St. George and St. Michael, Volume 1MacDonald, George
History
St. George and St. Michael, Volume 1
MacDonald, George
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'Then it is time you were in bed, Mr Scudamore, for my mare and I
will be wanted,' he cried. 'God be praised! I thank you for the good
news. It makes me young again to hear it.'
'What the devil do you mean by jerking this cursed knee of mine so?'
shouted Scudamore. 'Faith, you were young enough in all conscience
already, you fool! You want to keep me in bed, as well as send me
there! Well out of the way, you think! But I give you honest warning
to look after your mare, for I vow I have fallen in love with her.
She's worth three, at least, of your mistress Dorothies.'
'You talk like a Dutch boor,' said Richard.
'Saith an English lout,' retorted Scudamore. 'But, all things being
lawful in love and war, not to mention hate and rebellion, this
mare, if I am blessed with a chance, shall be--well, shall be
translated.'
'You mean from Redware to Raglan.'
'Where she shall be entertained in a manner worthy of her, which is
saying no little, if all her paces and points be equal to her walk
and her crest.'
'I trust you will be more pitiful to my poor Lady,' said Richard,
quietly. 'If all they say be true, Raglan stables are no place for a
mare of her breeding.'
'What do you mean, roundhead?'
'Folk say your stables at Raglan are like other some Raglan
matters--of the infernal sort.'
Scudamore was silent for a moment.
'Whether the stables be under the pavement or over the leads,' he
returned at last, 'there are not a few in them as good as she--of
which I hope to satisfy my Lady some day,' he added, patting the
mare's neck.
'Wert thou not hurt already, I would pitch thee out of the saddle,'
said Richard.
'Were I not hurt in the knee, thou couldst not,' said Scudamore.
'I need not lay hand upon thee. Wert thou as sound in limb as thou
art in wind, thou wouldst feel thyself on the road ere thou knewest
thou hadst taken leave of the saddle--did I but give the mare the
sign she knows.'
'By God's grace,' said the cavalier, 'she shall be mine, and teach
me the trick of it.'
Richard answered only with a grim laugh, and again, but more gently
this time, quickened the mare's pace. Little more had passed between
them when the six-sided towers of Raglan rose on their view.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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