St. George for EnglandHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
St. George for England
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Edward III, 1327-1377 -- Fiction
“They have not discovered our flight,” Ralph said at last, “or they
would have passed long before this. Sir Phillip doubtless imagines that
we are drowned. The water was within a few inches of the sill when we
started, and must soon have flooded the dungeon; and did he trouble to
look in the morning, which is unlikely enough seeing that he would be
sure of our fate, he would be unable to descend the stairs, and could
not reach to the door, and so discover that the bar had been removed.
No; whatever his motive may have been in compassing my death, he is
doubtless satisfied that he has attained it, and we need have no further
fear of pursuit from him. The rain has ceased, and I think that it will
be a fine night; we will walk on, and if we come across a barn will make
free to enter it, and stripping off our clothing to dry, will sleep in
the hay, and pursue our journey in the morning. From our travel-stained
appearance any who may meet us will take us for two wayfarers going to
take service in the army at Amiens.”
It was not until nearly midnight that they came upon such a place as
they sought, then after passing a little village they found a shed
standing apart. Entering it they found that it was tenanted by two cows.
Groping about they presently came upon a heap of forage, and taking off
their outer garments lay down on this, covering themselves thickly with
it. The shed was warm and comfortable and they were soon asleep, and
awaking at daybreak they found that their clothes had dried somewhat.
The sun was not yet up when they started, but it soon rose, and ere noon
their garments had dried, and they felt for the first time comfortable.
They met but few people on the road, and these passed them with ordinary
salutations.
They had by this time left Amiens on the right, and by nightfall
were well on their way towards Calais. Early in the morning they had
purchased some bread at a village through which they passed; Walter's
Norman-French being easily understood, and exciting no surprise or
suspicion. At nightfall they slept in a shed within a mile of the
ruins of the castle of Pres, and late next evening entered the English
encampment at New Town. After going to his tent, where he and Ralph
changed their garments and partook of a hearty meal, Walter proceeded
to the pavilion of the prince, who hailed his entrance with the greatest
surprise.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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