Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
Meantime Mr. Heywood had returned home to look after his affairs, and
brought Richard with him. In the hope that peace was come they had laid
down their commissions. Hardly had they reached Redware when they heard
the news of the active operations at Raglan, and Richard rode off to see
how things were going--not a little anxious concerning Dorothy, and full
of eagerness to protect her, but entirely without hope of favour either
at her hand or her heart. He had no inclination to take part in the
siege, and had had enough of fighting for any satisfaction it had
brought him. It might be the right thing to do, and so far the only path
towards the sunrise, but had he ground for hope that the day of freedom
had in himself advanced beyond the dawn? His confidence in Milton and
Cromwell, with his father's, continued unshaken, but what could man do
to satisfy the hunger for freedom which grew and gnawed within him?
Neither political nor religious liberty could content him. He might
himself be a slave in a universe of freedom. Still ready, even for the
sake of mere outward freedom of action and liberty of worship, to draw
the sword, he yet had begun to think he had fought enough.
As he approached Raglan he missed something from the landscape, but only
upon reflection discovered that it was the church tower. Entering the
village, he found it all but deserted, for the inhabitants had mostly
gone, and it was too near the gates and too much exposed to the sudden
sallies of the besieged for the occupation of the enemy. That day,
however, a large reinforcement, sent from Oxford by Fairfax to
strengthen colonel Morgan, having arrived at Llandenny, some of its
officers, riding over to inspect captain Hooper's operations, had halted
at the White Horse, where they were having a glass of ale when Richard
rode up. He found them old acquaintances, and sat down with them. Almost
evening when he arrived, it was quite dusk when they rose and called for
their horses.
They had placed a man to keep watch towards Raglan, while the rest of
their attendants, who were but few, leaving their horses in the yard,
were drinking their ale in the kitchen; but seeing no signs of peril,
and growing weary of his own position and envious of that of his
neighbours, the fellow had ventured, discipline being neither active nor
severe, to rejoin his companions.
The host, being a tenant of the marquis, had decided royalist
predilections, but whether what followed was of his contriving I cannot
tell; news reached the castle somehow that a few parliamentary officers
with their men were drinking at the White Horse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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