The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil WarsWesterman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
History
The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars
Westerman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
"I did but carry out mine orders," replied the dragoon.
"Brutality is not necessary to the obedience of orders," snapped
Firestone. "Come, now, say where our arms were placed, or the provost
will have speech with you, with the great possibility of the gallows
to finish up with. Now, sirrah, what say you?"
"They were sold at Liskeard."
"To whom?"
"To the host of the 'Stag.'"
"For how much?"
"A barrel of cider."
"You rascal!" shouted Firestone, shaking his fist in the man's face.
"You rascal! To sell the arms of two loyal gentlemen for a barrel of
cider. Get back to your work, you prick-eared rebel, lest I forget
myself."
And, wild with rage, my comrade stalked out of the building.
For my part my indignation was almost as great, and I resolved at the
earliest opportunity to regain possession of my sword, the gift of
the armourer of Newport. However, as the countryside was overrun with
the remnants of the surrendered army, it was deemed wise to defer the
journey for a few days at least.
One morning, however, I was seized with a sudden impulse to ride
alone over to Liskeard, a distance of twelve miles, and to offer a
reasonable sum to the innkeeper for the weapons, or, failing to
obtain them in this manner, to threaten him with a visit from our men
for illegal trafficking with rebels; and, having executed my mission,
the result would be a pleasant surprise to Nick Firestone.
It was after midday ere I obtained the necessary permission from the
provost to leave the camp, and, having made an excuse to my comrade,
I saddled my horse and rode off.
This animal was not the one I had ridden from home, neither was it
the passable nag that I had had given me on joining Hopton's camp,
but a powerful black charger which I bought immediately after the
surrender of the rebel army, and was, in consequence, ignorant of its
temper.
In under two hours I arrived at Liskeard, where I found the host of
the "Stag" most amenable to my request, and, protesting that he had
been compelled to take my sword and a brace of pistols belonging to
Firestone in payment for the cider, he handed them over in
consideration of the sum of a crown--a far less amount than I had
expected to have had to pay.
Delighted with the success of my mission, I had refreshment, and
afterwards set out on my journey back to the camp. But I had barely
covered half the distance when my horse began to show symptoms of
restlessness, and before I was fully aware of the fact, it suddenly
plunged, bounded forward, and, regardless of my effort to retain it,
tore headlong over the dusty road.
Thinking it would soon tire itself out, and consoling myself that I
was still going in the direction of the camp, I let the creature have
a loose rein, till at length it suddenly turned, cleared a low stone
wall with a bound, and headed across a field.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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