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
But a strange excitement seized upon Dorothy, which arose from a
sense of trust and delegation, outwardly unauthorised. She had not
the presumption to give it form in words, even to Caspar, but she
felt as if they two were the special servants of the absent power.
Ceaselessly therefore she kept open eyes, and saw and spoke and
reminded and remedied where she could, so noiselessly, so
unobtrusively, that none were offended, and all took heed of the
things she brought before them. Indeed what she said came at length
to be listened to almost as if it had been a message from Glamorgan.
But her chief business was still the fire-engine, whose machinery
she anxiously watched--for if anything should happen to Caspar and
then to the engine, what would become of them when driven into the
tower?
Discipline, which of late had got very drowsy, was stirred up to
fresh life. Watch grew strict. The garrison was drilled more
regularly and carefully, and the guard and sentinels relieved to the
minute. The armoury was entirely overhauled, and every smith set to
work to get the poor remainder of its contents into good condition.
One evening lord Charles came to his father with the news that some
score of fresh horses had arrived.
'Have they brought provender with them, my lord?' asked the marquis.
'Alas, no, my lord, only teeth,' answered the governor.
'How stands the hay?'
'At low ebb, my lord. There is plenty of oats, however.'
'We hear to-day nothing of the round-heads: what say you to turning
them out and letting them have a last bellyful of sweet grass under
the walls?'
'I say 'tis so good a plan, my lord, that I think we had better
extend it, and let a few of the rest have a parting nibble.'
The marquis approved.
There was a postern in the outermost wall of the castle on the
western side, seldom used, commanded by the guns of the tower, and
opening upon a large field of grass, with nothing between but a
ditch. It was just wide enough to let one horse through at a time,
and by this the governor resolved to turn them out, and as soon as
it was nearly dark, ordered a few thick oak planks to be laid across
the ditch, one above another, for a bridge. The field was
sufficiently fenced to keep them from straying, and with the first
signs of dawn they would take them in again.
Dorothy, leaving the tower for the night, had reached the archway,
when to her surprise she saw the figure of a huge horse move across
the mouth of it, followed by another and another. Except Richard's
mare on that eventful night she had never seen horse-kind there
before. One after another, till she had counted some
five-and-twenty, she saw pass, then heard them cross the fountain
court with heavy foot upon the tiles. At length, dark as it was, she
recognised her own little Dick moving athwart the opening. She
sprang forward, seized him by the halter, and drew him in beside
her. On and on they came, till she had counted eighty, and then the
procession ceased.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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