Simon by Rosemary Sutcliff

Author:Rosemary Sutcliff [Sutcliff, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448173143
Publisher: RHCP
Published: 2013-11-29T13:00:00+00:00

XII

Tidings of Old Friends

THE NEXT FEW hours seemed to Simon like whole days and nights of misery. A space had been left for him and his bundle in the back of the wagon, and lying there on a pile of old sacks, between the footboard and the piled salt-beef casks with which the wagon was loaded, he was jolted along the Crediton road. More snow had fallen since the night of the assault; and the glimpses he caught of it when the rear apron of the tilt flapped aside, snow piled in drifts along the hedges and beaten into icy ruts and hummocks in the roadway, explained why the speed of the wagon so often dropped from a walking pace to that of a crawling baby. The wagon heaved and jolted through the ruts, swaying like a ship in a gale, so that Simon felt more sick and dizzy with every mile that spooled out behind the wheels, and his wounded head began to burn and throb as if there was a forge fire inside it, and somebody was playing the bellows. Once, the wagoner stopped at a wayside tavern for a drop of something to keep out the cold; and sent his boy back to see if Simon was all right and if he would take a drop of anything likewise. But by that time Simon was feeling too wretched to want anything, save to be left alone; and presently the wagoner returned to his place, and Simon heard him cracking his whip and shouting to his team. Slowly, they lumbered forward again.

Gradually, he sank into a sort of doze, in which the noises all around him, the starting and squeaking of the timbers, the ceaseless flapping of the tilt, the rumbling of wheels and clip-clop of horses hooves on the frozen snow, the shouts of the wagoner and his boy, all blended together into an uneasy dream that went on, and on, and on.

But at last he found that the wagon had stopped; and somebody let down the foot-board and said, ‘Here ’e be, Corporal, so safe as a bagged gamecock.’

He opened his eyes, and saw several men who he judged by their tawny coats to belong to the Artillery Escort, then shut them again very tight, because the world was swimming unpleasantly.

‘Looks in pretty poor fettle to me,’ said another voice; and a third retorted, ‘So’d you be, if you’d just done a day’s trip in a ’orrible equipage like that, with yer ’ead busted open. Take his feet and don’t stand there gabbing.’

Simon felt himself lifted out. He had a confused idea that he was being carried indoors, for the bitter cleanness of the open air had changed to a smelly cold fug, and the footsteps of the men carrying him sounded hollow, as though they were in a big building. Then he was set down on what felt like straw, and somebody was unwinding his blankets and putting him to bed as though he had

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