She turned to go after him, but controlled herself from this folly and stood huddled in the window watching the night moths flutter, shadows among shadows, and the chilly moon brighten from a wraith to gleaming silver among the whispering orchard trees.
She stood so until she heard the bugles that announced the King's departure, then she went to her prayers to supplicate the Madonna and the saints with bitter tears and bitter forebodings.
CHAPTER III
THE GREAT FIGHT
That evening, while the King was reviewing his troops at Harborough and giving them the word for to-morrow—"Mary"—while General Sir Thomas Fairfax was holding a council at Naseby, Lieutenant-General Cromwell was hastening over the borders of Northamptonshire with six hundred men towards the headquarters of the parliamentary army, which he reached about five in the morning under the light of a cloudless dawn.
At the entrance to the village he halted for an instant and surveyed with a keen eye the undulating open space of ground which rolled towards Guilsborough and Daventry: unfenced ground, full of rabbit holes and covered with short, sweet grass and flowers, above which the larks were singing.
The pure summer morning was full of gentle airs blowing from orchards and gardens and the scents of all fresh green things opening with the opening day.
Silent lay the hamlet of Naseby, the white thatched cottages, the two straggling streets, the old church with a copper ball glittering on the spire, all clearly outlined in the first fair unstained light of the sun.
Beyond lay the parliamentary army: a sober force with their pennons, flags, and colours already displayed among them, and the gold fire gleaming along their brass cannon.