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
One of their number, a little in the rear, supposing Richard to be
one of themselves, allowed him to get ahead of him, and, facing
about, cut him off from his companions. It was the second time he
had headed Scudamore, and again he did not know him, this time
because it was dark. Rowland, however, recognised his voice as he
called him to surrender, and rushed fiercely at him. But scarcely
had they met, when the cavalier, whose little strength had ere this
all but given way to the unwonted fatigue, was suddenly overcome
with faintness, and dropped from his horse. Richard got down, lifted
him, laid him across Lady's shoulders, mounted, raised him into a
better position, and, leading the other horse, brought him back to
the inn. There first he discovered that he was his prisoner whom he
feared he had killed at Naseby.
When Rowland came to himself,
'Are you able to ride a few miles, Mr Scudamore?' asked Richard.
At first Rowland was too much chagrined, finding in whose power he
was, to answer.
'I am your prisoner,' he said at length. 'You are my evil genius, I
think. I have no choice. Thy star is in the ascendant, and mine has
been going down ever since first I met thee, Richard Heywood.'
Richard attempted no reply, but got Rowland's horse, and assisted
him to mount.
'I want to do you a good turn, Mr Scudamore,' he said, after they
had ridden a mile in silence.
'I look for nothing good at thy hand,' said Scudamore.
'When thou findest what it is, I trust thou wilt change thy thought
of me, Mr Scudamore.'
'SIR ROWLAND, an' it please you,' said the prisoner, his boyish
vanity roused by misfortune, and passing itself upon him for
dignity.
'Mere ignorance must be pardoned, sir Rowland,' returned Richard: 'I
was unaware of your dignity. But think you, sir Rowland, you do well
to ride on such rough errands, while yet not recovered, as is but
too plain to see, from former wounds?'
'It seems not, Mr. Heywood, for I had not else been your prize, I
trust. The wound I caught at Naseby has cost the king a soldier, I
fear.'
'I hope it will cost no more than is already paid. Men must fight,
it seems, but I for one would gladly repair, an' I might, what
injuries I had been compelled to cause.'
'I cannot say the like on my part,' returned sir Rowland. 'I would I
had slain thee!'
'So would not I concerning thee--in proof whereof do I now lead thee
to the best leech I know--one who brought me back from death's door,
when through thee, if not by thy hand, I was sore wounded. With her,
as my prisoner, I shall leave thee. Seek not to make thy escape,
lest, being a witch, as they saw of her, she chain thee up in
alabaster. When thou art restored, go thy way whither thou pleasest.
It is no longer as it was with the cause of liberty: a soldier of
hers may now afford to release an enemy for whom he has a
friendship.'
'A friendship!' exclaimed sir Rowland. 'And wherefore, prithee, Mr
Heywood? On what ground?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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