creep, what then is
left for me? Yet how couldst thou creep with such wounds in thy throat
and belly, my poor Marquis?'
The dog whined, and moved all his feet, one after the other, but without
taking his chin off Richard's knee.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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