The Starlight Wonder Book

by Henry Beston

The soldiers of the enemy were clad in black-and-white, and wore shiny leather hats with shiny golden stars.

The young comrades marched into battle side by side. And even as a branch, thrust gently from the bank of a racing river, first moves slowly in calm waters by the edge of the stream and then is caught up and tossed about by the wild mid-torrent, so did the great tide of the battle catch up Jocelyn and Hugh. They fought as in a dream, scarce knowing what they did.

Now it came to pass that, at the storming of a grassy hillock of the moor, Hugh was taken prisoner by the men in black-and-white, but was bravely rescued by Jocelyn who fought his way undaunted to his side. Presently the enemy yielded the disputed hill, and the company in red-and-white made ready to hold it for their own.

The day waned; a tide of dark and threatening cloud rose over the horizon to the east, and a cold wind rode before it, bringing rain. All at once a wild and terrible storm burst over the battle on the moor; and, under cover of the thunder and confusion, the men in black-and-white strove to regain the hillock for their own. A bellowing wind whipped the heavy rain in the soldiers’ eyes, and it was very hard to see.

Now it fortuned that, in the dark of the storm and the tumult of the fray, the boy Hugh became separated from his comrades and suddenly found himself out of the battle, and wandering quite alone. Night was rushing on, the din of the combat was muffled in the roaring of the rain, and the young soldier scarce knew where to go.

Now it was his duty to return to the battle, seek out his comrades, and fight beside them to the end. Alas, so weary and shaken was the soldier lad that he made no effort to return to his hard-pressed friends, but fled away from the battle through the dark! Presently the all but roofless ruin of a shepherd’s hut appeared ahead, and Hugh took refuge within it from the battle and the storm.

All night long he lay there on the stones of the floor, sunken in a shivering sleep; but the dawn woke him at last, and he crept to a window to look forth upon the moor.

All was still. The battle was lost. The men in black-and-white were encamped upon the nearer hillocks of the moor, and a company of their horse was guarding a square of some hundred men in white-and-red.

Suddenly the runaway soldier heard the beat of a distant drum and, gazing through a cranny of the ruined house, beheld a number of prisoners marching by, forlorn. A triumphant dragoon in black-and-white was riding at their head; the drummer of his own company followed close behind, mournfully beating his drum; and then, trudging wearily on, appeared the good comrades whom he had deserted in their need. And Jocelyn walked among them bareheaded, with his arms tied behind him at the wrist.

And now the dark waters of sorrow and shame welled up in the heart of the runaway soldier, and he wept bitterly that he had failed to return into the fray. He would have leaped from the house and taken his place with his comrades, save that he could not bear that they should know of his flight.