CHAPTER VI
THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. POWICK BRIDGE. EDGEHILL.
THE MARCH TO LONDON
The setting up of the Royal Standard was a depressing ceremony. The weather was so bad that the very elements seemed to fight against the Royalists; and the standard was blown down the same night, which was regarded as a very evil portent. Moreover, the Royal forces were still so lamentably small that Sir Jacob Astley openly expressed a fear that the King would be captured in his sleep.[[1]] The arms and ammunition were not yet come from York, and a general sadness pervaded the whole company. In this state of affairs, the King made another futile attempt at treating with the Parliament; an attempt so distasteful to Rupert and his officers "that they were not without some thought—or at least discourses—of offering violence to the principal advisers of it."[[2]] The abortive treaty proved, however, to the King's advantage, for its failure turned the tide in his favour, and brought recruits to his banner.
During the delay at Nottingham, Rupert was created a Knight of the Garter, and, at the same time, he contrived to fall out with Digby. Even as early as September 10th, we find Digby protesting against the Prince's prejudice towards himself. Evidently he had indulged in remarks upon Rupert's love of "inferior" company, which he now endeavoured to explain away.[[3]] His apology was accepted; and for a short time he served under the Prince.
Already Rupert was scouring the country in search of men, arms and money. On September 6th "that diabolical Cavalier,"[[4]] as a Puritan soldier called him, had surrounded Leicester and summoned the Mayor to confer with him. That worthy cautiously declined the interview, whereupon he received a peremptory letter, demanding £2,000 to be paid on the morrow "by ten of the clock in the forenoon." He was assured that the King's promise would prove a better pledge for repayment than the "Public Faith" of the Parliament; and the letter concluded with the characteristic assurance that, in case of contumacy, the Prince would appear on the morrow, "in such a posture as shall make you to know it is wiser to obey than to resist His Majesty's command."[[5]] Five hundred pounds were forthwith paid, but a complaint was despatched to the King, who hastened to disavow his nephew's arbitrary proceedings.
An attack on Caldecot House proved more to the Prince's credit. This house belonged to a Warwickshire Puritan, a Mr Purefoy, then absent with the troops of the Parliament. Early on a Sunday morning Rupert appeared before the house, with five hundred men, and summoned it to surrender. The summons was defied, and he ordered an assault. The defenders consisted only of Mrs. Purefoy, her two daughters, her son-in-law, Mr. Abbot, three serving-men, and three maids; yet the fight was continued for some hours, and with serious loss to the Cavaliers. At last Rupert forced the outer gates, fired the barns, and advanced to the very doors. Then Mrs. Purefoy came out and threw herself at the victor's feet. Rupert asked her what she would have of him. She answered, the lives of her little garrison. Rupert then raised her to her feet, "saluted her kindly," and promised that not one of them should be hurt. But when he had entered the house and discovered how small was the garrison, his pity was changed to admiration. He complimented Mr. Abbot on his skill and gallantry, and offered him a command in his own troop, which was, however, refused. Finally he drew off his forces, promising that nothing upon the place should suffer injury. "And the Prince faithfully kept his promise, and would not suffer one penny-worth of goods in the house to be taken."[[6]] Such is the testimony of a fanatical enemy; nor is it the only instance of Rupert's chivalry. "Sir Edward Terrell was a little fearful, Prince Rupert had been hunting at his Park," wrote the Puritan Lady Sussex; "but he took him much, with his courtesy to him."[[7]]
On September 13th the King left Nottingham for Derby, and Rupert joined his march at Stafford. There it was that the Prince fired a remarkable shot, to prove his skill as a marksman. Standing in a garden about sixty yards distant from the church of St. Mary, he shot clean through the tail of the weathercock on the steeple, "with a screwed horseman's pistol, and a single bullet."[[8]] The King declared that the shot was but a lucky chance; whereupon Rupert fired a second time, with the same result.