With the King at Oxford: A Tale of the Great RebellionChurch, Alfred John
History
With the King at Oxford: A Tale of the Great Rebellion
Church, Alfred John
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
It was plain to be seen that the hollow was used as a camping
place by gipsies and the like, for there was a hearth where a fire had
been, with great stones about it. I too would fain have lighted a
fire, for the night, as I have said, was chill, and my father, for
loss of blood and stiffness of his wounds, lacked warmth, but Talboys
would not have it.
"There be worse things than cold," said he; "'tis not the first time
that I have passed the night on the field of battle, and I liked it
worse than the fighting. There be evil creatures about, I warrant you.
The birds that haunt such places are no doves, but kites and carrion
crows, and it would be well they should not spy us. They have a keen
sight of their own, and a bit of smoke would guide them finely." So we
were content to abide as we were.
I purposed to watch that night, and would have sworn that by no chance
should sleep overcome me. And yet I slept, and this, if I remember
right, before midnight. As long as my father was awake 'twas easy
enough to resist, but when he fell into a slumber, which he did, as
near as I could guess, about two hours after sunset, I soon began to
nod for all my good resolutions and endeavours.
'Twas just growing light the next morning when I was awaked by voices
raised in anger hard by me. Lifting myself to my feet, which for
stiffness I did with no small difficulty, I saw a stranger whom John
Talboys held by the collar of his coat. He was a man of a thickset
frame, somewhat under the common stature, his face burned by the sun
to a very dark brown that showed somewhat strangely against his light,
yellow hair, and eyes as blue as ever I saw. He had not altogether the
aspect of an Englishman, and his speech, too, though ready enough, had
a certain accent as of a foreigner. I liked not his look; there was
somewhat greedy and cunning, ay, and cruel, too, in his face, so far
as one could see it for the thick beard that he wore over his chin and
lips, ay, and up to his cheek-bones.
"Nay, my good man," I heard him say to John Talboys, "I meant no harm.
I am a poor pedlar, and there is my pack, which I left above, to
witness for me. And see, I have not a weapon, so that I could not do
any damage if I would."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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