THE PATH OF THE KING
by John Buchan
TO MY WIFE I DEDICATE THESE CHAPTERS FIRST READ BY A COTSWOLD FIRE
Contents
CHAPTER 1. HIGHTOWN UNDER SUNFELL CHAPTER 3. THE WIFE OF FLANDERS CHAPTER 7. EAUCOURT BY THE WATERS CHAPTER 14. THE END OF THE ROAD |
Linum fumigans non exstinguet; in veritate educet judicium. ISA. XLII.3.
THE PATH OF THE KING
PROLOGUE
The three of us in that winter camp in the Selkirks were talking the slow aimless talk of wearied men.
The Soldier, who had seen many campaigns, was riding his hobby of the Civil War and descanting on Lee's tactics in the last Wilderness struggle. I said something about the stark romance of it—of Jeb Stuart flitting like a wraith through the forests; of Sheridan's attack at Chattanooga, when the charging troops on the ridge were silhouetted against a harvest moon; of Leonidas Polk, last of the warrior Bishops, baptizing his fellow generals by the light of a mess candle. “Romance,” I said, “attended the sombre grey and blue levies as faithfully as she ever rode with knight-errant or crusader.”
The Scholar, who was cutting a raw-hide thong, raised his wise eyes.
“Does it never occur to you fellows that we are all pretty mixed in our notions? We look for romance in the well-cultivated garden-plots, and when it springs out of virgin soil we are surprised, though any fool might know it was the natural place for it.”
He picked up a burning stick to relight his pipe.
“The things we call aristocracies and reigning houses are the last places to loo