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St. George and St. Michael by George MacDonald
page 91 of 626 (14%)
during his life, almost up to the present hour, he might have
entered without question, for the gates were seldom closed and never
locked, the portcullises, sheathed in the wall above, hung moveless
in their rusty chains, and the drawbridges spanned the moat from
scarp to counterscarp, as if from the first their beams had rested
there in solid masonry. And still, during the day, there was little
sign of change, beyond an indefinable presence of busier life, even
in the hush of the hot autumnal noon. But at night the drawbridges
rose and the portcullises descended--each with its own peculiar
creak, and jar, and scrape, setting the young rooks cawing in reply
from every pinnacle and tree-top--never later than the last moment
when the warder could see anything larger than a cat on the brow of
the road this side the village. For who could tell when, or with
what force at their command, the parliament might claim possession?
And now another of the frequent reports had arrived, that the king
had at length resorted to arms. It was altogether necessary for such
as occupied a stronghold, unless willing to yield it to the first
who demanded entrance, to keep watch and ward.

Admitted at the great brick gate, the outermost of all, and turning
aside from the steps leading up to the white stone gate and main
entrance beyond, with its drawbridge and double portcullis, Richard,
by his companion's directions, led his mare to the left, and,
rounding the moat of the citadel, sought the western gate of the
castle, which seemed to shelter itself under the great bulk of the
Yellow Tower, the cannon upon more than one of whose bastions
closely commanded it, and made up for its inferiority in defence of
its own.

Scudamore had scarcely called, ere the warder, who had been waked by
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