St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3MacDonald, George
History
St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3
MacDonald, George
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
'Be it then the old Satan himself?' Caspar heard a man say anxiously
to his neighbour, as he tried to get a look at his feet, which was
not easy in such a press. Caspar, highly amused, and thinking such
evil reputation would rather protect than injure him, showed some
anxiety about his feet, and made as if he would fain keep them out
of the field of observation. But thereupon he saw the faces and
gestures of the younger men begin to grow threatening; evidently
anger was succeeding to fear, and some of them, fired with the
ambition possibly of thrashing the devil, ventured to give him a
rough shove or two from behind. Neither outbreak of sulphurous
flashes nor even kick of cloven hoof following, they proceeded with
the game, and rapidly advanced to such extremities, expostulation in
Caspar's broken English, for such in excitement it always became,
seeming only to act as fresh incitement and justification, that at
length he was compelled in self-defence to draw a dagger. This
checked them a little, and ere audacity had had time to recover
itself, a young man came shoving through the crowd, pushing them all
right and left until he reached Caspar, and stood by his side. Now
there was that about Richard Heywood to give him influence with a
crowd: he was a strong man and a gentleman, and they drew back.
'De fools dink I was de tuyfel!' said Caspar.
Richard turned upon them with indignation.
'You Englishmen!' he cried, 'and treat a foreigner thus!'
But there was nothing about him to show that he was a roundhead, and
from behind rose the cry: 'A malignant! A royalist!' and the fellows
near began again to advance threateningly.
'Mr. Heywood,' said Caspar hurriedly, for he recognised his helper
from the time he had seen him a prisoner, 'let us make for the hall.
I know the place and can bring us both off safe.'
It was one of Richard's greatest virtues that he could place much
confidence. He gave one glance at his companion, and said, 'I will
do as thou sayest.'
'Follow me then, sir,' said Caspar, and turning with brandished
dagger, he forced his way to the hall-door, Richard following with
fists, his sole weapons, defending their rear.
There were but few in the hall, and although their enemies came
raging after them, they were impeded by the crowd, so that there was
time as they crossed it for Caspar to say:
'Follow me over the bridge, but, for God's sake, put your feet
exactly where I put mine as we cross. You will see why in a moment
after.'
'I will,' said Richard, and, delayed a little by needful care,
gained the other side just as the foremost of their pursuers rushed
on the bridge, and with a clang and a roar were swept from it by the
descending torrent.
They lost no time in explanations. Caspar hurried Richard to the
workshop, down the shaft, through the passage, and into the quarry,
whence, taking no notice of his cart, he went with him to the White
Horse, where Lady was waiting him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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