CHAPTER VI
EDGEHILL
DURING our stay at Oxford various reports and rumours reached us concerning the position of the King's forces, and at length definite information was brought that the Royalists were marching from Shrewsbury to give battle to the Earl of Essex, who was supposed to be retiring to prevent the King's advance on the rebel City of London.
Colonel Firestone deemed it impracticable to attempt to join the Royal camp with the rebels lying betwixt it and us; so we were forced to remain in galling inactivity till the road northward should be free of the enemy.
Early one morning a spent and mud-stained horseman drew in his jaded steed at Carfax, and immediately the news spread that the King had gained Banbury, thus putting himself between the rebels and London, while a battle was imminent on the following day.
Without a moment's delay we set out for the Royal camp, our party consisting of Colonel Firestone, Granville, and myself, with Sergeant Lawson and Wat in attendance, while two spare horses carried our baggage.
Two hours' hard riding brought us in sight of the town of Banbury, outside of which were the tents of the Royalists. On reporting ourselves to Prince Rupert—for we were to be attached to his troop of horse—we were shown to a tent and told to rest, yet to hold ourselves in instant readiness for an attack on the rebel forces.
But rest for us was an impossibility. Granville wandered about the lines, to see whether any of his Cornish relatives were serving in the Prince's cavalry, while I naturally wished to see my father as soon as possible, though I was told that Sir Reginald Markham was away on special service, and would not return to the camp before nightfall.
Colonel Firestone wished to hand his precious documents personally to the King; I never saw the papers, and often wondered where he kept them; and, on being informed that His Majesty was not within the camp, and that his whereabouts were to be kept secret, the colonel's disappointment was most marked.
He was resolved, like many other officers, to fight under Rupert's standard as an ordinary gentleman, and, seeing that it was impossible to approach His Majesty, he spent the time writing, reading pocket-books on military matters, and overhauling his weapons.
Just as the sun was setting, a small band of horsemen dashed into the camp, and, dismounting, made their way to the Prince's tent, and one of the party I knew full well. It was my father.
"Wait a moment, Humphrey," exclaimed Colonel Firestone, "and I'll go with you. Your sire will not be long with the Prince, I trove."
Together we made our way through the press of roystering soldiers, till we reached the tent, where two armed troopers kept guard over Prince Rupert's person, and in less than five minutes my father reappeared.
He greeted me with great affection, commending my loyal resolution in throwing in my lot with the King's forces, assuring me that there were many youths of gentle birth who were also in the field.
"And hest not a word of welcome for an old comrade?" exclaimed my companion.
"Nay, I know you not," replied my father, looking steadfastly into the colonel's face. Then, after a pause, he exclaimed:
"Why, 'tis Nick Firestone!"
"The same," replied the colonel, wringing my father's hand. "Have I changed so much that my old companion-in-arms cannot call me to name? How is it with thee?"
"A man may change much in a score years," said my father, "but, thanks to an active life, I feel as strong and as well as in the dark days of 'twenty-seven, save that my legs are somewhat cramped with rheumatism, though my arm is as strong as of yore. Where lies your tent?" he asked.
"Next but one to your own, sir," I replied. "At least, that is what I have been told."
"'Tis well," he replied, "for twelve hours in the saddle is apt to give one a keen hunger, to say nothing of an aching frame."
"I have brought an air bed for you from home," I exclaimed.
"An air what, forsooth?" asked my father.
I hastened to explain the nature of this admirable contrivance as given by worthy Master Royston, and, on arriving at our lines, I sent Lawson to get the novel article from the baggage.
We talked till late in the evening, my parent plying me with questions concerning affairs at home, and telling us of the events of the last few weeks.
"Dost know that, according to the rebel order, Ashley Castle no longer belongs to the Markhams?" asked my father.
"Nay, sir," I replied. "What dost thou mean; is it a jest?"
"Hardly a jest, Humphrey. Only yester-night we surprised a rebel despatch-bearer on the road near Stratford, and amongst other papers was a list of manors and castles to be bestowed by the Parliament on their chief supporters, and amongst the places named was mine own castle."
"And on whom is it bestowed?"
"On one Captain Chaloner."
"Captain Chaloner!" exclaimed Firestone. "Why, 'tis the man who allowed the rebels to seize Southsea Castle, the same who was hand in glove with the turncoat, Goring."
"He's to gain possession of Ashley Castle first," rejoined my father grimly; "and 'tis certain that, so long as my wife keeps watch and ward, no doubly-dyed rebel will set foot over my threshold—but how came Portsmouth to fall, considering it was well fortified and supplied with munition of war?"
We thereupon had to tell my father the events that led to Goring's feeble and faint-hearted pretence of holding the town for the King, and, at the story of Chaloner's treacherous incapacity, my parent shook his fist in impotent rage.
At length it was time for us to retire to our own tent, and, having inflated the air-bed for my father's use by means of a pump, we bade him good night.
Late into the night sounds of revelry disturbed the camp, men gaming or singing in uproarious discord, till gradually the babel died away, and silence reigned over the sleeping town of tents, broken only by the frequent voices of the sentries on guard without the lines.
It was my first experience of camp life, and sleep seemed a stranger to me. The hard ground found out the weak places in my anatomy, till my shoulder-blades and hips were sore and aching, for as yet I knew nothing of the old campaigners' trick of hollowing out the earth to accommodate these protuberances and I lay and longed for the dawn.
Suddenly an alarm echoed through the stillness of the night, and instantly the camp was alive with men rushing hither and thither.
Our tent turned out to a man, and, putting on our steel caps, and buckling on our sword-belts as we ran, we formed up in an irregular line outside the camp, in expectation of a sudden attack, yet, though an outpost of musketeers discharged their weapons, there came no answering volley from the supposed enemy.
Nor was the alarm confined to our lines, for, on our left, the musketeers of Sir Jacob Ashley's infantry were also formed up with matches lighted, and on our right the cannoniers under Sir John Heyden were advancing their ordnance to meet the attack.
In the midst of the confusion a tall, dark figure mounted on a restive horse rode towards us, followed by a body of cavalry.
It was Prince Rupert.
"Back to your tents, gentlemen!" he shouted, and it seemed that his voice was broken with suppressed laughter. "'Tis but a false alarm!"
And ere long the whole camp knew the cause of the sudden uproar—my father's air-bed had burst, and, finding himself flung all of a heap on the ground, he had imagined, being roused from sleep, that the rebels were upon us, and had raised the shout that roused the camp!
Daylight found the camp astir, for, with the knowledge that the rebels were within ten miles of us, excitement ran high. For my part, I must confess the principal thought that ran uppermost in my mind was not that of the coming conflict, but a vague uneasiness as to what was happening at home—whether that traitorous villain, Chaloner, had actually made an attempt to secure Ashley Manor, illegally bestowed upon him by the very side he had professed to abhor.
Firestone, on his part, was in a state of feverish anxiety, for, though, like an old soldier, he was longing for the clash of arms, he was burning with impatience to deliver his despatches personally to His Majesty, this being the express injunction laid upon him ere he quitted the French court.
But again his hopes were thwarted, for the King had, we now learned, gone overnight to sleep at Nellthorpe House, and, up to the actual moment of the army taking up a battle formation, he had not put in an appearance, as a council was being held in the town of Banbury. It was considerably after midday ere we received orders to march, and, on gaining the brow of a steep hill, I saw the rebel host in close array on the plains beneath us.
Presently I heard the dull boom of a cannon away on our left, followed by a heavy fire, to which the rebels answered, though not so vigorously.
But we were not left long in that suspense which is so trying to the nerves of a soldier, for Prince Rupert, standing in his stirrups, waved his sword for our cavalry to advance.
Prince Rupert having given the signal for the cavalry to advance, I set my teeth tightly, spurred my steed, and joined in the charge, being in the second rank, with Firestone on my left and my father on my right.
Before us lay the dense serried masses of Essex's cavalry, but, to my surprise, just before the trumpets sounded the charge, a whole troop of the enemy suddenly rode towards us with signs of friendship. Wheeling by our right, they fell in with our cavalry, and at once prepared to charge their former comrades.
This troop, I afterwards learned, were Sir Faithful Fortescue's troopers, who had but recently returned from Ireland; but, being unable to make their way to the Royal camp, had feigned to throw in their lot with the rebels until a favourable opportunity occurred to declare themselves openly.
The next instant we were launched at full gallop upon the rebel cavalry, and of what happened during the next few moments I have but a dim recollection. It was cut, thrust, and parry. Men went down, still striking madly at their assailants, whilst riderless horses added to the confusion; but I knew that we had the best of the struggle, because we were ever advancing.
Suddenly Firestone's horse plunged violently and fell on its knees, while its rider, slipping from off his saddle, rolled over, vainly endeavouring to throw himself clear of his floundering steed.
At that moment one of the rebel dragoons, a veritable Anak, received a cut in the face, and, half blinded and maddened by the pain, he slashed furiously right and left.
I wheeled to escape the resistless sweep of his sword, and, to my horror, I saw the weapon bury itself in Colonel Firestone's leg, shearing through jack-boot, limb, and even the saddle.
The next instant I was urged onward by the rush of the combatants, and, much as I desired to, I was unable to help my luckless comrade. In a few minutes the rebel cavalry had broken and were in hot flight, while at their heels came our triumphant troopers, slashing and hewing at the fugitives without mercy.
In the excitement of the pursuit time and distance were forgotten, till at length, breathless and triumphant, our cavalry gave up the chase, re-formed, and prepared to return to that part of the field of battle where, by the sound of heavy firing, we knew the contest still raged furiously.
Before this was done, however, we were assailed by a body of rebel horse, which, launching itself on our rearguard, played havoc till driven off by superior numbers.
When at length we regained our former position we were confronted by a solid phalanx of pikemen and musketeers, who presented such a redoubtable appearance that Prince Rupert hesitated to order a fresh charge. So with an occasional cannonade the battle ended just as night drew in upon the scene.
"Hast seen Colonel Firestone?" asked Granville, as he wiped his dust-and blood-stained face with a handkerchief of delicate cambric.
"Down yonder, I fear," I replied sadly, indicating the darkening plain on which the indistinct forms of the fallen could still be seen. "I saw him hurled from his horse with his leg shorn off at a single blow."
"Perchance he still lives."
"But I could scarcely believe that. He is more likely to have bled to death," said I. "Be that as it may, however, we'll make an effort to find him."
And, giving our horses in charge of a camp follower, we sought out Sergeant Lawson, who willingly agreed to accompany us.
Bending as we went—for the enemy's matches still glimmered in readiness to open fire—we cautiously made our way over the ground in the direction clearly indicated by the slain who fell during our brilliant charge.
Here and there maimed horses still kicked and writhed in agony, while at intervals a man would implore our pity and help, though most of the slightly wounded had managed to regain the shelter of our lines. At length we came upon a confused jumble of men and horses, and pinned down by the weight of his dead charger lay our hapless friend.
By our combined efforts we managed to extricate his body from beneath the animal, and to our great surprise and intense delight the brave colonel opened his eyes.
A brief examination showed that his right leg had been cleanly hewn through, the upper part of his boot still remaining over his knee; but again with infinite surprise I noticed that there was no trace of blood, and the next instant the truth flashed across my mind.
Colonel Nicholas Firestone had a wooden leg!
Stooping down, Lawson grasped the colonel under his arms, while Granville lifted his remaining leg, and cautiously we began our perilous journey back to the camp; but hardly had we gone a few paces when Firestone whispered:
"Bring the pieces with you, Humphrey. My severed leg, I mean, for 'tis of much consequence that this be done."
Wondering what he meant, yet loth to thwart what I took to be the whim of a half-dazed man, I returned, picked up the severed boot with its wooden contents, and overtook my comrades, and half an hour later we were safely within the Royal lines.
Here, with considerable difficulty, we procured a rough litter, and, placing our wounded friend upon it, we bore him towards the camp, in company with a constant stream of burdens, for the most part far sadder than our own.
As we approached I noticed a group of officers standing in a respectful attitude at a short distance from a slender, heavily cloaked figure. Instinct told me it was our Sovereign, who, having by his courage inspired his troops to fight a brilliant though indecisive action, was not slow in sympathising with those who had fallen in his cause.
"'Tis the King," I whispered to our wounded companion.
"Then hand me my severed leg," he rejoined with astonishing imperativeness.
My surprise prevented me from asking the reason, and without a word I did as he requested.
As the litter approached His Majesty, I noticed Firestone feverishly employed in taking the remains of his wooden leg from the encasing leather boot, and, having done this, he began to unscrew a portion of the limb. A few turns and the leg came apart, disclosing a cavity, from which the colonel drew a lightly rolled packet of papers.
"Art badly hurt?" asked His Majesty, as the glimmer of a lantern fell upon the figure in the stretcher.
"No, sire," replied Firestone cheerfully. "'Tis not a case for the surgeon; a carpenter will suffice."
"How so, sirrah?" exclaimed the King with astonishment.
In a few words Colonel Firestone explained the circumstances, and handed the precious despatches to His Majesty.
Tearing open the covering, the King called for the lantern to be brought nearer to enable him to read the contents, and by the feeble light I saw his clear-cut features brighten as he perused the message.
"Gentlemen," he explained, addressing the officers in attendance, "we have just received an important and encouraging message from our cousin of France, but of this more anon. But why didst thou risk these papers in the battlefield instead of handing them to us?" he added, addressing Colonel Firestone.
"Acting under direct orders, sire," he replied, "that these despatches were to be given only into Your Majesty's hands."
"And yet with these in your possession you risked your life and these despatches on the battlefield?"
"My life is my own, and I chose to risk it in Your Majesty's cause," replied Firestone stoutly. "But as for the papers, I took precautions to ensure them reaching Your Majesty's hands should I have fallen."
"We'll not ask a gallant soldier to explain the matter," said the King, "for 'tis certain his arrangements were well made. The fact remains that he has performed his mission to our satisfaction, a matter which we will bear in mind."
And, motioning the stretcher-bearers to proceed, the King returned the colonel's salute and directed his attention to the next arrival of that seemingly endless procession.
Having seen our charge safely within his tent, we sent for a carpenter to replace his severed stump, a task which, though roughly performed, the colonel considered satisfactory. But the severe shaking he received by his fall prevented his taking the field again that night, and we were compelled to leave him and again take our place in the line of battle.
All that night and during the next day we lay under arms, both sides facing each other, yet refraining from exchanging shots, and as evening drew in we were greatly surprised and not a little delighted to see the rebel army withdrawing in the direction of Warwick.
The approach of winter necessitated both armies going into winter quarters, and, having obtained permission to withdraw, my father, accompanied by Colonel Firestone and myself, determined to return to Ashley, while Ralph Granville set out for his Cornish home.
He and I were sorry indeed to part company, and, sure enough, there came times, of which you are now to hear, when I could have done well with so trusty a friend at my right hand.