Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
by William Harrison Ainsworth · English · Gutenberg #47348 · 938,816 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
Author: William Harrison Ainsworth
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BOSCOBEL; OR, THE ROYAL OAK: A TALE OF THE YEAR 1651 ***
[Illustration: CHARLES AND CARELESS HIDING IN THE OAK.]
BOSCOBEL
OR
THE ROYAL OAK.
A TALE OF THE YEAR 1651.
BY
WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH.
AUTHOR OF "THE TOWER OF LONDON," &c.
ILLUSTRATED.
In that fair part where the rich Salop gains
An ample view o'er all the Western plains,
A grove appears which BOSCOBEL they name,
Not known to maps; a grove of scanty fame.
And yet henceforth no celebrated shade
Of all the British groves shall be more glorious made.
COWLEY'S _Sylva_. Book VI.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK
INSCRIBED
TO THE MEMORY OF MY OLD FRIEND,
JOHN HUGHES, ESQ.,
OF
DONNINGTON HOUSE, BERKS,
EDITOR OF
The "Boscobel Tracts,"
SON OF
MRS. HUGHES, OF KINGSTON LISLE,
FATHER OF
THOMAS HUGHES, M.P.
PREFACE.
In his letter to Mr. Hughes, the then Bishop of Llandaff describes King
Charles the Second's Wanderings after the Battle of Worcester "as being
by far the most romantic piece of English history we possess."
I have always entertained the same opinion, and after reading the
"Boscobel Tracts," so admirably edited by Mr. Hughes, I resolved to
write a story on the subject, which should comprehend the principal
incidents described in the various narratives of the King's adventures;
but not having at that time visited any of the hiding-places, I
deferred my design, and possibly might never have executed it, had I
not seen a series of Views depicting most graphically the actual state
of the different places visited by Charles, and privately published by
Mr. Frederick Manning, of Leamington.
Stimulated by these remarkable sketches, I at once commenced my
long-delayed Tale.
An enthusiast on the subject, Mr. Manning has collected all the
numerous editions of the "Boscobel Tracts," and has printed a list of
them, which is exceedingly curious. The collection is probably unique.
His nephew, Mr. John E. Anderdon, whose death occurred while this work
was in the press, was also an enthusiastic collector of all matters
relating to Boscobel and the King's escapes, and from both these
gentlemen I have derived much valuable assistance[1].
I am under equal obligations to my excellent friend, Mr. Parke, of the
Deanery, Wolverhampton, who has furnished me with many curious tracts,
prints, plans, and privately printed books relating to Boscobel,
Brewood, and Chillington. I shall always retain a most agreeable
recollection of a visit paid to Chillington in company with Mr. Parke
and the Hon. Charles Wrottesley, and of our hearty reception by the
hospitable Squire.
Among the various works relating to Boscobel that have come under my
notice is a charming little volume written by the Rev. George Dodd,
Curate of Doddington, Salop, the village where Boscobel is situated,
who has ascertained all the facts connected with the story.
Boscobel House, I rejoice to say, is in very good preservation, and I
sincerely hope it may not be altered, or _improved_, as is the case
with Trent--a most interesting old house. Moseley Hall is still extant;
but, alas! Bentley House and Abbots Leigh are gone.
Finer figures do not appear in history than those of the devoted Jane
Lane and the stalwart and loyal Penderel Brothers. "The simple rustic
who serves his sovereign in time of need to the utmost extent of his
ability, is as deserving of commendation as the victorious leader of
thousands." So said King Charles the Second to Richard Penderel after
the Restoration. It is pleasant to think that several descendants of
the loyal family of Penderels are still in existence. With some of them
I have been in correspondence.[2]
Good fortune seems to have attended those who aided the fugitive
monarch. Many representatives of the old families who assisted him
in his misfortunes are to be found--Mr. John Newton Lane, of King's
Bromley Hall, near Lichfield, a lineal descendant of the Lanes; Mr.
Tombs, of Long Marston; Mr. Whitgreave, of Moseley; the Giffards, of
Chillington; and the ennobled family of Wyndham.
In describing the King's flight from Worcester to White Ladies on
the night of the fatal 3rd of September, I have followed exactly the
careful topographical description furnished by the Rev. Edward Bradley,
Rector of Stretton, Oakham, to _Notes and Queries_, June 13th, 1868.
Mr. Bradley has been the first to trace out the King's route, and to
him all credit is due.[3]
"I know of no part of our annals," remarks Mr. Hughes, "which
continues to be so familiar a subject of conversation among the
commonalty as that connected with 'King Charles and the Royal Oak.' In
every village directly or indirectly marked by particular incidents of
the King's escape, the honest rustics preserve their scattered legends
in a shape more or less correct, and mixed and transposed as they
must necessarily be in many cases; and it is pleasing to witness the
yeomanly pride with which, like Catholics zealous for the honour of Our
Lady of some particular shrine, they contend for the appropriation of
some well-known incident, as connected with the good and loyal service
performed by the companions of their forefathers. The interest is,
in most cases, strengthened by the existence of the identical houses
where the circumstances in question took place, and of the principal
families whose names figure conspicuously in the Tale, as well as by
the slightness of difference between our present domestic habits and
those of a time commencing, as it were, the more familiar era of dates.
And to all ranks, in fact, the occurrences in question are calculated
to present one of those pleasing episodes in history, distinct from the
wearying details of bloodshed and political intrigue, which we dwell
on with unmixed satisfaction as reflecting honour on our national good
faith, and as brought home to our fancy by those domestic _minutiæ_,
which form so great a charm in the Odyssey. The reality here presents
all those features of romance which the imagination chiefly supplies
in the Partie de Chasse d'Henri IV., or the incognitos of Haroun
Alraschid."
It has been very pleasant to me to follow the King in his wanderings
from place to place; and I have reason to believe that the story
excited some interest in the different localities as it proceeded, when
first published in a serial form.
In describing the old and faithful city of Worcester at the time of
the Battle, I have received very great assistance from a distinguished
local antiquary, which I have acknowledged in its place.
Never did Charles bear himself better than after the Battle. Though
vanquished he was not overcome. Truthfully, though in somewhat
high-flown strains, has Cowley sung of him:
Yet still great Charles's valour stood the test,
By fortune though forsaken and opprest.
Witness the purple-dyed Sabrina's stream,
And the Red Hill, not called so now in vain.
And Worcester, thou who didst the misery bear,
And saw'st the end of a long fatal war.
The Tale closes with the King's departure from Heale. How he journeyed
from Salisbury to Brightelmstone, and embarked safely on board Captain
Tattersall's bark at Shoreham, I have elsewhere related.
HURSTPIERPOINT, _October 9, 1872_.
NOTE BY MR. MANNING.
When Charles arrived within a mile of Stratford, perceiving a body
of troopers, he and his party proceeded, by the road marked A in
the plan, as far as the junction B. They then returned by the road
marked C, and at the end of the lane, went down the hill into
Stratford between the two large estates of Clopton and Welcombe,
and over the bridge to Marston.
[Illustration: ++ MAP OF ROAD TO STRATFORD.]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
DEDICATION iii.
PREFACE v.
BOOK I.
THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER.
CHAPTER I.
HOW CHARLES THE SECOND ARRIVED BEFORE WORCESTER, AND CAPTURED
A FORT, WHICH HE NAMED "FORT ROYAL" 1
CHAPTER II.
SHOWING HOW THE MAYOR OF WORCESTER AND THE SHERIFF WERE
TAKEN TO UPTON-ON-SEVERN, AND HOW THEY GOT BACK AGAIN 9
CHAPTER III.
HOW CHARLES MADE HIS TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO WORCESTER; AND HOW
HE WAS PROCLAIMED BY THE MAYOR AND SHERIFF OF THAT LOYAL CITY 15
CHAPTER IV.
HOW CHARLES WAS LODGED IN THE EPISCOPAL PALACE; AND HOW
DOCTOR CROSBY PREACHED BEFORE HIS MAJESTY IN THE CATHEDRAL 21
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES RODE TO MADRESFIELD COURT; AND HOW MISTRESS JANE
LANE AND HER BROTHER, WITH SIR CLEMENT FISHER, WERE PRESENTED
TO HIS MAJESTY 24
CHAPTER VI.
HOW CHARLES ASCENDED THE WORCESTERSHIRE BEACON; AND OF THE
AMBUSCADE PREPARED FOR HIM AS HE CAME DOWN 29
CHAPTER VII.
HOW COLONEL LEGGE BROUGHT IMPORTANT NEWS TO THE KING, AND HOW
HIS MAJESTY PAID A VISIT TO SEVERN END 32
CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE COUNSEL GIVEN BY COLONEL LESLEY TO THE KING 38
CHAPTER IX.
OF THE GRAND MUSTER AT PITCHCROFT 40
CHAPTER X.
THE BIVOUAC ON THE PLAIN 44
CHAPTER XI.
COLONEL ROSCARROCK RELATES HOW THE EARL OF DERBY WAS ROUTED
AT WIGAN 48
CHAPTER XII.
HOW URSO GIVES WAS WEDDED TO MARY RUSHOUT 51
CHAPTER XIII.
SHOWING HOW THE KING HAD FORTIFIED THE CITY 53
CHAPTER XIV.
BY WHAT MEANS GENERAL LAMBERT GAINED THE PASS AT UPTON
BRIDGE 56
CHAPTER XV.
HOW CROMWELL RECONNOITRED THE CITY FROM RED HILL 60
CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH MASSEY PROPOSES A NIGHT ATTACK ON THE ENEMY 63
CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE SUBURBS OF THE CITY WERE BURNT 66
CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW URSO GIVES HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE LORD GENERAL IN
THE STABLE OF SPETCHLEY MANOR-HOUSE 69
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CAMISADE 76
CHAPTER XX.
HOW URSO GIVES WAS ARRESTED 79
CHAPTER XXI.
SHOWING HOW DAME GIVES BECAME A WIDOW 87
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW THE EARL OF DERBY ARRIVED AT WORCESTER 91
CHAPTER XXIII.
IN WHAT MANNER JANE LANE WAS CAPTURED, AND BROUGHT BEFORE
CROMWELL 97
CHAPTER XXIV.
WHAT CHARLES BEHELD FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE CATHEDRAL TOWER 100
CHAPTER XXV.
HOW CROMWELL CONSTRUCTED A BRIDGE OF BOATS ACROSS THE SEVERN 106
CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW CROMWELL THREW A FLYING BRIDGE OVER THE TEME 108
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FIGHT OF POWICK BRIDGE 110
CHAPTER XXVIII.
HOW THE BATTERY ON PERRY WOOD WAS TAKEN BY THE KING 113
CHAPTER XXIX.
HOW THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER WAS LOST BY THE KING 117
CHAPTER XXX.
HOW THE ENEMY ENTERED THE CITY, AND HOW THE KING QUITTED IT 119
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE LAST STAND MADE BY THE ROYALISTS 123
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE CONSULTATION AT BARBOURNE BRIDGE, AND THE KING'S FLIGHT 125
BOOK II.
WHITE LADIES.
CHAPTER I.
HOW CROMWELL VISITED THE DYING DUKE OF HAMILTON AT THE COMMANDERY;
AND WHAT PASSED BETWEEN THEM 128
CHAPTER II.
HOW THE FUGITIVE KING AND HIS COMPANIONS RODE FROM BARBOURNE
BRIDGE TO WHITE LADIES 133
CHAPTER III.
THE PENDERELS 137
CHAPTER IV.
HOW CHARLES WAS DISGUISED AS A WOODMAN 142
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES WAS CONCEALED IN SPRING COPPICE, AND HOW IT RAINED
THERE, AND NOWHERE ELSE IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD 147
CHAPTER VI.
HOW CHARLES SUPPED AT HOBBAL GRANGE, AND WHOM HE MET THERE 150
CHAPTER VII.
HOW CHARLES AND TRUSTY DICK WERE FRIGHTENED BY THE MILLER OF
EVELITH 155
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THE KING WAS RECEIVED BY MR. FRANCIS WOOLFE AT MADELEY
COURT 156
BOOK III.
THE ROYAL OAK.
CHAPTER I.
SHOWING HOW THE HUNTING-LODGE WAS BUILT BY THE LORD OF CHILLINGTON,
AND HOW IT ACQUIRED ITS NAME 163
CHAPTER II.
HOW TRUSTY DICK BETHOUGHT HIM OF THE OAK 167
CHAPTER III.
HOW THE KING AND CARELESS TOOK REFUGE IN THE OAK 172
CHAPTER IV.
HOW CARELESS CAPTURED AN OWL IN THE OAK 174
CHAPTER V.
HOW THEY BREAKFASTED IN THE OAK 176
CHAPTER VI.
HOW COLONEL JAMES HALTED BENEATH THE OAK 179
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THEY PLAYED AT DICE IN THE OAK 180
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY HAD A VISITOR IN THE OAK, AND IN WHAT MANNER THEY
TREATED HIM 182
CHAPTER IX.
HOW CHARLES SLEPT IN THE SECRET CLOSET; AND HOW CARELESS SLEPT
IN A PRIEST'S HOLE IN THE GARRET 185
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH THE KING PROVES HIMSELF A GOOD COOK 189
CHAPTER XI.
WHAT BROUGHT FATHER HUDDLESTONE TO BOSCOBEL 191
BOOK IV.
MOSELEY OLD HALL.
CHAPTER I.
CHILLINGTON HOUSE 195
CHAPTER II.
HOW THE KING WAS WELL-NIGH CAPTURED BY MADMANNAH 198
CHAPTER III.
HOW THE KING RODE THE MILLER'S HORSE; AND HOW HE WAS ESCORTED
DURING HIS RIDE 203
CHAPTER IV.
WHERE THE KING FOUND JASPER 208
CHAPTER V.
BY WHAT DEVICE THE KING ESCAPED BEING CAPTURED BY COLONEL
ASHENHURST 211
CHAPTER VI.
HOW THE KING BADE FAREWELL TO THE PENDERELS; AND HOW HIS
MAJESTY WAS RECEIVED BY MR. THOMAS WHITGREAVE OF MOSELEY
OLD HALL 215
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THE KING WAS PRESENTED TO MRS. WHITGREAVE 220
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW TWO SPIES CAME BY NIGHT TO MOSELEY OLD HALL 223
BOOK V.
JANE LANE.
CHAPTER I.
BY WHOM THE TWO SPIES WERE PUT TO FLIGHT 227
CHAPTER II.
HOW THE KING ARRIVED AT BENTLEY HOUSE 231
CHAPTER III.
HOW WILL JONES FOUND A FRIEND IN THE STABLE 234
CHAPTER IV.
HOW WILL JONES BREAKFASTED WITH THE MEN-SERVANTS IN THE BUTTERY 236
CHAPTER V.
HOW THEY SET OUT ON THE JOURNEY 238
CHAPTER VI.
WHAT PASSED BETWEEN WILL JONES AND THE BLACKSMITH 241
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THEY WERE RECEIVED AT PACKINGTON HALL 243
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE TROOPERS AT WOOTTON WAWEN 247
CHAPTER IX.
HOW THEY ARRIVED AT LONG MARSTON 249
CHAPTER X.
HOW CHARLES INCURRED THE COOK'S DISPLEASURE 252
BOOK VI.
ABBOTS LEIGH.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE TWO GROOMS CHANGED HORSES AT STOKE-ON-THE-WOLD 258
CHAPTER II.
HOW CHARLES TOOK SHELTER DURING A STORM IN RATS ABBEY BARN;
AND HOW HE DELIVERED CARELESS AND DAME GIVES FROM THE
TROOPERS 262
CHAPTER III.
WHAT PASSED IN THE BARBER'S SHOP AT CIRENCESTER 266
CHAPTER IV.
BRISTOL IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 269
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES FOUND A FAITHFUL ADHERENT AT ABBOTS LEIGH 272
CHAPTER VI.
CARELESS BRINGS THE KING GOOD NEWS 275
CHAPTER VII.
THE TAVERN-KEEPER AND THE SKIPPER 278
CHAPTER VIII.
ST. AUGUSTINE'S GREEN 281
CHAPTER IX.
THE GORGE OF THE AVON 283
BOOK VII.
TRENT.
CHAPTER I.
OF THE VENGEANCE TAKEN BY CARELESS ON THE TROOPERS 287
CHAPTER II.
HOW JANE LANE AGREED TO ATTEND THE KING TO TRENT 291
CHAPTER III.
COLONEL FRANCIS WYNDHAM, OF TRENT 293
CHAPTER IV.
JULIANA CONINGSBY 299
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES ARRIVED AT TRENT 304
CHAPTER VI.
OF THE PARTING BETWEEN THE KING AND JANE LANE 306
CHAPTER VII.
OF THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN THE KING AND SIR JOHN STANGWAYS IN
MELBURY PARK 308
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THE KING HEARD THE PARTICULARS OF HIS OWN DEATH AND BURIAL 311
CHAPTER IX.
CAPTAIN ELLESDON OF LYME REGIS 315
CHAPTER X.
STEPHEN LIMBRY OF CHARMOUTH, SHIP-MASTER 318
CHAPTER XI.
OF THE ARRANGEMENTS MADE BY HARRY PETERS WITH DAME SWAN 322
CHAPTER XII.
HOW THE KING PLAYED AT HIDE-AND-SEEK AT TRENT 324
CHAPTER XIII.
HOW CHARLES SET OUT FOR CHARMOUTH 329
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW THE KING AND JULIANA WERE RECEIVED BY DAME SWAN 332
CHAPTER XV.
THE WATCHERS BY THE SEA 337
CHAPTER XVI.
HOW THE GREY MARE PROVED THE BETTER HORSE 339
CHAPTER XVII.
THE REVEREND BARTHOLOMEW WESLEY 342
CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW THE KING FLED FROM BRIDPORT HARBOUR 348
CHAPTER XIX.
BROAD WINDSOR 352
CHAPTER XX
COLONEL ROBIN PHILIPS, OF MONTACUTE HOUSE 354
CHAPTER XXI.
HOW THE KING LEFT TRENT 357
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW THEY DINED AT THE GEORGE AT MERE; AND HOW THE HOST
RELATED HIS DREAM 360
CHAPTER XXIII.
HEALE HOUSE 362
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW CHARLES ENCOUNTERED DESBOROUGH ON SALISBURY PLAIN 364
CHAPTER XXV.
THE PARTING AT STONEHENGE 366
ILLUSTRATIONS.
CHARLES AND CARELESS HIDING IN THE OAK _To face Title._
SITE OF FORT ROYAL 9
JANE LANE PRESENTED TO CHARLES II. 27
ROOM IN THE COMMANDERY 65
OLD BRIDGE AT POWICK 110
PLAN OF WORCESTER IN 1651 128
WHITE LADIES 137
BOSCOBEL HOUSE 159
ROOM AT BOSCOBEL HOUSE 163
FRONT VIEW OF BOSCOBEL HOUSE 167
CHARLES HIDING IN THE SECRET CLOSET AT BOSCOBEL HOUSE 199
MOSELEY HALL 223
CHARLES AND JANE LANE SETTING OUT FROM BENTLEY HOUSE 238
ABBOTS LEIGH 272
TRENT HOUSE 293
THE KING'S ROOM IN TRENT HOUSE 306
BOSCOBEL; OR, THE ROYAL OAK.
Book the First.
THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER.
CHAPTER I.
HOW CHARLES THE SECOND ARRIVED BEFORE WORCESTER, AND CAPTURED A FORT,
WHICH HE NAMED "FORT ROYAL."
During the Civil Wars, the old and faithful city of Worcester
suffered severely for its devotion to the royal cause. Twice was it
besieged--twice sacked by the Parliamentarians. In 1642, the Earl
of Essex marched with a large force against the place, stormed and
pillaged it, and sent several of the wealthier citizens prisoners to
London. Four years later--namely, in 1646--the city again declared for
the king, and being captured by the Roundheads, after an obstinate
defence, underwent harder usage than before. Besides plundering
the inhabitants, the soldiers of the Commonwealth, exasperated by
the resistance they had encountered, did much damage to the public
buildings, especially to the cathedral, the interior of which
magnificent edifice was grievously injured. According to their custom,
the troopers stabled their horses in the aisles, and converted the
choir into a barrack, and the chapter-house into a guard-room. The
organ was destroyed; the rich painted glass of the windows broken;
many monuments mutilated; and the ancient records preserved in the
library burnt. The exquisitely carved stone cross in the churchyard,
from the pulpit of which Latimer and Whitgift had preached, was pulled
down. Before this, John Prideaux, somewhile Bishop of Worcester, had
been deprived of his see, and the dean and prebends dismissed--Church
of England divines having given place to Presbyterian ministers,
Independents, and Anabaptists.
But notwithstanding their sufferings in the good cause, the loyalty of
the Worcester Cavaliers remained unshaken. Heavy fines and imprisonment
could not subdue their spirit. To the last they continued true to the
unfortunate king, though any further attempt at rising was checked
by the strong garrison left in charge of the city, and commanded by
Colonel John James, one of the strictest of the Republican leaders.
After the terrible tragedy of Whitehall, the Cavaliers of Worcester
transferred their allegiance to the eldest son of the royal martyr
and heir to the crown. All the principal citizens put on mourning,
and every countenance, except those of the soldiers of the garrison,
wore a sorrowful aspect. A funeral sermon, the text being, "Judge, and
avenge my cause, O Lord," was preached by Doctor Crosby, the deprived
dean, to a few persons assembled secretly by night in the crypt of
the cathedral, and prayers were offered up for the preservation of
Prince Charles, and his speedy restoration to the throne. The service,
however, was interrupted by a patrol of musketeers, and the dean was
seized and lodged in Edgar's Tower, an old fortified gate-house at the
entrance of the cathedral close. Never had Worcester been so gloomy and
despondent as at this period.
Nor did the hopes of the loyal citizens revive till the middle of
August, 1651, when intelligence was received that Charles, who had
been recently crowned at Scone, had escaped Cromwell's vigilance, and
crossing the border with a considerable army, had pursued the direct
route to Lancaster. Thence he continued his rapid march through Preston
to Warrington, where he forced the bridge over the Mersey, in spite of
the efforts of Generals Lambert and Harrison to arrest his progress.
The young king, it was said, was making his way to his faithful city of
Worcester, where he meant to establish his head-quarters and recruit
his forces before marching on London.
The news seemed too good to be true, yet it obtained ready credence,
and it was evident Colonel James believed it, for he forthwith began to
put the fortifications in order. The commandant, in fact, had received
a despatch from General Lambert, informing him that he and General
Harrison had failed in preventing the young King of Scots from passing
the bridge over the Mersey at Warrington, and had been disappointed in
their expectation that he would give them battle on Knutsford Heath,
where they awaited him.
Favoured by night, the young king had continued his march unmolested,
it being understood from prisoners they had taken, that he was making
for Worcester. Charles Stuart's forces, Lambert said, had been greatly
reduced by desertions since he entered England, and now amounted to
no more than eight thousand infantry and three thousand horse, and he
was only provided with sixteen leathern guns. As yet he had obtained
few recruits, the country gentlemen holding aloof, or being prevented
by the militia from joining his standard. But the Earl of Derby had
undertaken to raise large levies in Lancashire and Cheshire, and had
been left behind by the king for that purpose. It was to defeat the
earl's design that the two Parliamentary generals deemed it expedient
to remain where they were rather than pursue the royal army. Many
malignants, Papists, and Presbyterians, ill affected towards the
Commonwealth, would doubtless join Lord Derby, who, unless he were
speedily discomfited, might become formidable. But discomfited he
assuredly would be, and his forces scattered like chaff, since the Lord
would fight on the side of his elect. This good work achieved, the
two generals would hasten to the relief of Worcester. Speedy succour
might also be expected from the Lord General Cromwell, who was in close
pursuit of the Scots' king, at the head of twelve thousand cavalry and
infantry. Colonel James was, therefore, exhorted to hold out.
General Lambert further stated in his despatch, that Charles was
accompanied by the most experienced leaders in the Scottish army--by
the crafty and cautious Colonel Lesley, who had so long baffled
Cromwell himself--by Generals Montgomery, Middleton, Massey, and
Dalyell, and by the valiant Colonel Pitscottie, with his Highland
regiment. Besides these, there were several English and Scotch nobles,
the Dukes of Buckingham and Hamilton, the Earls of Rothes, Lauderdale,
Carnworth, and Cleveland; Lords Spyne, Sinclair, and Wilmot; Sir John
Douglas, Sir Alexander Forbes, and others.
While scanning this imposing list, and reflecting that the royal forces
numbered at least eleven thousand men, Colonel James asked himself
how he could possibly hold out against them with a garrison of only
five hundred? He was ill supplied with cannon and ammunition, and the
fortifications were ruinous. Moreover, the citizens were hostile,
and so far from lending him aid, were ready to rise in favour of the
king. He should have to contend against foes within as well as enemies
without. His position seemed desperate, and though as brave a man as
need be, he was filled with misgiving.
Before proceeding, it may be proper to ascertain how far the old
city was capable of defence. Five years previously it had stood a
lengthened siege, but the circumstances then were wholly different,
for the citizens were arrayed against the besiegers, and fought
obstinately. The walls were much damaged at that time, and had only
been partially repaired, consequently the towers and bastions were in
a dilapidated state. Outside the walls, on the south-east, there was a
strong detached fort of recent construction. The castle, which in days
of yore rose proudly on the south side of the cathedral, completely
commanding the navigation of the Severn, had long since been pulled
down, the only vestiges of it left being some fragments of the donjon.
The mound on which the mighty fabric once stood could have been easily
fortified, if time had permitted, and would have formed an important
work. The city, which was of great antiquity, had four gates, each
flanked with towers. The strongest resembled a barbican, and commanded
the quay and the ancient stone bridge across the river. On the north
was the Foregate, "a fair piece of work," as it is described by old
Leland, and not far from it was St. Martin's-gate. On the south was
Sidbury-gate, giving access to the London-road. The Sidbury-gate was
covered by the modern detached fort to which reference has already been
made. Deep dykes, supplied by the Severn, strengthened the defences on
the east and south-east, but the suburbs constituted a danger, since
the habitations would afford shelter to an enemy. Thus it will be
seen that the city was not in a condition to stand a siege, and the
commandant might well despair of holding out, even for a few days,
against the royal forces.
No city can be more charmingly situated than Worcester on the banks
of England's noblest river, in the midst of fair and fertile plains,
abounding in orchards and hop-gardens, and in full view of the lovely
Malvern Hills; but in the middle of the seventeenth century it was
eminently picturesque, as well as beautiful. It was then full of
ancient timber houses, with quaintly carved gables and open balconies,
from the midst of which rose the massive roof and tower of the
venerable cathedral, and the lofty spire of St. Andrew's Church. The
old walls, grey and ruinous as they were, the fortified gates, the
sculptured crosses, and the antique stone bridge, with its many-pointed
arches, contributed to its beauty. The noble episcopal palace, the
group of old buildings near the cathedral, and the ruins on the castle
hill--all formed a striking picture when seen from St. John's on the
opposite side of the river.
"The wealth of Worcester standeth most by drapery," quoth old Leland,
who wrote in Henry VIII.'s time, and the place had long been noted
for its broadcloths and gloves. But many of the wealthiest drapers,
glovers, and hop-merchants had been ruined by the heavy fines inflicted
upon them by the grasping Parliamentarians, and the city had scarcely
yet regained its former prosperity.
Almost simultaneously with the arrival of General Lambert's despatch,
a letter was brought by a secret messenger to Mr. Thomas Lysons, then
mayor of Worcester, and an avowed Royalist. It came from Captain
Fanshawe, the king's secretary, and gave a very different version of
the affair at Warrington from that furnished by Lambert.
According to Fanshawe, his majesty had displayed great personal
courage on the occasion. He found the enemy, consisting of about seven
thousand men, united under Lambert and Harrison, in possession of the
bridge across the Mersey, which they had partly broken down, and he
immediately attacked them with his advanced troops. His impetuosity
proved irresistible. A passage being forced, the whole army followed,
and the enemy retreated in great disorder, and with heavy losses.
During the night, upwards of three thousand of the "rebellious rogues,"
as Fanshawe styled them, disbanded. The Parliamentary generals did not
venture to attack the king again, but allowed him to continue his march
towards Worcester without further interruption. The faithful citizens
might, therefore, prepare to welcome their sovereign, who would soon be
with them.
The mayor immediately called a public meeting in the Guildhall, and
read Captain Fanshawe's letter to the assemblage. Great was the
enthusiasm excited by it. The hall resounded with cries of "Long live
Charles II.!" The joyful intelligence quickly spread throughout the
city, and crowds collected in the High-street, shouting "Down with
the Commonwealth! Up with the Crown!" The concourse was dispersed by
Colonel James and a troop of horse, but in the conflict several persons
were wounded, and some killed. The mayor and the sheriff, Mr. James
Bridges, were seized, and detained as hostages for the good behaviour
of the citizens--the commandant threatening to hang them both if any
further disturbance occurred. Luckily for the two gentlemen, the
city remained tranquil throughout the night, for most assuredly the
commandant would have been as good as his word.
Next day--Friday, the 22nd of August, 1651--the scouts sent out by
Colonel James reported that the first division of the royal army,
commanded by the young king in person, was close upon Red Hill--already
described as a woody eminence about a mile distant, on the south of the
city.
Shortly afterwards, the enemy's cavalry skirmishers could be
distinguished on Perry Wood. Then the advanced guard appeared--the
helmets and corslets of the cuirassiers glittering in the sunbeams.
Thousands of loyal citizens, who were forbidden to mount the
fortifications, climbed to the roofs of the houses, and to the tops
of the churches, to obtain a glimpse of the royal army, and could not
restrain their enthusiastic feeling when they beheld it.
Colonel James, who had been actively employed throughout the whole
night in making the best defensive preparations in his power, had seen
that all the engineers on the ramparts were at their posts, and he now
proceeded to the detached fort near the Sidbury-gate.
Mounting to the summit, which bristled with cannon, he turned his
spy-glass towards the brow of the hill opposite to him, and presently
beheld a company of richly accoutred officers ride out of the wood that
clothed the eminence, and proceed to reconnoitre the fortifications
from various points. That the foremost of the troop was the young
king himself he had no doubt, as well from the splendour of his
accoutrements and the white plume in his hat, as from the deference
paid him by his attendants. Evidently his majesty's brilliant staff
was composed of the general officers and nobles mentioned in General
Lambert's despatch. That they were planning the attack of the city was
clear.
While watching the young monarch's movements and gestures narrowly
through his glass, Colonel James saw him sign to one of his
aides-de-camps, a fine-looking young man, and remarkably well mounted,
who instantly rode up at the summons.
Major Careless, the aide-de-camp in question, was as brave as he was
handsome, though somewhat rash, and an especial favourite of the
king. Having received his majesty's orders, he promptly obeyed them.
Accompanied only by a trumpeter bearing a flag of truce, he galloped
down the hill, shaping his course towards the Sidbury-gate, and, within
fifty yards of it, he halted, and the trumpeter blew a blast so loud
that the old walls rang again.
A shower of bullets from the battlements would have answered the
summons, if Colonel James had not previously sent word that the flag of
truce must be respected.
The men eyed the insolent Cavalier sternly, and one of them called out,
"If thou hast any message for the commandant of the garrison, he will
be found in yonder fort."
Thereupon Careless moved off, glancing haughtily and contemptuously at
the artillerymen on the ramparts as he rode along.
On reaching the fort, he descried Colonel James stationed near the edge
of the parapets, and leaning upon his sword. Half a dozen musketeers in
their steel caps, buff coats, and bandileers, were standing behind him.
"Are you the commandant?" he called out.
"Ay," replied Colonel James. "What wouldst thou with me?"
"Thus much," said Careless, in a loud authoritative voice: "In the
name of his majesty, King Charles II., who is on yonder hill with his
army, I require you to deliver up this his city of Worcester, which you
unlawfully hold as deputy of a presumptuous and rebellious parliament.
His majesty is willing to extend his clemency towards you, and if you
at once throw open the gates, and lay down your arms----"
"Hold!" interrupted the commandant, sternly. "I do not recognise the
authority of him whom thou stylest king. The house of Jeroboam, who
sinned, and who caused Israel to sin, has been cut off. I will not deny
that the young man, Charles Stuart, hath been crowned in Scotland,
but in England he hath no rule. His proclamation has been burnt by
the common hangman in London, and a counter-proclamation published
by the Parliament, declaring him, his aiders and abettors--of whom
thou, thyself, art one--guilty of high treason against the State, and
punishable by death. Shall I, an officer of the Commonwealth, and
intrusted with the charge of this city, open its gates to a proclaimed
traitor? Shall I command my men to lay down their arms to him? Not so.
I utterly disregard thy king's summons, and though he be backed by the
whole Scottish host, yet will I not yield the city to him, but placing
my trust in the Lord, will maintain it against him."
"Provoke not the king by your obstinacy," said Careless, losing
patience. "If you force us to storm the fortifications, you can expect
no quarter. We will put you all to the sword."
Perfectly unmoved by the threat, Colonel James answered, in the
religious jargon then habitually adopted by the Republican soldiers:
"The Lord of Hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge. I doubt
not we shall have timely succour."
"From whom?" demanded Careless, with a sneer.
"From the Lord General Cromwell, who is hastening hither with his
legions."
"The city will be ours, and thou and thy rebel horde will be destroyed
ere that arch-traitor and parricide can arrive," cried Careless,
fiercely.
"Keep guard upon thy tongue, or I will not answer for thy safety," said
the commandant, checking the musketeers behind him, who were preparing
to give fire. "Take back my answer to the king, thy master. I have
nothing to add to it."
"We will soon be with you," shouted Careless.
And, shaking his hand menacingly at the soldiers, he rode off with his
attendant.
While this interview took place, Charles remained on Perry Wood with
his generals. He was not in the least surprised to learn from Careless
that his gracious offer had been rejected by the commandant.
"Let the attack be made at once," he cried. "I will lead it in person."
"I admire your majesty's spirit," observed General Dalyell. "But I pray
you not to run so much risk."
"Risk, say you?" cried Charles, gaily. "Faith, Tom, you would have all
the credit of the affair. But you shall not rob me of it. I mean to be
first to enter yonder fort."
Generals Middleton and Montgomery likewise attempted to dissuade him
from his purpose, but ineffectually.
The general officers then rode off to give the necessary orders for the
attack. Trumpets were sounded, and shortly afterwards the sides of the
hill were covered with troops in rapid movement. Ere they got half-way
down, the guns of the fort opened upon them, but did not check their
progress. Presently the artillery of the Royalists returned the fire
of the Republicans, and the king, who was at the head of the advanced
guard, saw the cannon pointed.
His majesty being recognised, the commandant directed the musketeers
on the ramparts to make him their mark; but he really seemed to bear a
charmed life, for though an officer close beside him was hit by a round
shot, and his own horse was killed under him, he himself was uninjured.
The leathern guns of the Royalists were worked so well, that three of
the fort guns were speedily silenced, and Charles then ordered instant
preparations to be made for the assault.
Scaling-ladders were placed against the walls. Several men were
struck down while executing this perilous task, but no sooner was it
accomplished than Charles caused the trumpet to be sounded, and sword
in hand, mounted the nearest ladder.
A soldier, armed with a pike, strove to hurl him from the ladder, but
the man was shot by Careless, who followed the king closely.
Again, while springing over the parapets, Charles was opposed by a
musketeer, but he cut him down, and next moment the heroic young
monarch was joined by Careless, and instantly afterwards by a dozen of
his body-guard, and their number was quickly augmented.
Charles was now master of the fort, for the Republican soldiers, after
an ineffectual resistance, were put to the sword.
In the struggle, Colonel James discharged a pistol at the king, but
missed his mark, and in his turn was attacked by Careless.
"I told you we would soon be with you," cried the Cavalier. "Yield, and
I will spare thy life."
"I would not accept life at thy hands," rejoined the commandant. "Look
to thyself!"
And beating down Careless's point with his heavy blade, he stepped
quickly backwards and disappeared. He had, in fact, dashed down a
narrow staircase communicating with the lower chambers of the fort, and
secured his retreat by pulling a trap-door over the entrance.
Meanwhile, Charles had torn down the flag of the Commonwealth, and
replaced it by the royal standard. As soon as this signal of victory
could be distinguished by his forces loud cheers were raised.
Possession was immediately taken of the fort, but no prisoners were
made, for Colonel James, and the few of his men left alive, had
evacuated the lower chambers. They had fled, it appeared, by a covered
way, and had entered the city through a postern near the Sidbury-gate.
[Illustration: SITE OF FORT ROYAL.]
By-and-bye the general officers came to congratulate the king on his
victory and express their admiration of his prowess, and it then became
a question whether the siege should be continued--General Dalyell
being of opinion that the city could be captured before night, if an
immediate attack were made upon the fortifications; but Charles decided
on waiting till the morrow.
"I have done enough for the day," he said. "Since I am master of this
fort, the city is at my disposal, and I can occupy it at my leisure."
"Very true, my liege," observed Dalyell. "But the garrison will take
advantage of your forbearance to escape."
"I will not molest them if they adopt that prudent course," said the
king, laughing. "They have ceased firing from the walls."
"But the men are still at their posts."
"If they give us any further trouble, we can turn these guns upon them.
Hark ye, gentlemen. Henceforth this fort shall be known as Fort Royal."
"A fitting designation, since your majesty has captured it," said
Dalyell.
"Let the tents be pitched," said Charles. "The day's work is over. We
can take our rest after our long march. To-morrow we will enter the
city in triumph."
All happened precisely as Charles had foreseen. Not another shot was
fired by the Republicans. The Royalists encamped quietly on the hill.
But though no apprehensions were entertained of an attack, those within
Fort Royal were kept on the alert throughout the night.
Colonel James, however, had other designs. Convinced by what had
happened that the fortifications were no longer tenable, he decided
on abandoning them. With the whole of his men, he quitted the city
secretly at dead of night, taking the mayor and the sheriff with him
as prisoners. Crossing the bridge over the Severn, he rode off in the
direction of Gloucester.
The Royalists were aware of his retreat, but, in obedience to the
king's injunctions, did not seek to interrupt him.
CHAPTER II.
SHOWING HOW THE MAYOR OF WORCESTER AND THE SHERIFF WERE TAKEN TO
UPTON-ON-SEVERN, AND HOW THEY GOT BACK AGAIN.
Fatigued by his long march of three hundred miles and upwards, Charles
slept so soundly in his tent on Perry Wood, that neither the beating
of the drum at daybreak, the challenging of the sentinels, nor any of
the customary camp sounds, disturbed him. The men themselves answered
very reluctantly to the reveillé. However, the fresh morning air soon
revived them. A day of ease and enjoyment lay before them. No more
toilsome marches, no more skirmishes, but rest--for that day, at least.
Two-thirds of the infantry were without shoes, but being hardy Scots
they did not count this an inconvenience. They all bemoaned the ragged
and weather-stained condition of their uniforms, but they had heard
that Worcester was famous for broadcloth, and the king had promised
them better garments when they reached the city.
The morn was lovely, and gave promise of a splendid day. At that early
hour, the view from the heights of the old and picturesque city, with
the broad river flowing past it, was enchanting, and delighted even
the rough soldiers who gazed at it. The fair Malvern Hills, however,
chiefly called forth their admiration as reminding them of their native
mountains, though they admitted that few of the Scottish valleys could
compare with the fertile vale of the Severn.
While many a greedy eye was fixed on Worcester, and many a cunning
tongue was talking of its wealth, and the plunder it would yield, if
they were only allowed to pillage it, the attention of the soldiers was
attracted to the walls, which had now become thronged with the citizens
and their wives and daughters, while all the church bells--and no
church in the old city lacked its proper complement of bells--began to
ring forth joyous peals. It was clear that the city was now awake and
astir, and the half-famished soldiers hoped that immediate preparations
would be made for their refreshment, and on an extraordinary scale.
It was about this time that Major Careless, who had attired himself
rather hurriedly, being excited by the prodigious clangour of the
bells, entered the king's tent, and found the young monarch fast
asleep--fast as a top.
"Zounds!" mentally ejaculated the aide-de-camp; "his majesty must sleep
soundly, since this din does not disturb him--but no wonder. I'll give
him another hour."
And he turned to depart, when Charles suddenly ceased breathing hard,
and opened his eyes.
"What sound is that?" he cried, raising himself on his elbow and
listening.
"The bells of Worcester ringing for your majesty's glorious
victory--that's all," replied Careless.
"And enough too," cried the king, looking well pleased. "What has
happened to the garrison?"
"Evacuated the fortifications--taken to flight."
"Just what I expected--just what I desired."
"But your majesty did not expect--nor, I presume, desire--that Colonel
James would take the mayor of Worcester and the sheriff with him."
"'Sdeath!" exclaimed the king. "Has he had the audacity to do so?"
"Even so, my liege. No doubt they were specially obnoxious to him on
account of their loyalty, and he might wish to hold them for ransom.
'Tis lucky he didn't carry off others. There are several prisoners
of note in Worcester--Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, and Colonel
Mervin Touchet. But the rascal contented himself with the mayor and the
sheriff. At what hour will it please your majesty to enter the city?"
"At noon," replied Charles.
"Not till noon! why, we have no rations," cried Careless, in dismay.
"Your army has nothing to eat. Will your majesty keep the men fasting
till noon? If you could only see how hungry they look, you would feel
some pity for them."
"They shall all have a good breakfast in Worcester--that I promise
them."
"There will be plenty of grumbling at the delay."
"Bah! they always grumble. I must give my loyal subjects time to
decorate their houses and make all necessary preparations for my
entrance, or I shall disappoint them of their anticipated spectacle."
"Your hungry soldiers will pray that twelve o'clock may come."
"Let them listen to the bells. How blithely they sound!"
"Excuse me, sire. When we are enduring the pangs of hunger the sweetest
sounds become a mockery. Spare us this aggravated torture."
"Leave me; and let it be announced by sound of trumpet throughout the
lines that we shall make our triumphal entrance into Worcester at noon."
As Careless went forth on his errand with a dissatisfied look Charles
sprang from his couch, and with the aid of a groom of the chamber and
a page, for he had brought a large retinue of servants with him on his
march, proceeded to dress himself, bestowing infinitely more care on
the decoration of his person than he had done since he left Scotland.
His tall, fine figure was well displayed in doublet and hose of crimson
velvet and white satin; his yellow maroquin boots were deeply fringed
with lace, and he wore point-lace at his wrists and around his throat.
His shoulder-knot was enriched with diamonds, his sword-hilt glittered
with gems, and his plumed hat was looped up by a large diamond brooch.
His long black locks were worn in the true Cavalier fashion, and fell
over his shoulders. All his princely ornaments were put on for the
occasion, the Garter, the George of Diamonds, and the Blue Riband.
Charles was then in the heyday of his youth, being just twenty-one.
Though his features were harsh--the nose being too large, and not
well-shaped--and his complexion swarthy as that of a Spanish gipsy, his
large black eyes, full of fire and spirit, gave wonderful expression
to his countenance, and made him, at times, look almost handsome. His
manner was singularly affable and agreeable, and very different from
the cold, repelling stateliness of his ill-fated father.
The young king was adjusting his mantle before the little mirror hung
up in the tent, preparatory to going forth, when a noise outside
attracted his attention.
Next moment Major Careless entered the tent, his looks beaming with
satisfaction.
"How now, Will!" cried the king. "Have you found a breakfast that you
look so gay?"
"No, my liege, but I have found the mayor and the sheriff, and that is
more to the purpose. They have escaped from the commandant, and have
ridden up from Worcester to pay their homage to you, and relate their
adventures."
"Are they without?"
"Just alighted, sire. They are in a sorry plight, but in their zeal to
attend upon your majesty they would not tarry to change, and hope you
will excuse them."
"Excuse them! marry will I! I shall be delighted to receive them. Bring
them at once."
The two gentlemen were then introduced, and their habiliments
undoubtedly bore traces of the hardships they had undergone. But
Charles was better pleased to see them thus than if they had been in
their robes of office, and said so.
Mr. Lysons, the mayor of Worcester, and a wealthy draper of the city,
was a middle-aged man, but strong and active, and had a ruddy, pleasant
countenance. Mr. Bridges, the sheriff, and by trade a glover, was a few
years younger than the mayor, and not quite so stout. Both of them had
looked exhausted when they arrived, but they brightened up wonderfully
as they entered the king's presence.
Charles advanced to meet them, and gave them his hand to kiss in the
most gracious manner possible. After congratulating them heartily on
their escape, he inquired, with an air of much interest, how they had
contrived it.
"Your majesty shall hear," replied the mayor. "It will always be a
feather in our cap to have escaped from Colonel James. With what
particular object he carried us off we know not, but it is certain he
meant to take us to Gloucester. Shortly after midnight we were brought
out of Edgar's Tower, where we had been imprisoned, and were strictly
guarded by the troopers as we rode out of the city, but no attempt
whatever at rescue was made by our fellow-citizens. Probably no one
knew at the time that we were being carried off. Little did we dream as
we rode across the bridge that we should be back so soon.
"A dreary ride we had, and our thoughts, which were not very pleasant,
were disturbed by those psalm-singing Puritans. They did not speak
very respectfully of your majesty. But we told them a day of reckoning
was at hand, and that you would drive them all before you. 'Let him
first set your worship free, and his honour the sheriff,' said one
of the troopers--a snuffling rogue, whom his comrades called Ezra.
'Ay, let him follow us to Gloucester,' observed another, who was very
appropriately named Madmannah. 'Be sure that he will follow, and force
you to evacuate the city, as you have done Worcester,' I rejoined. In
such pleasantries the time was passed.
"A halt was made at Upton-on-Severn. Now the Roundheads have no
especial dislike to ale and cider, and do not hold it sinful to indulge
in those liquors if good. Knowing the drink they delight in was to be
had in perfection at the Red Lion, at Upton, they roused the house,
and compelled the host and tapster to broach a cask of stout March ale
and another of cider. The troopers then dismounted, and tied up their
horses while they emptied their cans, leaving us to the care of Ezra
and Madmannah.
"Apparently, no one suspected us of any attempt to escape; yet we were
already meditating flight, if any favourable opportunity should occur.
By the light of the lanterns we could see the men filling their cans.
The temptation soon became too strong for Madmannah. He joined the
others, but soon returned with a bottle of cider for Ezra. While they
were enjoying the pleasant drink, we suddenly broke away and plunged
into a hop-garden that adjoined the inn-yard. Both musketeers fired at
us, but did us no harm. Fortunately the night was dark, and we were
screened by the tall hop-poles.
"Alarmed by the firing, several other musketeers joined in the pursuit,
but they got into each other's way, and created great confusion, in the
midst of which we reached a wood, and being well acquainted with the
locality, made our way for the meadows on the banks of the Severn. Then
we were safe.
"After keeping in these meadows for two or three miles, we ventured on
the high road, and galloped off at full speed for Worcester, without
hearing anything more of the troopers or their commander. We caught
sight of the old city just at daybreak. 'Here we are back again, after
only a few hours' absence,' I remarked, as we passed through the
barbican at the head of the old bridge. 'Who would have thought it!'
'Not I,' replied the sheriff. 'We are in ample time for the rejoicings
on his majesty's glorious victory.' 'What if we ride up to the camp on
Perry Wood, and seek an audience of him?' I remarked. 'Not in this
plight,' said Mr. Bridges. 'His majesty will excuse us,' I replied."
"Ay, that I will, my good friends," cried Charles. "I am truly glad
that you came to me at once. With such subjects as you I shall never
stand upon ceremony. I have long known you both as two of the king my
father's most faithful adherents."
"We are equally devoted to the king, your father's son, my liege,"
rejoined the mayor. "And now, having been honoured by this audience, we
will return to the city and prepare for your majesty's reception."
"Before you take your departure, gentlemen," interposed Careless,
"permit me to remark to you that the entire army is without provisions.
The sooner, therefore, you can prepare for us the better."
"We will expedite matters as much as possible," said the mayor. "But I
am afraid we shall require three or four hours."
"His majesty's forces number eleven thousand men, as I understand,"
said the sheriff. "It will be impossible to provide for so many without
some little delay."
"Quite impossible," observed the king. "I will only beg you, as my
loving subjects, to treat my Scottish soldiers hospitably, even if you
make a great sacrifice."
"Your majesty shall have no ground of complaint," said both magistrates.
"There is a point on which I must address a caution to you," pursued
Charles. "The greater part of my army, as you are doubtless aware, is
composed of members of the Scottish Kirk. They are bitter sectarians,
ever ready to dispute on religious questions, and to reprove those who
differ from them. Prevent, if you can, all quarrels among them and your
fellow-citizens."
"We have had plague enough already with those Anabaptists,
Presbyterians, and Independents," said the sheriff. "I am happy to
say there are very few left in faithful Worcester now we are rid of
the garrison. We will not quarrel with the Scots, since they have
come hither with your majesty. At noon all shall be ready for your
reception."
Making a profound reverence to the king, the two gentlemen then
withdrew, accompanied by Careless.
The king had lost his favourite charger at the attack on the fort
on the previous day; but another steed, in no respect inferior, had
been supplied him by the Duke of Buckingham, and mounted on his new
acquisition, he now proceeded to make an inspection of the camp. He
was attended by all his general officers, and by the nobles who had
accompanied him in his march from Scotland.
The men had begun to strike the tents at Perry Wood; for it had been
decided by his majesty, after consultation with Lesley, Middleton, and
Massey, that the main body of the army should be moved lower down
the hill, and not far from the Sidbury-gate, while Dalyell, with his
brigade, should fix his quarters at St. John's, on the right bank of
the river, and Middleton, with two thousand men, should encamp on the
Pitchcroft, a large plain, extremely convenient for the purpose, on the
north of the city, and on the left bank of the Severn.
Having completed his tour of inspection, Charles rode down with his
staff to Fort Royal; and he was surveying the scene of his late
brilliant exploit, and receiving fresh compliments from his attendants,
when he was surprised to see Careless come forth.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Breakfast is served, sire," replied the aide-de-camp.
"Breakfast!" exclaimed Charles.
"By St. George! I am glad to hear it," cried the Duke of Buckingham,
Lord Wilmot, and several others. "I hope there is enough for us all."
"Enough, and to spare," replied Careless.
Amid general exclamations of satisfaction the king and those with him
then dismounted, and were conducted by Careless into a large chamber,
where a plentiful repast awaited them.
CHAPTER III.
HOW CHARLES MADE HIS TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO WORCESTER; AND HOW HE WAS
PROCLAIMED BY THE MAYOR AND SHERIFF OF THAT LOYAL CITY.
Meanwhile, an almost indescribable scene of bustle and confusion was
taking place within the city.
The pealing of bells, which, as we know, commenced at the earliest hour
of morning, continued almost without intermission. Great fires were
lighted on the Castle Hill, in the cathedral close, on the quays, and
at Pitchcroft, at which huge joints of meat were roasted--barons of
beef, entire muttons, barbecued hogs. All loyal citizens were enjoined
by the mayor to provide the best food they could, and in the greatest
quantity, for the king's army. It would be a lasting disgrace to them,
it was said, if any of their brave deliverers should be stinted.
While part of each household was busily dressing food, the others were
engaged in decorating the habitations. The balconies were hung with
tapestry, gaily-coloured cloths and carpets, and the crosses were
adorned with flowers. The royal standard floated over the Sidbury-gate,
as well as on the summit of Fort Royal, and flags were flying from all
the steeples.
Such extraordinary zeal and activity were displayed, that, long before
the appointed hour, all the preparations were completed, and the good
folks began to be impatient for the coming of their sovereign.
The entire host was now gathered on the hill-side, and presented a
magnificent spectacle, as viewed from the city walls, which were
densely thronged. The Sidbury-gate was thrown wide open, a guard of
halberdiers being drawn up on either side of the entrance; while the
mayor, the sheriff, and the aldermen, in their full robes of office,
were stationed beneath the archway.
At length the sound of martial music was heard, and a squadron of
glittering cuirassiers was seen riding down the hill. Then came
Charles, attended by his staff, and followed by Colonel Pitscottie's
regiment of Highlanders. The strange, picturesque garb, and unusual
weapons of these stalwart mountaineers--their claymores, dirks, and
targets--filled the beholders with amazement. Nor were the citizens
less astonished by the shrill, warlike notes of the bagpipes, which
they heard for the first time.
As soon as it was perceived that the king had set out, a loud
discharge of cannon took place from the walls; and this, if possible,
heightened the general excitement. Regiment after regiment--cavalry
and infantry--were now moving down the hill--colours flying, bands
playing--the accoutrements of the cavalry flashing in the sunbeams like
so many mirrors.
The splendour of the king's staff produced an immense effect--some
of the nobles being singularly fine-looking men. Indeed, the Duke
of Buckingham, who rode at the head of the brilliant cortége
with the Duke of Hamilton, was accounted the handsomest and most
accomplished Cavalier of his time. Lord Wilmot was also a noble-looking
personage--tall and well-proportioned. Foremost among the military
leaders rode General David Lesley, who commanded one division of
the Scottish army. Thin and stern-looking, he had a thoughtful cast
of countenance. With him was Major-General Montgomery, who had
strongly-marked features and a keen eye, and looked like a thorough
soldier. Then came Lieutenant-General Thomas Dalyell, who had served
with distinction under Charles I., and in whom the young king placed
much confidence. With Dalyell was Vandrose, a Dutch general. Generals
Middleton and Massey brought up the list.
Despite the rich apparel of the nobles and the splendid accoutrements
of the general officers, none of them pleased the beholders so
much--especially the female portion of them--as Colonel Pitscottie,
who, as he rode at the head of his Highlanders, looked the beau ideal
of a Scottish chieftain. He was strongly built, with a red beard, and
light blue eyes of extraordinary power. Pitscottie was as brave as
a lion, and as true as his own sword. Such were the distinguished
persons on whom the spectators gazed from the city walls.
The whole space between the Sidbury-gate and the ancient Commandery was
thronged, but a space was kept clear for the king, and for the passage
of the troops, by halberdiers placed at frequent intervals.
Here Charles was detained for a few minutes by the enthusiastic
demonstrations of the crowd, who would scarcely allow him to proceed.
They shouted, stretched out their arms towards him, and hailed him as
their rightful sovereign and their deliverer. He could not fail to be
touched by such manifestations of loyalty. Though the sun was pouring
down his fiercest radiance upon his jet-black locks, he remained
uncovered all the time, and bowed around repeatedly with the grace
peculiar to him.
As soon as he was able to move forward, the mayor, with the sheriff
and aldermen, advanced from the gateway to meet him, and, bowing
reverentially, bade him welcome to the city.
"The city of Worcester has ever been faithful to you, sire," said the
mayor, "though constrained to yield to superior force. We now joyfully
open our gates to you and your victorious army, and pray you to enter
the city."
"I thank you heartily for your welcome, Mr. Mayor and gentlemen,"
replied Charles. "I never doubted your loyalty and devotion. The king,
my father, always spoke of Worcester as his 'Faithful City.' I shall
never speak of it otherwise. Again I thank you for the reception you
accord me. It is precisely what I expected from you."
Loud acclamations followed these gracious words, which were delivered
with admirable effect by the young monarch.
With the utmost despatch, the mayor and the civic authorities then
mounted their steeds, which were in readiness for them, and preceded
the king as he entered the city, the mayor carrying the sword of state
before his majesty.
Trumpets were blown, drums beaten, and the bells, which had been silent
during the ceremonial at the gate, began to peal joyfully again as
the royal cortége moved up Sidbury-street, and shaped its course to
the High-street, which it speedily reached. This long and handsome
street, which runs through the centre of the city from the cathedral
to the Foregate, is now totally changed in appearance, though it
occupies pretty nearly the same ground as heretofore. The ancient
street, however, being incomparably more picturesque and striking than
the modern thoroughfare, its demolition cannot but be regretted. The
houses, as already mentioned, were built of oak, painted black and
white, in the charming fashion of the period, though not according
to any uniform design, so as to avoid a monotonous effect. In many
instances they were richly ornamented with curious and elaborate
carvings. One peculiarity belonging to them, and constituting a great
charm, was the possession of open balconies; and these were now, for
the most part, filled with well-dressed dames and damsels, some of
whom boasted considerable personal attractions. Worcester, it is well
known, has been at all times famous for pretty women. The rails of the
balconies were hung with tapestry, carpets, and rich stuffs, and these
decorations gave the street a very lively appearance. The concourse on
the footways contented themselves with cheering the king as he passed
along, and did not attempt to press upon him, while the damsels waved
their kerchiefs from above. Had Charles been the handsomest young
prince in Christendom (which he certainly was not), he could not have
captivated more hearts than he did as he rode along the High-street,
and gazed at the well-filled balconies on the right and left. Each
fair nymph on whom his eye rested for a moment fancied herself the
special object of his admiration, while many a one--perhaps with some
reason--believed she had been distinguished by a bow from his majesty.
In this manner Charles rode on--receiving fresh homage from all classes
of his subjects as he proceeded--till he came to the Guildhall,
where the civic authorities had already halted, and where he himself
alighted, in order to sign certain warrants. Like almost all the other
edifices in the street, the Guildhall has been rebuilt, and though we
have every respect for the modern fabric, we should have been better
pleased if the ancient structure, with its recollections of the past,
had been preserved. Allowing the mayor and his fellows to conduct his
majesty into the great hall, we shall leave them there, having more to
interest us outside.
Troops were now pouring into the city, and were marching in different
directions; some regiments being taken by their officers to the Castle
Hill, others to the cathedral close, and others to the quays--at all
of which places good eatables and drinkables, and in the greatest
abundance, were provided for them. On that day, in all parts of the
city, thousands of hungry soldiers were feasted--every house being open
to them. And to the credit of the Scots it must be stated, that they in
no wise abused the hospitality shown them.
While his majesty was signing the warrants in the Guildhall, a halt
took place in the High-street, and when thus seen from above, the
various regiments of horse and foot, with their flags and banners; now
forming an almost solid mass, presented a splendid spectacle. A good
deal of animated conversation between the officers and the damsels
in the balconies took place during this interval, and some amusing
incidents occurred, one of which must be related.
Among the spectators collected nearly opposite the Guildhall were
an elderly dame and an exceedingly pretty damsel--the old woman's
grand-daughter, as it turned out. They evidently belonged to the
middle classes. With them was a sallow, ill-favoured personage, whose
closely-cropped black hair, steeple-crowned hat, plain Geneva band,
and black cloak, proclaimed him a Puritan. It was certain that he was
passionately enamoured of the damsel, whom he addressed by the name
of Mary, for he watched her every look with jealous eyes; but it was
by no means equally certain that she returned his passion. Rather the
contrary, we should say.
Urso Gives, for so was pretty Mary's suitor named, was more than double
her age, and far from well-favoured, but he was tolerably rich, and
this was enough for Dame Rushout, Mary's grandmother.
Urso Gives was a tailor, and had prospered in his business. For a
knight of the thimble, he was not devoid of mettle, and somewhat
quarrelsome and vindictive. He was decidedly a Republican, and in
religion an Independent. As may be imagined, this was a bitter day for
him, and he would not have come forth upon it had it not been to watch
over pretty Mary Rushout, who was determined to see the young king. So
he was compelled to place Mary and her grand-dame in a good position
opposite the Guildhall, and there they had an excellent view of the
young monarch, and saw him dismount.
Mary Rushout was enchanted. Never had she beheld any one so graceful,
so majestic as the king. How royally he bestrode his steed! How
beauteous were his long black locks!--Urso must let his own hair grow
long. And then how his majesty's diamonds sparkled! She could not help
calling out "Long live the king!" Charles noticed her, and told her,
with a smile, "She was the prettiest girl he had seen that day, and
deserved a better lover." Was not this enough to turn her head? Was it
not enough to madden the irritable and jealous Urso? The by-standers,
who were staunch Royalists, laughed at him, and this exasperated Urso
beyond all endurance. He broke out against the king, called him the
chief of the malignants, and the favourer of heresy and profaneness,
and would have gone on in the same strain if he had not been soundly
buffeted on all sides.
Mary Rushout and her grand-dame screamed, and their cries attracted the
attention of an aide-de-camp, who was waiting his majesty's return. It
was Major Careless. Seeing a pretty girl in distress he pushed forward
his steed, and quickly extricated her and the old dame, while Urso took
advantage of his interference to escape.
A Cavalier so gallant as Careless we may be sure did not retire after
such an introduction, and he found Mary Rushout very willing to flirt
with him. He soon learned all about her and about Urso Gives, and that
they both dwelt in the Trinity, and continued chatting with her till
Charles came forth from the Guildhall.
The royal cortége was once more put in motion, and proceeded to the
large open place near the Foregate, in the midst of which stood the
antique sculptured cross previously mentioned. The place was now filled
with people, but the assemblage was no farther disturbed than was
necessary to allow the troops to form a square round it.
The mayor and the sheriff having made their way to the cross, trumpets
were sounded, and, amid the silence that ensued, the mayor, in a
sonorous voice, proclaimed Charles King of England, Scotland, France,
and Ireland. Tremendous acclamations followed, and guns were fired from
the top of the Foregate.
Even then the assemblage did not move, nor did the troops quit their
position.
Trumpets being again sounded, a Manifesto was published in the king's
name, declaring a general pardon to all the inhabitants of the city
as should henceforward conform to his authority; and also announcing
that warrants had just received the royal sign-manual in the Guildhall,
whereby his majesty summoned, upon their allegiance, all the nobility,
gentry, and others, of what degree and condition soever, of the county
of Worcester, from sixteen to sixty, to appear in their persons, and
with any horses, arms, and ammunition they had or could procure, at
Pitchcroft, near the city, on Tuesday next, being the 26th of August,
1651, "where," pursued the king, "ourself will be present to dispose
of such of them as we shall think fit for our service in the war, in
defence of this City and County, and to add to our marching army."
On the king's return to the city, the mayor ceremoniously conducted him
to his private residence, where a grand collation had been prepared, of
which his majesty and his suite partook.
[Illustration: [++] WORCESTER.]
CHAPTER IV.
HOW CHARLES WAS LODGED IN THE EPISCOPAL PALACE; AND HOW DOCTOR CROSBY
PREACHED BEFORE HIS MAJESTY IN THE CATHEDRAL.
The ancient episcopal palace--which had been prepared, as well as
circumstances would permit, for the reception of the king and his
suite--was a large and stately pile, and, from its size, grandeur,
and the number of apartments it contained, was well fitted to be the
temporary residence of a monarch--even had that monarch been firmly
settled on the throne--and, indeed, it was again occupied by royalty at
a later date, when George III. and his queen visited Worcester in 1788.
By far the most important mansion in the city, it occupied a commanding
position on the left bank of the river, and from its fine bay windows
presented a very imposing façade. The roof was lined with battlements,
towers, and belfries, and on the highest of these towers the royal
standard now floated, while sentries were stationed at the river gate,
and at the upper gateway. The palace was surrounded by high embattled
walls, within which was a garden laid out in the old formal style, and
boasting a broad terrace. The garden had been utterly neglected by
the Roundheads, and the terrace was covered with grass. Internally,
the mansion, which was erected probably about the beginning of the
sixteenth century, contained a noble hall, with a richly carved screen,
an exquisite chapel, a carved oak staircase of great beauty, conducting
to a long gallery, the deeply embayed windows of which, while they
embellished the exterior, commanded fine views of the country, and the
broad intermediate tract once known as Malvern Chase, but now a most
fertile district, through which, as Dyer sings,
----the wide
Majestic wave of Severn slowly rolls.
Considerable damage had been done to the gallery and the rooms opening
from it by the Roundheads, who had torn down the fine old tapestry once
adorning the oak panels, and injured the carvings. Most of the old
furniture, being of oak, had withstood a great deal of barbarous usage,
and an immense ponderous bedstead, in which many a bishop had reposed,
was prepared for his majesty. A good many other beds had to be provided
for the king's suite, and for his large retinue of servants, but this
was satisfactorily accomplished, and luckily there were rooms enough
to accommodate all. Fortunately, also, the mansion possessed a vast
kitchen, having no fewer than three large grates, whence hospitality
had been dispensed by the worthy prelates in the olden time. At these
three grates cooks had been at work, roasting and boiling, throughout
the day.
The first persons presented to the king on his arrival at the palace
were Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, and Colonel Mervin Touchet,
who had been kept prisoners by the commandant of the garrison. Lord
Talbot and Sir John said they had only waited to see his majesty, and
were about to depart instantly to raise recruits for his service, but
Charles would have them stay and dine with him. Another person whom the
king was delighted to see was Doctor Crosby, the loyal divine, who had
suffered imprisonment for his zeal in his majesty's behalf.
Dinner was served in the great hall, and what it wanted in
ceremoniousness was more than compensated for by abundance of viands
and excellence of wine. Not much form was observed. The mayor occupied
a seat on his majesty's right, and the sheriff on the left. Grace was
said by Doctor Crosby. We shall not particularise the dishes, but
we must mention that a Severn salmon of prodigious weight--quite a
regal fish, that had allowed itself obligingly to be captured for the
occasion--was set before the king. Moreover, the stewed lampreys were
an entirely new delicacy to his majesty, and pleased him greatly.
Charles was in high spirits, and laughed and jested in the most
good-humoured manner with those near him. Of a very sanguine
temperament, he had never doubted the success of his expedition, and
the events--unimportant as they were--that had occurred since his
arrival before Worcester heightened his confidence. For the first time
he had been victorious, and had been warmly welcomed by his subjects.
He had been assured that a great number of recruits could be raised in
the county before the general Muster took place at Pitchcroft, and he
felt certain Lord Derby would bring him large levies from Lancashire
and Cheshire. He would then give battle to Cromwell, defeat him, and
march on triumphantly to London. His confidence seemed to be shared
by all the nobles and general officers present--even by the cold
and cautious Lesley. While quaffing their claret and burgundy, they
predicted the utter defeat of old Noll and the destruction of all
rebels.
Next day, being Sunday, was comparatively calm after the great previous
excitement. Not that the city had by any means resumed its ordinary
aspect--that was clearly impossible with a large army encamped outside
the walls, and many regiments quartered within them--but the Scottish
soldiers, being strict observers of the Sabbath, conducted themselves
in a very orderly and decorous manner. Much preaching was there in
the camps at Red Hill and Pitchcroft, and officers might be heard
reading the Bible and holding forth upon sacred texts to their men, who
listened with the profoundest attention.
All the churches--and Worcester, as we know, abounded in churches--were
filled with congregations in which the military element predominated;
but the cathedral--as might be expected, since it was known that
the king would attend divine service there--collected within it all
the principal personages of the city, all the chief officers of the
army, and as many regiments as the vast pile could contain. Never,
perhaps, before or since, has the interior of this grand old edifice
presented such a striking sight as it did on this memorable occasion.
Its marble monuments and effigies, its chantry and lady-chapel, had
been mutilated, as we have already told, by the Roundheads, but these
injuries were now concealed from view by the throng collected within
the aisles of the choir and the retro-choir. Owing likewise to the
attention being directed to other objects, the loss of the splendid
painted glass in the windows was scarcely noticed. The majestic pillars
lining the broad nave rose up amid a mass of troops that not only
occupied the body of the fane, but the aisles. Seen from the entrance
of the choir, paved with steel caps, and bristling with pikes, muskets,
and carabines--for the men all carried their arms--the nave presented
an extraordinary coup-d'oeil. Stationed within the south transept,
Pitscottie's Highlanders contributed materially to the effect of the
picture. All the nobles in attendance upon the king, with the general
officers, occupied the stalls in the choir--Charles being seated in the
bishop's throne.
As this was the first time on which the service of the Church of
England had been performed within the cathedral since its desecration
by the Parliamentarians, it may be conceived with what satisfaction
the members of that religion were enabled to resume their own form
of worship within it--and this satisfaction was heightened by the
circumstances under which they came back. The organ was gone, but the
military music substituted seemed not inappropriate to an occasion
when hymns of triumph were sung. Certes, the drums, trumpets, and
other martial instruments, resounding from the roof, produced an
extraordinary effect.
The sermon was preached by Doctor Crosby, and was a most eloquent and
fervid discourse. The pale countenance of the venerable dean flushed,
and his eyes blazed as with fire, while he denounced the murderers of
the martyr king, and declared that the vengeance so long delayed would
speedily fall upon them. Rebellion, which had stalked unchecked through
the land, would be crushed, and the monarchy restored. To Charles he
attributed the highest spiritual authority, and spoke of him as "in
all causes, and over all persons, next under God, supreme head and
governor"--expressions at which his Presbyterian hearers took great
offence. The earnestness, however, of his manner could not fail to
impress them with a conviction of his sincerity.
A council of war was subsequently held within the palace, and it was
decided that the fortifications should at once be thoroughly repaired,
so as to enable the city to stand a siege, if necessary, though no
tidings had yet been heard of Cromwell. After an early repast, Charles
rode forth with his retinue into the city, and was surprised to find
the High-street so empty, and almost all the houses shut up; but his
surprise ceased when he reached the camp at Pitchcroft, and found
that the vast plain was covered with people, and resembled a fair.
The Scottish soldiers were quiet, and took no part in the profane
recreations of the dissolute Cavaliers, who were everywhere swaggering
about, and making love to all the pretty damsels.
Charles was enthusiastically received, but he did not stay long on
Pitchcroft. After riding through the principal line of tents, he
returned and crossed the river to St. John's, where Dalyell's brigade
was placed to protect the approach to the bridge. Lower down, on the
meadows on this side of the river, Pitscottie's Highlanders were
encamped, and the king passed them on his way to Powick, which he
desired to see. From the Highlanders' camp, which was almost opposite
the episcopal palace and the cathedral, the finest view of old
Worcester could be obtained, and he paused for some minutes, enraptured
by the charming picture.
A delightful ride of a mile, or somewhat more, along this bank of the
Severn brought the king and his attendants to the Teme at its point of
junction with the larger river, and then following its deeply-ploughed
channel, and watching its swift-flowing current through the fringing
trees, they rode on to Powick.
Near Powick there was a woody island of some little extent, round which
rushed the river--here, as elsewhere, too deep to be forded. The island
was gained by a bridge from either bank, and the importance of the
point was so obvious, that the king determined to place a battery upon
it.
CHAPTER V.
HOW CHARLES RODE TO MADRESFIELD COURT; AND HOW MISTRESS JANE LANE AND
HER BROTHER, WITH SIR CLEMENT FISHER, WERE PRESENTED TO HIS MAJESTY.
Next morning another council of war was held at the palace. No tidings
as yet of Cromwell--no despatches from the Earl of Derby. After an
hour's deliberation the council broke up, and the king proceeded to the
Castle Hill, which was being fortified under the superintendence of
Lord Rothes and Sir William Hamilton.
The city walls, in the reparation of which hundreds of men had been
employed since midnight, were next inspected by his majesty, who was
well satisfied with the progress made. He then visited both camps,
and while riding along the High-street with his escort, attended by
Major Careless, was loudly cheered. Ever since the king's arrival
at Worcester the weather had been splendid--a circumstance that
contributed in no slight degree to the gay and festive air that
prevailed within the city. The taverns were full of roystering
Cavaliers, smoking, drinking, dicing, and singing bacchanalian songs.
On his return from the camp at Pitchcroft, Charles paid a visit to the
mayor at his private residence, and had a long conference with him.
Having given all the instructions he deemed necessary, and feeling that
his presence was no longer required, Charles, anxious to escape from
the ceaseless applications by which he was beset, crossed the river,
and, still attended by his escort and Careless, rode in the direction
of the Malvern Hills, his destination being Madresfield Court, an old
fortified mansion, buried in the midst of thick woods of oak, beech,
elm, and other trees, stretching almost from Malvern to the banks of
the Severn.
The day, as we have said, was splendid, though excessively hot, but
shaded by the trees, which sheltered him with their mighty arms from
the oppressive summer heat, Charles found the ride through the forest
enchanting. He seemed to breathe more freely now that he was away from
the crowded city and the bustling camps.
A lovely sylvan scene, such as he had not for some time contemplated,
was offered to his gaze. Madresfield Chase, which formed part of
the old forest of Malvern, boasted some trees of great age and vast
size. Generally the chase was flat, but occasionally a knoll could be
discerned, crowned with timber. A long and beautiful glade of some
miles in extent led towards the ancient mansion, which could not,
however, be distinguished. Rising in front, above the trees, appeared
the lovely Malvern Hills, and their summits, bathed in sunshine, looked
so exquisite that Charles wished he could be transported to one of them.
"I never look at a mountain top," he remarked to Careless, "without
desiring to ascend to it."
"'Tis a natural wish I think, my liege," replied the aide-de-camp.
"At least, I have the same feeling. Those hills are not difficult of
ascent, and command a magnificent view. The highest of them, and the
nearest to Malvern, is the Worcestershire Beacon; the other is the
Herefordshire Beacon. Both noble hills."
"Can we ride to the top of the Worcestershire Beacon?"
"Easily, sire."
"Have you ever made the ascent on horseback?"
"Never--either on horseback or on foot, sire."
"Then you know nothing about it. However, the difficulties, if there
are any, won't deter me. I cannot resist the inclination to ride up
to the beacon. We will make the ascent in the evening, when it grows
cooler. 'Tis too sultry just now."
"Very true, sire. I should be loth to quit these trees for the bare
hill-side."
They then rode on till they came in sight of the grey old structure,
which was a very good specimen of a castellated mansion, being strongly
built, embattled, flanked with towers, surrounded by a broad, deep
moat, defended by a drawbridge, and approached by a grand embattled
gateway.
During the Civil Wars, Madresfield Court had been alternately in the
possession of the Royalists and the Roundheads. Strongly garrisoned by
Charles I., taken by Colonel Fynes at the first siege of Worcester,
retaken by the Royalists, and again captured in 1646, it had remained,
until within the last few days, in the quiet possession of its owner,
Colonel Lygon, who prudently acted with the Parliamentarians. On the
arrival of Charles at Worcester, Colonel Lygon was driven forth,
after an ineffectual attempt at resistance, and his mansion seized
and garrisoned for the king. It was now in a condition to stand a
siege, being already well victualled, and well provided with arms and
ammunition. Falconets were placed on the gateway, and larger ordnance
on the battlements.
Charles was well pleased to see the royal standard displayed from the
roof of the old mansion, and to note the preparations for defence.
Trumpets were sounded and drums beaten on his approach. The drawbridge
was lowered, and the officers and men prepared to turn out and receive
his majesty. Charles, however, halted beneath a spreading oak that
grew on a wide lawn in front of the mansion, and was contemplating the
ancient edifice with some pride in being once more its master, when
Careless drew his attention to three persons on horseback, who had just
issued from an avenue on the right. From their attire, and from their
steeds, the equestrians looked like persons of distinction. One of the
party, who specially attracted the king's attention, was a young lady,
slight in figure, and extremely graceful. Even beheld at that distance,
it might be safely asserted that she was lovely, and when she drew
near, she more than realised any notions the king had formed of her
beauty. Her companions were Cavaliers undoubtedly--both fine-looking
young men, distinguished by their military bearing.
"Know you whom they are?" inquired the king of Careless.
"Unless I mistake not, sire, he in the black velvet doublet, slashed
with white, is Colonel Lane of Bentley Hall, in Staffordshire----"
"The Lanes are staunch Royalists?" interrupted Charles.
"Staunchest of the staunch, sire. With the colonel is his sister,
Mistress Jane Lane, one of the fairest damsels in the county, and
devoted to your majesty. He on the roan horse, and in the green jerkin,
laced with silver, is Sir Clement Fisher, of Packington Hall, in
Warwickshire."
[Illustration: JANE LANE PRESENTED TO CHARLES II.]
"Jane Lane's suitor, I'll be sworn!" cried Charles.
"Your majesty has hit it," replied Careless, with a smile.
While this brief colloquy took place, the party had stopped, as if
awaiting permission to advance.
"Bring them to me, and present them," said Charles.
Careless, who was a _preux chevalier_, executed his task with infinite
grace. It was a charming sight to witness Jane Lane's presentation to
the young king. There was an ingenuousness in her manner that delighted
Charles. She seemed to possess great spirit and force of character,
and yet she had all the most agreeable feminine qualities. As to her
beauty there could be no question. Brighter black eyes, features of
greater delicacy and refinement, tresses more exquisite, Charles had
never beheld. Though she coloured deeply when she first encountered the
king's gaze, she manifested no embarrassment.
There was a certain likeness between Colonel Lane and his sister,
though the colonel had strongly-marked traits, a firm mouth, and a
bold, determined look. But he had dark eyes like Jane, and in them
resided the expression that constituted the likeness. Sir Clement
Fisher was an admirable specimen of a Cavalier--handsome, brave,
chivalrous, he seemed formed to win a fair lady's heart. Whether he had
won that of Jane Lane will be seen.
"How is it I have not yet seen you at Worcester, gentlemen?" inquired
Charles.
"We are on our way thither, sire," replied Colonel Lane. "You will see
us at the Muster at Pitchcroft to-morrow. We have not been lukewarm in
your majesty's cause."
"Even I have done something for you, sire," said Jane. "This morning I
have secured your majesty forty horse; and I hope to render you still
better service before the day is over."
"My sister is zealous, you perceive, sire," remarked Colonel Lane, with
a smile.
"Were there a hundred like her I should soon have an army," observed
Charles, highly pleased. "But what is the great service you hope to
render me?"
"Nay, sire," she rejoined, playfully, "you must allow me to keep my
secret. 'Twill be a surprise to you to-morrow."
"Then I will ask you no further questions, yet I would fain know why
you came here. You could not have expected to find me at Madresfield."
"Pardon me, your majesty, I _did_ expect to find you here."
"Oddsfish! you must be a witch," cried Charles, laughing.
"There is no sorcery in the matter, sire. Have you not sent a messenger
to Mr. Thomas Hornyold, of Blackmore Park, commanding him to attend
upon you at Madresfield this afternoon?"
"And you have seen the messenger?"
"I have, sire. I have read the message, and I told Tom Hornyold I would
come in his stead, and make his excuses. The blame of his disobedience
of your majesty's order must rest entirely with me. I have sent him to
Sir Rowland Berkeley."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Charles.
"He will do more good with Sir Rowland than here. But that is not all.
He has promised me to see Sir Walter Blount, Sir John Winford, and Mr.
Ralph Sheldon of Beoly. Will you forgive now for my great presumption,
sire?"
"Forgive you! I am beyond measure indebted to you."
"Sire!" she cried, with a look that bespoke her conviction of the
truth of what she uttered, "I believe that I am destined to render you
a signal service. My brother will confirm what I am about to say. It
was foretold of me when I was a child, by a famous astrologer, that I
should save a prince's life. The prophecy must refer to you."
"It may be so," said Charles, smiling at her enthusiasm. "At all
events, I shall look upon you as my guardian angel."
"My heart beats only with loyalty, sire. I have no other feeling in my
breast."
"No other feeling, fair mistress?" said the king, glancing towards Sir
Clement.
"It is perfectly true, sire," observed the young baronet, with a
somewhat despondent look. "Mistress Jane Lane vows she will never wed
till your majesty is seated on the throne."
"And I will keep my vow," cried Jane.
"Then I trust ere long Sir Clement may be in a position to claim you,
and that I may be present at your nuptials," said Charles. "But whither
you go?" he added, seeing they were preparing to depart. "Will you not
enter the house?"
"We must pray your majesty to excuse us," said Colonel Lane,
bowing. "We have much to do. We are going to cross the hills into
Herefordshire.'"
"Nay, then you must stay till the heat of the day is abated, and I
myself will bear you company for part of your journey, for I design to
ascend the Worcestershire Beacon. 'Tis not fit your sister should be
exposed to this fierce sun."
"I am not one of those damsels that care for my complexion, sire,"
observed Jane, laughing. "The sun will not melt me."
"Nay, then I will not detain you," rejoined Charles. "I shall see you
to-morrow at the Muster at Pitchcroft. You must not be absent, fair
mistress."
"Be sure I will not, sire," she replied.
Bending reverentially to the king, she rode off with the others.
"A noble girl!" exclaimed Charles, gazing after her with admiration.
"She is the incarnation of loyalty."
CHAPTER VI.
HOW CHARLES ASCENDED THE WORCESTERSHIRE BEACON; AND OF THE AMBUSCADE
PREPARED FOR HIM AS HE CAME DOWN.
After examining the preparations made for the defence of the old
mansion, Charles sat down with Careless and the officer in command of
the garrison to a repast prepared for him in the great hall. When he
had finished it he ordered his horses. The officer asked if his majesty
required his escort.
"No," replied Charles. "I am not about to return to Worcester. I am
charmed with this place, and shall sleep here to-night. I mean to ride
to Malvern. Major Careless will attend me."
So his majesty set forth, accompanied only by his aide-de-camp. A
pleasant ride through the woods brought them to the foot of the
giant hill, on a ridge of which stood the little secluded village of
Malvern. Yes, the little secluded village of Malvern. Where terraces of
well-built houses now spring above each other on the hill-side--where
countless white villas peer from out the trees, contrasting charmingly
with the foliage, and helping to form one of the prettiest towns in
England--a town as healthful as pretty--nothing was then to be seen
but a few small habitations, in the midst of which rose the old priory
church, and the beautiful gateway adjoining it. The priory was pulled
down at the Dissolution of the Monasteries, and with it the glory of
Malvern had departed. Devotees were still attracted by the Holy Well,
and marvellous cures were said to be wrought by its waters, but such
pilgrims were rare, and Malvern remained an obscure, unfrequented
village, until its beauties and salubrity were discovered in the early
part of the present century.
Charles and his attendant halted on the ridge on which this charming
town is now built, and surveyed the extensive prospect it commands.
They were not aware that they were watched from behind a tree by a
tall, ill-favoured man, in the garb of a Puritan. This eavesdropper,
who had followed them cautiously for some minutes, ascertained their
purpose, and as soon as they began to ascend the hill, he hurried down
to the little inn near the priory gate.
All difficulties in the ascent of the lofty hill, known as the
Worcestershire Beacon, have now been removed, and well-made paths
enable even invalids to reach its summit almost without fatigue. But
at the time when Charles and his attendant mounted it, it had a stern,
solitary air, and its silence was unbroken by any sound except that of
the sheep-bell, or the cry of a bird of prey. Sheep-tracks alone led
up its rugged sides, and conducted the pedestrian through the broad
patches of furze, or past huge protruding rocks, to the smooth turf
above. Charles being a daring horseman, took the nearest road, and not
unfrequently came to places where it was too steep to proceed with
safety, and had to retrace his course and seek a less dangerous ascent.
The only person in sight was a shepherd tending his flock, and he was
far off. At length the king and his attendant gained the rounded summit
of the hill, which was covered by turf smooth as velvet, and fragrant
with thyme.
Hitherto, both Charles and Careless had been too much occupied by the
difficulties of the ascent to pay much attention to the vast panorama
opening upon them as they mounted the hill. But as they now gazed upon
it, they were lost in admiration, and quite forgot the trouble they had
experienced.
It boots not to describe the thoughts that passed through the king's
breast, as his eye ranged over that astonishing prospect, which,
comprehending as it does nine or ten counties, showed him a large
portion of his kingdom, and that perhaps not the least beautiful
portion. How many towns and villages--how many noble mansions--could
he count in that wide-spread landscape! On the left, and almost as it
seemed at his feet, lay the old and faithful city of Worcester, with
his army encamped around it. Two other cathedral towns, with their
church towers and steeples--Gloucester and Hereford--could likewise be
distinguished. Charles sought the Severn for some time in vain. Owing
to the height of its banks, it could only be here and there discerned.
He hung long upon this incomparable prospect, and then turned to the
Herefordshire side of the hill, whence the view was almost equally
fine, three distinct mountainous chains, of beautifully varied form,
meeting his gaze.
On quitting the green sward the perils of the descent commenced, and
they were obliged to proceed with caution, the ground being covered
with loose stones and fragments of rock. They proceeded singly,
Charles taking the lead, and were skirting a huge mass of granite that
obstructed their course, when suddenly half a dozen men, armed with
muskets, whose steel caps and buff coats showed they were Parliamentary
soldiers, and who had evidently been lying in ambush behind the rocks,
sprang forward, one of them seizing the king's bridle, and two others
forcibly preventing him from using his arms. Careless was treated in
precisely the same manner, and the capture was so quickly executed
that it was perfectly successful.
At the same time two persons appeared on the top of the rock, which
rose to some little height above them. In one of these Careless
recognised Colonel James; the other, who kept back, was the spy we have
previously mentioned.
"Release me, villains!" cried Charles, furiously, as he vainly
attempted to free himself from the grasp of the soldiers who held him.
"Not so," said the leader of the ambuscade from above. "The Lord hath
delivered thee into my hand, as He delivered Jabin, King of Canaan,
into the hands of the children of Israel. I will not put thee to death,
but will take thee and thine officer as prisoners to the Lord General,
to deal with ye as he may see fit. With thy capture the invasion of the
men of Moab is at an end."
Scarcely were the words uttered than a loud report was heard, and he
dropped on the rock, apparently mortally wounded.
"The Amalekites are upon us!" shouted the spy. "Save yourselves!"
So saying, he jumped down on the other side of the rock and disappeared.
Supposing their commander killed, and not knowing what force might be
upon them, the soldiers did not dare to carry off their prize, but
sought safety in flight.
Next moment, from among the rocks beneath, issued Sir Clement Fisher,
who had fired the shot, while close behind him appeared Colonel Lane
and his sister.
"Heaven preserve your majesty!" shouted the two Cavaliers, raising
their hats; while Jane, whose dark eyes flashed, and whose face was
radiant with delight, echoed the loyal aspiration.
Charles heard them, and raised his hat in response.
"Haste thee to Madresfield Court," he said to Careless. "Bring a
detachment of horse to scour these hills. I will have the villains who
have dared to lay hands upon me."
"Your majesty----"
"Obey me. I shall have Colonel Lane and Sir Clement Fisher with me.
Away! Spare not the spur."
Thus enjoined, Careless dashed down the rocks at the hazard of his neck.
Charles then descended to his preservers, who had moved to a less
rugged spot, and thanked them heartily.
"The prophecy is fulfilled," he said to Jane. "You have saved my life."
"Nay, it was Sir Clement who delivered you, sire," she replied. "But
I may, at least, claim the merit of having perceived your majesty's
peril."
"You may claim more," remarked Sir Clement Fisher. "Had it not been
for your coolness and self-possession, we could not have succeeded in
effecting his majesty's deliverance."
"I said you are my guardian angel, and so you are," cried Charles. "But
I must learn what took place. Let me have the description from your own
lips."
"Since your majesty commands me, I must speak, though Sir Clement could
better explain the matter," she rejoined, blushing. "Then, thus it
was, sire. We had accomplished our errand, and were returning through
yonder pass between the hills, when we observed your majesty and Major
Careless near the beacon. We could see you both quite distinctly,
and our gaze never quitted you till you were about to commence your
descent. I then begged my brother to quit the lower road, in order
that we might meet you as you came down. Your course lay towards those
rocks, and while gazing in that direction, I noticed some armed men
moving stealthily about among them, and pointed them out to my brother
and Sir Clement, who at once recognised them as rebel soldiers, and
felt sure that an ambuscade had been placed there. What was to be done?
Impossible to warn you. A plan occurred to me. I showed my companions
how, by keeping among the rocks, we could approach the ambuscading
party unperceived, and they followed my counsel, as it seemed the sole
chance of saving your majesty. We got near enough to enable Sir Clement
to bring down the leader of the troop."
"And luckily not another shot was needed," said Sir Clement.
"I know not whether you were my deliverer or Sir Clement," said
Charles. "But I am equally indebted to you both. And now you must all
accompany me to Madresfield Court. I shall need your escort, gentlemen."
CHAPTER VII.
HOW COLONEL LEGGE BROUGHT IMPORTANT NEWS TO THE KING, AND HOW HIS
MAJESTY PAID A VISIT TO SEVERN END.
Careless was able to execute the king's commands much more quickly
than he expected. Encountering a small party of dragoons near Malvern,
he ordered them to scour the lower part of the hill, while he himself
re-ascended the heights. The Roundheads, however, had made good their
retreat. They had hidden their horses, it appeared, in a deep chasm, on
the hill-side, and after their unsuccessful attempt, had descended into
the plain, where they were lost among the woods.
A singular discovery was made by Careless. On visiting the rock,
on which the commandant had fallen, he found the spot stained with
blood, but the body was gone. By whom had it been removed? Not by the
Roundheads--that was certain. In all probability Colonel James had not
been mortally wounded, as was at first supposed, but had recovered
sufficient strength to crawl off. The search made for him proved
ineffectual, and Careless was obliged to return to Madresfield Court
without having effected a single capture. The king having by this time
recovered his good-humour, laughed at his aide-de-camp's ill success.
"Oddsfish!" he exclaimed. "I had nearly lost my crown by that foolish
ascent of the Worcestershire Beacon--rather too high a price to pay for
a fine view."
His majesty was alone, Colonel Lane and those with him having proceeded
to Worcester.
Next morn, Charles arose betimes, broke his fast lightly, and had just
mounted his charger with the intention of setting off to Worcester,
when his departure was stayed by the arrival of Colonel Legge, one of
his most gallant and trusted officers, and familiarly called by his
majesty "Honest Will."
Colonel Legge brought very important news. He had been with a
reconnoitering party to Evesham, and had captured a couple of Roundhead
scouts, from whom he had obtained information respecting the enemy's
movements. Cromwell was approaching with a large army, having seventeen
thousand horse and foot under his own command; while the regiments
of Lord Grey of Groby, Fleetwood, Ingoldsby, Lambert, and Harrison,
together with the militia that had recently joined the Parliamentary
forces, swelled the amount to upwards of thirty thousand.
"Nearly treble my force," exclaimed Charles. "But were they forty
thousand I should not fear them."
"'Tis well you are prepared, sire," remarked Legge.
"Much has yet to be done," replied the king. "The passes of the Severn
and the Teme must be looked to. Upton, Powick, and Bransford Bridges
must be broken down. Haste thee to Worcester, Will. Summon a council
of war to meet me three hours hence. By that time I shall have visited
Upton and Powick, and perhaps Bransford. Is Massey at Upton?"
"Massey's head-quarters are at Severn End, sire, the residence of
Judge Lechmere. The judge sides with the Parliament, but I suspect
he is a time-server, and will always support the party in power. If
your majesty is victorious, he will throw himself at your feet. Severn
End is a fine place, and Massey seems to like his quarters. Judge
Lechmere's nearest neighbour is loyal Tom Hornyold, whom you will
assuredly see at Pitchcroft to-day."
"Oddsfish! Judge Lechmere must be an astute fellow from thy account of
him, Will," replied Charles, laughing. "I will go first to Severn End.
Perchance I may see the judge. If so, I will have a word with him."
"Fine him heavily, sire, or imprison him, if he will not join you,"
said Legge.
"Humph! I like not to have recourse to harsh measures," rejoined
Charles. "Still, an example ought to be made of such a man. Now, off
with thee to Worcester, Will. Say to all that thou hast left me in good
spirits."
"I can say so with truth, my liege," replied Legge.
Careless undertook to conduct his majesty to Severn End, being well
acquainted with Judge Lechmere's residence. Their course lay through
the loveliest part of the chase, but Charles was too much preoccupied
to notice the beauties of the scene, and Careless did not venture
to disturb the profound reverie into which his royal master had
fallen, and which lasted till they came to the precincts of a large,
well-timbered park, in the midst of which stood a fine old house
embosomed in a grove of rook-haunted trees.
"Is this Severn End?" asked Charles.
"No, my liege; this is Blackmore Park, the abode of your staunch
adherent, Captain Thomas Hornyold."
"And a charming place it is," observed the king; "I would all my
staunch adherents were as well housed!"
After skirting the moss-grown park pales for a few minutes, they came
upon a long and stately avenue, down which a troop of horse was riding,
with their leader at their head.
"As I live that must be Tom Hornyold's troop!" cried Charles, halting,
while Careless signed to the king's escort to stop.
Seeing Careless ride towards him, and comprehending the aide-de-camp's
object, Captain Hornyold put his troop into a trot, and presently drew
up before the king.
Tom Hornyold's manly bearing, open countenance, frank manner, and
steady look prepossessed the king in his favour.
"I trust your majesty will pardon my inattention to your summons
yesterday," said Hornyold, after making an obeisance. "Here are forty
good men and true, who will fight well for you, and I have had barely
time to get them together."
"Mistress Jane Lane explained all to me, Captain Hornyold," rejoined
Charles, graciously. "You did quite right, and I thank you heartily. By
my faith, you have brought me some famous recruits."
As he moved towards the troop, he was welcomed with a shout that
startled the clamorous rooks overhead, and put to flight a herd of deer
that had been couching beneath the trees.
Well pleased with the appearance of the recruits, many of whom were
remarkably fine-looking young men, and all well accoutred and extremely
well mounted, the king thus expressed his satisfaction:
"Good men--good horses--good weapons, and strong arms to wield
them--those you have brought me, Captain Hornyold, and I thank you once
more. Gentlemen," he added to the troops, "I cannot tarry longer with
you now, though I fain would say something more, but I have much to do,
as you are aware. I shall see you again at Pitchcroft. Au revoir!"
Bowing graciously to Captain Hornyold, he then rode off, attended by
Careless and followed by his escort.
On quitting Blackmore Park, the king approached another equally
well-wooded domain, which he did not need to be told belonged to Judge
Lechmere.
It was, in sooth, Severn End, and their road towards the house led
them for a short distance near the bank of the river. The grounds
contained many noble trees, amongst which were several towering elms
and broad-armed oaks that delighted Charles, as did a remarkably fine
service-tree, which he pointed out to his attendant.
As they drew near the picturesque old mansion, it was easy to perceive
that it was under military occupation--sentinels being placed at the
entrance, while small parties of dragoons were gathered on the terrace,
as if awaiting orders; and a troop of cavalry was drawn up on the lawn.
A soldier was walking a powerful charger to and fro before the porch.
Drums would have been beaten, and trumpets sounded, but the king would
not allow any announcement of his arrival to be made. Leaving his
escort at the extremity of the lawn, he rode up to the portal with
Careless. He then dismounted and marched up the steps, merely returning
the salutes of the officers he encountered.
Loud and angry tones were audible as he crossed the hall, and guided
him to the room in which General Massey could be found. The door being
partly open, Charles pushed it aside and entered a large chamber with
a somewhat low roof, panelled with black oak, ornamented with several
full-length portraits.
This was the dining-room, and in the midst of it stood General Massey,
booted and spurred, with his hat on, and his riding-whip in hand,
evidently prepared to mount his charger.
A fine, tall, broad-shouldered man was the general, and well became
his rich accoutrements. His back being towards the door he did not
notice the king's entrance. Full of wrath, as we have intimated, he was
pouring his fury on the head of a grave-looking personage in a black
velvet gown, and having a black skull-cap on his head, who was standing
calmly before him.
Perhaps this individual, whom Charles had no doubt was Judge Lechmere,
recognised his majesty. If so, he gave no sign, but kept his keen grey
eye steadily fixed on the irate general.
"Hark ye, judge," thundered Massey. "'Tis you, and such as you,
supporters of this rebellious Parliament, who ought to suffer most,
and by Heaven you _shall_ suffer. You shall be forced to contribute
largely to the expenses of the war you have compelled his majesty to
undertake for the recovery of his throne. You are fined five thousand
pounds."
"By whom am I fined that large sum?" demanded Lechmere, in a calm
tone. "Not by the king, I am well assured. He would not commit such an
injustice."
"You are fined by me--that is sufficient. I have his majesty's warrant
for all I do."
"Not his written warrant," said the judge.
"I need it not," cried Massey. "What doth your Lord-General, as you
style him? I do not desire to imitate his ruthless and robber-like
proceedings. I do not intend, like him, to plunder churches, hospitals,
and private dwellings. I do not mean to break open chests and carry off
gold by the sack, and plate by the cart-load, as he did at Worcester,
after the first siege. But I will imitate him in one thing. I will
punish wealthy offenders like yourself by fines proportionate to their
means. You have amassed money, I know, and, though a lawyer, I hope
have come by it honestly. Had you been loyal you might have kept your
money. But since you are a rebel, and a favourer of rebels, you shall
disburse your gains for the king's use. You shall pay me the five
thousand pounds I demand."
"And yet you affirm that you design not to plunder me," observed Judge
Lechmere, still with perfect calmness. "What call you this but plunder
on the greatest scale? Better strip my house of all it contains--better
carry off my pictures and my plate--than fine me in a sum so large that
I cannot pay it. Again I say, I am certain the king would not allow
this demand to be made."
"His majesty will approve of what I do," rejoined Massey. "But I will
not bandy words with you. You are now in my court, judge, and my
decision holds good here. I will have the sum I have named--no less.
Two thousand pounds--the first instalment--must be paid before noon on
Thursday. That will give you two days to raise it. If you fail, I will
have you shot in your own court-yard. You hear! No excuses will avail.
Till then you are a prisoner in your own house."
"If I am a prisoner, how am I to raise the money, general?" asked the
judge.
"That is your concern," rejoined Massey. "Have it I must--or you die!"
As he turned to quit the room, he perceived Charles standing behind him.
"Ah! sire," he exclaimed. "I did not know you were here."
"Am I indeed in the king's presence?" exclaimed Judge Lechmere, with
well-feigned astonishment.
"You are in the presence of the sovereign to whom your allegiance is
due, my lord judge," rejoined Charles, with dignity.
"Whatever my feelings may be towards your majesty," said Lechmere, "I
cannot consistently----"
"You dare not declare yourself in my favour, eh, judge?" cried Charles.
"Well, I will give you till Thursday for reflection. Naturally, you are
included in the general pardon I have published, and if you then return
to your allegiance, I shall be disposed to forget the past, and will
remit the heavy fine imposed upon you by General Massey. Nay, I will do
more; I will take you into my favour."
"I thank your majesty for your goodness. I will perpend the matter."
"Methinks it requires little consideration," observed Charles, somewhat
sternly. "You have to choose between your lawful king and a usurper.
You will best consult your own interests in serving me."
"I am inclined to believe so, sire--nay, I am certain--yet give me till
Thursday."
"I have said it," rejoined Charles. "I now leave you in General
Massey's hands."
With a grave bow to the judge, who had rushed forward as if to throw
himself at his majesty's feet, but stopped suddenly, he quitted the
room, followed by Massey.
As he crossed the hall he laughed heartily.
"Your judge will turn Royalist on Thursday, if nothing happens
to-morrow," he said.
On quitting Severn End, Charles accompanied General Massey to Upton.
They rode through Hanley, where a stately pile belonging to the Earls
of Gloucester once stood, and where Massey's troops were now encamped.
The general had with him a detachment of five hundred horse and a
regiment of dragoons, and he assured the king that he felt confident of
preventing the enemy's passage at Upton Bridge, come in what force he
might.
Together they carefully examined the fine old bridge, which, like the
bridges of Worcester and Powick, was somewhat narrow, but had deep
angular recesses. It was strongly built of stone, and had several
arches.
Charles advised its total destruction, but Massey was of opinion that
it would suffice to break down the central arch; and the king giving
his assent, a large body of men was at once set to work upon the task.
After witnessing the commencement of the operations, Charles took leave
of Massey, urging him to be more than ever vigilant, as the safety of
the army now depended on him, and rode on with his escort to Powick.
The security of this important pass seemed to be guaranteed by the
presence of General Montgomery and Colonel Kirke, with two battalions
of foot and a regiment of horse, and Charles, with a mind very much
quieted, crossed the river to Worcester.
CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE COUNSEL GIVEN BY COLONEL LESLEY TO THE KING.
When Charles arrived at the palace, the war council was already
assembled. Several general officers, however, were necessarily absent.
A long and anxious discussion ensued, and great diversity of opinion
prevailed--jealousies having sprung up amongst the commanders. His
grace of Buckingham hated the Duke of Hamilton, and derided his plans;
but his own rash counsels were rejected.
Charles felt sure, he declared, that he should be largely reinforced
by the levies which the Earl of Derby was bringing from Lancashire and
Cheshire. But he cared not if his army should be inferior to that of
the enemy in number.
"There is no fear of treachery," he said. "The loyalty of the citizens
of Worcester is unquestionable. They will fight for me as bravely as
they fought for the king, my father. No defeat will subdue them. But
why do I talk of defeat? Let us speak of the victory, that is certain."
"The next battle must be decisive, sire," remarked the Duke of
Hamilton. "We must conquer, or die."
"We will conquer," cried Charles, energetically.
"We will," cried several voices.
Having remarked that Lesley took no part in the conference, the king
drew him aside and inquired the meaning of his sombre looks.
"Are you afraid of Cromwell?" he asked.
"I am afraid of my own men, sire," replied Lesley. "They are
discontented, and do all I can, I am unable to remove their
dissatisfaction."
"Of what grievance do they complain?" asked Charles.
"I need not remind your majesty, that nearly five thousand Scottish
soldiers have returned to their own country since we crossed the
Border----"
"Deserted, if you please, colonel," interrupted Charles.
"Well, deserted, sire. But they had this excuse. Being zealous
Presbyterians, they had conscientious scruples against establishing the
Episcopal government in England by force of arms; and like sentiments
prevail, to a great extent, among the remainder of the troops. Since
our arrival at Worcester their discontent has perceptibly increased.
They do not like to fight with the Cavaliers. For this reason, they are
not pleased with the Muster about to take place to-day, neither do they
desire to be joined by the levies promised by the Earl of Derby."
"They fear that my devoted adherents may become too strong for them. Is
it not so, colonel?" asked Charles, coldly.
"They deem that a preponderance of the royal party--strictly so
called--though we are all Royalists--would be contrary to the true
interests of Scotland, and to the welfare of the Kirk."
"Ah, I see!" exclaimed the king. "The Committee of the Kirk of Scotland
have troubled their consciences--meddlesome fools that they are! But
you _must_ keep your men in good humour, Lesley. They _must_ fight this
battle. Assure them that I am a zealous partisan of the Covenant, and
that when I ascend the throne I will ratify all the conditions imposed
upon me."
"Humph!" exclaimed Lesley. "I may give them these assurances, but they
will not believe me. So critical do I consider the position, that if
I dared to offer your majesty a counsel, it would be to return to
Scotland without hazarding an engagement."
"Return to Scotland!--never!" exclaimed Charles, indignantly. "How
dare you make a proposition so dishonouring to me, Lesley. I have not
advanced thus far into my kingdom to go back again without a blow."
"I knew my advice would be distasteful to your majesty, but I deemed it
my duty to give it."
"No more!" cried the king. "Quell this mutinous spirit in your men,
Lesley--quell it, by whatever means you can. Mark well what I say, and
fail not to repeat it. When we have routed the rebels--and we _shall_
rout them--those who have fought best for me shall receive the highest
reward."
Before Lesley could make any reply, Pitscottie approached his majesty.
"Where are your Highlanders, colonel?" demanded Charles.
"Drawn up in the college green, sire. I await your orders to march them
to the place of Muster."
"Have they heard that Cromwell is at hand?"
"Ay, sire; and they are eager to meet him."
"No discontent among them--ha?"
"Discontent! No, sire. They were never in better spirits. All
they desire is to prove their zeal to your majesty, and use their
broadswords against the foe."
"Brave fellows!" exclaimed Charles, glancing significantly at Lesley.
"They shall serve as my body-guard to-day."
CHAPTER IX.
OF THE GRAND MUSTER AT PITCHCROFT.
Ever since the old city of Worcester was built and encircled by walls,
Pitchcroft has afforded its inhabitants a delightful place for exercise
and recreation. On this broad, flat plain, bounded on the west by the
Severn, and completely overlooked by a natural terrace on the further
bank of the river, many a grand tournament has been held in the days
of our earlier monarchs. Magnificent pavilions and galleries have been
reared upon the wide mead--splendid cavalcades have come forth from
the city gates--nobles, knights, squires, jesters, and fair dames--and
many a lance has been splintered at the royal jousts of Worcester.
In 1225, these displays incurred the displeasure of the Church--a
grand tournament being held on Pitchcroft in that year, when all the
noble personages concerned in it were excommunicated by Bishop Blois.
Sports and pastimes of all kinds have been familiar to the plain from
time immemorial--games which, by a pretty figure of speech, have been
described as Olympian, and which, we rejoice to say, are not altogether
discontinued. Not only has Pitchcroft been the scene of many a
knightly encounter and many a festive meeting, but when the loyal city
was invested, it witnessed frequent conflicts between Cavaliers and
Roundheads, and one well-fought action, in which the fiery Rupert took
part.
On the morning appointed for the Muster, Pitchcroft was even more
thronged than it had been on the previous Sunday, and presented a
far gayer and more animated appearance. A great number of troops was
assembled there, while the new levies were continually pouring into the
plain through Foregate-street.
Before proceeding to the place of rendezvous, the recruits entered the
city, and halted for a time in the area near the Cross, where their
numbers were registered by the mayor and the sheriff, who acted as
commissioners.
Among the principal names inscribed on the muster-roll were those of
Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, Sir Walter Blount, Sir Ralph Clare,
Sir Rowland Berkley, Sir John Winford, Mr. Ralph Sheldon of Beoley, Mr.
John Washburn of Witchinford, and Mr. Thomas Hornyold.
Lord Talbot's troop, which was far more numerous than any other, was
composed almost entirely of gentlemen, whose accoutrements and horses
were far superior to those of ordinary cavalry. The regiment was
commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Mervin Touchet, and subsequently proved
exceedingly efficient. Every Cavalier who came singly to Worcester was
included in some troop or other.
These arrangements were made by Colonel Lane and Colonel Legge,
assisted by Sir Clement Fisher. As quickly as one troop was filled up,
it was sent off to the place of Muster. It was calculated that two
thousand Worcestershire Cavaliers, including of course retainers and
servants, answered the king's summons on that day.
The sight of so many recruits tended materially to dissipate the alarm
not unnaturally excited by the rumours of Cromwell's near approach.
Having begun to distrust the Scottish soldiers, the citizens were glad
to have some defenders on whom they could confidently rely. For this
reason, as well as for their gallant bearing and handsome equipments,
the recruits were lustily cheered as they appeared on the plain.
A large concourse was collected in Foregate-street, and on the northern
walls, to see the new troops come forth. The Scottish regiments of
cavalry and infantry excited but little curiosity; the chief objects
of interest being the numerous small bodies of horse, extending for a
quarter of a mile on the left--each little troop with its officers in
front.
The effect of this arrangement was extremely good, and delighted the
spectators on the city walls and those on the west bank of the river.
The last troop had just got into its place, when the shrill notes of
the pibroch were heard, and the Highlanders, with Colonel Pitscottie at
their head, marched forth, and were received with cheers by the crowd
assembled in Foregate-street.
Acclamations greeted the king. His majesty looked extremely well, and
charmed the beholders, as he always did, by the extreme affability of
his demeanour. On this occasion he was only attended by Careless and
Colonel Blague. The recruits instantly attracted his attention--their
numbers giving him manifest pleasure--and he expressed his satisfaction
at beholding them audibly to his attendants.
He had not proceeded far, when the mayor and the sheriff advanced to
meet him.
Opening a scroll which he held in his hand, the mayor in a loud
voice recited the long list of loyal gentlemen of the county who had
responded to his majesty's summons. The king looked highly gratified,
and repeated each name as it was given out.
When the mayor had made an end, Charles rode towards Lord Talbot, who
was nearest him on the left, and while surveying his splendid troop
with admiration, called out, so that all might hear him:
"Why, my good lord, these are all gentlemen. Better mounted, better
equipped Cavaliers, I would not desire to see."
"They are _all_ loyal gentlemen," replied Lord Talbot, bowing; "and as
such I am proud to present them to your majesty."
"Long live the king! Confusion to his enemies!" shouted the gallant
band, brandishing their swords.
The shout was caught up by the next troop, which was commanded by Sir
John Pakington, and was echoed far and wide.
After a few complimentary observations to Colonel Touchet, Charles
moved on, inspecting in turn all the new-raised troops. Had loyalty
been chilled in any breast, his majesty's gracious manner would have
kindled it anew--but all were loyal. The king could not help noting
that in almost every troop gentlemen had joined, and horses and
accoutrements were generally so good that officers could scarcely be
distinguished from privates.
Captain Hornyold's troop was stationed near the Scottish cavalry--Sir
Clement Fisher acting as second captain. But the real commander, in the
king's estimation, was Jane Lane, who was posted in front of her steed.
A glance of triumph lighted up her fine eyes as Charles addressed her:
"You only want arms to become a veritable Amazon."
"I will wear them if your majesty commands."
"No, you have brought me so many recruits that it is unnecessary. How
many troops have you helped to fill up?"
"I have done my best, sire, but I have not brought you half so many as
I could desire. The Worcestershire gentry are loyal, but irresolute and
cautious--I will not use stronger epithets. They try to excuse their
lukewarmness on the ground that they suffered so much from fines and
sequestrations during the Civil Wars. But, as I tell them, that is no
excuse. They ought to risk all--sacrifice all, if need be--for their
sovereign. Many have come here to-day. But," she added, with a look
of mingled grief and indignation, "some, on whom I fully counted, are
absent."
"I scarcely miss them. When I have won a battle, they will hasten to
rally round my standard, but I shall know how to distinguish between
late comers, and those who have been true to me in the hour of peril."
"All here are true men, my liege. I would not say as much, for yon
Scottish soldiers." Then lowering her voice so as only to be heard by
the king, she added: "Do not trust Lesley, sire. He may play you false."
"Why do you entertain these suspicions?"
"From what I hear of the conduct of his men, and of his own discourse.
Heaven grant my fears may prove groundless!"
"If Lesley proves a traitor I am undone, for he commands the third of
my army, and his men will obey no other leader. But I will not believe
him false."
"What news has your majesty of the Earl of Derby?" asked Jane, still
in the same whispered accents. "Pardon the question. 'Tis prompted by
the deep interest I feel----"
"No messenger from the earl has arrived as yet. But I have no
apprehensions of a reverse. Doubtless, he is marching hither with the
levies he has obtained, but has been compelled to turn aside from the
direct route to avoid Cromwell."
"Would he were here now!" exclaimed Jane, earnestly.
"I would so too," responded Charles, with equal fervour. "But he will
not fail me at the right moment, and will cut through any opposing
force to join me."
"Is it not strange you have not heard from him, sire?"
"Not so strange--since the enemy is between us. Besides, if he has
not effectually disposed of Lilburn, he may be harassed by him in his
march. A few hours, I trust, will bring me tidings of the friend on
whom I reckon most."
Banishing the gloom that had gathered on his brow during his converse
with Jane, he turned to Captain Hornyold, and delighted that loyal
gentleman by his praises.
Having completed his inspection of the new troops, Charles proceeded
towards the centre of the plain, where Pitscottie and his Highlanders
were drawn up. Here he stationed himself, and immediately afterwards it
became evident, from the movement that took place, that the recruits
were about to march past.
With as much promptitude and precision as if they had belonged to the
regular cavalry, Captain Hornyold's troop came up. By the side of their
leader rode Jane Lane, but she proceeded no further, being called upon
by the king to take a place beside him.
Each little troop rode past in rapid succession--each being commended
by the king in no measured terms--and they all deserved his praises,
for a finer set of men were never got together.
Almost all of them were in the full vigour of manhood, and the ardour
displayed in their looks and bearing, and in the shouts they could
not repress, formed a striking contrast to the sullen visages and
moody silence of the Scottish soldiers, who seemed to regard their new
comrades with aversion.
But the coldness of the Scots was more than compensated for by the
genuine enthusiasm of the citizens, who put no bounds to their
rapturous delight, and shouted lustily as the new troops rode by. Every
officer, and indeed almost every one in each company, being known, they
were familiarly addressed by name, and cheered individually as well as
collectively by the spectators.
After defiling past the king, the troops were formed into four
regiments of five hundred each--respectively commanded by Colonel
Mervin Touchet, Colonel Legge, Colonel Wogan, and Colonel Lane.
Attended by Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, Sir Walter Blount, Sir
Ralph Clare, Sir Rowland Berkley, and Sir John Winford, the king rode
slowly past them--ever and anon raising his hat--and manifesting by his
looks the high gratification he felt.
Amid the loud and reiterated cheers of the concourse, his majesty
then returned to the city--preceded by Colonel Pitscottie and his
Highlanders, and attended by the gentlemen we have just mentioned.
CHAPTER X.
THE BIVOUAC ON THE PLAIN.
Shortly after the king's departure, two of the newly-raised regiments
proceeded to the quarters temporarily assigned them in the city. Next
day they encamped on the west side of the river. The regiments left
behind remained where they were, and commenced their experience of
military life by bivouacking on the plain. They did not undergo much
hardship, since the night was fine and warm, and the moon being nearly
at the full, every object was as distinctly visible as during daytime.
As far as eatables and drinkables were concerned, the newly-enrolled
troops had no reason to complain. Plenty of provisions and an abundant
supply of good liquor--ale, perry, cider, canary, sack, and other
wines, were sent them by the mayor and sheriff. Though novices in the
art of war, the new soldiers were adepts in drinking, and could empty
their cups as well as the oldest campaigner. Every Cavalier was welcome
to a share of their runlet of sack or claret--but they did not invite
the Scottish soldiers.
Though the night was fine and warm, as we have described, they kept up
their fires, and sat around them to a late hour. These groups, with
arms piled, and horses picketed beside them, lent a very picturesque
appearance to this part of the plain. Further on could be seen the
tents of the Scottish soldiers, bathed in moonlight, but few were
stirring near them except the sentinels. It would almost seem as if
the Scots had retired to rest earlier than their wont to avoid hearing
the songs and laughter of their roystering comrades. A great noise was
undoubtedly made, for a dozen Cavalier ditties were chanted at the same
time by different parties. At last, however, the recruits grew tired of
singing, and began to talk of the war. Round each fire were collected
individuals who had fought at both sieges of Worcester, and these now
favoured their companions with their recollections of those stirring
times.
"Nine years ago," said a burly-looking young man, who had been
addressed as Martin Vosper, "I was just nineteen--so you will readily
guess my age now--and I was then 'prentice to Mr. Lysons, the present
worthy mayor of Worcester. The city, as you know, has always been
loyal, and for that reason was regarded from the very first with
especial disfavour by the rebellious Parliament. In 1642, our faithful
Worcester, for I love to call it so, declared for the king, opened its
gates to Sir John Biron and the three hundred Cavaliers he brought with
him, and fortified its walls. The Roundheads did not leave us long
alone. Lord Say and Colonel Fynes, with a large force, laid siege to
the city; whereupon the king sent word from Oxford that he would bring
fifteen hundred horse and twice as many foot to raise the siege. Our
satisfaction at this agreeable intelligence was damped by hearing that
Lord Essex was marching against us with fourteen thousand men; but
just as we were beginning to despair, Prince Rupert, with his brother
Maurice, threw themselves into the city with a large body of troops.
Then we felt able to set Old Noll himself at defiance. Two successful
stratagems were practised. But I must first describe an action that
took place on this very plain. Determined to strike a decisive blow
before Lord Essex could bring up his forces, Prince Rupert, on the
morning after his arrival, with fifteen troops of horse, marched forth
upon Pitchcroft, and, sounding his trumpets loudly, challenged the
enemy to battle. A gallant sight his troops made, I can assure you,
when drawn up on the plain, for I watched them from the northern walls.
A word about the prince. Never did I behold a fiercer-looking man.
His eye went through you like a rapier. But to proceed. At first the
enemy appeared to decline the challenge, but they were ready enough to
fight, as it turned out, only their forces were dispersed. Lord Say and
Colonel Fynes were elsewhere, as I shall presently explain, but Colonel
Sandys and Colonel Austine brought up their regiments, and the conflict
began. 'Twas a splendid sight. What tremendous charges Prince Rupert
made! How he mowed down the Roundheads! Still he could not break their
ranks. The fight lasted for a couple of hours with varying success,
but the advantage seemed to be with the prince, when a troop of horse
was descried coming from the Blockhouse fields, and a cry arose that
it was the Earl of Essex with his reinforcements. The alarm proved
false, for the troops were those of Colonel Fynes, but on seeing them,
the prince ordered an instant retreat, and dashed precipitately into
the city, whither he was followed so quickly by the Republicans, that
the gate could not be shut, and a desperate fight ensued, which lasted
till midnight, the streets resounding all the time with the rattle of
musketry and the clash of steel. Many a Cavalier died that night, but
not before his sword was reddened with the blood of his adversaries.
The corn-market was full of wounded and dying. Prince Rupert might
have succeeded in driving out the Republicans, if they had not been
strongly reinforced by Lord Say. At length the prince was compelled to
abandon the city, but he rode at the rear of his troops and drove back
the Roundheads who sought to follow him across the bridge."
"Those confounded Parliamentarians _can_ fight, it must be owned,"
remarked one of the listeners. "But what were the stratagems you spoke
of just now, Vosper?"
"You shall hear, Simon Terret," replied the other. "But first give me
a cup of sack to drink the king's health, and confusion to all rebels.
From what I am about to relate you will perceive that the conflict
on Pitchcroft was part of a cleverly-devised scheme, that ought to
have succeeded better than it did. Prince Rupert having ascertained
from his scouts that Lord Say had taken a detachment of a thousand
men to Powick, while another equally large detachment had been taken
by Colonel Fynes to Perry Wood--the object of the two Republican
commanders being to surround the prince, as his highness perfectly
understood--he endeavoured to out-manoeuvre them. With this design a
clever spy was sent to Powick, who represented himself as a servant
to the Earl of Essex, and stated, with an air of great plausibility,
that Cromwell had entered Worcester--and that, if Lord Say advanced
immediately, the retreat of the Royalists would infallibly be cut off.
Duped by the man's apparent sincerity, Lord Say acted on the advice,
and fell into an ambuscade that cost him five-and-twenty men. Colonel
Fynes was imposed on in much the same manner. A messenger galloped up
to Perry Wood and informed him that Prince Rupert was advancing with
ten thousand men, whereupon he fell back four miles. But he found out
the stratagem rather too soon. It was his force that subsequently
alarmed Prince Rupert and caused his highness to retreat into the city.
Had not this discovery occurred, the prince would have beaten the enemy
in detail."
"I think I have heard that those two clever spies were hanged,"
remarked Terret.
"Ay marry, were they," replied Vosper. "They were hanged with several
other good citizens and staunch Royalists on a gallows as high as
Haman's, which was set up in the market-place by Old Noll."
"Would Old Noll were hanged on a like gallows!" cried several voices.
"The _Jus Furcarum_ was an enviable privilege," remarked one of the
circle. "If I possessed the right, as did the old priors of St. Mary, I
would hang every Roundhead rogue of them all."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the others.
"Ah! never shall I forget the barbarities practised by Essex's soldiers
when they took the city," observed Vosper. "Heaven preserve us from
a repetition of such dreadful usage. But all these severities did not
check the loyal spirit of the citizens. You recollect the second siege
in 1646, Trubshaw," he observed to another person near him, "when
Worcester was invested by Sir William Brereton and Colonel Birch?"
"Ay, Colonel Henry Washington was governor at the time," replied
Trubshaw--"as brave a man as ever drew sword, and as loyal.[4] Several
skirmishes occurred outside the walls, but there was an affair at
St. John's in which I, myself, took part. The Parliamentary generals
had blockaded the city on that side, lining the approaches to St.
John's with musketeers, and quartering a large force behind the tower.
Determined to dislodge them, Governor Washington sallied forth one
night with a couple of hundred horse, of whom I myself was one, and
five hundred foot. Tybridge-street, which you know leads to the bridge
from St. John's, was strongly barricaded by the enemy, but we drove
back their advanced guard to Cripplegate, where being reinforced by
horse and foot, they made a stand, but they could not resist our brave
commander, who attacked them with such vigour that he quickly routed
them, and would have put them all to the sword if they had not sought
refuge in the church. We set fire to the houses in Cripplegate, so they
could no longer find shelter there. In this sortie we killed a hundred
of the enemy, and took ten prisoners. Our own loss was trifling.
Governor Washington gained much credit by the achievement."
"Not more than he deserved," remarked another of the interlocutors
named Barkesdale. "Governor Washington was a man of undaunted
resolution, as his answer shows, when he was summoned to surrender
the city. 'It may be easy,' he wrote to General Fairfax, 'for your
excellency to procure his majesty's commands for the disposal of this
garrison. Till then I shall make good the trust reposed in me. As for
conditions, if necessitated, I shall make the best I can. The worst I
know, and fear not.'"
"A brave answer!" cried Vosper. "Did you know Captain Hodgkins? 'Wicked
Will,' as he was called by the Roundheads?"
"Know him! ay," rejoined Barkesdale. "Captain Hodgkins drank deeper,
and fought harder, than any Cavalier of his day. One night, after
he had emptied half a dozen flasks of claret, he crossed the bridge
with a small band of boon companions, surprised the enemy's guard
at Cripplegate, drove them back as far as the Bull Ring, which you
know is close to St. John's, and put several of them to the sword. In
returning, he fell from his horse in Tybridge-street, and not being
able to walk, was tossed into a boat and rowed across the Severn.
In another sally, being somewhat more sober, he brought back seven
prisoners."
"Seven prisoners! ha! ha!" laughed the whole circle.
"'Tis a pity he did not die a soldier's death," observed Trubshaw. "His
body was found in the Severn below the city, near Bunshill. Whether he
was accidentally drowned, or thrown into the river, is uncertain."
"Wicked Will's death was a judgment," observed a deep voice behind them.
Trubshaw and some others turned at the remark, and perceived a tall,
thin man, moving away in the direction of the river. Hitherto this
person had eluded observation as he had been standing among the horses.
"A spy has been amongst us!--a Roundhead!" cried Vosper, springing to
his feet.
"Seize the rogue and make him give an account of himself," cried
Trubshaw, likewise starting up. "What ho! stand!" he shouted.
The spy paid no heed to the summons, but speeded towards the river. The
Scottish sentries were too far off to challenge him, and did not fire.
Vosper and Trubshaw started in pursuit. But the spy reached the river
before them, and jumped into a boat, which he had doubtless moored to
the bank.
When his pursuers came up he was pulling vigorously across the stream.
A pistol was fired at him by Vosper, but without effect.
With a mocking laugh he then altered his course, and rowing down the
stream, soon disappeared beneath one of the narrow arches of the bridge.
CHAPTER XI.
COLONEL ROSCARROCK RELATES NOW THE EARL OF DERBY WAS ROUTED AT WIGAN.
Ill news came to Charles on the morrow.
He was in his cabinet with his secretary, Captain Fanshaw, when
Careless entered and informed him that Colonel Roscarrock was without.
"Roscarrock!" exclaimed the king, struck by Careless's looks. "What
news brings he from the Earl of Derby?"
"Ask me not, I beseech you, my liege," rejoined Careless, sadly. "The
colonel will tell his own tale. I grieve to say he is wounded."
Comprehending at once what had occurred, Charles merely said, "Bring in
Colonel Roscarrock."
And as the aide-de-camp departed, he arose and paced the cabinet with
anxious steps, trying to summon his firmness for the painful interview.
Presently Careless returned supporting the colonel, whose left arm was
in a sling.
Roscarrock was a tall, soldier-like, handsome man, but loss of blood
and excessive fatigue gave a haggard expression to his features. The
dusty state of his apparel and boots showed that he had ridden far.
"Alas, sire, I bring you bad news!" he exclaimed, in dolorous accents.
"Be seated, colonel, and I will hear you," said Charles, aiding him to
a chair. "We have sustained a defeat, I perceive, but ere you enter
into details, relieve my anxiety respecting the Earl of Derby."
"His lordship is sore hurt," replied Roscarrock, "but he is in safety,
and will be with your majesty ere many days."
"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Charles, earnestly.
"You have lost many loyal subjects and brave soldiers, sire," pursued
Roscarrock. "Lord Widdrington is mortally wounded, if not dead. Sir
William Throckmorton cannot survive. Sir Thomas Tildesley, Colonel
Boynton, Colonel Trollope, and Colonel Galliard are slain."
"Alas! brave Widdrington! Alas! brave Tildesley! have I lost you?"
ejaculated Charles, mournfully. "Where did this dire disaster occur?"
"At Wigan, in Lancashire, my liege," returned Roscarrock. "At first,
everything promised success. As your majesty's lieutenant, the Earl
of Derby had issued his warrant commanding all your loyal subjects to
meet him in arms at Preston, and he had collected six hundred horse and
about nine hundred foot. With this force he marched to Wigan, with the
design of proceeding to Manchester, where he not only hoped to surprise
Cromwell's regiment of infantry but expected to obtain five hundred
recruits. I need not tell your majesty that I was with his lordship. In
a lane near the town we encountered Colonel Lilburn with a regiment of
horse. Our men shouted loudly as we dashed upon the enemy, and fought
so well that they drove Lilburn to the end of the lane. But a reserve
of horse coming up changed the fortune of the day. What could our raw
recruits do against Lilburn's veterans? Owing to the earl's reckless
daring, he was wounded early in the conflict, which lasted upwards of
an hour. How can I relate the disastrous issue? Suffice it, the rout
was total. Our men were panic-stricken, and could not be rallied.
Hundreds were slain in flight. Pursued by a party of horse, the earl
dashed into Wigan, and turned into a narrow street. Observing an open
door, he flung himself from his steed and entered the house. A woman
recognised him, and barred the door, enabling him to escape through a
garden at the back before the Roundheads could search the house. By a
miracle almost the noble fugitive got out of the town, which was filled
with Parliamentary soldiers, and shaped his course towards the south.
I was proceeding slowly in the same direction, when Providence--for I
like not to call it chance--brought us together near Newport. At the
house of a Royalist gentleman named Watson, we met another true man,
Mr. Snead, who volunteered to conduct us to a lonely house called
Boscobel, standing on the borders of two counties--Shropshire and
Staffordshire--where we could remain safely hidden till our wounds were
healed. We gladly accepted the offer. I rested one night at Boscobel,
when feeling able to proceed to Worcester, I came on. Lord Derby was
too weak to accompany me, but bade me say that your majesty may count
on seeing him in a few days."
"I thought to see him with two thousand men at his back," exclaimed
Charles, in a melancholy and somewhat despondent tone. "But the hope
ought never to have been indulged. Treat it as we may, Roscarrock, this
defeat at Wigan is a heavy blow to our cause. 'Twill encourage the
enemy, and dishearten our own troops. Lilburn will join Cromwell."
"He has already joined him, sire, with his regiment of horse," remarked
Roscarrock. "I should have been here before, had I not experienced much
difficulty in getting nigh Worcester, owing to the enemy's numerous
outposts. Would I had a sword like Widdrington's, and an arm like
his to wield it!" he continued, with a grim smile. "Widdrington cut
down half a dozen dragoons ere he was overpowered. In losing him your
majesty has lost the tallest of your subjects, and the strongest."
"But not the bravest, while hardy Ned Roscarrock is left me," said
Charles. "But you need refreshment and rest, colonel, and you must have
both, or you will never be able to fight for me, and I may call upon
you to attack Lilburn again before long."
"Your majesty will find me ready, call on me when you will," returned
Roscarrock.
With Careless's assistance he then arose and withdrew, leaving the king
alone with his secretary.
CHAPTER XII.
HOW URSO GIVES WAS WEDDED TO MARY RUSHOUT.
Amid his manifold distractions, Careless had not forgotten pretty
Mary Rushout. Twice had he seen her at her grandmother's dwelling in
Angel-lane, but on the second occasion she prayed him with tears in her
eyes never to come to the house again.
"We must part," she said; "and it would have been better if we had
never met. Urso, you know, is exceedingly jealous, and keeps the
strictest watch over me. He saw you enter the house last night, and
waited outside till you departed."
"He must have waited long," remarked Careless, smiling.
"Ah! it's no laughing matter, I can assure you," cried Mary. "Urso is
a terrible man. I won't tell you how bitterly he reviled you, but he
said you had better look to yourself if you came to Angel-lane again.
I shouldn't wonder if he is on the watch now. Ay, there he is of a
surety," she added, stepping towards the little lattice window, and
peeping out into the lane.
"Heed him not," cried Careless, drawing her back. "I was going--but, to
punish him, I'll stay an hour longer."
"No, no--you mustn't--indeed you mustn't!" she exclaimed. "It will
drive him frantic, and when he is in one of his rages, he is capable of
killing me. You must go immediately."
"Impossible, sweetheart. I have much to say to you. Don't trouble
yourself about this jealous Roundhead. Leave me to deal with him. I'll
crop his ears still more closely to his head. Why don't you give him
up?"
"Unluckily, I've plighted my troth to him, or I would."
"Never mind that, sweetheart. I'll liberate you from your pledge."
"You graceless Cavaliers will swear anything, and care not for breaking
your vows--that's what Urso says."
"Truce to Urso. You will believe me, when I swear that I love you."
"No; because I find you do not regard an oath."
"Bah! promise to love me."
"No; because it would be sinful to make such a promise. Urso himself
would say so."
"Urso again!--confound him! I must find means to free you from this
tie--even if I sever it with my sword."
"That won't make me love you--rather hate you. But you must really go.
Pray do not quarrel with Urso."
"If he stops me, I shall assuredly chastise him. Adieu, sweetheart!
Expect me at the same hour to-morrow?"
"No, no--you must not come--indeed, you must not."
But she seemed so little in earnest, that Careless construed her
prohibition in the opposite sense, and believed she wished him to come.
As he went forth, Angel-lane--a narrow street running nearly parallel
with the walls on the north of the city, in the direction of All
Hallows--appeared quite deserted, and he thought that Urso Gives was
gone. But he had scarcely reached the church, when a tall figure
stepped from behind a buttress and barred his path.
"Out of my way, fellow!" he cried, haughtily, feeling sure it was Urso.
"Not till I have spoken with you," rejoined the other, maintaining his
ground.
The Independent then continued, in a stern, menacing voice, "On the
peril of your life, I forbid you to re-enter the house you have just
profaned by your presence. You have beguiled the damsel who dwells
there by your false speeches, and have sought to corrupt her. You
cannot feign ignorance that she is my affianced wife, for I myself
heard her tell you so."
"Since you have been playing the spy, you might easily have learnt that
I am coming again to-morrow night at the same hour," rejoined Careless,
in a mocking tone.
"Think it not," rejoined Urso, fiercely. "Since you will not be
deterred from your evil courses by the warning given you, look to
yourself!"
And suddenly drawing forth the long tuck-sword which he held under his
cloak, he placed its point at the other's breast.
Careless sprang back and so saved his life, and drawing his own sword,
their blades were instantly crossed.
Notwithstanding his eminently peaceful vocation, Urso proved no
contemptible swordsman, and Careless failed to disarm him as soon as he
expected. The clash of steel roused the inmates of the houses, and some
of them opened their doors, but when they perceived that an officer of
rank was engaged with a Roundhead they did not interfere.
Mary Rushout, however, came forth, screaming with terror, and reached
the combatants just as Careless, having knocked Urso's weapon from his
grasp, seized him by the throat, and forced him down upon his knees,
exclaiming:
"Sue for mercy, caitiff hound, or I will despatch thee!"
"Spare him, gentle sir!--spare him!" cried Mary, seizing the Cavalier's
arm.
"He owes his worthless life to your intercession, sweet Mary," cried
Careless, spurning Urso from him. "If he is not sufficiently grateful
for the obligation, let me know, and I will sharpen his gratitude.
Adieu, till to-morrow!"
And sheathing his sword, he strode away.
Quite crestfallen at his discomfiture, and eager to escape from
the jeers of the neighbours who had come forth, Urso picked up his
tuck-sword and hurried back to the house with Mary.
What passed between them need not be recounted. It will be sufficient
to state the result.
Not till the second evening after the occurrence just described, did
Careless return to Angel lane. His duties to the king had detained him
in the interval.
After tapping softly at the door of Mary's dwelling, he raised the
latch, but the door was fastened, and he was compelled to knock more
loudly. Still, no answer to the summons. He listened intently, but
not the slightest sound was to be heard within; neither was any light
visible through the little lattice window.
While he was making another ineffectual attempt to obtain admittance, a
glover, who lived next door, came forth and told him that Dame Rushout
and Mary were gone.
"Gone! whither?" cried Careless.
"That is more than I am able to inform your honour," replied the
glover; "but you are not likely to see Mary again, since Master Gives
has taken her way."
"'Sdeath! did she consent to go with him?"
"She could not very well refuse, seeing that she has become his wife,"
responded the glover.
"Amazement!" cried Careless. "I could not have believed she would wed
him."
"No one expected it, though the marriage has been long talked of,"
said the glover. "But we think her grandam must have wrought upon
Mary to consent--for she herself seemed wondrously reluctant. Be this
as it may, and I cannot speak for certain, she and Urso were married
by the Rev. Laban Foxe, an Independent minister, and soon after the
ceremony--if ceremony it can be called--Urso and his bride, with the
old dame, quitted Worcester."
Careless had heard enough, and strode away to hide his vexation.
CHAPTER XIII.
SHOWING HOW THE KING HAD FORTIFIED THE CITY.
The fortifications of Worcester having now been completely repaired and
considerably extended by Charles, it may be necessary to take another
survey of them.[5]
On the south, the city was provided with a double
enceinte--Sidbury-gate and the Commandery being completely enclosed by
the newly raised lines. On the south-east, the outer fence extended
from Fort Royal almost to Friars'-gate. On the other side, the new
line of fortifications ran towards the Severn, covering the Moat, and
the strong old wall behind it--a boundary wall built by a prior of the
Convent of St. Mary early in the thirteenth century--and forming an
outer defence to the Castle Mound, with which it was connected. The
Castle Hill, as we have already had occasion to remark, was strongly
fortified, and had become almost as formidable as Fort Royal itself,
with which it was now linked by the new line of fortifications. These
new fortifications were necessarily not very strong, but they answered
their purpose. In the fields opposite Friar's-gate, and facing Perry
Wood, stood an old blockhouse, which had more than once fallen into
the hands of the former besiegers of the city. Dismantled by Colonel
James, the Blockhouse had now been put into repair, and was garrisoned
and provided with ammunition, its commander being Colonel Blague, on
whose courage and fidelity Charles could perfectly rely. The district
in which the old fortress stood is still known as the "Blockhouse
Fields." Right and left of St. Martin's-gate, which looked towards
King's Hill, as the acclivity was naturally enough designated after
Charles's encampment upon it, a new bastion had been constructed. Two
more bastions strengthened the northern ramparts, and at the north-west
angle of the walls, not far from St. Clement's Church, removed in later
times, stood a strong fort, the guns of which commanded the bridge. The
tower in the centre of the bridge was well armed and well manned, as
was the fort at the western extremity of the bridge. Proceeding along
Tybridge-street to Cripplegate, the scene of many a former conflict
in the days of Sir John Biron and Governor Washington, and of wild
Will Hodgkins's mad exploits, we come to St. John's, where General
Dalyells's brigade was quartered--all the approaches to this out-work
being as strongly barricaded, as when the dangerous suburb formed a
Leaguer for the Parliamentarians in 1646.
From the foregoing hasty survey, it will be seen that the city was now
in a thorough state of defence, and was especially strong on the south
and south-east. Owing to the active zeal and forethought of the mayor
and the sheriff, it was abundantly provisioned and well stored with
forage.
On the enemy's approach, as a precautionary measure, it was resolved
by the council of war to burn all the suburbs on the north and east--a
determination that inspired great terror, since Foregate-street
contained a large number of inhabitants, and Lawrence-lane, leading
from Friars'-gate to the Blockhouse was also a populous district.
Fort Royal now mounted some large ordnance, and was regarded by
its defenders as impregnable. Including the fortifications, it
contained upwards of fifteen hundred men, among whom were the most
skilful engineers in the royal army. Fort Royal was commanded by Sir
Alexander Forbes, an officer of great experience and resolution, and
distinguished as the first knight made by Charles in Scotland. The
Duke of Hamilton's head-quarters were at the Commandery--a hospital
founded in the eleventh century by Bishop Wulstan, the saintly prelate
who commenced the present cathedral. Two centuries later, the Master
of the Hospital assumed the title of Preceptor, or Commander, whence
the designation of the structure. The Commandery is one of the most
picturesque old edifices in Worcester. Of its beautiful refectory,
roofed with Irish oak, in which the king dined with the duke on the day
before the battle, we shall have to speak hereafter.
The command of the fort on the Castle Mound had been intrusted to the
Earl of Rothes, Sir William Hamilton, and Colonel Drummond, who had
under them two brigades of Scottish infantry, with some artillery.
Colonel Lesley's regiment of cavalry was encamped on the slopes of
King's Hill. But the main body of the army, including the newly-raised
troops, had now been moved to the western side of the river, where the
camp extended for some miles towards Malvern. Pitscottie was stationed
at Wick, midway between St. John's and Powick, near a cherry orchard,
in which, nine years previously, the ambuscade was successfully laid
for Lord Say. Montgomery and Keith were at Powick. Scattered troops
were encamped on the left bank of the Severn almost as far as Upton,
where General Massey, as we know, was posted to defend the pass.
Such was the disposition of the royal forces--when it was found
that Cromwell was pushing his outposts round the city on the south
and south-east, and that the main body of the Parliamentary army
was between Stoulton and White Lady Aston, which latter place the
Lord-General himself had made his head-quarters.
Charles was not much disquieted by the intelligence. His spirit rose
with the difficulties he had to encounter, and his cheerfulness and
gaiety inspired confidence in all with whom he conversed. But he had
not overcome his suspicions of Lesley, and these suspicions were
almost confirmed by the conduct of the Scottish leader, who persisted
in maintaining his post on King's Hill, whence secret communication
with the enemy might most easily be held.
Jane Lane still remained in Worcester. Charles entreated her to quit
the city before hostilities commenced, but she refused.
"I shall not go unless your majesty commands," she said. "Then I must
perforce obey. But I beseech you to let me remain. I may be of some
use; and my brother will take care of me."
Naturally, there was much speculation amongst the Royalist leaders
as to where the attack would begin, some mentioning one place, some
another; but Jane ventured to remark to the king that the first blow
would be struck at Upton-on-Severn. She had ridden thither with her
brother and Sir Clement Fisher, and while they were examining the
broken bridge with General Massey, her quick eye detected a small
reconnoitring party of the enemy in an orchard on the opposite side
of the river. The Parliamentarians were quickly put to flight by a
few musket-shots from Massey's dragoons, but Jane declared they would
return, and in much greater force. And she was right.
CHAPTER XIV.
BY WHAT MEANS GENERAL LAMBERT GAINED THE PASS AT UPTON BRIDGE.
Early next morning--August 28th--Major-General Lambert, who had
crossed the Avon at Pershore on the previous day, and passed the night
at Strensham, advanced with a regiment of horse and three troops of
dragoons towards Upton Bridge, with the condition of which he had
been made acquainted by the reconnoitring party he had sent on. No
information of his movements reached Massey, and as he approached
the river he was sheltered by the orchard previously described. On
examination he found that, although the central arch of the bridge was
destroyed, a plank had been most incautiously laid across the piers for
the convenience of foot-passengers. Moreover, not more than three or
four dragoons were on guard at the time. How so important a passage, on
the security of which the royal army mainly depended, chanced to be so
slenderly guarded, seemed inexplicable to him. Nevertheless, he greatly
rejoiced, and firmly believed that Providence had favoured him.
At the very time when they ought to have been on the look-out,
watching for their active and daring foe, Massey's troops were
scattered about the single street, which formed the quiet little town,
as careless and unconcerned as if no surprise were to be apprehended,
and the fate of a great kingdom did not depend upon their vigilance.
General Massey himself was at breakfast at the little hostel, and not a
single officer was on duty. It is true they were close at hand, since
the street led direct to the bridge, but not near enough, as the event
showed.
General Lambert could not have chosen a more opportune moment for his
approach. He had taken the Royalists completely unawares, and they
certainly betrayed unpardonable negligence. Even the few dragoons on
guard seemed half asleep, and were reclining drowsily against the
parapets of the bridge.
Nothing could be more peaceful--nothing more lovely than the scene--and
yet how soon, how terribly, was its calmness to be disturbed!--its
beauty destroyed! Round the tower of the grey old church the swallows
were wheeling; some sounds arose from the quiet little town, but
they were not unpleasant to the ear; a few barks were moored to the
bank below the town, but their owners seemed infected by the general
indolence, as did some other persons who were fishing lower down the
stream. The smooth, broad river flowed calmly on, save where its
current encountered the remains of the broken arch of the bridge,
against which it split and struggled. Partly destroyed as it was, the
old stone bridge somewhat marred the peaceful character of the scene,
yet it did not detract from its effect. Lambert was struck with the
beauty of the view as he gazed at it, yet he hesitated not to play the
part of a destroyer.
"Look yonder, Corporal Lightbound," he cried to a sour-visaged soldier
near him. "Behold how these malignants keep guard. When they should be
watchful, they are eating and drinking, or slumbering on their posts.
They have broken their bridge to hinder us, yet have they foolishly
laid down a plank whereby we may pass over and destroy them. Of a truth
this is the Lord's doing. He has delivered them into our hands. Thou,
corporal, art chosen for the work. Take with thee a score of musketeers
on whom thou canst best rely. Cross over the plank as quickly as thou
mayest, and possess thyself of the church. Thou canst easily maintain
the post till I come to thine aid. The river must be fordable yonder,"
he added, pointing to a place below the bridge, where the current was
rushing swiftly over a pebbly bed, and where a man who had reached a
large stone, almost in the mid-stream, was fishing. The Severn, we
may incidentally remark, had not then been dammed up at intervals, as
is now the case, to preserve a constant depth of water for trading
navigation.
"Truly, a fording party might well cross yonder, general," remarked
Lightbound.
"The position yon man has attained proves it. He must have waded to
that stone. There I will cross with the whole of my force."
"You will find me within the church with my men, general."
"I nothing doubt it," rejoined Lambert. "Fear not. The Lord is with
thee, and will enable thee to surprise the enemy. And now about the
work."
A man of great resolution, and appalled by no danger, Corporal
Lightbound instantly obeyed. Selecting twenty musketeers, each as
stalwart and fearless as himself, and bidding them follow him, he left
the orchard.
So unlooked-for was the attempt, that the attacking party reached the
bridge, and indeed were only a few yards from the broken arch, before
they were discovered by the drowsy guard.
"Let me go first, corporal," said a soldier. "Thy life is more precious
than mine."
"Nay, Zachariah; the command belongs of right unto me," cried
Lightbound, sternly and authoritatively. "I may not yield it--and I
will not."
But Zachariah pressed forward, and went on to his death.
So offended was Corporal Lightbound at this act of insubordination,
that he allowed all the others to pass on before him, whereby his own
life was preserved.
Meantime the Royalist guard, aroused at last to a sense of danger,
shouted loudly, "Arms! arms!" and sprang forward to dispute the passage.
The foremost of them discharged his musket at Zachariah, who was now
crossing the plank, sword in hand. The shot took effect. Zachariah
tottered, and fell upon the huge stones lying beneath him, scarce
covered by water.
Another shot was instantly fired, and did execution upon the second
soldier, who likewise dropped into the river.
The Royalists shouted, but their triumph was short-lived, for the
bullets of the musketeers killed them both, and their comrades took to
their heels.
By this time the call to arms having been loudly beaten, troopers and
dragoons came rushing from the street to the scene of action. But they
were not quick enough to prevent the assailing party from gaining
possession of the church, the door of which, fortunately for them,
chanced to be left open.
Everything favoured them, and they might well think, as their leader
affirmed, that Heaven had declared itself on their side.
No sooner had they entered than the church door was closed and barred.
Musketeers were placed at each window--with others behind them--and
every possible precaution for the defence of the place was taken by
Corporal Lightbound. Churches constantly served as fortresses in those
days--and very good fortresses they made, as we see.
Cursing his own imprudence, General Massey rushed from the little
hostel, sprang on his charger, and galloped to the bridge, followed by
a small body of cavalry.
His first aim was to dislodge the detachment that had gained possession
of the church, but when he rode into the churchyard with his troopers
for this purpose, they were received by a well-directed volley from
within, that killed several men and horses, and threw the rest of the
troop into confusion. Massey himself was wounded in the hand.
Nothing daunted, the Royalists rode close up to the windows, fired
their pistols into the church, and tried to reach their enemies, with
their swords, but did them little hurt. The Parliamentarians, on the
contrary, returned the fire with deadly effect, being able to aim
deliberately at their opponents.
With the second volley, the churchyard was strewn with horses and
wounded and dying men. Attempts were made by the Royalists to force an
entrance to the church, but the windows were secured by bars, and the
door being fashioned of stout oak and clamped with iron, their efforts
were futile, and only excited the derision of the enemy.
By this time a regiment of cavalry had come up, and all seemed over
with the brave men in the church. Massey ordered the door to be blown
open; but ere a petard could be fixed to it, a fresh alarm was given.
The main body of the enemy was at hand.
While the attack on the church was taking place, Lambert had succeeded
in fording the river at the place he had indicated, without any loss
whatever, and was now hastening with his whole force to support the
small detachment previously sent over.
Massey prepared to meet him, but his troops were utterly unable to
resist the overwhelming force brought against them. Their ranks were
broken on the first charge, and they made a headlong retreat into
Upton, all Massey's efforts to check them being vain.
On gaining the street, which, as we have said, led to the bridge, they
were reinforced, and faced the foe; but the conflict was of short
duration, and ended in the complete rout of the Royalists, numbers of
whom were slain.
Massey performed desperate acts of valour, needlessly exposing his life.
Surrounded by a party of dragoons, he extricated himself; and although
wounded in the attack on the church, and subsequently hit in several
places--two horses being shot under him--he managed to conduct his
shattered troops safely to Worcester.
Pursuit was not continued far by Lambert, who was more intent on
securing the pass he had gained than anxious to destroy the enemy. He
knew the immense importance attached by Cromwell to the possession of
Upton Bridge, and he also knew the effect its loss would inevitably
have on the young king's fortunes.
Master of the all-important pass, he ordered the bridge to be repaired
with all possible despatch.
CHAPTER XV.
HOW CROMWELL RECONNOITRED THE CITY FROM RED HILL.
No attempt was made by either of the Royalist commanders stationed on
the western side of the Severn to repair Massey's disastrous defeat
at Upton. The first tidings received of the conflict by Dalyell were
from the wounded general himself, and it was then too late to act.
Montgomery did not dare to quit his post at Powick, nor to detach Keith
with any troops. Early next day, Upton Bridge having been sufficiently
repaired to allow them to pass over it, Lambert was joined by
Fleetwood, Ingoldsby, and Harrison, with their regiments of horse and
foot; so there were now ten thousand Parliamentary soldiers at Upton.
The Royalist troops encamped at Old Hills, on Newland-green, and at
Lewthorn, drew closer to Worcester, and a new camp was formed between
Upper Wick and Pitmarston.
No one profited more by Lambert's victory than Judge Lechmere. Not
only did he escape payment of the fine imposed upon him by Massey,
which became due on the very day when that general was worsted, but
he got rid of his obnoxious guests, and avoided all further pains
and penalties, for if Massey had not been compelled to beat a hasty
retreat, he would assuredly have carried him off as a prisoner. As soon
as he could venture forth with safety, the judge rode over to Upton to
congratulate Lambert on his victory. At the same time, he begged him to
make Severn End his head-quarters. The Parliamentary general willingly
accepted the offer, and was installed that night in the room which
his adversary had quitted in the morning, with the full intention of
returning to it.
Next day, the other generals who had just crossed the river were
established at Severn End, and treated by the judge with the greatest
hospitality. Whatever personal annoyance he had endured, Judge Lechmere
could not complain that his house had been damaged or plundered by the
Cavaliers; and this was more than could be said of Captain Hornyold's
residence--Blackmore Park--which was stripped by the rapacious
Republicans, Colonels Goff and Gibbons. Madresfield Court was summoned
by Fleetwood to surrender, but the commander of the garrison refused,
and the siege was postponed.
Lambert's victory was in the highest degree satisfactory to Cromwell.
The seizure of the pass at Upton Bridge was part of the Lord General's
plan, but it had been accomplished more expeditiously than he had
anticipated. Though some miles off on the south of the city with the
main body of his army, he was in constant communication with his
generals, and directed all their movements. On the 28th of August, as
we have previously mentioned, he made White Lady Aston, distant about
five miles from Worcester, his head-quarters; and on that evening he
was joined by Colonel Lilburn, who had arrived with his victorious
troops from Wigan, in Lancashire.
The old manor-house of White Lady Aston, which originally belonged to
a nunnery of the Benedictine order, situated in the northern suburbs
of Worcester, was now occupied by Mr. Symonds, and by this gentleman,
a thorough-going Republican, Cromwell was heartily welcomed. Almost
midway between this place and Red Hill, until quite recently, had stood
another fine old manor-house, belonging to Sir Robert Berkeley, and it
was in this large mansion, the position of which perfectly suited him,
that the Lord General meant to fix his quarters; but he learnt from his
friend Mr. Symonds that the mansion no longer existed--it having been
burnt down only three days previously by the Scottish Presbyterians,
because Sir Robert Berkeley, its owner, when one of the Justices of the
King's Bench in the time of the late king, had given his opinion for
ship money.
Judge Berkeley, we may remark, had been very hardly used. Impeached
for high treason, he was fined twenty thousand pounds, deprived of
his office, and imprisoned in the Tower. His house had been plundered
by the Parliamentarians in the first siege of Worcester, and now
it was burnt down by the soldiers of the sovereign, whose cause he
warmly supported. Nevertheless, his loyalty was unimpaired. It is to
this high-minded and charitable man that Worcester owes the Berkeley
Hospital.
As Cromwell rode through Spetchley Park, on his way to Red Hill, early
next morning, he stopped to look at the blackened ruins of the fine old
mansion, with which he had been well acquainted, and though not easily
moved, he was touched by its melancholy aspect. A pleasant spot it had
been, but it was now an utter ruin--nothing being left standing except
the stables.
"These Scots," he remarked to Dighton, an inferior officer of his life
guards, who was in constant attendance upon him, "have done worse than
the men of Ephraim did, when they threatened to burn down Jephtha's
house upon him with fire. 'Tis a mean and dastardly revenge, and they
will pay for it. Those stables are large," he said, observing them
carefully; "and the rooms connected with them must be commodious. I
will pass the night here. Hold thy peace, Dighton. I know what thou
wouldst say--but I care not if the rooms have been occupied by grooms."
Dighton gave the necessary orders while the Lord General rode slowly
along the noble avenue of elm-trees that led to the place where the old
mansion once stood. Within Spetchley Park, which was charmingly wooded,
and contained a fine sheet of water, the main body of the Parliamentary
army was encamped. Next came Lord Grey of Groby's brigade, and the camp
continued, at intervals, to Red Hill, where Lilburn's regiment was now
stationed.
As Cromwell approached Red Hill, he heard the sound of cannon, and,
quickening his pace, soon learnt that the guns of Fort Royal had opened
upon Lilburn's troops while they were taking up a position on the
heights.
As no damage was done, Colonel Lilburn did not return the fire. "Let
them waste their ammunition if they will," he said to his engineers.
"They have not too much to spare."
Cromwell was of the same opinion.
"It would be useless to cannonade them from these heights," he said to
Lilburn. "But I will soon get near enough to reach them."
Accompanied by a regiment of musketeers and a train of artillery, he
then rode on to Perry Wood, which, as we know, faced Fort Royal, and,
in order that the movement might not be discovered by the Royalists, he
shaped his course through the Nunnery Wood, so designated because it
had once belonged to the old convent we have alluded to in describing
White Lady Aston, and entered Perry Wood, where his men could be
hidden. He then gave orders that during the night a strong breastwork
should be raised on the south of the hill, and a battery of heavy guns
mounted, which would command Fort Royal.
This done, he returned as he came, attended only by a small escort; but
he halted for a short time at the Nunnery Farm to see what the enemy
were about. The engineers on Fort Royal had not made any discovery
of the troops concealed in Perry Wood, and were still firing away
uselessly at Lilburn's camp on Red Hill.
Throughout the day the Lord General remained with Lilburn, and together
they reconnoitred the enemy from various points of Red Hill, examining
the new lines of fortifications, which surprised them by their extent,
and being much struck by the formidable appearance of the Castle Mount.
But they had troops as well as fortifications to examine--the main body
of the king's army being now posted on this side of the city.
This was what they beheld. From Friars'-gate on the east to the
south-west angle of the fortifications near the river, the city was
surrounded by troops. Lesley's brigade had descended from King's Hill,
and now occupied the Blockhouse fields. This Scottish cavalry seemed
to give Cromwell little uneasiness, and he smiled as he pointed them
out to Lilburn, but he did not regard with equal indifference the large
force under the Duke of Hamilton, which occupied the London-road, and
commanded the approach to the Sidbury-gate. Nor did either of them
think lightly of the regiments respectively commanded by the Duke of
Buckingham, Lord Wilmot, Colonel Legge, and Colonel Lane. Lilburn
thought General Middleton's brigade likely to give him trouble.
Middleton's troops were posted near the river, on the spot where
Diglis's Bowling-green was subsequently laid out.
Such was the disposition of the royal forces on the south and
south-east sides of Worcester when the two Parliamentary leaders
examined them from Red Hill. Cromwell looked upon the troops as
already scattered and consumed. But Lilburn was struck by their
gallant appearance, and did not refuse them the tribute of a soldier's
admiration.
CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH MASSEY PROPOSES A NIGHT ATTACK ON THE ENEMY.
The greatest consternation reigned within the city. Massey's defeat
at Upton had been felt as a heavy blow, and the boldest amongst the
Cavaliers were much discouraged by it. The appearance of the enemy on
the southern heights increased the alarm of the citizens, and some of
the most timorous began to think of flight. For the credit of the loyal
city, and its brave inhabitants, we are happy to record that these were
very few in number. A proclamation was made that all who desired to
depart might do so, but none availed themselves of the permission. The
excitement caused by the movement of the troops, and the cannonade from
Fort Royal, soon roused the spirits of the citizens, and enabled them
to shake off their depression. Charles showed no symptoms of misgiving;
but on the contrary, seemed full of energy and resolution. He paid an
early visit to Massey, whose wounds had detained him at St. John's, but
did not reproach the unfortunate general. Massey, however, could not
sufficiently deplore his error.
"I have committed a great fault," he said. "Your majesty may forgive
me; but I can never forgive myself. Here I am, stretched on this couch,
when I ought to be with my regiment! Oh! that Heaven would grant me
sufficient strength to meet the enemy."
"Make yourself easy, general," replied Charles, kindly. "You will soon
be able to serve me again."
"I trust so, sire," groaned Massey. "I shall die if I am kept here
long. Cromwell, I am told, has appeared on Red Hill."
"Lilburn's regiment is on the brow of the hill. Cromwell is at
Spetchley," replied Charles.
"And I am here, and cannot face them," cried the wounded man, in a tone
of anguish.
"Be patient," said Charles.
"I cannot be patient, sire, when I think what might be done. Were I
able to move, I would attack Cromwell in his head-quarters this very
night, and either slay him, or sell my life in the attempt. But I
cannot do it--I cannot do it," he added, sinking back with a groan.
"A night attack might be made upon Lilburn--or upon an outpost,"
observed Charles.
"That is not enough, sire," rejoined Massey, raising himself, and
speaking with such earnestness that for the moment he forgot his
wounds; "Cromwell himself must be reached. I would give twenty lives,
if I had them, to win you the crown."
"I feel your devotion," said Charles. "The attempt might be successful,
but it is so desperate that none but yourself would make it."
"Yes, sire, there are others--many others--who would not shrink from
the task, but the bravest, the most determined, the most trustworthy of
your generals, is Middleton. Let him take my place."
"Will he take it, think you?"
"Joyfully, sire. I will answer for him as I would for myself. He will
need fifteen hundred of the best horse and foot. Let him take with him
Sir William Keith and Colonel Legge. Both can be relied on. Let the
word be 'Death to the Regicide!' But they must not return until their
work is accomplished."
"I will summon a council forthwith, and lay the matter before them,"
said Charles.
"I pray you do not, sire," rejoined Massey, earnestly. "If the
enterprise is to succeed, it must be kept secret. Confide it only to
those you can trust, as the Duke of Hamilton, Colonel Drummond, and Sir
Alexander Forbes. Above all, let not Lesley hear of it. One word more,
sire, and I have done. The camisade must take place to-night--an hour
after midnight--when the rebels are lulled to repose. Then Middleton
must dash through Lilburn's camp, and cut his way through all other
obstacles to Spetchley."
[Illustration: ROOM IN THE COMMANDERY.]
"I am half inclined to lead the attack myself," said the king.
"It must not be, sire. You would throw away your life. The chances are
a thousand to one against Middleton's return. But, that matters little
if he can accomplish his object. Should the enterprise succeed you will
forgive me the loss of Upton Bridge."
"I have already forgiven you," replied Charles. "I will see Middleton
forthwith."
And, bidding Massey a kindly farewell, he took his departure.
The king had intended to visit the camp just formed at Wick, but his
plans being now changed, he crossed the bridge, and sent on Careless
with a message to Middleton, who was posted outside the city, opposite
Frog Gate, with his regiment, bidding the general attend him without
delay at the Commandery, and bring with him Sir William Keith and
Colonel Legge. We have already mentioned that the Duke of Hamilton was
quartered at the Commandery, and on the king's arrival at the ancient
hospital, he found the duke in the refectory--a large and beautifully
proportioned hall, with an open roof of richly ornamented woodwork, a
minstrel's gallery, and lofty windows, filled with exquisitely painted
glass. With the duke was Sir Alexander Forbes, the commander of Fort
Royal, and the king remained in converse with them until Careless
appeared with General Middleton and the others.
The whole party then adjourned to an inner room, better adapted than
the refectory, for secret discussion, and Careless was stationed at the
door to prevent all chance of interruption.
The apartment looked on a small garden, and the day being extremely
warm, one of the windows was unluckily left open--unluckily, we
say, for a personage outside, apparently a gardener, contrived to
place himself so near it, that he overheard all that passed within.
The conference did not last long. General Middleton, as Massey had
foreseen, at once undertook the daring enterprise, and both his
companions were eager to share the danger with him.
When all had been discussed and settled, General Middleton said to the
king:
"Your majesty need not fear that the design will be betrayed. Not till
the latest moment shall the men know on what enterprise they are to be
employed, and even then they shall not be aware of our precise aim.
Before dawn your majesty shall hear that the blow has been struck, and
if I cannot come myself, some one more fortunate will bring you the
glad tidings."
With this, he took his departure with his companions.
CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE SUBURBS OF THE CITY WERE BURNT.
Every moment of that eventful day had its employment for the king,
who had now a most painful duty to perform. Most reluctantly had he
given his assent to the execution of the stern decree of the council
of war, which enjoined that all persons dwelling without the walls
should remove their goods forthwith, and take refuge within the city,
since it was necessary that their habitations should be burnt down,
in order that they might not afford shelter to the foe. Now, the
suburbs of Worcester, as we have already explained, were extremely
populous, and consequently great numbers of houses--indeed, several
small streets--were thus doomed to destruction. The greater part of
the luckless occupants obeyed the mandate without a murmur, though
it deprived them of a home. The mayor, the aldermen, and the sheriff
rendered every assistance in their power, and the goods of the poor
folks thus ousted, were temporarily placed in the churches. The king
expressed his profound sympathy for the sufferers, and promised them
compensation for their losses. Alas! it was but a promise.
The occasion called forth the active zeal of Jane Lane, and never
had it been more energetically displayed. Accompanied by Sir Clement
Fisher and her brother, she rode through all the districts destined to
destruction, and wherever she found a little crowd assembled, or heard
murmurs, she halted and earnestly exhorted submission to the decree.
"Blame not the king," she said, "for this severe measure, but blame
the great rebel and regicide, who has rendered it necessary. It is
Cromwell, the murderer of your martyred sovereign, who comes hither to
ravage your city, and slay your rightful king, that he may set himself
up in his place, who thus drives you from your homes. Charles, your
king, loves you, and would save you from this ruthless general and his
fierce and fanatical soldiery, who will put you all to the sword if
they obtain the victory. Resist, therefore, to the uttermost. Better
that your houses should be burnt down than that they should afford
shelter to such an enemy. Better your wives should be driven forth than
exposed to the insults of Cromwell's soldiery. Quit your homes without
hesitation and without murmuring, but with the deep determination to be
avenged upon the foe. 'Tis a sacrifice you are called upon to make for
your king--but we all make sacrifices for him. Right, justice, truth
are on our side: treason of the darkest dye, rebellion and oppression,
are on the other. Fight for your lawful king. Place your trust in
Heaven, and you will triumph over these bloodthirsty rebels."
While uttering these stirring words, which produced an extraordinary
impression upon those who heard them, she looked as if inspired. Her
beautiful features assumed a very different expression from that which
they ordinarily wore. For the moment they had lost all their softness,
and when speaking of Cromwell, her eyes flashed as with lightning, her
proud nostrils distended, and her delicate lips curled fiercely. Her
beauty, her energetic language, and fiery looks produced, as we have
said, the strongest effect upon her auditors, and roused within them
a burning desire of vengeance. No longer they thought it a hardship
to quit their homes, but were eager to fight for the king, and, if
need be, lay down their lives for him. All feelings of discontent were
subdued, and the greatest enthusiasm for the royal cause was awakened.
Even the women who listened to her were almost as much roused as their
husbands. Nor when she had departed did the effect of her eloquence
subside. Wrath against Cromwell had now taken possession of every
breast. Old Noll was the real author of the cruel decree. Old Noll had
driven them from their homes. Old Noll would burn down the city itself,
and massacre them all, men, women, and children, if he could. But the
king would prevent it. Long live the king!--Down with the Republic!
Night had come on before all the necessary preparations were completed.
Combustibles having been placed in most of the houses, and bands of men
employed to set fire to them at a given signal, the conflagration began
almost simultaneously on every side, and in a surprisingly short space
of time the city was encompassed by a semicircle of fire. The spires
and towers of the churches caught the red reflection of the flames, and
a ruddy glow illumined the massive roof and tower of the cathedral. All
the principal buildings were lighted up.
Viewed from the heights, it seemed as if the fire, which burnt with
great fierceness, was gaining upon the walls and gates; but this was
not so, all needful precautions having been taken to prevent its too
near approach. Luckily the night was almost calm. A gentle breeze from
the south carried the flames from the city. Overhead hung a cloud of
smoke. The spectacle was magnificent; the soldiers could be seen on
the gates and walls, the engineers on the summit of Fort Royal and
the Blockhouse, while all the troops outside the city were clearly
distinguishable.
The conflagration did the Royalists an unexpected service by revealing
the engineers engaged in raising the breastwork in front of Perry Wood.
The operations of these men were quickly stopped by the guns of Fort
Royal, to which they offered an excellent mark. Two artillerymen and a
matross were killed, and the rest dispersed.
The defenders of the fort, having thus learnt that a detachment of the
enemy was hidden in Perry Wood, continued their cannonade briskly, and
sent shot into different parts of the thicket in the hope of dislodging
the Parliamentarians. Little did they think that among those whom they
had driven off was the Lord General himself, who chanced at the time
to be superintending the construction of the breastwork. One of the
artillerymen was killed close beside him.
With the utmost calmness, Cromwell gave orders to the engineers to
suspend their work till the fire had burnt out, and then deliberately
withdrew to a place of safety, whence he watched the progress of the
conflagration, the cause of which he had comprehended from the first.
Several shots passed over his head and shattered the trees beyond him,
as he stood behind a hedge bank with his constant attendant Dighton.
His curiosity was excited, for the fortifications were more completely
revealed by this fierce glare than by daylight. He could count the
large guns on Fort Royal, and the sakers, demi-cannons, culverins, and
falcons on the Blockhouse.
"Ha!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Methinks I see the young man, Charles
Stuart, on the summit of yon blustering fort, which he took from
Colonel James, and which I shall soon retake from him. Were he wise,
he would stop this furious and senseless cannonading. But the noise
pleases him. Dost note what he has done, Dighton?"
"He has fortified the city strongly, according to my opinion, your
excellency."
"Ay, he has fenced it--doubly fenced it with high walls and
bulwarks--he has armed his forts better than I thought he could have
done, chiefly yon new fort on the Castle Hill, for this Blockhouse hath
no real ordnance--and he hath placed his troops with some judgment;
but neither troops nor defences will avail him. There will soon be a
breaking down of the walls, and then woe to those within the city that
has upheld him. I shall not spare them. England must never again be
invaded by a Stuart."
"This pretender to the throne must die on the same scaffold as his
father at Whitehall," observed Dighton.
"'Twere better he should die here at Worcester," rejoined Cromwell,
sternly. "Then these bigoted fools cannot make a martyr of him. In any
case, he must not escape to give me further trouble. I mean not that he
troubles me, but the state."
"I quite understand your excellency."
"Mark well what I say to thee, Dighton," pursued Cromwell. "On the 3rd
of last September, as thou knowest well, a great victory was wrought
at Dunbar; but on the anniversary of that day, now close at hand, a
still greater victory will be achieved here at Worcester. The false
light that has deluded so many will then be as utterly extinguished
as yon fire will be ere long, and nothing more will be heard of
Charles Stuart and his pretensions to the throne. But the power of the
army must then be recognised, and----" He paused, as if unwilling to
complete the sentence.
But Dighton finished it for him, by adding:
"And the ruler of the country can be no other than the Lord General
Cromwell."
"I do not desire to rule, Dighton; but I would have my country well
governed and wisely."
"And no one could govern it so wisely and so well as your
excellency--of that I am assured."
"Thou flatterest me," said Cromwell, not displeased. "But this is idle
talk. The decisive battle has yet to be fought."
"I look upon it as already won," rejoined Dighton. "As the Lord
instructed Joshua how to take Ai, so will he instruct a greater general
than Joshua how to take this rebellious city."
"That the great work will be perfected I nothing doubt," said Cromwell.
"But I have seen enough of yon burning houses, and will tarry here
no longer. I must visit all the outposts, in case a sally should be
made; though, judging from appearances, I do not think aught will be
attempted to-night."
He then made his way through the wood, closely followed by Dighton,
and ere many minutes reached a sheltered spot where his escort awaited
him. Mounting his charger he next proceeded to the camp at Red Hill,
where he found Colonel Lilburn and Lord Grey on horseback and attended
by several officers. They had been watching the conflagration which was
now almost extinguished. Cromwell and Lilburn visited all the outposts,
after which the Lord General rode through the park to Spetchley.
CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW URSO GIVES HAD AN INTERVIEW WITH THE LORD GENERAL IN THE STABLE OF
SPETCHLEY MANOR-HOUSE.
Viewed by torchlight, as Cromwell beheld it on his arrival there, the
large stable-yard of Spetchley manor-house presented a very curious
sight--being full of musketeers, cuirassiers, lancers, and dragoons,
with their horses. Closely adjoining the stable-yard, and forming not
the least interesting part of the striking scene, were the blackened
walls of the ancient mansion, now silvered by the rays of the moon.
As Cromwell rode into the yard, attended by Colonel Lindsey and
Dighton, he remarked an elderly personage, guarded by two musketeers.
"Ah! you have a prisoner yonder I see, Cornet Hardiman?" he observed to
the officer who came up to him. "Where was he taken?--and who is he?"
"He was found in a summer-house in the garden, your excellency, and
refuses to give his name," replied the cornet. "As he may be a spy, I
have detained him till your return."
"You have done right," said the Lord General. "Bring him to me."
"Advance, prisoner!" cried the officer.
And as the prisoner was brought forward, Cromwell was struck by his
grave looks and deportment.
"This man cannot be a spy," he thought, after a moment's scrutiny. "Who
art thou? And what dost thou here?" he demanded.
"Truly it would appear that I am an intruder," replied the prisoner,
somewhat haughtily. "Yet I once was master of this mansion."
"If so, you are Sir Robert Berkeley," rejoined Cromwell, surprised.
"Your excellency has said it," rejoined the other. "I am that
unfortunate man."
"Had you declared as much from the first, you would have been set at
liberty," observed the Lord General.
"I am not so sure of that," replied Sir Robert. "I do not think my word
would have been taken. But be that as it may, I cared not to answer
questions rudely put to me by your soldiers. Mistake me not--I make
no complaint of ill-treatment. Such explanation as I have to offer
your excellency I give readily. My habitation having been burnt down,
my stables occupied, I had no place of refuge except my summer-house,
where I sought shelter for the night. There I was found, as hath just
been stated."
"You have only yourself to thank for the detention, Sir Robert,"
rejoined Cromwell. "Though your nephew, Sir Rowland Berkeley of
Cotheridge, is an avowed malignant, and you yourself are known as an
active partisan of Charles Stuart, I will not discredit what you tell
me. You are free; and, furthermore, are free to speak of all you have
seen or heard. You shall be conducted to the nearest outpost, or, if
you desire it, shall be taken to White Lady Aston."
"I will rather sleep beneath a tree than under Mr. Symonds's roof,"
replied the old judge. "If I might ask a favour of your excellency it
would be to be allowed to pass the night in my summer-house."
"You seem to like the spot," remarked Cromwell, somewhat suspiciously.
"'Tis all that is left me of the old place," replied the judge.
"Well, I will c
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