Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Battle of the Strong: A Romance of Two Kingdoms — Volume 5
    The Battle of the Strong: A Romance of Two Kingdoms — Volume 5
    The Battle of the Strong: A Romance of Two Kingdoms — Volume 5
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    The Battle of the Strong: A Romance of Two Kingdoms — Volume 5

    By Gilbert Parker

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJan 1, 1976
    The Battle of the Strong: A Romance of Two Kingdoms — Volume 5
    Author

    Gilbert Parker

    Gilbert Parker (1862–1932), also credited as Sir Horatio Gilbert George Parker, 1st Baronet, was a Canadian novelist and British politician. His initial career was in education, working in various schools as a teacher and lecturer. He then traveled abroad to Australia where he became an editor at the Sydney Morning Herald. He expanded his writing to include long-form works such as romance fiction. Some of his most notable titles include Pierre and his People (1892), The Seats of the Mighty and The Battle of the Strong.

    Read more from Gilbert Parker

    Related to The Battle of the Strong

    Related ebooks

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      DULCE DOMUM From The Wind In The Willows

      Nov 1, 2022

      DULCE DOMUM From The Wind In The Willows
      11 min read

    • Article

      A Refusal To Mourn The Deaths, By Gunfire, Of Three Men In Brooklyn

      Jan 1, 2019

      And at times, didn’t the whole countrytry to break his skin?—Tim Seibles You strike your one good match to watch its bloomand jook, a swan song just before a nightwind comes to snuff it. That’s the kind of dayit’s been. Your Black & Mild, now, useles

      7 min read

    • Article

      Ghost Girl, Banana

      Aug 21, 2023

      By the time I was 25, there were only two things I remembered about Mumma. The first was that she smelled of watermelons, the second was that we were happy. We’d taken our father’s name of course, but a name is only half a story. The other half exist

      6 min read

    • Article

      Roger’s profanisaurus

      Oct 13, 2022

      Roger’s profanisaurus
      9 min read

    • Article

      Four Of A Kind

      May 3, 2023

      Four Of A Kind
      4 min read

    • Article

      Splash

      Feb 9, 2018

      Splash
      6 min read

    • Article

      Speedboat

      Mar 24, 2022

      Nobody died that year. Nobody prospered. There were no births or marriages. Seventeen reverent satires were written – disrupting a cliché and, presumably, creating a genre. That was a dream, of course, but many of the most important things, I fi nd,

      14 min read

    • Article

      “Really?”

      Jun 2, 2022

      “Really?”
      6 min read

    • Article

      Going Home

      Mar 4, 2021

      Going Home
      2 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Jul 1, 2018

      Without the adventof Stockholm Syndrome,how could I havelearned to love myself so much? I’m asking Godand New York, can anyonehelp me? (An all-but-audible “or else.”) The captain’s chair:it’s beginning to smella little too much like me. Again.But the

      4 min read

    • Article

      Roger’s PROFANISAURUS

      Aug 5, 2021

      profanisaurus@viz.co.uk aroma diffuser 1. n. A scientific device that breaks “essential oils” down into smaller molecules, dispersing them into the air for a pleasant or calming effect on the gullible. 2. n. The arsehole. Barbie’s minge sim. Somethin

      8 min read

    • Article

      Echoes

      Jun 22, 2022

      Echoes
      9 min read

    • Article

      The Dullard

      Jun 5, 2019

      The villagers of Yockenthwaite knew him as ‘Jack Dull’, ‘Jack Dolt,’ or sometimes just ‘The Dullard’. His real name was John Dullard, last in a long, illustrious line of Dullards, and a man – so they said – of quite miraculous stupidity. The kind of

      7 min read

    • Article

      Marco

      Mar 1, 2022

      THE ALLEY STANK . Marco could feel the damp soaking into his tunic as he pressed his back against the wall, trying to seem like part of the shadows. He cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid? He knew if he stayed out after dark they might f

      6 min read

    • Article

      Ghoulies and Ghosties

      Oct 1, 2022

      Ghoulies and Ghosties
      7 min read

    • Article

      Nugrybauti

      Apr 24, 2019

      Nugrybauti
      8 min read

    • Article

      The Goldilocks Effect

      Sep 9, 2022

      The Goldilocks Effect
      16 min read

    • Article

      A holiday INDOORS

      Apr 7, 2021

      “You’ll have probably noticed that there’s been very little mention on this page during the past year of lockdowns and respiratory disease and bubbles and masks and toilet roll shortages and quarantine, and illicit Darby and Joan club meetings being

      3 min read

    • Article

      Prevarication Jones

      May 1, 2019

      Prevarication Jones
      16 min read

    • Article

      Odd Jobs

      Jul 19, 2017

      Odd Jobs
      3 min read

    • Article

      Roger's PROFANISAURUS

      Nov 19, 2020

      Roger's PROFANISAURUS
      8 min read

    • Article

      Come the DAWN

      Apr 8, 2020

      Come the DAWN
      21 min read

    • Article

      That’s Norway To Do It

      Apr 5, 2023

      That’s Norway To Do It
      4 min read

    • Article

      Life In The past Lane

      Aug 27, 2021

      Life In The past Lane
      5 min read

    • Article

      No Words

      Apr 16, 2019

      No Words
      4 min read

    • Article

      Echos

      Jan 10, 2019

      Before Corrine’s husband abandoned her in Berlin, he liked to say that her name reminded him of the word “corrupt.” But ending in a twist rather than a split. Her last name was the French word for “swimsuit” but he never mentioned that. This seemed s

      17 min read

    • Article

      The Glass Ceiling

      Aug 21, 2023

      ‘You’re late.” Evangeline glanced up from her workbench, neck already aching from the intricate creation before her: a hat decorated with no fewer than six hummingbirds, pinned to netting so fine it would look as though the creatures were, indeed, fl

      6 min read

    Reviews for The Battle of the Strong

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Battle of the Strong - Gilbert Parker

      The Project Gutenberg EBook The Battle Of The Strong, by G. Parker, v5 #61 in our series by Gilbert Parker

      Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

      This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.

      Please read the legal small print, and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.

      **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

      **EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

      *****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****

      Title: The Battle Of The Strong [A Romance of Two Kingdoms], Volume 5.

      Author: Gilbert Parker

      Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6234] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 10, 2002]

      Edition: 10

      Language: English

      *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLE OF THE STRONG, PARKER, V5 ***

      This eBook was produced by David Widger

      THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG

      [A ROMANCE OF TWO KINGDOMS]

      By Gilbert Parker

      Volume 5.

      CHAPTER XXXI

      When Ranulph returned to his little house at St. Aubin's Bay night had fallen. Approaching he saw there was no light in the windows. The blinds were not drawn, and no glimmer of fire came from the chimney. He hesitated at the door, for he instinctively felt that something must have happened to his father. He was just about to enter, however, when some one came hurriedly round the corner of the house.

      Whist, boy, said a voice; I've news for you. Ranulph recognised the voice as that of Dormy Jamais. Dormy plucked at his sleeve. Come with me, boy, said he.

      Come inside if you want to tell me something, answered Ranulph.

      Ah bah, not for me! Stone walls have ears. I'll tell only you and the wind that hears and runs away.

      I must speak to my father first, answered Ranulph.

      Come with me, I've got him safe, Dormy chuckled to himself.

      Ranulph's heavy hand dropped on his shoulder. What's that you're saying—my father with you! What's the matter?

      As though oblivious of Ranulph's hand Dormy went on chuckling.

      Whoever burns me for a fool 'll lose their ashes. Des monz a fous—I have a head! Come with me. Ranulph saw that he must humour the shrewd natural, so he said:

      Et ben, put your four shirts in five bundles and come along. He was a true Jerseyman at heart, and speaking to such as Dormy Jamais he used the homely patois phrases. He knew there was no use hurrying the little man, he would take his own time.

      There's been the devil to pay, said Dormy as he ran towards the shore, his sabots going clac—clac, clac—clac. There's been the devil to pay in St. Heliers, boy. He spoke scarcely above a whisper.

      Tcheche—what's that? said Ranulph. But Dormy was not to uncover his pot of roses till his own time. That connetable's got no more wit than a square bladed knife, he rattled on. But gache-a-penn, I'm hungry! And as he ran he began munching a lump of bread he took from his pocket.

      For the next five minutes they went on in silence. It was quite dark, and as they passed up Market Hill—called Ghost Lane because of the Good Little People who made it their highway—Dormy caught hold of Ranulph's coat and trotted along beside him. As they went, tokens of the life within came out to them through doorway and window. Now it was the voice of a laughing young mother:

                              "Si tu as faim

                               Manges ta main

                               Et gardes l'autre pour demain;

                               Et ta tete

                               Pour le jour de fete;

                               Et ton gros ortee

                               Pour le Jour Saint Norbe"

      And again:

                         "Let us pluck the bill of the lark,

                          The lark from head to tail—"

      He knew the voice. It was that of a young wife of the parish of St. Saviour: married happily, living simply, given a frugal board, after the manner of her kind, and a comradeship for life. For the moment he felt little but sorrow for himself. The world seemed to be conspiring against him: the chorus of Fate was singing behind the scenes, singing of the happiness of others in sardonic comment on his own final unhappiness. Yet despite the pain of finality there was on him something of the apathy of despair.

      From another doorway came fragments of a song sung at a veille. The door was open, and he could see within the happy gathering of lads and lassies in the light of the crasset. There was the spacious kitchen, its beams and rafters dark with age, adorned with flitches of bacon, huge loaves resting in the racllyi beneath the centre beam, the broad open hearth, the flaming fire of logs, and the great brass pan shining like fresh- coined gold, on its iron tripod over the logs. Lassies in their short woollen petticoats, and bedgones of blue and lilac, with boisterous lads, were stirring the contents of the vast bashin—many cabots of apples, together with sugar, lemon-peel, and cider; the old ladies in mob-caps tied under the chin, measuring out the nutmeg and cinnamon to complete the making of the black butter:

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1