"It is the Lord God that fighteth for us. He it is that hath enabled us to scatter them thus quickly," he exclaimed, as the Royalists fled in disorder. "Pursue them not, but prepare to cut off the retreat of those pestilent malignants who have gone on to attack the camp above—lest, peradventure, they escape the snare laid for them."
It happened as Cromwell had foreseen. Instead of finding Lilburn unprepared, when General Middleton and Sir William Keith reached the camp on the hill, they quickly discovered that their design had been betrayed. Duped by stratagems which they ought to have suspected, they entered the camp, but had scarcely done so, when they were completely surrounded by a force more than trebling their own.
Thus entrapped it would seem that nothing was left to Middleton but to surrender. But the brave general was undismayed by numbers, and when summoned to surrender, answered by a charge so fierce and impetuous that the ranks of the enemy opened, and, ere they could close again, he and his two regiments had passed safely through.
Down the hill they dashed at a headlong pace, and, though hotly pursued by Lilburn, very few of them were captured. Luckily for the fugitives, Cromwell was not able to get his life guards out of the field in time to intercept them, or their utter destruction would have been inevitable. As it was, they escaped with very little loss, considering the terrible hazard they had encountered.
On reaching the nearest outpost of the royal army, Middleton found Colonel Legge, and learnt the disaster that had befallen him.
"I cannot carry this bad news to his majesty," said Legge. "Tell him what has happened."
"The king will not reproach you," said Middleton. "You have done your best. We have been betrayed."
"That is certain," said Sir William Keith. "Lilburn was prepared for us."
"And Cromwell himself was with the outpost when I attacked it," said Colonel Legge. "I knew it not till too late."