CHAPTER XLVIII.
Shakspeare made a mistake. The morning was bright and clear, and the sun shone strong and powerfully, drawing up a light mist from a marsh which lay between a part of the earl of Richmond's forces, and the much larger army of the king. At an early hour in the morning, all was bustle and preparation; and, notwithstanding a great inferiority in point of numbers, a calm and steady cheerfulness reigned in Richmond's army, which was not the case in the royal host. There each man looked upon his neighbour with doubt; and rumours were current of emissaries, from the enemy's camp, having been seen busily passing from tent to tent, amongst the king's troops, which was evinced by the doggerel lines fixed on the duke of Norfolk's pavilion, as well as by several other circumstances which made a noise for a moment or two, but were soon forgotten. The impression, however, existed and gained strength, that much dissatisfaction reigned amongst the leaders; and when the forces of Lord Stanley appeared on the one wing, and those of his brother on the other, without advancing nearer than half a mile, fresh doubts and suspicions arose.
The man[oe]uvres on both parts, before the action began, were few and simple. A tardy sort of lethargy seemed to have fallen upon Richard; and though he rode forth with a crown upon his helmet, as if desirous of courting personal danger, he moved his men but little, till the day was considerably advanced.
Richmond rode over the whole field in person accompanied by the earl of Oxford, Sir William Brandon, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir John Savage, and caused the marsh to be examined and its depth tried with a lance. He then commanded a considerable movement to the left, with a slight advance of the right wing, so as to allow the extreme of the line to rest upon the edge of the morass, with the position which he thus took up fronting the north west. He was observed to smile when he saw the position assumed by Lord Stanley, in front of the morass and to his own right, commanding the whole of the open field, between the two armies; and, immediately after, the earl of Oxford pointed out to him another considerable body of troops, advanced to a spot exactly facing those of Stanley; so that the ground enclosed between the four lines appeared very like a tilt yard on a large scale.
Richmond nodded his head, merely saying, "They are Sir William's men." Then, turning round, he demanded, "Which are Lord Chartley's troops?"
"Here, my lord," said a man from the ranks.
"I fear poor Chartley is not here to head them," said the earl of Oxford, in a low tone, running his eye along the line.
"He was here last night," said Richmond, "and sent me a strange note, saying he would be with me betimes this morning; but he has not come."
"My lord, the enemy is moving in two lines," said a horseman, riding up; and, cantering back to the centre of his force, the rest of Richmond's arrangements were soon made. His disposition in some respects resembled that of his adversary. In two lines also his men were ranged, having somewhat the advantage of the ground, but the great advantage of the sun behind them, while the fierce rays shone strong in the face of Richard's soldiers.
The earl of Oxford commanded the first division, Richmond himself the second, Talbot one wing, and Sir John Savage the other; and all the leaders knew that death awaited them if they were taken.
In what are called pitched battles, not brought on by skirmishing or any accidental circumstance, but where parties meet with the full determination of casting all upon the stake, there is generally a short pause before the strife begins. For, perhaps, a minute, or a minute and a half, after the troops were within less than a bow shot distance of each other, and each could see the long line of faces under the steel caps of the archers in the opposite ranks, there was a dead silence; the trumpets ceased to sound; each bowman stood with his arm and foot extended; the fiery cavalry reined in their horses; and one might have heard a drop of rain, had it fallen upon the dry grass. Then a baton was thrown up into the air on Richard's side; and every man of the centre front line drew his bow string to his ear and sent an arrow into the ranks of the enemy. Nor was this flight of missiles without reply; for closer and faster still, though not so numerous, fell the shafts from Richmond's little host amongst the adverse troops. Their aim was truer too; for the eyes of his men were not dazzled by the bright beams which poured into the faces of the enemy; and many of the foe were seen to fall, while a good deal of confusion spread along the line. Mounted on a tall horse, on the summit of a little mound, towards the centre of the second line, Richmond could see over the whole field; and, marking the disarray of the centre of Richard's army, he said aloud, "Now, had we men enough for a charge on that point, we might win the day at once."
"You and yours were lost, did you attempt it," said a deep voice near; and, looking round, the earl saw a tall figure, mounted on a strong black horse, with armour not the best polished in the world, though of fine quality and workmanship, and bearing in his hand a sharp stout lance, which, in addition to the long tapering point, carried the blade of an axe, like that of a woodman, forming altogether a weapon somewhat resembling an ordinary halbert. His horse was totally without armour; even the saddle was of common leather but the stranger bore the spurs of knighthood; and over his neck hung a gold collar, and a star.
"Why say you so, sir knight?" demanded Richmond.
"Look to the right," replied the stranger; and, turning his eyes in that direction, the earl beheld a horseman galloping at full speed towards the centre of Richard's line, where the king evidently was in person, while the large body of horse, commanded by the duke of Norfolk, was seen gliding down between the marsh and the troops of Lord Stanley. It was a moment of intense anxiety; but at the same instant Chartley's squadrons of horse were seen to fall back a little, in good order, so as to face the road leading round the morass; and Stanley's whole force wheeled suddenly on its right, so as to join the earl's line, and nearly hem in the duke of Norfolk, between it and the marsh.
Richard's cavalry instantly halted and retreated in perfect array, just in time to save themselves from destruction. They did not escape without a charge however; and at the same time, the two front lines of the armies advancing upon each other, the battle raged hand to hand all along the field.
It was just at this moment, that coming up from the rear, a little to the left of the spot where the earl of Richmond stood, rode forward a young knight in splendid armour, mounted on a beautiful grey horse. By his side was a man no longer young, though still in the prime of life, totally unarmed, even without sword or dagger; and behind came ten spears wearing the colours of Lord Chartley. The young nobleman paused for an instant, gazing over the field, and the strange confused sight presented by a battle, at a period when cannon were little used and no clouds of smoke obscured the view, extending over a line of more than half a mile. Here squadrons of horse were seen charging the enemy's line; there two cavaliers seemed to have sought each other out in single combat; in one place a company of foot was pushing on with the levelled pike; in another, the archers with their short swords were striving hand to hand; the banners and pennons waved in the wind, fluttered, and rose and fell; and long and repeated blasts of the trumpet sounded to the charge, and animated the soldiers to the fight.
It was a wild, a sad, a savage, but an exciting scene; and Chartley's face, as he gazed with his visor up, looked like that of an eager young horse, furious to start upon a course.
"There is the earl, Chartley," said Sir William Arden. "That is his standard. The taller one in front must be the man."
Chartley instantly turned his horse, and rode up to Richmond's side.
"I am late upon the field, my lord," he said, "but I will make up for lost time. I went to save my noble friend, Sir William Arden here, from the headsman's axe. I beseech you keep him with you; for you will find his counsel good, and he is unarmed. Whither shall I go?"
"Lord Chartley, I presume," said Richmond; "a gallant soldier never comes too late to be of glorious use. There, straight forward on your path is your noble friend, the earl of Oxford. I beseech you give him help. He is sore pressed and terribly outnumbered."
"Follow!" cried Chartley, turning to his men and raising his arm; and down he dashed into the thickest of the fight.
Small though the aid was, the effect was soon apparent. Some ground which had been lost was regained in a instant; the first line of Richard's troops was pressed back in the centre. The banner of Lord Oxford made way in advance; but just then Sir William Brandon exclaimed, "Richard is coming down with all his power, my lord."
"Then must we not be behind," replied Richmond. "Advance the banner, Brandon! Good men and true, keep your men back yet a while, till you receive command. Then down upon the boar, and pin him to the earth; for I will leave my bones upon the field or win this day." Thus saying, he rode on towards a spot which had been left vacant in the struggle which was going on; and those who were above could see that a group of some twenty or thirty persons from the enemy's side moved down as if to meet him. The greater part, however, paused where the two lines were still striving man to man, some engaging in the combat, some gazing idly forward.
One, man, however, with two or three pages running by his side, burst from the rest like the lightning from a cloud. He was covered with gorgeous armour; his mighty horse was sheathed in steel; and circling round his helmet, beneath the waving plume, appeared the royal crown of England. Straight towards Richmond he dashed, trampling down a foot soldier in his way, and rising the gentle slope, with his lance in the rest, without the slightest relaxation of his horse's speed.
"Mine, mine!" cried Sir William Brandon. "Mine to win a coronet!" and, giving the standard to another, he couched his lance and bore down to meet the king. But that unerring hand failed not. The eye was but too keen. Straight in the throat, the point of Richard's spear struck the standard-bearer, and hurled him dead upon the plain, while the knight's own lance shivered on the king's corslet. Brandon's horse also rolled upon the ground, but Richard leaped his charger over it with a shout, and spurred on.
Without asking leave, Sir John Cheney darted forth to meet him. His fate, however, was but little better; for, though not slain, he was hurled wounded from the saddle in an instant. But at that moment Richard was met by a new adversary; for, as he was rapidly approaching the spot where Richmond stood, the tall knight, whom I have mentioned, sprang from his unarmed horse and threw himself on foot in the king's way. Richard checked up his horse for an instant at the unexpected sight, and dropped the point of his lance, to strike this new adversary in the face; but ere he could accomplish it, with a tremendous sweep of both his arms, the knight struck him on the side of the helmet. The lacings gave way. The casque and crown fell off; and a deep stream of gore flowed down the pale face, which was seen, as he hung for a moment in the stirrups. The horse rushed on, but the king soon dropped upon the field; and three or four footmen, springing on him, dispatched him with their daggers.
The tall knight leaned for an instant on the staff of his weapon, and looked up and down the field; and then, as if he had gathered all in that brief glance, he exclaimed, in a loud and vehement voice. "Now, earl of Richmond, gaze not on the dead, but on to support the living! Sir William Stanley is charging the enemy in the flank. On with your whole force, and the day is yours. If not, it may be lost still. Give me my horse, boy."
The order was instantly given; the whole force of Richmond moved down the hill; and though the struggle was protracted for some twenty minutes longer, it was no longer doubtful. All was confusion indeed, in the ranks of Richard; but Norfolk and many other noble gentlemen struggled to the last, and died without yielding an inch of ground. Northumberland took no part in the fight; and others fled soon, while others again remained to be made prisoners; but steadily the earl of Richmond's line advanced, till the whole of Richard's host either lay on Bosworth field, or were in full flight across the country.
At the end of two hours from the commencement of the battle the trumpet sounded the recall, and Richmond's tent was set up, on the spot where Richard had commanded at the beginning of the day. The curtains were drawn up, and knights and noblemen crowded round, while the field was searched, to ascertain the numbers and the quality of the slain. Litters, formed hastily of lances laid across, were seen moving about the plain, bearing the wounded from the field of carnage; and many a group might be observed, in distant parts of the prospect, engaged probably in less pious offices.
Richmond, now on foot, and with his casque laid aside, stood for several minutes gazing silently on the scene before him; and, oh, who shall tell what passed through his mind at that moment? How often has the flood of success a petrifying effect upon the heart! and, doubtless, it was so with him; but he had then just stepped into those Lethe waters, which so often drown in dull oblivion all the nobler and more generous feelings of the soul.
Nobody ventured to break upon his silence; for it was evident to all that strong emotions were busy at his heart, till, at length, a voice without, said--
"Lord Stanley!" and many others took it up, repeating, "Stanley, Stanley!"
Richmond took a step forward; but ere he reached the verge of the tent Stanley himself appeared. He bore in his hands the royal croft, which Richard had carried on his helmet, and, without a word, he advanced straight to Richmond, and placed it on his brows. Then, bending the knee, he said, aloud--
"Hail, king of England! Long live our sovereign lord, King Henry the Seventh!"
Richmond embraced him warmly, while a shout rent the air, and some words passed between the two which no ear heard. Then advancing, with the crown upon his head, Henry graciously thanked those around him for their aid and service, adding a few words upon the glorious event of the day.
"There is one, however," he continued "whom I see not here, and to whom double thanks are due. I cannot name him, for I know him not; but his hand defended my life when two gallant gentlemen had fallen before my enemy, and his hand slew the usurper of the crown I now bear. He wore round his neck the collar and star of some foreign order, and--"
"He is fearfully wounded, sire," said Lord Chartley, who had just come up. "That litter, which you see yonder, is bearing him, at his own request, to the abbey of St. Clare. He earnestly besought me to entreat your grace, if your time would permit, to pass thither for a brief space, on your march. He is a man of high and noble birth, allied to a royal house; but I must say no more. The rest he will tell you, if he live till you arrive."
"Noble Lord Chartley, to you too I owe great thanks," said Henry; "and they shall be paid in coin that you will like full well. But this noble gentleman has taken strong possession of my mind. How did he fall?--I saw him late in the battle, safe and foremost."
"True, sire," replied Chartley; "he was before Sir George Talbot and myself, as we followed the last troops of the enemy which kept together, to disperse them. Then, however, just on the brow of the hill, the young Lord Fulmer turned with his band, and bore my noble friend down with his lance while he was contending with two men in front."
"But you avenged him, Chartley," said Sir George Talbot; "for you carried the young serpent back on your lance's point, like an eel on an eel-spear. He will never take odds against a gallant knight more."
"I know not that," said Chartley; "for I saw him remounted and led away between two servants. But, if your grace will visit the noble gentleman of whom you spoke, I will forward at once and bear the tidings after him."
"I will not fail," replied Henry; "'tis but a mile or two about, I believe; and, as soon as we have taken some order here, I ride thither ere I go to Leicester."
Chartley thanked him and retired; and the king, calling a page, whispered to him some brief words, adding aloud, "To Tamworth then, with all speed. Say, there must be no delay--no, not a moment."