"Call them back, Barecolt, and follow!" exclaimed Lord Walton. "Old Randal is as mad as any of us. Bring him back quick. I fear we have spoiled the best day's deeds England has seen for long;" and gathering together what men he could, he spurred headlong back towards the field. Captain Barecolt followed on his steps, and he thought he saw the young lord waver somewhat in the saddle; a stream of blood, too, was trickling down his scarf from his right shoulder, and spurring on his horse to Charles Walton's side, he said, "You are wounded, sir; you are badly wounded! Let me lead you to----"
But at that moment the field of battle came again before their eyes, and Lord Walton exclaimed--
"Is this a time to talk of wounds? Look there!"
The aspect of the scene had indeed greatly changed from what it had been some half-an-hour before, when Wilmot and Aston on the left, and Rupert on the right, were driving the Roundhead cavalry before them. Firm in his position stood the Earl of Essex with his foot. His reserve of horse had come down and were charging the royal infantry. The right wing, the left, and the reserve of Charles's horse were far away, pursuing the flying foe; and the monarch himself with his two sons, only guarded by a small force of mounted Cavaliers, who had been too wise and loyal to follow the rash example set them by the prince appeared nearly surrounded by the parliamentary cavalry under Sir William Balfour.
As Lord Walton reappeared upon the field, the royal standard wavered and fell, and in the midst of the fierce fire that rolled along the front of the enemy's line, he charged upon the flank of Balfour's horse to rescue his sovereign from the peril he was in. As they galloped up, however, the standard rose again, and Essex's reserve began slowly to retire upon the infantry; but still the young nobleman urged on his little troop upon the retreating force; some fifty gentlemen detached themselves from the small body that surrounded the monarch, and charging in front, and cutting their way clear through, Charles Walton and Francis of Beverley met in the midst of the mêlée.
"How goes it, Charles?" said the earl, with a glad voice. "If the prince would but return we would have a glorious victory!"
"He is coming quickly," replied Lord Walton. "Rally your force with mine, Beverley, for one more charge;" and in another minute they were again in the midst of the retreating rebels.
At the same moments in sad confusion and disarray, came back Prince Rupert's Cavaliers. Discipline, and order were lost amongst them. Officers were without men, and men without officers. Some few joined the troops of Lord Beverley and Lord Walton.
But night was falling. Sir William Balfour led his horse in between the regiments of infantry steadily and skilfully, then turned to face the enemy; and the earl, finding that nothing could be effected without a larger force, retreated and galloped up to Prince Rupert, who now stood near the king, to urge one decisive charge upon the centre of the parliamentary line. The prince received him coldly, however--perhaps from a consciousness that he himself had done amiss; and some one suggested that the king should leave the field, pointing out how firmly Lord Essex kept his ground.
"For shame! for shame!" cried the earl. "The victory might still be ours, but certainly it is not his; and as long as his majesty remains, it cannot be so. The greater part of our foot is unbroken; our horse is victorious; and, whoever quits the field, I will remain upon it, dead or alive."