 Chapter 39 of St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 by George McDonald. Newberry Early the next morning after Richard had left the cottage for Raglan Castle, Mistress Rhys was awakened by the sound of a heavy blow against her door. When with difficulty she had opened it, Richard, or his dead body she knew not which, fell across the threshold. Like poor Marquis he had come to her for help in healing. When he got out of the quarry he made for the high road, but missing the way the dog had brought him, had some hard work in reaching him, and long before he arrived at the cottage, what with his wound, his loss of blood, his double wedding, his sleeplessness after Mistress Watson's potion, want of food, disappointment and fatigue, he was in a high fever. The last mile or two he had walked in delirium, but happily with the one dominant idea of getting help from Mother Rhys. The poor woman was greatly shocked to find that the teeth of the trap had closed upon her favorite and mangled him so terribly. A drop or two of one of her restoratives, however, soon brought him round so far that he was able to crawl to the chair on which he had sat the night before, now ages ago as it seemed, where he now sat shivering and glowing alternately until with trembling hands the good woman had prepared her own bed for him. The house left thy doublet behind thee, she said, and I warrant me the cake I gave thee and the pouch thereof. Hast thou eaten of that, thou hast not come to this pass? But Richard scarcely heard her voice. His one mental consciousness was the longing desire to lay his aching head on the pillow in end-all effort. Finding his wound appeared very tolerably dressed, Mrs. Rhys would not disturb the bandages. She gave him a cool and draught, and watched him till he fell asleep. Then she tied her to her house, dressed herself, and got everything in order for nursing them. She would have sent it once to Redware to let his father know where and in what condition he was, but not a single person came near the cottage the whole day, and she dared not leave him before the fever had subsided. He raved a good deal, generally in the delusion that he was talking to Dorothy, who sought to kill him, to whom he kept given directions, at one time how to guide the knife to reach his heart, and at another how to mingle her poison so that it should act with speed and certainty. At length one fine evening and early autumn, when the red sun shone level through the window of the little room where he lay, made a red glory on the wall, he came to himself a little. Is it blood, he murmured? Did Dorothy do it? How foolish I am! It is but a blot the sun has left behind him. Ah, I see! I'm dead and lying on the top of my tomb. I'm only marble. This is Redware Church. Oh, Mother Rhys, is it you? I am very glad. Cover me a little. Look, Paul there. His eyes closed, and for a few hours he lay in a deep sleep, from which he awoke, very weak, but clear-headed. He remembered nothing, however, since leaving the quarry, except what appeared a confused dream of wandering through an interminable night of darkness, wariness, and pain. His first words were, I must get up, Mother Rhys, my father will be anxious about me. Besides, I promised to set out for Glauchester today. She sought to quiet him but in vain, and was at last compelled to inform him that his father, finding he did not return, had armed himself, mounted Oliver, and himself led his little company to join the Earl of Essex, who is now on his way at the head of an army, consisting chiefly of the trained bands of London, to raise the siege of Glauchester. Richard started up and would have leaped from the bed but fell back helpless and unconscious. When at length his nurse had seceded and restoring him, she had much adieu to convince him that the best thing in all respects was to lie still and submit to be nursed, so to get well as soon as possible and join his father. Alas, Mother, I have no horse, said Richard, and hit his face on the pillow. The Lord will provide what he wants, my son, said the old woman with emotion, neither asking nor caring whether the Lord was on the side of the king or the parliament, but is little doubting that he must be on the side of Richard. The woman began to eat, hopefully, and after a day or two she found pretty near employment enough in cooking for him. At last, weak as he still was, he would be restrained no longer. To Glauchester he must go and relieve his father. Expossulation was unavailing. Go he must, he said, or his soul would tear itself out of his body and go without it. Besides, Mother, I should be getting better all the way, he continued. Go home at once and see whether there is anything left to go upon. He rose the same instant, and regardless of the good women's entreaties, crawled out to go to Redwell. She followed him a little distance, and before he had walked a quarter of a mile, he was ready to accept her offered arm to help him back. But his recovery was now very rapid, and after a few days he felt able for the journey. At home he found a note from his father, telling him where to find money, and informed him that he was ready to yield him Oliver the moment he should appear to claim him. Richard put on his armor and went to the stable. The weather had been fine, and the harvest was wearing gradually to a close, but the few horses that were left were overworked, for the necessities of the war had been severe, and that part of the country had responded liberally on both sides. Besides, Mr. Haywood had scarce left an animal, judged it all fit to carry a man, and keep up with the troop. When Richard reached the stable, there were in it but three, two of which, having brought loads to the barn, were now having their midday meal and rest. The first one was ancient bones, with pits profound above his eyes, gray hairs all about a face which had once been black. Thou art but fit for old father-time delays sigh across when he is a weary, said Richard, and turned to the next. She was a huge-bodied short-legged punch as fat as butter, with lop ears and sleepy eyes. Having finished her corn, she was churning away at a manger full of grass. Thou was burst thy belly at the first charge, said Richard, and was approaching the third, one he did not recognize, when a vicious straight-out kicked informed him that there was temper at least, probably than spirit. But when he came near enough to see into the stall, there stood the ugliest brute he thought that ever ate barley. He was very long-bodied and rather short-legged, with great tufts at his fetlocks, and the general look of a huge rat, in part doubtless from having no hair on his long and undocked tail. He was biting vigorously at his manger, and Richard could see the white of one eye, glaring at him as scants in the gloom. Do not go nigh him, sir, cried Jacob Fortune, who would come up behind. Thou knows not his tricks. His name be his nature, and we call him Beaselbump, when master, stop, chase, be not by. I be right glad to see your honor up again. Jacob was too old to go to the wars, and too indifferent to regret it. But he was faithful, and had authority over the few men left. I thank you, Jacob, said Richard. What root is this? I know him not. We all know him too well, master Richard, though verily stop, chase, brought him, but the day before he rode, thinking be like he might carry an ear or two of wheat. If he not be very good, he was not partless, dear. He paid for him but an old song. He was warranted to have work in him, if a man but knew how to get it out. He is ugly. He is the ugliest horse, cart-horse, nag or coarser on this creation side, said the old man, ugly enough to fright to death when he doth fail in his endeavor to kill. The men are all mortal feared of him, for he do kick and he do bite like the living Satan. He will not go in no cart, but there he do stand eating on his head off as fast as he can, and the brute were mine, I would slay him, I would, in good soothe. Then I had but time to cure him of his evil kicking, I fear I must ever ride the last in the troops, said Richard. Why, for sure, master, the never will ride such a devil pig as he to the wars. Will farrier say he do believe he take his strain from the swine the devils go into in the miracle? All the children would make a mockery as thou did ride through the villages. Look at his legs, they do be like style-posts, and do but look at his tail. Read him out, Jacob, and let me see his head. I dare not go nigh him, sir, I be not nimble enough to get out of the way of his hoof, I be too old, master. Richard pulled on his thick buff glove, and went straight into the stall. The brute made a grab at him with his teeth, meant by a smart blow from Richard's fist, which he did not like, and rearing would have struck at him with his near forefoot, but Richard caught it by the pastor, and with his left hand again struck him on the side of his mouth. The brute then submitted to be let out by the halter, and verily he was ugly to behold. His neck stuck straight out, and so did his tail, but the latter went off in a point, and the former in a hideous knob. Here is Jack, cry the old man. He lets Jack ride into the water. Here, Jack, get thee upon the hog-back of Beazabug, and mind the bristles do not flay thee, and let master Richard see what paces he hath. The animal tried to take the lad down with his hind foot as he mounted, but scarcely was he seated when he set off at a swinging trot, in which he plied his posts in manner astonishing. Spirit indeed he must have had, and plenty to wield such clubs in such a fashion. His joints were so loose that the bones seemed to fly about, yet they always came down right. He is guilty of hypocrisy against the devil, said Richard. He is better than he looks. Anyhow, if he but carry me thither, he will as well fill a pit as a handsomer horse. I'll take him. Have he got a saddle for him? And he had not brought a saddle with him. Thou would not find one in Gwent to fit him, said the old man. Yet another day Richard found himself compelled to tarry, which he spent in caparising, feasible, to the best of his ability, with the result of making him, if possible, appear still uglier than before. The eve of the day of his departure, Mark was paid mistress-rees a second visit. He wanted no healing or help this time, seeming to have come only to offer his respects, but the knowledge that here was a messenger, dumb and discreet, ready to go between and make no sign, set Richard Longy to use him. What message he did send by him, I have already recorded. Although, however the dog left him that night, he did not reach Raglan till the second morning after. He must have been roaming the country or paying other visits all that night in the next day as well, with a letter about him, which he had allowed no one to touch. The last Richard was on his way to Glauchester, mounted on Bieselbub, and much stared at by the inhabitants of every village he passed through. Apparently, however, there was something about this centaur compound, which prevented their rudeness from going farther. Bieselbub bore him well, and though not a comfortable horse to ride, threw the road behind him at a wonderful rate, as often and as long as Richard was able to bear it. But he found himself stronger after every rest, and by the time he began to draw nigh to Glauchester, he was nearly as well as ever in an excellent spirit. One painful thought only haunting him, the fear that he might, mounted on Bieselbub, have to encounter someone on his beloved mare. He was consoled, however, to think that the brute was less dangerous to one before than one behind him, heels being worse than teeth. He soon became aware that something decisive had taken place. Either Glauchester had fallen or Essex had raised the siege. For army there was none, though the signs of a lately a broken encampment were visible at all sides. Presently inquiring at the gate, he learned that on the near approach of Essex, the besieging army had retired, and that after a few days' rest, the general had turned again in the direction of London. Richard, therefore, having fed Bieselbub and eaten his own dinner, which in his present condition was more necessary than usual to his being of service, mounted his hideous charger once more and pushed on to get up with the army. Essex had not taken the direct road to London, but kept to the southward. That same day he followed in as far as Swindon and found he was coming up with him rapidly. Having rested a short night, he reached Hungerford the next morning, which he found in great commotion, being of the intelligence that at Newbury, some seven miles distant only, Essex had found his way stopped by the king, and that a battle had been raging ever since the early morning. Having given his horse a good feed of oats and a draught of ale, Richard mounted again and rode hard for Newbury, nor had he rode long before he heard the straggly reports of carbines. Looked to the priming of his pistols and loosened his sword in its sheath. When he got under the wall of Craven Park, the sounds of conflict grew suddenly plainer. He could distinguish the noise of horses' hoofs, and now and then the confused cries and shouts of hand-to-hand combat. At Spain he was all but in it, for there he met wounded men, retiring slowly or carried by their comrades. These were of his own part, but he did not stop to ask any questions. Bees above snuffed at the fumes of the gunpowder, and seemed therefrom to derive fresh figure. The lanes and hedges between Spain and Newbury had been the scenes of many a sanguinary tussle that morning, for nowhere had either army found room to deploy. Some of them had been fought over more than once or twice. But just before Richard came up, the tide had ebbed from that part of the way, and all six men had had some advantage and had driven the king's men through the town and over the bridge so that he found the road clear, save of wounded men and a few horses. As he reached Spinham Land and turned sharp to the right into the main street of Newbury, a bullet from the pistol of a royalist officer who lay wounded struck Bees above on the crest, what of a crest he had, and without injuring him made him so furious that his rider had much adieu to keep him from mischief. For at the very moment they were met by a Russia parliament pikeman, retreating, as you can see, over their heads from a few of the king's cavalry who came at a sharp trot down the main street. The pikeman had got into disorder pursuing some of the enemy who had divided and gone to the right and left of the two diverging streets. When the cavalry appeared at the top of the main street, both parts, seeing themselves in danger of being surrounded, had retreated. They were now putting the kennet with its narrow bridge between them and the long-feathered cavaliers in the hope of gaining time and fit ground for forming and presenting a bristled front. In the midst of this confused mass of friends, Richard found himself, the maddened Bees above every moment, lashing out behind him when not rearing or biting. Before him the bridge rose steep to its crown, contracting as it rose, at its foot where it widened to the street stood a single horseman, shouting impatiently to the last of the pikemen and spurring his horse while holding him. As the last man cleared the bridge he gave him reign and with a bound and a scramble reached the apex and stood within half a neck of the foremost of the cavalier troop. A fierce combat instantly began between them. The bridge was wide enough for two to have fought side by side, but the round head contrived so to work his antagonist, who was a younger but less capable and less powerful man that no comrade could get up beside him for the two-and-froze shifting of his horse. Meantime Richard had been making his slow way through the swarm of hurrying pikemen, doing what he could to keep them off Bees above. The moment he was clear he made a great bolt for the bridge, and the same moment perceived who the brave man was. Hold on, sir, he shouted, hold your own father, here I am, here is Richard. And as he shouted he sent Bees above, like low flying bolt from crossbow, up the steep crown of the bridge and wedged himself in between Oliver and the parapet, just as the second cavalier made a dart for the place. At his horse Bees above sprang like a fury, rearing, biting and striking out with his forefeet in such manner as quite to make up to his rider for the disadvantages of his low stature. The cavalier's horse recoiled in terror, rearing also, but snorting and backing and wavering so that in his endeavours to avoid the fury of Bees above, which was frightful to see, for with his ears laid back and gleaming teeth he looked more like a beast of prey. He would but for the crowd behind him have fallen backward down the slope. A bullet from one of Richard's pistols sent his rider over his tail. The horse fell sideways against that of Mr. Haywood's antagonist, and the path was for a moment barricaded. Well done, good Bees above cried Richard as he reigned it back on to the crest of the bridge. Boy set his father sternly at the same instant, dealing his encumbered opponent a blow on the headpiece, which tumbled him also from his horse. It's the sacred hour of victory, a time to sully with profane and foolish jests, I little thought to hear such words at my side, not to say from the mouth of my own son. Pardon me, Father, I praised my horse, said Richard. I think that he ever had praised before, but it cannot corrupt him, for he is such an ill-conditioned brute that they that named him did name him Bees above, now that he hath once done well who knoweth, but it may cease to fit him. I'm glad thy foolish words were so harmless, returned Mr. Haywood, smiling. In my ears they sounded so evil that I could ill accept their testimony. Verily, the animal is marvelous ill-favored, but as though sayest he hath done well, and the first return we make him shall be to give him another name. The less man or horse hath to do with Satan the better, for what is he but the arch-fo of the truth? While they spoke, they kept a keen watch on the enemy, who could not get near to attack them, save with a few pistol bullets, mostly wide-shot, for both horses were down and their riders helpless, if not slain. What shall we call him, then, Father, asked Richard. He is amazing like a huge rat, said his father. Let us henceforth call him Bishop. Wherefore Bishop and not Bees above, sir, inquired Richard. Mr. Haywood laughed, but ere he could reply a large troop of horsemen appeared at the top of the street. Glancing then behind it some anxiety they saw to their relief that the pikemen had now formed themselves into a hollow square at the foot of the bridge, prepared to receive cavalry. They turned therefore, and passing through them rode to find their regiment. From that day Bishop, notwithstanding his faults, many and grievous, was regarded with respect by both father and son. Richard vowing never to mount another, let laugh who would, so long as the brute lived and he had not recovered late he. But they had to give him room for two on the march, and the place behind him was always left faken, which they said gave no more space than he wanted, seeing he kicked out his leg to twice its walking leg. Before long however they had got so used to his ways that they almost ceased to regard them as faults, and he began to grow a favorite in the regiment. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nancy Cochran-Gergen, Gilbert, Arizona. St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 by George McDonnell. Dorothy and Rowland. Such was the force of law and custom in Raglan that as soon as any commotion ceased, things settled at once. It was so now, the minds of the Marquis and Lord Charles being at rest both as regard to the gap in the defenses of the castle and the character of its inmates, the very next day all was order again. The fate of Amanda was allowed gradually to ooze out, but the greater portion both of Domestix and Garrison continued firm in the belief that she had been carried off by Satan. Young Delaware, indeed, who had been reveling late, I mean in the chapel with the organ, and who was always the more inclined to believe a thing the stranger was, asserted that he saw a devil fly away with her. A testimony which gained as much in one way as it lost in another by the fact that he could not see it all. To Scudamore, her absence, however caused, was only a relief. She had ceased to interest him, while Dorothy had become to him like an enchanted castle, the spell of which he flattered himself he was night-born to break. All his endeavors, however, to attract from her a single look, such as indicated intelligence, not to say response, were disappointed. She seemed absolutely unsuspicious of what he sought. Neither, having so long predermitted what claimed he might once have established a cousin of relations with her, could he now initiate any intimacy on that ground. Had she become an inmate of Raglan immediately after he first made her acquaintance, that might have ripened to something more hopeful. But when she came she was in sorrow, nor felt that there was any comfort in him, while he was beginning to yield to the tightening bonds Mr. Samantha had flung around him, nor since had he afforded her any ground for altering her first impressions, or favorably modifying a feature of the portrait Lady Margaret had presented of him. Strange to say, however, poorly grounded as was the original interest he had taken in her, and little as he was capable of understanding her, he soon began, even while yet confident in his proved advantages of person in mind and power persuasive, to be vaguely wrought upon by the superiority of her nature. With this the establishment of her innocence in the eyes of the household had little to do. Indeed, that threatened at first to destroy something of her attraction. A passionate, yielding, even airing nature, had of necessity for such as he for more enchantment than a nature that ruled its own emotions, and would judge such as might be unveiled to it. Neither was it that her cold courtesy and kind indifference roused him to call to the front any of the more valuable endowments of his being, something far better had commenced, unconsciously to himself. The dim element of truth that flitted vaporous about in him had begun to respond to the great pervading and enrounding form of her verity. He began to respect her, began to feel drawn as if by another spiritual sense than that of which Amanda had let hold. He found in her an element of authority. The conscious influences to whose triumph he had been so pernaciously accustomed had proved powerless upon her, while those that in her resided unconscious were subduing him. Her star was dominant over his. At length he began to be aware that this was no light preference, no passing fancy, but something more serious than he had hitherto known, that in fact he was really, though uncomfortably and unsatisfactorily, in love with her. He felt she was not like any other girl he had made his shabby love to, and would have tried to make better to her, but she kept him at a distance, and that he began to find tormenting. One day, for example, meeting her in the court as she was crossing towards the keep, I would not disc take apprentices, Cousin, he said, so I might be one and learn of thee the mysteries of thy trade. Wherefore, Cousin, that I might spare thee something of thy labor. That was no kindness. I am not like thee. I find labor a thing to be corded rather than spared. I am not overwrought. Scudamore gazed into her gray eyes, but found there nothing to contradict, nothing to supplement the indifference of her words. There was no lurking sparkle of humor, no acknowledgment of kindness. There was a something, but he could not understand it, for his poor shapeless soul might not be the cosmic mystery embodied in their debts. He stammered, who had never known himself stammered before, broke the joints of an ill-fitted answer, swept the tiles with the long feather in his hat, and found himself parted from her, with the feeling that he had not of himself left her, but had been born away by some subtle force emanating from her. Lord Herbert had again left the castle. More soldiers and more must still be raised for the king. Now he would be paying his Majesty a visit at Oxford and inspecting the lifeguards he had provided him, now back in South Wales enlisting men and straining ever-power in him to keep the district of which his father was governor in good affection and loyal behavior. Winter drew nigh and stayed with the rush of events, clogged the wheels of life as they ran towards death, brought a little sleep to the world and coolness to men's hearts, led in another Christmas and looked on for a while. Nor did the many troubles he done England, the drained purses, the swollen hearts, the anxious minds, the bereaved houses, the ruptures, the sorrows and the hatreds, yet reached to dull in any large measure the merriment of the world. Customs are like carpets, forever wearing out whether we market or know, but Lord Wirtchester's patriarchal prejudices, cleaving to the old and looking as camps on the new, caused them to last longer in Ragland than almost anywhere else. The old were the things of his fathers which he had loved from his childhood. The new were the things of his children which he had not proven. What a fire that was that of his mother, Mary, which, dividing in two, embraced a fine window, then again becoming one, sent the hot blast rushing out far into the waste of wintry air. No one could go within yards of it for the fierce heat of the blazing logs, now and then augmented by huge lumps of coal. And when, on the evenings of special merry-making, the candles were lit, the musicians were playing, and a country which the whole household, from the marquee himself, if his gal permitted, to the grooms and kitchen-maids, would take part, a finer outburst of homely splendor in which was more color than gilding, more richness than shine, was not to be seen in all the island. On such an occasion Rowland had more than once attempted nearer approach to Dorothy, but had gained nothing. She neither repelled nor encouraged him, but smiled at his silly ones, and all together treated him like a boy, young or old, enough to be troublesome if encouraged. He grew desperate, and so one night summoned up courage as they stood together waiting for the next dance. Why will you never talk to me? Cousin Dorothy, he said. Is it so, Mr. Scudamore? I was not aware. If thou spoke, and I answered not, I am sorry. No, I mean not that, returned Scudamore, but when I venture to speak, you always make me feel as if I ought not to have spoken. When I call you Cousin Dorothy, you reply with Mr. Scudamore. The relation is hardly near enough to justify less measure of observance. Our mothers loved each other. They found each other worthy. And you do not find me such, sighed Scudamore, with a smile meant to be both bewitching. No, thou hast not made me desired to hold with thee much converse. Tell me why, Cousin, that I may reform that which offends thee. If a man sees not his faults with his own eyes, how shall he see them with the eyes of another? Will thou never love me, Dorothy? Not even a little? Wherefore should I love thee, Roland? We are commanded to love even our enemies. Are thou then my enemy, Cousin? No, or soothed, I am the most loving friend thou hast. Then am I sorely to be pitied. For having my love? Nay, for having none better than thine, but thank God it is not so. Must I then be thine enemy indeed before that will love me? No, Cousin, cease to be thine own enemy and I will call thee my friend. Mary, where and then am I my own enemy? I lead a sober life enough as thou seest ever under the eye of my lord. But what would thou and thou work from under the eye of thy lord? I know thee better than thou thinkest, Cousin. I have read thy title page, if not thy whole book. Tell me then how run with my title page, Cousin. The art of being willfully blind, or the way to see no farther than one would. Fair preacher, began Roland, but Dorothy interrupted him. Nay, then, and thou betake thee to thy jives, I have done, she said. Be not angry with me. It is but my nature, which for thy sake I will control. If thou canst not love me, well, thou not then pity me a little? That I may pity thee. Answer me what good thing is there in thee, wherefore I should love thee. Which thou have a man trumpet his own praises? I fear not that of thee who hast but the trumpet. I will tell thee this much. I have never seen in thee that thou dost love, say, for the past time thereof. I doubt if thou lovest thy master for more than thy place. Oh, Cousin, be honest with thyself, Roland. If thou would have me for thy cousin, it must be on the ground of truth. Roland possessed at least good nature. Few young men would have borne to be so severely handled. But then, while one's good opinion of himself remains untroubled, confesses no touch, gives out no hollow sound, shrinks not self-hurt with the doubt of its own reality, hostile criticism will not go very deep, will not reach to the quick. The thing that hurts is that which sets trembling the ground of self-worship, lays bare the shrunk cracks and wormholes in plates of the idol, shows the ants running about in it and renders the foolish smile of the thankful. But he who will then turn away from his imagined self and refer his life to the hidden ideal self, the angel that ever beholds the face of the father shall therein be made whole and sound, alive and free. The dance called them and their talk ceased. When it was over, Dorothy left the hall in anger. But in the found court her cousin overtook her and had the temerity to resume the conversation. The moth would still at any risk circle a candle. It was a still night and therefore not very cold, although icicles hung from the mouth of the horse and here and there from the eaves. They stood by the marble basin and the dim lights and scarce dimmer shadows from many an upper window passed to thwart them as they stood. They were delighted, but the lantern window on the top of the hall shone like a yellow diamond in the air. Thou dost me scan justice Cousin said Rowland, maintaining that I love but myself or for my known ends. I know that love thee better than so. For thine own sake I would, might I but believe it, be glad of the assurance. But a man's behavior to her having a last roused counter-observation of his part, she had become suddenly aware that there was an understanding between her and Rowland. It was gradually, however, that the question rose in her mind. Could these two have been the net intruders on the forbidden ground of the workshop and afterwards the victims of the water-shoot? But the suspicion grew to all but a conviction. Laterally she had observed that their behavior to each other was changed, also that a man's aversion to herself seemed to have gathered a force, and one thing she had found remarkable, that Rowland revealed no concern for Amanda's misfortunes or anxiety about her fate. With all these things potentially present in her mind she came all at once to the resolution of attempting a bold stroke. But Dorothy went on, when I think how thou didst bear thee with Mr. Amanda. My precious Dorothy, exclaimed Scudamore, blessed of hope, thou wilt never be so unjust to thyself as to be jealous of her. She is to me as nothing as if she had never been, nor care I forsooth if the devil hath indeed flown away with her bodily as they will have it in the hall in the garden room. Thou didst seem to hold friendly enough converse with her while she was yet one of us. Yes, but she had no heart like thee, Dorothy, as I soon discovered. She had indeed a pretty wit of her own, but that was all, and then she was spiteful. She hated thee, Dorothy. He spoke of her as one dead. How newest thee that was thou then so far in her confidence and art now able to talk of her thus? Where is thy own heart, Mr. Scudamore? In thy bosom, lovely Dorothy. Thou mistakeest, but may have thou dost imagine that night thou didst lay it at Mr. Samantha's feet in my Lord's workshop in the keep? Dorothy's hatred of humbug, which was not the less an existence then that they had not the ugly word to express the uglier thing, enabled her to fix her eyes on him as she spoke, and keep them fixed when she had ended. He turned pale, visibly pale through the shadowy night, nor attempted to conceal his confusion. It is strange how self-conviction will wait upon foreign judgment, as if often only the general conscience were powerful enough to wake the individual one. Or perhaps she continued it was torn from thee by the waters that swept thee from the bridge as thou didst venture with her yet again upon the forbidden ground. He hung his head and stood before her like a chidden child. Thinkest thou, she went on, that my Lord would easily pardon such things? Thou newest it, and didst not betray me. O Dorothy, murmured Scudamore, thou art a bare angel of light, Dorothy. He seized her hand, and but for the possible eyes upon them he would have flung himself at her feet. Dorothy, however, would not yet lay aside the part she had assumed as moral physician, surgeon, rather. But notwithstanding all this, Cousin Rowland, when trouble came upon the young lady, what comfort was there for her in thee? Never hast thou loved her, although I doubt not, thou didst thou enswear thereto in hundred times. Rowland was silent. He began to fear her. For what love the haste was of such sort, that thou didst encourage in her that which was evil, and then let her go like a haggard hawk. Thou marvellous, foresooth, that I should be so careless Tell me, Cousin, what is there in thee that I should love? Can there be love for that which is no wise lovely? Thou wilt doubtless say in thy heart, she is but a girl, and how then should she judge concerning men and their ways? But I appeal to thine own conscience, Rowland, when I ask thee, is this well? And if a maiden truly loved thee, it were all one, thou wouldst but carry thyself if not today, then tomorrow, or a year hence. Not if she were good, Dorothy, like thee, he murmured. Not if thou weren't good, Rowland, like him that made thee. Wilt thou not teach me then to be good like thee, Dorothy? Thou must teach thyself to be good like the Rowland thou knowest in thy better heart when it is soft and lowly. Which thou then love me, a little Dorothy, if I vowed to be thy scholar and study to be good, give me some hope to help me in the hard tasks. He that is good is good for goodness sake, Rowland, yet who can fail to love that which is good in king ornate? Ah, but do not mock me, Dorothy, such is not the love I would have of thee. It is all thou ever cast half of me, and me thinks it is not like thou wilt ever have it, for verily the art of nature so light that any wind may blow thee into the dead sea. From a saint it was enough to anger any sinner. I see, cried Scudamore, for all thy fine reproof thou too canst spurn a heart at thy feet. I will lay my life thou lovest the round head and art but a traitress for all thy goodness. I am indeed traitress enough to love any round-head gentleman better than a royalist nape, said Dorothy, and turning from pin she sought the grand staircase. End of Chapter 40 Recording by Nancy Cochran-Gergen Gilbert, Arizona Chapter 41 of St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nancy Cochran-Gergen Gilbert, Arizona Chapter 41 of St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3 by George MacDonald The Morgan The winter passed with much running to unfro and foul weather and fair, and still the sounds of war came no nearer to Raglan, which lay like a great lion in the desert that the hundred dared not arouse. The whole of Wales, except a castle or two, remains subject to the king, and this he owed in great measure to the forces, his obligation to whom he seemed more and more bent on acknowledging. One day in early summer Lady Margaret was sitting in her parlor, busy with her embroidery, and Dorothy was by her side assisting her when Lord Herbert, who had been absent for many days, walked in. How does my Lady Glamorgan? he said gaily. What we knew, my Herbert, returned his wife, looking in his eyes somewhat eagerly. Neither plume I myself any more in the spare feathers of my father. Thou art, my dove, as thou deservedest to be, Countess of Glamorgan, in the right of thine own husband, first Earl of the same. For such being the will of his Majesty I doubt not, thou wilt give thy consent thereto, and play the Countess graciously. Come, Dorothy, art not proud to be cousin to an Earl? I am proud that you should call me cousin, my Lord, and through Dorothy. But truly, to me it is all one whether you be called Herbert or Glamorgan. So thou remain thou, cousin, and my friend, the King may call thee what he will. And if thou art pleased, so am I. It was the first time she had ever thou'd him, and she turned pale at her own daring. Saint George, but thou hast well spoken, cousin, cried the Earl. Have she not cried? So well that if she often sayeth as well, I shall have much to do, not to hate her, replied Lady Glamorgan. When did thou ever cry well spoken to the mad Irish woman, Ned? All thou dost as well, my Lady, thou hast all the titles to my praises already in thy pocket, besides cousin Dorothy as young and meek, and require with a little encouragement. Whereas thy wife is old and bold, and cares no but a good word, my new Lord of Glamorgan. Dorothy looks so grave that they both fell the laughing. I would, thou couldst teach her a merry jest or two, Margaret, said the Earl. We are decent people enough in Raglan, but she is much too sober for us. Cheer up, Dorothy! Good times are at hand. That thou mayest not doubt it. Listen! But this is only for thy ear, not for thy tongue. The King hath made thy cousin, as me, Edward Somerset, the husband of this fair lady, Henry Lisimo of his three armies, an admiral of a fleet, and truly I know not what all, for I have yet but run my eye over the baton. And, wife, I verily do believe the King but bides his time to make my father Duke of Somerset, and then one day thou wilt be a Duchess, Margaret. Think on that, Lady Glamorgan burst into tears. I would, at the kiss of my molly, she cried. She had never before in Dorothy's hearing uttered the name of her child since her death. New dignity, strange as it may seem to some, awoke suddenly the thought of the darling to whom titles were but words, and the ice was broken. A pause followed. Yes, Margaret, thou art right, said Glamorgan at length. It is all but folly, yet it's the marks of a King's favor. Such honors are precious. As a King's favor itself might be worth. That, my Lord Glamorgan lived to learn. It is I who pay for them, said his wife. How so, my dove? Do they not cost me thee, Herbert, and cost me very dear? Art not ever from my sight? Wish I not often, as I lay awake in the dark, that we were all in heaven and well over with the foolery of it? The angels keep molly in mind of us. Yes, my Peggy, it is hard on thee, and hard on me, too, said the Earl Tenderly. Yet not so hard is upon our leech, Lord, the King, who selleth his plate and jewels. Who, what of that, then, Herbert? And he would leave me thee. He might have all mine, and welcome. For thou knowest, Nan, I but hold them for thee to sell when thou wilt. I know, and the time may come, though, thank God, it is not yet. What wouldst thy honors, thou did yet come to poverty? Canst be poor and merry, thinks thou? So thou art with me, Herbert. Glamorgan, I would say, but my lips frame not themselves to the word. I like not the title greatly, but when it means thee to me, then shall I love it. Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? O sweet content, sang the Earl in a mellow voice. My lord, and I have leave to speak, said Dorothy, did you not say the diamond in that ring Richard Hayward sent me was of some worth? I did, cousin, it is a stone of the finest water and of good weight, though truly I weighed it not. Then when I cast it in the king's treasury, and if your lordship would condescend to be the bearer of such a the king robbs not orphans. Did the king of kings rob the poor widow that cast in her two mites, then? No, but perhaps the priest did. Still, as I say, the hour may come when all our mites may be wanted and mine be accepted with the rest, but my father and I have yet much to give, and shall have given it before that hour come. Besides, as to thee, Dorothy, what would that handsome round head of thine say, if instead of keeping well the ring he gave thee thou had turned it to the use he liked the least? He will never ask me concerning it, said Dorothy, with a faint smile. Be not over-sure of it, child. My lady asks me many things I never thought to tell her before the priest minus one. Dorothy, I have no right and do wish to spy into thy future and fright thee with what, if it come at all, will come peacefully as June weather. I have not constructed thy horoscope to calf-side nativity, and therefore I speak as one of the ignorant. But let me tell thee, for I do say it confidently, that if these wars were once over, and the king had his own again, there will be few men in his three kingdoms so worthy of the hand and heart of Dorothy Vaughn as that same round-head fellow Richard Haywood. I would to God he were as good a Catholic as he is a mistaken Puritan. And now, my lady, may I not send thy maiden from us, for I would talk with thee alone of certain matters, not from distrust of Dorothy, but that they are not my own to impart, therefore I pray her absence. The parliament having secured the assistance of the Scots and their forces having, early in the year, entered England. The king on his side was now meditating in attempt to secure the resistance of the Irish Catholics, to which the devotion of certain of the old Catholic houses at home encouraged him. But it was a game of terrible danger, for if he lost it he lost everything, and that it should transpire before maturity would be to lose it absolutely. For the Irish Catholics had, truly or falsely, been charged with such enormities during the rebellion, that they had become absolutely hateful in the eyes of all English Protestants, that the divine's for them must cost him far more in Protestants than he could gain by it in Catholics. It was necessary, therefore, that he should go about it with the utmost caution, and indeed in his whole management of it the wariness far exceeded the dignity and was practiced at the expense of his best friends. But the poor king was such a believer in his father's pet doctrine of the divine right of his inheritance that not only would he himself lead to the dim shadow of royalty which usurped the throne of his conscience but would, without great difficulty or compunction, though not always without remorse, accept any sacrifice which a subject might have devotion enough to bring to the altar, before which Charles Stewart acted as flamin'. In this my story of hearts rather than fortunes. It is not necessary to follow the river of public events through many of its windings, although every now and then a crack will bring me to a fairy where the boat bearing my personages will be seized by the force of the current and carried down the stream while crossing to the other bank. It must have been, I think, in view of his slowly maturing intention to employ Lord Horbert in a secret mission to Ireland with the object above mentioned that the king had sought to bind him yet more closely to himself by conferring on him the title of La Morgan. It was not, however, until the following year seemed on the point of becoming desperate that he proceeded possibly with some Protestant compunctions, certainly with considerable Protestant apprehension, to carry out his design. Towards this had pointed the relaxation of his measures against the Catholic rebels for some time previous and may to some have indicated hopes entertained of them. It must be remembered that while these Catholics united to defend the religion of their country, they, like the Scots who had joined the parliament, professed a sincere attachment to their monarch and in the persons of their own enemies had certainly taken up arms against many of his. Meantime the Scots had invaded England and the parliament had largely increased their forces in the hope of a decisive engagement, but the king refused battle and gained time. In the north Prince Rupert made some progress and brought on the battle of Marston-Mor where the victory was gained by Cromwell. After all had been regarded as lost by the other parliamentary generals. On the other hand, the king gained an important advantage in the west country over Essex and his army. The trial and execution of Lod, who died in the beginning of the following year, obeying the king rather than his rebellious lords, was a terrible sign to the House of Brightland of what the Presbyterian party was capable of. But to Dorothy it would have given a yet keener pain had she not begun to learn that neither must the excesses of individuals be attributed to their party, nor those of his party taken as embodying the mind of everyone who belongs to it. At the same time the old insupportable difficulty returned. How could Richard belong to such a party? End of Chapter 41, recording by Nancy Cochran-Gerkin, Gilbert, Arizona Chapter 42 of St. George and St. Michael Volume 3. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nancy Cochran-Gerkin, Gilbert, Arizona St. George and St. Michael Volume 3 by George MacDonald A New Soldier Moments had scarcely passed after Dorothy left him at the fountain. Air Scudamore previously repented and spoken to her in such a manner and would gladly have offered apology in what amends he might. But Dorothy, neither easily moved to wrath nor yet given to the nourishing of active resentment, was not therefore at all the readyer to forget the results of moral difference or to permit any nearer approach on the part of one such as her cousin had shown himself. As long as he continued so self-serene and unashamed, what satisfaction to her or what good to him could there be in it? Even were he to contend himself with a cousinly friendship which, as soon as he was capable of it, she was willing to afford him? As it was now, she granted him only distant recognition and company, neither seeking nor avoiding him, and as to all opportunity of private speech entirely shunning him. For some time, in the vanity of his experience, he never doubted that these were only feminine ours or that when she judged him sufficiently punished she would relax the severity of her behavior and begin to make him amends. But this demeanor of hers endured so long and continued so uniform that at length he began to doubt the universality of his experience and to dread lest the maiden should actually prove what he had never found maiden before inexorable. He did not reflect that he had given her no ground whatever for altering her judgment or feeling with regard to him but in truth her thoughts rarely turned to him at all and while his were haunting her as one who was taking pleasure in the idea that she was making him feel her resentment she was simply forgetting him busy perhaps with some self offered question that demanded an answer or perhaps brooding a little over the past in which the former Richard now came and went at its will. So long as Rowland imagined the existence of a quarrel he imagined there a bond between them when he became convinced that no quarrel only in difference or perhaps despisal separated him he began again to despair and felt himself urged once more to speak seizing therefore an opportunity in such manner that she could not escape him without attracting very undesirable attention he began to talk upon the old basis Well thou then forgive me never more for thee he said humbly for what Mr. Spoodlemore I mean for offending me with rude words truly I have forgotten them then shall we be friends nay that follows not what quarrel then hast thou with me I have no quarrel with thee yet is there one thing I cannot forgive thee and what is that cousin believe me I know not I need but to know and I will humble myself that would serve nothing for how should I forgive thee for being unworthy for such thing there is no forgiveness cease thou to be unworthy and then is there nothing to forgive I were an unfriendly friend Rowland did I befriend the man who befriend if not himself I understand thee not cousin and I understand not thy not understanding there be no communion between us so saying Dorothy left him to what consolation he could find in such chinal pastoral abuse as the gallants of the day would with the aid of poetic penny trumpet cast upon offending damsels Daphne's and Chloe's and in the mood he then shepherdesses in general but fortunately for himself how great so ever had been the freedom with which he lost and changed many a foolish liking he found let his hopelessness or his offense be what it might he had not the power to shake himself free from the first worthy passion ever roused in him it had struck root below the sandy upper stratum of his mind into a clay soil beneath where at least it was able to hold and once it could draw a little slow reluctant nourishment during his poetic anger he wrote no small amount of fair verse tried by the standard of cowley caro and suckling so like there's indeed that the best of it might have passed for some of their worst although there was not in at all a single phrase to remind one of their best but when the poetic spring began to run dry he fell once more into a sort of wiltful despair and disrelished everything except indeed his food and drink so much so that his master perceiving his altered cheer one day addressed him to know the cause what elit thee Rowland he said kindly for this sunlight passed thou locus like one that oh at the hangman his best suit I roused my lord said Rowland with a tragic air of discontent the notion had risen in his foolish head that the way to soften the heart of Dorothy would be to ride to the wars and get himself slain or rather severely but not mortally wounded he brought back to raglan and thinking he was going to die Dorothy would nurse him and then she would be sure to fall in love with him yes he would ride forth on the fellow he would smear seek him in the field of battle and slay him but be himself thus grievously wounded I roused my lord he said briefly ha now what's to the wars I like thee for that boy truly the king wanted soldiers and that more than ever thou art a good cupbearer but I will do my best to savor my claret without thee thou shalt to the king and what poor thing my word may do for thee shall not be wanting Scudamore had expected opposition and was a little non-plus he had judged himself essential to his master's comfort and had even hoped he might set Dorothy to use her influence towards reconciling him to remain at home but although self-indulgent and lazy Scudamore was constitutionally no coward and had never had any experience to give him pause he did not know what an ugly thing a battle is after it is over and the mind has leisure to attend to the smarting of the wounds I thank your lordship with all my heart he said putting on an air of greater satisfaction than he felt and with your lordship's lead would prefer a further request say on Roland I owe thee something for long and faithful service and I can I will give me the round heads merit that I made the better of finder master for lady was still within the walls the marquee could not restore her but neither could he bring himself to use her cherishing the hope of being one day free to give her back to a reconciled subject but alas there were very few horses now on regal installs no Roland he said thou art the last who ought to get any good of her it were neither law nor justice to hand the stolen goods to the thief he sat silent and Roland not very eager stood before him in silence also meaning it to be read as indicating that to the war is accept on that merit's back he would not ride but the thought of the marquee had now taken another turn thou shalt have her my boy thou shalt not rest at home for the sake of a gaudy old man and his claret but ere thou go I will write out certain maxims for thy following both in the field and in quarters ere thou ride look well to thy curse and as thou writeest say thy prayers for a plea this not God that every man on the right side should live and thou mayest find the presence in which thou standest change suddenly from that of mortal man to that of living God I say nothing of orthodoxy for truly I am not one to think that because a man hath been born a heretic which lay not in his choice and hath not been of his parents taught in the truth that therefore he must howl forever not while blessed Mary is queen of heaven while all the priests and christened and persuaded me throughout only be thou fully persuaded in thine own mind Roland for if thou cared not that were an evil thing indeed my lad, remember this that a weak blow were ever better unstruck go now to the armorer and to him deliver my will that he fit thee out as they queer us here for his majesty's service I can give thee no rank for I have no regiment in the making at present but it may please his majesty to take care of thee and give thee a place in my local morgan regiment of bodyguards the prospect thus suddenly opened that his life in greater liberty might have dazzled many a nobler nature than his Lord Wurchister saw the light in his eyes and as he left the room gazed after him with a pitiful countenance poor lad poor lad he said to himself I hope I see not the last of thee God forbid but here thou didst but rest and it were a vile thing in an old man to infect a youth with a disease of age Rotland soon found the master of the armory and with him crossed to the keep where it lay above the workshop at the foot of the stair he talked loud in the hope that Dorothy might be with a fire engine which he thought he heard at work and would hear him having chosen such pieces as pleased his fancy and needed but a little of the armorer's art to render them suitable he filled his arms with them and, following the master down contrived to follow little behind so that he should leave the tower before him when he dropped them all with a huge clatter at the foot of the stair the noise was sufficient for it brought out Dorothy she gazed for a moment as pretending not to have seen her he was picking them up with his back towards her do I see the arming at Link Cousin she said I congratulate thee she held out her hand to him he took it and stared the reception of his noisy news was different from what he had been veining enough to hope so little had Dorothy's behavior in the capture rolling enlightened him as to her character now wouldst have me slain then to be rid of me Dorothy he gasped I would have any men slain or men fight return Dorothy rather than idling within stone walls thou art hard hearted Dorothy and knowest not what love is else wouldst thou pity me a little what art afraid Cousin afraid I fear nothing under heaven but thy cruelty Dorothy then what wouldst thou have me pityed before I would and I had dared have said because I must leave thee but thou wouldst mock at that and therefore I say instead because I shall never return for I see well that thou never hast loved me even a little Dorothy smiled and I had loved thee Cousin she rejoined I had never let thee rest or left soliciting thee until the hats done thy buff coat and buckled all my spurs and departed to be a man among men and no more a boy among women so saying she returned to her engine which all the time had been pumping with very inspiration Scudamore mounted in road followed by one of the grooms he found the king at Wallingford presented the marquis' letter proffered his services and was at once placed in attendance on his majesty's person in the eyes of most of his comrades the marahee road seemed too light for cavalry work that she made up in spirit and quality of muscle for lack of size and there was not another about the king to match in beauty the little black lady sweet tempered and gentle although nervous and quick and endowed with a rare docility and a faith which supplied courage it was clear while nothing was known of her pedigree both from her form and her nature that she was of Arab descent no feeling of unreality in his possession of her intruding to disturb his satisfaction in her Scudamore became very fond of her having joined the army only after the second battle of Newberry he had no chance till the following summer of her and how she bore herself in the field end of chapter 42 recorded by Nancy Cochran-Gerkin Gilbert, Arizona chapter 43 of St. George and St. Michael volume 3 this is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Paul Bryan Stewart St. George and St. Michael volume 3 by George McDonald chapter 43 Lady and Bishop in the meantime a succession of events had contributed to enhance the influence of Cromwell in the parliament and his position and power in the army he was now therefore more able to put in places of trust such men as came nearest his own way of thinking and among the rest Roger Haywood whom once brought into the act of service for which modesty had made him doubt his own fitness he would not allow to leave again but made Colonel of one of his favourite regiments of horse with his son as major Richard continued to ride Bishop which became at length famous for courage as he had become at once for idleness fortunately they found that he had developed friendly feelings towards one of the mires of the troop never lashing out when she happened to be behind him so they gave her that place and were freed from much anxiety still the rider on each side of him had to keep his eyes open for every now and then a sudden fury of biting would see them and bring chaos in the regiment for a moment or two when his master was made an officer the brute's temptations probably remained the same but as opportunities have yielding to them became considerably fewer there was strange company at which Richard rode nearly all were of the independent party and religious polity all holding or imagining they held the same or nearly the same tenants the opinions of most of them however were merely the opinions of the man to whose influences they had been first and principally subjected to say what their belief was would be to say what they were which is deeper judgment than a man can reach and Roger Hayward and his son dwelt a pure love of liberty the ardent attachment to liberty which most of the troop has professed would have prevented few of them indeed from putting a quaker in the stocks or perhaps whipping him had such an obnoxious heretic as a quaker been at that time in existence in some was the devoutest sense of personal obligation and the strongest religious feeling and others was nothing but talk less injurious than some sorts of pseudo religious talk and that it was a jargon imbiting of much freedom of utterance and reception mysterious symbols being used in commonest end to change that they all believed earnestly enough to fight for their convictions will not go very far and proof of their sincerity even for to most of them fighting came by nature and was no doubt a great relief to the much oppressed old Adam not yet by any means dead in them at length the king led out his men for another campaign and was followed by Fairfax and Cromwell into the Shires Leicester and Northampton then came the battle at the village of Nasby Prince Rupert who's folly so often lost what his courage had gained having defeated Ayatnir's horse followed them from the field while Cromwell with his superior numbers turned some armor Duke Langdales flank and thereby turned the scale of the victory but Sir Mamadouk and his men fought desperately and while the contest was yet undecided the king saw that Rupert returned from the pursuit was attacking the enemy's artillery and dispatched Rowland in hot haste to bring him to the aid of Sir Mamadouk the straightest line to reach him lay across a large field to the rear of Sir Mamadouk's men as he went from behind them Richard caught sight of him and his object together struck spears into bishops' fangs bored him through a bull fence and in the same field with Rowland and tore at full speed to hit him off from the prince Rowland rode for some distance without perceiving he was followed if Richard could but get with him pistol shot of him for alas he seemed to be mounted on the fleet of animal heavens could it be yes it was it was his own lost lady on a cavalier road for a moment his heart beat so fast that he felt as if he should fall from his horse Rowland became aware that he was pursued but at the first glimpse of the long, low, rat-like animal on which the round head came floundering after him burst into a laugh of derision and jumping a young hedge found himself in a claige pharaoh which his mare found heavy soon Richard jumped the hedge also and immediately bishop had the advantage but now beyond the tall hedge they were approaching they heard the sounds of the conflict near there was no time to lose Richard breathed deep and uttered a long, wild peculiar cry lady started half stopped raised her head high and turned round to ears Richard cried again she wheeled and despite spur and rain with which Rowland rode her seam to thread and breaking her jaw bore him at short, deer-like bounds back towards his pursuer not until the mare refused obedience did Rowland begin to suspect who had followed him then a vague recollection of something Richard had said the night he carried him home to Eggland crossed his mind and he grew furious but in vain he struggled with the mare and all the time Richard kept plowing on towards him at length he saw Rowland take a pistol from his holster instinctively Richard did the same and when he saw him raise the budding to strike her on the head, firmed and missed but saved lady the blow and Air Rowland recovered from the start it gave him to hear the bullet whistle past his ear uttered another, equally peculiar but different cry lady read, plunged and brewed her heels in the ear emptied her saddle Richard but now arose a fresh anxiety what if Bishop should, as was most likely attack the mare at her master's word however she stood a few yards off and with arched neck and forward prick tears waited while Bishop, moved possibly with admiration of the manner in which she had unseated a rider, scanned her with no malign expect by this time Rowland had got upon his feet full of his duty, hopeful also that Richard would be content with his prize set off as hard as he could run for a gappy spider in the hedge but in a moment Bishop, followed by lady, had headed him thou wert better cry quarter said Richard the reply was a bullet which struck Bishop below the ear he stood straight up gave one yell and tumbled over Scudamore ran towards the mare hoping to catch her and be off air the round head could recover himself but although Bishop had fallen on his leg Richard was unhurt he lay still and watched lady seemed bewildered and Rowland coming softly up seized her bridle and sprang into the saddle the same moment Richard gave his cry a second time and again up went Rowland in the air and lady came trotting daintily to her master but obedient Rowland fell on his back and before he came to himself Richard had drawn his leg from under his slain charger and his sword from his sheath and now first he perceived who his antagonist was and a pang went to his heart at the remembrance of his father's words Mr. Scudamore he cried I would thou hadst not stolen my mare so that I may fight with thee in a Christian fashion round head scroungel Scudamore wild with wrath thy unmenly violet tricks shall cost thee dear thou a soldier a juggler with a mountback jade a vile hackney which thou has taught to capper a soldier in deed a soldier in seatless returned Richard a soldier in rail a soldier in steal my mare then shoot my horse but and the rest were like thee pang might take the field with dog whoops Scudamore drew a pistol from his belt and glanced towards the mare and thou lift thine arm I will kill thee cried Richard what shall a man not teach his horse least the thief should find him not broke to his taste besides did I not give thee warning while yet I judged thee an honest man in a thief but ingest go thou ways I shall do my country better service by following braver men taking thee get thee back to thy master and I killed thee I should do him less hurt than I would see yonder help thy master's horse do not and scatter he approached lady to mountain right away but Rowland who had now with the help of his anger recovered from the effects of his fall rushed it Richard with drawn sword the contest was brief with one heavy blow that beat down his guard and wounded him severely in the shoulder dividing his collar bone for he was but lightly armed Richard stretched his antagonist on the ground then seeing Prince Rupert's men returning and so mama dukes and flight and some of them coming his way he feared being surrounded and leaping into the saddle flew as if the wind were under him back to his regiment reaching it just as in the first heat of pursuit Cromwell called them back and turned them upon the rear of the royalist infantry this decided the battle a Rupert returned the affair was so hopeless that not even the entreaties of the king could induce his cavalry to form again in charge his majesty retreated to Leicester in Hereford End of Chapter 43 Chapter 44 of St. George and St. Michael Volume 3 this is a LibriVox recording a LibriVox recording during the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nancy Cochran Durgan Gilbert, Arizona St. George and St. Michael Volume 3 by George MacDonald the king some months before the battle of Naseby which was fought in June early that is in the year 1645 the plans of the king having now ripened he gave a secret commission for Ireland to be earled with Glamorgan with immense powers among the rest out of coining money in order that he might be in a position to make proposals towards certain arrangements with the Irish Catholics which in view of the prejudices of the king's Protestant council it was a vital importance to keep secret Glamorgan therefore took a long leave of his wife and family and in the month of March sent out for Dublin at Carnarvon they got on board a small park laden with corn but in rough weather that followed were cast ashore on the coast of Lancashire a second attempt failed also for pursued by a parliament vessel they were again compelled to land on the same coast it was the middle of summer before they reached Dublin during this period there was of course great anxiety in Raglan the chief part of which was Lady Glamorgan's at times she felt that in the seventh day of Dorothy often silent but always administrative she would have broken down quite under the burden of ignorance and its attendant anxiety in the prolonged absence of her husband and the irregularity of tidings for they came at uncertain as well as wide intervals her yearnings after her vanish molly which had become more patient returned with all their early vehemence and she began to brood on the meeting beyond the grave of which her religion her hope nor was this all her religion itself grew more real for although there is nothing essentially religious in thinking of the future although there is more of the heart of religion in the taking of strength from the love of God to do the commonest duty than in all the longing for a blessed hereafter which the soul was capable yet the love of a little child is very close to the love of the great father and the loss that sets any affection aching in longing seems as on away from the very part of the human ocean the laboring spirit up towards the source of life and restoration in like manner from their common love to the child and their common sense of loss in her death the hearts of the two women drew closer to each other and Protestant mistress Dorothy was able to speak words of comfort to Catholic Lady Blamorgan which the here found would lie on the shelf of her creed nonetheless quietly lifted them from the shelf of hers one evening while yet Lady Blamorgan had had no news of her husband's arrival in Ireland and the bright June weather continued clouded with uncertainty and fear Lady Brutton came panting into a parlor with the tidings that a courier had just arrived at the main entrance himself pale with fatigue and his horse wiped the foam alas alas cried Lady Blamorgan and fell back on her chair faint with apprehension for what might not be the message he bore ere Dorothy has succeeded in calming her the marquee himself came hobbling in with the news that the king was coming is that all said the Countess heaving a deep sigh while the tears ran down her cheeks is that all repeated her father-in-law how my lady is there then nobody in all the world verily I believe that which turned my back on the angel Gabriel if he dared appear before thee without thy Ned under his arm bless the Irish heart I never gave thee my Ned that thou shouldst fall down and worship the fellow bear with me sir she answered faintly it is but the pain here thou knowest I cannot tell but he lieth at the bottom of the Irish sea if he do lie there then lieth he in Abraham's bosom daughter where I trust there is room for thee and me also thou rememberest how thy Molly said once to be madam thy bosom is not so big as my lord Abraham's what a big bosom my lord Abraham must have Lady Gilmourgen laughed come then to our work alive which is now to receive his majesty said the marquee my wild Irish woman alas my lord enough now side the countess not too tame to understand that she must represent her husband before the king's majesty said Lord Worchester Lady Gilmourgen rose kissed her father-in-law wiped her eyes and said where my lord do you propose lodging his majesty in the great north room over the buttery and next the picture gallery which will serve his majesty to walk in and the windows there have the finest prospect of all I did think of the great tower but well the chamber there is indeed state leader but it is gloomy as adult twilight while the one I intend him to lie in is bright as the summer morning the tower chamber makes me think of all the lords and ladies that have died therein the north room of all the babies that have been born there spoken like a man murmured Lady Gilmourgen have you given directions my lord I have sent for Choral come with me Marker you and Mary must keep your old father from blundering Ron Dorothy and tell Mr. Delaware and Mr. Andrews that I desire their presence in my closet I miss the rogues Goodmore they tell me he have done well and is sorely wounded he must feel the better for the one already and I hope you will soon be nothing to worse for the other as he thus talked they left the room and took their way to the study where they found the steward waiting them the whole castle was presently alive with preparations for the king's visit that he had been so sorely foiled of late only roused in all the greater desire to receive him with every possible honor hope revived in Lady Gilmourgen's bosom she would take the coming of the king as a good omen for the return of her husband Dorothy ran to do the Marquis pleasure as she ran it seemed as if some new spring of life had burst forth in her heart the king the king actually coming the god chosen monarch of England the head of the church the type of omnipotence the wrong the saint lead the wise he who fought with bleeding heart for the rights that he might fulfill the duties to which he was born she would see him she would breed the same mare with him gaze on his gracious countenance unseen until she had imprinted every feature of his divine face upon her heart and memory the thought was too entrancing she wept as she ran to find the master of the horse and the master of the fishponds at length on the evening of the 3rd of July a persuident accompanied by an advanced guard of horsemen announced the king and presently on the north road his approach nearer they came all on horseback a court of officers travel stained and weary with foam flecked horses upflowing plumes flashing armor and ringing chains they arrived at the brick gate where Lord Charles himself threw the two leaves open to admit them and bent the knee before his king as they entered the marble gate they saw the marquee descending the great white stare to meet them looking for his lameness on the arm of his brother Sir Thomas of Troy and followed by all the ladies and gentlemen and officers in the castle who stood on the stair while he approached the king's horse bent his knee kissed the royal hand and rising with difficulty for the gout had aged him beyond his ears said I would I had not to give this brief dialogue but it stands on record and may suggest something worth thinking to him who can read and write the king replied my lord I may very well answer you again I have not found so great faith in Israel for no man would trust me with so much money as you have done I hope your majesty will prove a defender of the faith return the marquee the king then dismounted ascended the marble steps with his host nearly as stiff as he from his long ride crossed the moat on the undulating drawbridge past the equine gateway and entered the stone court the marquee turned to the king and presented the keys of the castle the king took them and returned them I pray your majesty keep them in so good a hand I fear that ere it be long I shall be forced to deliver them into the hands of who will spoil the compliment said the marquee nay rejoin his majesty but keep them till the king of kings demand the account of your stewardship my lord I trust your majesty's name will then be seen where it stands therein said the marquee for so it will fare the better with the steward in the court the garrison horse and foot a goodly show was drawn up to receive him with an open lane through leading to the northwestern angle the king's apartment at the draw well which lay right in the way and around which the men stood off in a circle the king stopped laid his hand on the wheel and said gaily my lord is this your lordship's purse for your majesty's sake I would it were he turned the marquee at the foot of the stair on plea of his gout he delivered his majesty to the care of lord charles sir roth blackstone Mr. Delaware who conducted him to his chamber the king's up alone but after supper lady glomorgan and the other ladies of the family having requested permission to wait upon him were ushered into his presence each of them took with her one of her ladies in attendance and dorthy being the one chosen by her mistress for that honor not without the rousing of a strong feeling of injustice in the bosoms of the elder ladies her trembling behind her mistress as if the room or a temple were a no semilacrum but the divinity himself dwelt in visible presence his majesty received them courteously said kind things to several of them but spoke and behaved at first with a certain long-faced reserve rather than dignity which, while the chariot alone with dorthy's ideal of the graciousness that should be mingled with majesty in the perfect manner we're going to throw our spirit back into that stage of devotion we're in to use the figure of the king's own the awe overlays the love a little later the marquis entered walking slowly leaning on the arm of lord charles but carrying in his own hands a present of apricots from his brother to the king meantime dorthy's love had begun to rise again from beneath her awe but when the marquis came in old and stately reverend and slow with a silver dish in each hand and a basket on his arm and she saw him bow three times ere he presented his offering himself serving whom all served himself humble whom all revered then again did awe nearly overcome her when the king, however having graciously received the present chose for each of the ladies one of the apricots and coming to dorthy last and offered the one he said was likeliest the bloom of her own fair cheek gratitude again restored the sway of love and in the greatness of the honor she almost let slip the compliment she could not reply but she looked her thanks and the king doubtless missed nothing the next day his majesty rested but on following days wrote him one month chapstow, husk and other towns in the neighborhood next to the marquis had a shed stood out after dinner he generally paid the marquis a visit in the oak parlor then perhaps had a walk in the grounds or a game on the bowling-glee but although the marquis was devoted to the king's cause he was not therefore either blinded or indifferent to the king's faults and as an old man who had long been trying to grow better he made up his mind to risk a respectful word in the matter of kingly obligation one day therefore when his majesty entered the oak parlor he found his house sitting by the table with his gower lined open before him as if he had been reading which doubtless was the case what book have you there my lord Asa came while some of his courtiers stood near the door and others gazed from the window on the moat and the swelling towering mass of the key I like to know what books my friends read sir it is old master John Gower's book of verses entitled Confesio a Montes answered his lordship it is a book I have never seen before said the king glancing at its pages oh return the marquis it is a book of books which if your majesty had been well versed in it would have made you a king of kings why so my lord ask the king why said the marquis how Aristotle brought up and instructed Alexander the great in all his rudiments and the principles belonging to a prince allow me sir to read you such a passage as will show your majesty the truth of what I say he opened the book and read among the virtues one is Shafay and that is Tretha which is Lafay dear to god and eat to man also and for it have been ever so taught Aristotle as he well cooed knew to Alexander how in his youth he should have trethas like he greys that same with all his whole heart and praise so that his word be true and plain toward the world and so certain that in him be no double spesh for if men should tretha sesh and found it not within a king or an unfinda thing the word is token of that within there shall a worthy king begin to keep his tongue to be true so shall his price been ever new and here sir is what he sayeth as to the significance of the king crown if your majesty will allow me to read it read on my lord all is good and true said the king the gold be token of excellence that men should done in reverence as to her leech sovereign their leech the stones as the books saying commended then and tretha wise first they've been hard and they'll be assays that attribute be tokeneth in a king constance so that there shall be no very alms be found in his condition and also by description the virtue which is in the stones a very sign is for the knowns of that a king shall been honest and hold truly his behest promise of thing which longeth to kinaday alongeth and so on for our loathe to worry your majesty of the color of the stones and the circular form of the crown read on my lord several passages therefore did the marquis pick out and read amongst which probably were certain concerning flatterers taking care still to speak of alexander and Aristotle and by no means of king and marquis until a lengthy had read the king such a lesson as dr. bailey informs us that the bystanders were amazed at his boldness my lord have you got your lesson my heart or speak you out of the ask the king taking the volume sir the marquis replied if you could read my heart it may be you might find it there or if your majesty please to get it by heart I will lend you my book I would willingly borrow it said the king nay said the marquis I will lend it to you upon these conditions first that you read it and second that you make use of it here rinsing round while knowing the nature of the soil upon which his words fell he saw some of the new made lords displeased fretting and biting your thumbs and thus therefore resumed but sir I assure you that no man was so much for the absolute power of the king as Aristotle if your majesty will allow me to book again I will show you one remarkable passage to that purpose having searched the volume for a moment and found it he read as follows harpeys first his tale told and said how that the strength of kings is mightiest of all things for king have power over man and man is he which reason can as he which is of his nature the most noble creature of all though that god have lot and by that skill it seemeth not for that reason he sayeth that any earthly thing may be so mighty as a king a king may spill a king may save a king may make of lord anave and of anave a lord also the power of a king stand so that he the law over passive what he will make last say he last sayeth what he will make more he moreth and as a gentle falcon sort he flees that no man him acclaimeth but he alone all other tameth and slant himself of law free there my liege so much for Aristotle and the kinghood but think not he taketh me with him all the way by our lady I go not so far lifting his head again he saw to his wish that diverse new made lords slunk out of the room my lord said the king at this rate you will drive away all my nobility I protest unto your majesty the mark he replied I am as new a made lord as any of them all but I was never called nave or broke so much in all my life as I have been since I received his last honor and why should they not bear their shares in high good humor with his success he told the story the same evening to Lady Glamorgan in Dorothy's presence he gave her ground for thought she wondered that the mark he should think the king required such lessening she had never dreamed that a man and his office are not only metaphysically distinct but maybe morally separate things she had hitherto taken the office as a pledge for the man the show as a pledge for the reality and now therefore her notion of the king received a rude shock from his best friend the arrival of his majesty had added to her labors for now again horse must bow every day with no molly to see it and rejoice every fountain rushed heavenwards and all the air was filled with pleasant noise of waters this required the fire engine to be kept pretty constantly at work and Dorothy had to run up and down the stair of the great tower several times a day but she lingered on the top often and as long as she might one glorious july afternoon gazing from the top of the keep she saw his majesty the mark he some of the courtiers and the mr. Pritchard of the neighborhood on the bowling greens having a game together it was like looking at a toy representation of one for so far below everything was wondrously dwarf and foreshortened but certainly it was a pretty sight the gay garments the moving figures the bowls rolling like marbles over the green carpet while the sun and the blue sky and just an air of wind enough to turn every leaf into a languidly waved fan enclosed it in loveliness and filled it with light it was like a picture from a camera obscura dropped right at the foot of the keep for the surrounding walk moat and sunk wall beyond were seen from that height to keep the bowling green which came to the edge of the sunk walk 12 feet below it from apparent cling to the foundations of the tower the circle of arches filled with show work and statues of roman emperors which formed the face of the escarpment of the sunk walk looked like a curiously cut fringe to the carpet while Dorothea Loft was thus looking down and watching the game what a lovely prospect it is said his majesty below addressing Mr. Pritchard while the marquee bowled making answer Mr. Pritchard pointed out where his own house lay half hidden by a grove and said may it please your majesty I have advised my lord to cut down those trees so that when he wants a good player at bowls he may have but to beckon nay returned the king he should plant more trees that so he might not see the house at all the marquee who had bowled and was coming towards them heard what the king said and fancying he aimed at the fault of the greedy buying up of land if your majesty have had enough of the game he said and will climb with me to the top of the tower I will show you what may do you mind some ease I should be sorry to set your lordship such an arduous task replied the king but I am very desirous of seeing your great tower and if you will permit me I will climb the stair without your attendance sir it will pleasure me to think that the last time ever I ascended those stairs I conducted your majesty for a genius child be the last time I grow old as the marquee spoke he led towards the twin arch bridge over the castle moat then through the western gate and along the side of the court to the gothic bridge on their way dispatched one of the gentlemen to fetch the keys of the tower my lord said the king when the messenger had gone there are some men so unreasonable as to make me believe that your lordship hath good store of gold yet left with the tower but I knowing how I have exhausted you could never have believed it until now I see you will not trust the keys with anybody yourself sir answered the marquee I was so far from giving your majesty any such occasion of thought by this tender of my duty that I protest under you that I was once resolved that your majesty should have lain there but that I was low to commit your majesty to the tower you are more considerate my lord than some of my subjects would be if they had me as much in their keeping answer the king sadly but what are those pipes let into the wall up there he asked stopping in the middle of the bridge and looking up at the keep nay sire my son and word most tell you that you take of strange liberties with the mighty old hulk but I will not injure his good grace with your majesty by talking of that I understand not I trust that one day when you shall no more require his absence you will yet again condescend to be my guest when my son by your majesty's favor now my lord good morning will have things to show you that will delight your eyes to behold I have there now seen something of his performance answer the king but these naughty times give room for nothing in that kind but guns and swords leaving the workshop unvisited his lordship took the king up the stair and unlocking the entrance to the first floor ushered him into a lofty vaulted chamber hold in the midst of antiquity dark vast and stately this is where I did think to lodge your majesty he said but your majesty sees it is gloomy for the windows are narrow and the walls are ten feet through it maketh me very cold said the king shuddering good sooth but I were loathed to be a prisoner he turned and left the room he used to lean the marquee rejoined him on the stair and led him two stories higher to the armory now empty compared to its former condition but still capable of affording some supply the next space above was filled with stores and the highest was now kept clear for defense for the reservoir so fully occupied the top that there was no room for engines of any sort and indeed it took up so much of the story below with its depth that it left only such room as between the decks of a man of war rendering it hardly fit for any other use reaching the summit at length the king gazed with silent wonder at the little tarn which lay there as on the crest of a mountain but the marquee conducted him to the western side and pointing with his finger said sir you see that line of trees stretching across a neck of arable field where to the right the brook catches the sun I see it my lord answer the king and behind it a house and garden small but dainty yes my lord then I trust your majesty will release me from suspicion of being of those to whom the prophet Isaiah saiyah by key conjugities at agrum agro copulatis who's key I'd terminone low key nun quae habitatis bossoli and mediotera me please your majesty I planted those trees to hoodwink my knives from such temptations hiding from them the vineyard of Nabath last they should act the josebel ade had their tune if I did thus when those trees and I were young shall I do worse now that I stand with one foot in the grave and purgatory itself in the other the king seemed to listen politely but only listened half and did not perceive his drift he was looking at Dorothy where she stood at the opposite side of the reservoir unable because of the temporary obstruction occasioned by certain alterations and repairs about the cocks now going on to reach the stair without passing the king and the marquee the king asked who she was and the marquee telling him a little about her called her she came curtsy low to his majesty and stood with beating heart I desire said the marquee thou shouldst explain to his majesty that trick of thy cousin Glamorgan the water shoot and let him see at work my lord answered Dorothy trembling between devotion and doubtful duty it was the great desire of my lord Glamorgan that none in the castle should know the trick as it pleases your lordship to call it what cousin cannot his majesty keep a secret and doth not all that Glamorgan half along to the king God forbid I should doubt either my lord answered Dorothy turning very pale and ready to sink but it cannot well be done without someone seen at night indeed it is but a whim of Glamorgan's thou wilt not do a job of ill to show the game before his majesty in the sunlight my lord I promised here standeth who will absolve thee child his majesty is paramount to Glamorgan my lord my lord said Dorothy almost weeping I'm bewildered and cannot well understand but I am sure that if it be wrong no one can give me leave to do it or absolve me beforehand God himself can but pardon after the thing is done not give permission to do it forgive me sir but so master Matthew Herbert have taught me and very good doctrine too said the Marquis emphatically that who will propound it thank you not sir but the king stood with dull imperturbable gaze fixed in his horizon and made no reply an awkward silence followed the king requested his host to conduct him to his apartment I marveled my lord said his majesty as they went down the stair seeing how lame his host was that as they tell me your lordship drinks carat all physicians say it is not for the gout sir returned the Marquis it shall never be said that I am to pleasure my enemy the king's face grew dark for ever since the lecture for which he had made Gower the textbook he had been ready to see a double meaning of rebuke in all the Marquis said he made no answer avoided his attendants who waited for him in the fountain court expecting him to go by the bell tower and passing through the hall in the stone court ascended to his room alone and went into the picture gallery where he paced down till suppertime the Marquis rejoined the little company of his own friends who had left the bowling green after him and were now in the oak parlor a little troubled at the king's carriage towards him he entered with a merry o' bearing unusual well gentlemen how goes the bias he said gay we were but now presuming to say my lord answered Mr. Pritchard that there are who would largely warrant that if you would you might be Duke of Somerset when I was Earl of Warchester returned the Marquis I was well to do since I was Marquis I am worse by a hundred thousand pounds and if I should be a Duke I should be an errant beggar wherefore I'd rather go back to my earldon than at this rate keep on my pace to the Dukedom of Somerset end of chapter 44 recording by Nancy Cochran-Gergen Gilbert Arizona