Collected works of j s f.., p.53
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 53
On, still on! Past Monk Frystone and Sherburn, through Barkston and Saxton, through Towton and Stretton, and so into Tadcaster ere yet it was an hour past midnight. I went steadily through the quiet little town, fearing lest some enemy should wonder at our great pace, but once outside we went on again past Bilbrough and Copmanthorpe until we came to Askham Bryan. And there I drew rein and pondered on what to do, for already the morning was beginning to break, and just before me the towers of the great Minster rose high in the dim light. I knew not where the Royalist forces were, nor where the enemy lay, and I feared to fall into the hands of the latter. But at last I went forward at a steady trot towards the city, intending, if I were questioned, to say that I was a farmer riding into market. And having skirted the city a little I went in at last through Mickle Gate, having met with no opposition on that side, and presently drew rein at my old inn, the Swan, in Pavement. And there came a great surprise, for I had no sooner leaped from Captain’s back than I saw Philip Lisle and Jack Drumbleforth leaning from an upper window in the courtyard, gazing at me with astonished faces.
CHAPTER IX.
OF THE GREAT FIGHT AT MARSTON MOOR.
I WAS something more than surprised to see my two friends staring at me from their upper window, for I had no idea but that they were hundreds of miles away. Nevertheless, so heartily glad was I to see them where I had not expected to meet aught in the shape of friends, that I immediately called to them in a loud voice, bidding them come down to me quickly. And so they were presently at my side in the inn yard, shaking my hands and asking a hundred questions at once about the folks at home.
“But what brings thee here, Will?” asked Jack. “Art come to help us against the Kings enemies?” There will be fighting in these parts ere the day is over, or I am a false prophet.”
“I have ridden here on important business,” I answered, and drawing them aside told them my story. “The letter,” I said, “is safe in my horse’s saddle. Let us take him into some stable and get it out.”
“Nay,” said Philip, “the city is in our hands and there is no fear of spying eyes.”
So I took the packet from its hiding-place and handed it over to Philip, who having examined it, gave it as his opinion that it was from the King at Oxford.
“We must lose no time in delivering this,” said he. “Let us stable your horse, Will, and then find Lord Newcastle’s lodging. He is like to be in bed at this hour, but we will wake him quickly enough. Matters are come to a crisis here, but now this despatch may give a new turn to affairs.”
On going out again into the streets we found that the city was beginning to wake. Soldiers were hurrying about and the inn yards were noisy with the clank of armour and the stamping of horses. Men were making preparations for the day. Here a trooper was repairing his harness or putting a new edge to his sword; there a foot soldier was examining his matchlock. To me, who had never seen aught of war, it looked a strange sight, that preparation for bloodshed on the fair July morning, with the peaceful towers of the great Minster looking down on the quiet city.
When we came to Lord Newcastle’s lodging, we found that the folks there were already astir, for men, richly attired, were passing in through the door and disappearing inside.
“Ah!” said Philip, “the Marquis hath called a council even at this early hour. See, that is Sir William Wentworth that is just now entering, and yonder comes Sir William Langdale. Thy despatch, Will, if it be important, comes in good time.”
We went into the hall of the house and there waited awhile until Sir William Langdale having entered the council-room, the doors were closed and a guard stationed before them.
“They have all arrived,” said Philip; “I had thought there were more to come. The Marquis likes not interruptions, but we must make our business known.”
And he spoke to an officer that just then passed across the hall, and whom he addressed as Colonel Eury.
“A despatch!” said the colonel, holding out his hand. “Give it to me and I will hand it to the Marquis. He hath the Prince and various commanders with him, but if the matter is important—”
“With your pardon, sir,” I said, “I must hand the packet to Lord Newcastle myself. That I solemnly promised to the officer that gave it to my care.”
He looked at me for an instant, then nodded and went into the council-room.
“They will send for thee in, Will,” whispered Jack. “Hold thy head high and speak up.”
Now, I was not minded to go into the presence of a prince and of so many noble gentlemen, and would rather have handed the packet privately to Lord Newcastle. That, however, was not to be, for presently Colonel Eury appeared at the door and beckoned me. — He drew me inside the doorway and paused with his hand on the curtains that shut it out from the room. Behind the curtains I heard many voices speaking. “What is your name, friend?” asked the colonel.
“William Dale, sir, a yeoman of Osgold-cross,” I said.
He drew back the curtains and pushed me gently into the room. I found myself looking at a party of men seated round a great table, at which one sat with writings and charts spread out before him. All were richly attired and fully harnessed, but one sitting at the head of the table on a slightly raised seat attracted my notice at once. He was a man of fine presence, with a handsome face and bright, restless eyes. His hair, long and dark, fell in great rings over his shoulders. On his breast shone I know not how many crosses and shining stars, while from his left shoulder a broad band of blue passed across his breastplate. He looked up as I entered, and seemed to regard me with astonishment, for he gazed at me from head to foot and from foot to head again.
“Whom have we here?” he said.
Another officer, who had been bending over the table looking at a chart, looked up.
“Ah,” said he, “the messenger you spoke of, Colonel Eury. Give me the packet, sir.”
I held the packet in my fingers as I looked from one to another. “The packet, sir,” I said, plucking up courage, “is for the Marquis of Newcastle, and I promised to give it into no other hands than his.”
“That is right,” he answered. “I am Lord Newcastle.”
I bowed and gave him the letter. He sat down and opened it at the table. Before he had broken the last seal, however, he turned to me again.
“From whom did you receive this, Master Dale?” he asked.
“From Captain Trevor, sir.”
“He was hurt, I think, and fell by your house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is that?”
“At Dale’s Field, sir, four miles south of Ferrybridge.”
“And you carried this packet straight on to York?”
“Yes, sir.”
He seemed to consider a moment and then broke the seal. Another packet fell out of the cover, and with it a sheet of paper which the Marquis took up and read. Meanwhile the eyes of the officer at the head of the table were fixed on me.
“I like thy looks, Master Dale,” said he, suddenly. “God’s mercy! why, thou must be six foot four in thy stockings. Am I right, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “Only it is very nearly six foot five.”
“Ah! a right bred Englishman indeed. Hast thou fought, then, for His Majesty?”
“No, sir,” I answered. “At least, not as a soldier.”
“And why not as a soldier with such thew and sinew as thine?”
“Why, sir,” I answered reluctantly, “I have an old mother and a young sister at home, and there is none to protect them if I went fighting. Nevertheless—”
“Well, nevertheless — go on, man.”
“I should like to fight well enough,” I said boldly.
“Ha! I believe you, Master Dale. You look — Well, Marquis, what do you read there?”
“Little sir, that concerns myself. This packet encloses a second one, which I am commanded to forward to your Royal Highness.”
“Ah! from His Majesty,” said the Prince, and took the packet. “’Tis from the King at Oxford. Your pardon, gentlemen, while I read.”
He opened the cover, and taking out the enclosure bent over it.
Colonel Eury, who had remained at my elbow, touched me on the arm. “You can withdraw now,” he whispered.
I turned to go, but the Prince stayed me.
“Wait awhile, Master Dale,” he said; “I want thee presently.”
So I remained there while the Prince read his letter. Very soon he crushed the sheet together and turned to the officers around him.
“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “let us resume. I have here news from His Majesty which will bear weight. But, first, Marquis, tell us what you think. Do we fight or not?”
“I have already said, sir, that in my opinion it is not well for us to attempt anything yet upon the enemy. I hear there is some division amongst the generals of the Parliamentary forces, and prospect of their separation in a day or two. Again, in two days from now, Colonel Clavering will come in here from the north with three thousand men, and two thousand more are on their way from various garrisons. Will it not be well to wait for this reinforcement?”
The other officers uttered murmurs of approval at this, nodding their heads as if in echo of Lord Newcastle’s words.
“You think that wise counsel, gentlemen? Now, I have here positive and direct command from His Majesty to fight. We cannot go against that. Yes, to fight the enemy at once. So fight we must.”
There was a brief silence after the Prince had spoken. Then the Marquis of Newcastle spoke again.
“I am ready and willing, sir,” said he, “to obey your Highness as I would obey His Majesty, for I have no other desire than to do my duty as a loyal subject. What your Highness decides upon shall be done.”
“Then I decide for fighting,” said the Prince. “Nay, ’tis His Majesty that decides. Gentlemen, I doubt not we shall gain a glorious victory. And now let us to our duties.”
He rose from his chair as he spoke, and the others rising with him, fell into small groups and presently passed out talking one with another. The Marquis of Newcastle came across the chambers with bent head and grave face. He caught sight of me and paused.
“I have not forgotten you,” he said.
“You shall be rewarded for your pains in bringing the packet.”
“Nay, my lord,” I said. “I want naught. I did it to serve the King.”
“I thank you, Master Dale,” he said, and passed out.
The Prince stood talking to the officer at the table, who was rolling up his maps and papers.
“Ah, farmer,” he said, suddenly breaking off his conversation, and advancing to me, “let me see — will you fight for the King to-day? It will be a great victory — come, man, share the glory.”
“I will, sir, if — There are two friends of mine outside that are serving under your Highness. If I could be with them perhaps I should learn something of the manner.”
“And who are they?” he asked.
“Philip Lisle, your Highness, and John Drumbleforth.”
“Ah — I know them both. Well, William, get thee to Philip Lisle and tell him to take charge of thee, and I shall see thee strike a worthy blow to-day. God’s mercy! we cannot spare stuff like thee at this time.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and hurried out to tell Philip and Jack what had passed. I was eager to fly at the enemy, but Philip, when I told him what Lord Newcastle had advised, seemed grave and anxious.
“He is sage and wary in war,” said he, “and Prince Rupert is fiery and headstrong. However — the die is cast. Yet there would have been no harm in waiting for a day or two, for the five thousand extra troops would have meant much to us. And now let us see about finding you some harness, Will.”
“It shall go hard to-day,” said Jack, “if we three do not split some Roundhead skulls. Hah! I would give a good deal to win a great victory to-day.”
There were a great many volunteers in the Prince’s army, men who like myself were farmers and yeomen, and who were minded to fight for the King, and it was to one of these companies that Philip Lisle and Jack Drumbleforth belonged. Presently, therefore, they took me to their head-quarters and fitted me out with sword and breastplate, and with a great hat which had a gay plume in it, and this done we gave Captain an extra feed of corn so that he might be in good fettle, and the morning being then advanced, we went to such breakfast as we could get. This indeed was not stinted, for, despite the siege, provisions in York were plentiful, full preparation having been made by the beleaguered army before the investment closed in.
Now, the novelty of my position and the pride called up in me — naturally, as I think — by Prince Rupert’s admiration of my great figure, conspired to put away from my mind all thoughts of anything but the matter in hand. It never occurred to me that if I fell there would be a pretty to-do at Dale’s Field. Nay, the thought of falling in the fight never occurred to me at all. I was young and strong and could hardly understand any one overcoming me. All I wanted was to get used to the swing of the long sword they had given me, and then to carve some record with it on the bodies of the rebels.
All that morning we stood to arms in readiness for the word of command. Bugles and trumpets were blowing all over the city; every few minutes some hurried horse and its rider came through one or other of the city gates with news of the enemy. Men posted on the great tower of the Minster observed their movements and sent down reports. And at last, just before noon was striking from the city clocks, the word was given, and our army moved away through the gates in the direction of Marston.
It was a wonderful and a striking sight to see that army, the flower of the gallantry and loyalty of England, go out across the smiling land to fight. There were fourteen thousand foot and nine thousand horse, with twenty-five pieces of ordnance. The Prince led on the right wing of horse, which had in it twelve divisions, consisting of one hundred troops of fifty men each. Sir Charles Lucas and Colonel Hurry were in command of the left wing, and Generals Tilyard and Goring, with Major-General Bute and the Marquis of Newcastle, led on the main body. We passed over the ferry at Poppleton and came on to the moor, from which the rebels at our approach hastily withdrew, so that we possessed ourselves of the greater part of the moor, and finally formed a long line extending from Marston village to Tockwith, the enemy meanwhile drawing up his force against us. Then those with me began to point out to me certain notable regiments of the Parliamentary army, such as that of General Cromwell, whose Ironsides were posted on the left wing, along with the regiment of Lord Manchester and the Scotch Horse. Upon these men, whose prowess had reached every one’s ears by that time, I gazed with much interest, wondering how we should fare against them.
Now, by three o’clock both armies were fully formed for the battle, and there was general expectancy amongst all of us. Presently the great ordnance began to play on both sides; but these monstrous cannon did little damage beyond driving up clouds of dust and soil, and before five o’clock they had ceased firing, following which there was a long interval, neither party caring to begin the attack, for between the two armies there was a deep ditch, which was equally disliked of both. It did seem indeed that we were to have no fighting that day, but at seven o’clock we saw Lord Manchester’s foot advancing across the ditch, followed by the main body of the Parliamentary army, and so the battle began in dead earnest.
CHAPTER X.
OF THE PROGRESS OF THE FIGHT.
I DO not suppose it possible for any man who has not actually seen bloodshed and war to form a proper understanding of what happens when two armies meet to give each other battle. Never indeed could I have believed that war was one half so awful as I found it when, the signal having been given, the royal army and its enemy closed and men strove like furies to kill and slay on every side. The roar of the ordnance, the shouting of the commanders, the continual babel of shrieks, shouts, exclamations, and oaths which filled the air, mingled with the groans and sobs of the wounded and dying, made an impression upon me which nothing has ever effaced. Add to this the sights which presently met one’s eyes at every turn: blood flowing like water; here a man writhing in agony on the ground, there another just falling from his horse as the sword-thrust of his antagonist transfixed him; yonder, horses and men rolling in awful confusion together; in front, a comrade struck down in the very act of shouting defiance to the foe; behind, another falling as he encouraged his fellows to come on; — such were the horrors that I saw around me ere the fight had raged half an hour.
Our company was in the first division of Prince Rupert’s Horse, and made a fine show, every man being well equipped and mounted, and apparently eager and anxious to fight. I sat between Jack Drumbleforth and Philip Lisle, being largely dependent upon them for guidance in nice matters of wheeling and turning. My horse, Captain, comprehended, I think, the nature of our business, for he neighed and snuffed the wind, and pawed impatiently at the ground. As the shouting of the main body of the Roundheads, led by Lord Manchester, came along to us on the wind, he tugged impatiently at his bridle.
“We shall soon be at it now,” said Jack, on my right. “Keep a firm bridle and a loose sword-arm, Will, until you are close in, and then let them have it, weight and all.”
Prince Rupert, his eyes flashing as he dashed forward, came sweeping along our line on his great war-horse. Right over against us were posted General Cromwell’s division of three hundred horse, looking like figures cut out of bronze and just as rocklike. We were to charge against these in front and flank, and the Prince was to lead us himself. The words of command came short and sharp, and with a great cry of “God and the King!” we were galloping over the rough ground in a rattling mass of steel and iron that flashed and clanked in the bright sunlight. The great sword in my hand felt like a switch. The fast pace intoxicated me, a red mist sprang up before my eyes; I had no other desire but to kill, and kill, and kill again.
