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Title: Boscobel, or the Royal Oak Author: William Harrison Ainsworth * A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 0602941h.html Edition: 1 Language: English Character set encoding: Latin-1(ISO-8859-1)--8 bit Date first posted: July 2006 Date most recently updated: July 2006 This eBook was produced by: Richard Scott Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular paper edition. Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this file. This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online at http://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html
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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 guardroom. 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-camp, 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.
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.
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 reveille. 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 them 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.
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 hillside, 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 cortege 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 jetblack 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 cortege 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 proceded--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 hail, 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 granddaughter, 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 cortege 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 loyal 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.
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 un-checked 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.
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 horse-back?"
"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."
"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 Beoley. 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."
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 hillside--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 eaves-dropper, 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."
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 reascended 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 reconnoitring 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 cartload, 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 live 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.
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."
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 on 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.
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-manuvre 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."[1] "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 pai