The Deserter, and Other Stories: A Book of Two WarsFrederic, Harold
History
The Deserter, and Other Stories: A Book of Two Wars
Frederic, Harold
Great Britain -- History -- Wars of the Roses, 1455-1485 -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
In any other year, he might have spoken freely to his master of this
matter. But as evil chance would have it, on this very May festival,
now two days gone--when in their pleasant wont the youths and maidens
of Tewkesbury rose before cockcrow, and hied them to the greenwood with
music and the blowing of horns, to gather haythorn branches and
dell-flowers, to bathe their faces in the May-dew for beauty's sake, to
shoot at target with Robin Hood, and dance their fill about Maid
Marian--who but Brother Thomas should pass on his return from matins at
Deerhurst cell, nodding drowsily with each movement of his patient
mule? Hugh recalled with a shudder how some wanton ne'er-do-well had
from the bushes hurled a huge, soft swollen toadstool, which broke upon
the good monk's astonished countenance, and scattered miserably inside
his hood. It was small wonder that from this Brother Thomas conceived
sour opinions of May-day sports, and now hinted darkly that the Abbot
should make an end to them. But as it stood thus, Hugh dared not speak
concerning the morris-dresses, and so had hidden them, and now was
sorely troubled about it all.
It may be that here, upon the moment, he would have broken silence with
his secret, well knowing how truly gentle a heart had Thomas. But at
this the door was flung open, and there entered Brother Peter, his
gaunt gray poll shaking with excitement, his claw-like hands held up as
one amazed, his eyes aflame with eagerness.
"Know ye what is come upon us?" he called out breathlessly. "The
foreign woman--save her Grace, she that was--or is--Queen Margaret, I
mean--is at our gates, and with her the Lord Duke Somerset, and her son
the Prince Edward, and the great Earl's daughter, our Lady Anne, and
with them a mort of lords, and knights, and men-at-arms--running now
over every highway and lane inside Tewkesbury and out, taking to
themselves roughly whatever eye likes or belly craves--swearing by the
Rood they will have the Abbey down about our ears if we deny them or
food or drink!"
While Peter's vehement tongue hurled forth these tidings, the man
Thomas went pale with sudden concern for the great treasures and peace
of the house; the boy Hugh rose to his feet, all the miseries of
May-day and morris-garments clean forgotten, and only the inspiriting
ring of steel on steel in his ears.
"Oh! may I run and behold the brave sight?" he prayed aloud, but Thomas
held forth a restraining hand for the moment, and Hugh, much chafing,
heard what further Peter had to tell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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