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239 pages

English

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Jeffery Farnol's exceptional gifts as a story-teller have long had world-wide recognition, and as a writer of tales of adventure he has few peers.
The story opens in Virginia in 1774, at the moment when resentment at King George's treatment of the American Colonies and anger at Gaye's misguided high-handedness in Massachusetts, and particularly Boston, is blazing up to rebellion. George Charteris, Lord Wraybourne, a loyal Tory peer settled in Virginia, vehemently denounces the agitation as treason, and is infuriated when his nephew, Anthony Falconbridge, expresses sympathy with it and declares his belief in the future of America as an independent sovereign power.
Thus a family feud is originated which provides the main thread upon which all the subsequent episodes constituting the novel are strung.
The story is first rate. Large in conception, well constructed, dramatic, emotional, and relieved by a fair amount of humour, it has all the attributes that should give it great and deserved popularity.

Sujets

Fiction

Revolution

Historical

Colonial America

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Publié par	Rare Treasure Editions
Date de parution	16 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781773239125
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0050€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A Pageant of Victory
by Jeffery Farnol

Firstpublished in 1936
Thisedition published by Rare Treasures
Victoria,BC Canada with branch offices in the Czech Republic and Germany
Trava2909@gmail.com
All rightsreserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted inany form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, includingphotocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrievalsystem, except in the case of excerpts by a reviewer, who may quotebrief passages in a review.

A Pageant of Victory

by JEFFERY FARNOL

BOOK ONE
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCES TWO IMPORTANT PEOPLE
Blodwen stood where she might watch the roadand the river, this river of her dreams, flowing downtowards her from the wonders of the North to loseitself in the deep, leafy solitudes of the vast wilderness;this straight road, a great highway that through leaguesof forest, led on and ever on across the wild, skirtingmountains, fording rivers, piercing the awful silenceof plain, desert and savannah, past struggling settlementsand desolate outposts, to the unknown wondersof town and cities; Philadelphia, Boston, New Yorkand the mighty ocean beyond which lay a far country,of which she had heard and read so much, calledEngland.
Before her the road and the river, leading to thisworld of vivid life and action, behind her my lordGeorge Charteris' great House of Wrybourne, thronedupon its three terraces, builded sixty odd years ago bymy lord's noble sire and like as possible to his ancestralhome in England; a stately house beyond whichclustered the thatched cottages and huts of his manyretainers and negro slaves.
But it was towards the road and silent river thatBlodwen's long-lashed, sombre eyes were turned indreamy contemplation until, startled by a faint sound,she turned with the lithe quickness of some shy forestcreature and thus beheld the earl's son and heir, mylord Charles, with his boon companion, the youngMarquis de Vaucelles.
And both young gentlemen were gazing at her andin the eyes of both she read that which deepened thedusky bloom in her cheek and set her vivid full-lippedmouth to sudden bitterness: she glanced from theFrench nobleman to the English aristocrat, then veiledthe fire of her eyes, as lord Charles addressed her.
"Aha, Blodwen!" cried he gaily but with no courtesyof bow or flourished hat. "Why so early? Will you goa-hunting with us? I've been boasting to the Marquisof your marvellous skill with the rifle . . . but faithnow I protest you grow handsomer every day, by thevery hour and minute! How sayst thou, Gaspard?"
" Pardi! " answered the Marquis, "thou'rt right, myCharles, she is of a beauty so compelling--ah, ravishing!Here for me is better sport than in your so damp woodsyonder. Go thou and hunt, my old one. I have flushedmy lovely game!" So saying the Marquis set by thelight fowling piece he carried and approached her withall the smiling, joyous assurance of the fine gentlemanand accomplished gallant he was.
"My lord," said she in her soft, rich voice, "I am noman's sport . . . take warning." The Marquis laughedgaily, and before she might prevent, had set arm abouther slender waist; but with a supple ease she brokehis hold and threw him off so strongly that he staggeredand all but fell.
" Mordieu! " he exclaimed, straightening hat andwig, "but this is of the most appetizing! She is to tameand gentle, this one! Regard now and I--"
"No no," said Charles interposing, "let be, Gaspard,she's a sullen baggage shall scratch and bite; 'stead o'being grateful for a gentlemanly proffer she's apt toflash steel."
"Sayst thou, my old one, my dear Charles?"
"Ay faith, she's done it ere now. Cut young Wimperisin the arm with her knife scarce a month ago. Damme!You'd think her the proudest fine madam of 'em all,must be sued and wooed 'stead of a mere . . ."
"What, sir?" she demanded, as he hesitated. "Oh,pray what . . . what am I?" Here, seeing the lookof pain in her eyes, the quiver of her sensitive mouth,Charles had the grace to flush and was dumb; whereforethe Marquis smiling as gaily, though eyeing her morewarily, made a sly pace towards her, saying:
"I protest thou art a goddess, a thing of joy, a creatureof delight--"
But once again Charles interposed, and slipping handin his friend's arm drew him away.
"No no, Gaspard," said he scowling, but a littleshame-faced, "'tis a bitter prude and a most peevishshrew. Come, I'll shew thee better sport, man, howsoyou will. Come let us go."
" Hélas! " sighed the Marquis, with exaggerated woe." Adieu thou dark and tempting Venus! . . . Anothertime we are alone and you shall be more kind . . . au revoir! " And saluting her with profound obeisance,he caught up his fowling piece, laughed, kissed hiswhite bejewelled hand, and so, the one laughing, theother frowning, off they went together, gallant figuresin their hunting gear; while Blodwen watched them,arms crossed upon her resurgent bosom, nor stirred sheor suffered herself to wipe the slow, painful tears thatblinded her, until these gay gentlemen were out ofsight. Then, striving to check the sobs that shook her,she turned and leaning against a tree, hid her face andwept awhile with strange passion.
And when the fit had spent itself, she dried her eyesheedfully lest they be reddened, and went slow-footeddown to the river.
Reaching the margin where the water ran deep andstill beneath the bank, she knelt and stooped down tolook at herself in this pellucid mirror, viewing herimage with a strange and fearful intensity, scanningher every feature with a close scrutiny, in which wasan eager questioning, a deep and anxious care; thisdarkly oval face, glowing of cheek, ruddy of lip andframed in sweeping curtains of night black hair in suchstartling contrast with these black-lashed tawny eyesthat were gazing up at her in such wistful, troubledspeculation.
Now as she crouched thus, came old Gideon Ash, rodon shoulder and in his hand a string of gleaming fish,new-caught; and roused by his familiar step she glancedup and beckoned him near.
"Aha," quoth he, obeying her imperious gesture,"be tha' admiring at thy beauty, lass?"
"No!" cried she fiercely. "No! I look to find theevil of me. Oh, Gideon, I think there is a curse on methat turns men into beasts!"
"Eh? Beasts, lass--?"
"Brute beasts!" said she between white teeth"More especially my lord's fine friends. Oh, thesegentlemen o' quality! Why must I forever wake theevil in them? I that do so hate men! How old am I,Gideon?"
"Why . . . lemme see, now," he answered, raspingstubbly chin thoughtfully between finger and thumb,"'twere all o' twenty year ago as I found ee, and onjust such another morning as this, afloat on the riverhere in a fine Injun canoe and yourself lapped in abuffler-robe, also very fine, and under that a silkpetticut, like-wise mighty fine and round your li'l neckon a golden chain, a Injun charm o' wampum--"
"This!" said she, drawing from her bosom a smallpouch of exquisite Indian work and frowning at it.
"Ah, that same," nodded Gideon, "and in it a rubyring and a writing with the word 'Blodwen.' So Blodwenus called ee. And then my lord's lady having lost herown li'l darter, 'dopted of ee, had ee eddicated like alady until she died, and then--"
"Then I was allowed to run wild," said Blodwen,bitterly, "the stables, the river, the forest, and to-day. . . Oh, Gideon, who am I? What am I--?"
"A mighty handsome critter as few women can ekalfor looks and fewer men match wi' musket or rifle! Ah,'twas me as larned ee how! Lord love ee," said the oldhunter, looking down into her troubled face with eyesof deep affection, "'twas me and old Chacomeeco, theMuskogee, as larned ee all manner o' woodcraft, andyou so wonnerful quick, took to it you did like . . .like . . ."
"An Indian!" said she, and with the word was afoot,had grasped him in compelling hands, searching hisface with that same wild look of fearful questioning."An Indian!" she repeated. "Can this be the reason?Is this the answer? Oh, Gideon, is my blood . . . amI an Indian?"
"No, no, lass . . . not you, Blodwen!"
"But are you sure?" she pleaded, clutching him thetighter. "Oh, are you quite sure?"
"Sarten sure!" he answered, stoutly, though hishonest old eyes quailed before her eager regard. "ButLord love us all!" he exclaimed cheerily, "here be meidling and to-day my lord's birthday and the greathouse full o' grand company and more a-coming . . .nigh all the gentry o' Virginny and Maryland. 'Tisbustle, lass, bustle I tell ee! So leggo o' me, dear maid,and lemme to my work, do ee now!" Mutely sheobeyed, and nodding cheerily, old Gideon went his way.
Then Blodwen turned and with head bowed introubled thought went on beside this river that twentyodd years ago had borne her on its broad, gentle bosomout of the unknown. Reaching a favourite place wheretrees and dense-growing, flowery thickets made agreen bower, she sank down and, clasping arms abouther rounded limbs, crouched to watch the murmurouswaters with her strange golden eyes.
Here, remote from the stir and bustle of the greathouse and busy village, she sat in a primeval stillnessbroken only by the soft rustle of leaves about her andthe rippling murmur of these ever-flowing waters.
But after some while her quick ear caught the faint,rhythmic beat of paddles and, glancing through theleafage, she espied a long, birch-bark canoe approachingand in it two Indians, but as they drew nearer she sawone of these was a white man, though clad in the Indianfashion, who, throwing up his paddle, said somethingto his companion, whereupon the canoe, turning inits own length, came gliding smoothly to the banknearby and Blodwen, hidden in her bower, saw thewhite man step lightly ashore.
And now a strange thing happened; for scarcely hadhis moccasined foot touched land than, as if she hadcalled to him, he turned swiftly, looked, and saw hergolden eyes peering at him through the leaves--theseand no more. Catching up his long rifle, he camestriding thr