The Children of the New Forest - Frederick Marryat (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📗

attacked at such disadvantage, they defended themselves till a large portion of them was killed, and the remainder were taken prisoners, and most of them brutally put to death. The Earl of Derby was made a prisoner, but not put to death with the others.

“This is bad news, Chaloner,” said Edward.

“Yes; it is more than bad,” replied the latter; “we have lost our best officers, who never should have left the army; and now the consequences of the defeat will be, that we shall not have any people come forward to join us. The winning side is the right side in this world; and there is more evil than that; the Duke of Buckingham has claimed the command of the army, which the king has refused, so that we are beginning to fight among ourselves. General Leslie is evidently dispirited, and thinks bad of the cause. Middleton is the only man who does his duty. Depend upon it, we shall have Cromwell upon us before we are aware of it; and we are in a state of sad confusion: officers quarreling, men disobedient, much talking, and little doing. Here we have been five days, and the works which have been proposed to be thrown up as defenses, not yet begun.”

“I can not but admire the patience of the king, with so much to harass and annoy him.”

“He must be patient, perforce,” replied Chaloner; “he plays for a crown, and it is a high stake; but he can not command the minds of men, although he may the persons. I am no croaker, Beverley, but if we succeed with this army, as at present disorganized, we shall perform a miracle.”

“We must hope for the best,” replied Edward; “common danger may cement those who would otherwise be asunder; and when they have the army of Cromwell before them, they may be induced to forget their private quarrels and jealousies, and unite in the good cause.”

“I wish I could be of your opinion, Beverley,” replied Chaloner; “but I have mixed with the world longer than you have, and I think otherwise.”

Several more days passed, during which no defenses were thrown up, and the confusion and quarreling in the army continued to increase, until at last news arrived that Cromwell was within half a day’s march of them, and that he had collected all the militia on his route, and was now in numbers nearly double to those in the king’s army. All was amazement and confusion—nothing had been done—no arrangements had been made—Chaloner told Edward that all was lost if immediate steps were not taken.

On the 3d of October, the army of Cromwell appeared in sight. Edward had been on horseback, attending the king, for the best part of the night; the disposition of the troops had been made as well as it could; and it was concluded, as Cromwell’s army remained quiet, that no attempt would be made on that day. About noon the king returned to his lodging, to take some refreshment after his fatigue. Edward was with him; but before an hour had passed, the alarm came that the armies were engaged. The king mounted his horse, which was ready saddled at the door; but before he could ride out of the city, he was met and nearly beaten back by the whole body almost of his own cavalry, who came running on with such force that he could not stop them. His majesty called to several of the officers by name, but they paid no attention; and so great was the panic, that both the king and his staff, who attended him, were nearly overthrown, and trampled under foot.

Cromwell had passed a large portion of his troops over the river without the knowledge of the opponents, and when tho attack was made in so unexpected a quarter, a panic ensued. Where General Middleton and the Duke Hamilton commanded, a very brave resistance was made; but Middleton being wounded, Duke Hamilton having his leg taken off by a round-shot, and many gentlemen having fallen, the troops, deserted by the remainder of the army, at last gave way, and the rout was general, the foot throwing away their muskets before they were discharged.

His majesty rode back into the town, and found a body of horse, who had been persuaded by Chaloner to make a stand. “Follow me,” said his majesty; “we will see what the enemy are about. I do not think they pursue, and if so, we may yet rally from this foolish panic.”

His majesty, followed by Edward, Chaloner, and several of his personal staff, then galloped out to reconnoiter; but to his mortification he found that the troops had not followed him, but gone out of the town by the other gate, and that the enemy’s cavalry in pursuit were actually in the town. Under such circumstances, by the advice of Chaloner and Edward, his majesty withdrew, and, turning his horse’s head, he made all haste to leave Worcester. After several hours’ riding, the king found himself in company of about 4000 of the cavalry who had so disgracefully fled; but they were still so panic-struck that he could put no confidence in them, and having advised with those about him, he resolved to quit them. This he did without mentioning his intention to any of his staff, not even Chaloner or Edward— leaving at night with two of his servants, whom he dismissed as soon as it was daylight, considering that his chance of escape would be greater if he were quite alone.

It was not till the next morning that they discovered that the king had left them, and then they determined to separate, and, as the major portion were from Scotland, to make what haste they could back to that country. And now Chaloner and Edward consulted as to their plans.

“It appears to me,” said Edward, laughing, “that the danger of this campaign of ours will consist in getting back again to our own homes, for I can most safely assert that I have not as yet struck a blow for the king.”

“That is true enough, Beverly. When do you purpose going back to the New Forest? I think, if you will permit me, I will accompany you,” said Chaloner. “All the pursuit will be to the northward, to intercept and overtake the retreat into Scotland. I can not therefore go to Lancashire; and, indeed, as they know that I am out, they will be looking for me every where.”

“Then come with me,” said Edward, “I will find you protection till you can decide what to do. Let us ride on away from this, and we will talk over the matter as we go; but depend upon it. the further south we get the safer we shall be, but still not safe, unless we can change our costume. There will be a strict search for the king to the south, as they will presume that he will try to get safe to France. Hark! what is that? I heard the report of arms. Let us ride up this hill and see what is going on.”

They did so, and perceived that there was a skirmish between a party of Cavaliers and some of the Parliamentary cavalry, at about a quarter of a mile distant.

“Come, Chaloner, let us at all events have one blow,” said Edward.

“Agreed,” replied Chaloner, spurring his horse; and down they went at full speed, and in a minute were in the melee, coming on the rear of the Parliamentary troops.

This sudden attack from behind decided the affair. The Parliamentary troopers, thinking that there were more than two coming upon them, made off after another minute’s combat, leaving five or six of their men on the ground.

“Thanks, Chaloner! thanks, Beverley!” said a voice which they immediately recognized. It was that of Grenville, one of the king’s pages. “These fellows with me were just about to run, if you had not come to our aid. I will remain with them no longer, but join you if you will permit me. At all events, remain here till they go away—I will send them off.”

Grenville then said to the men, “My lads, you must all separate, or there will be no chance of escape. No more than two should ride together. Depend upon it, we shall have more of the troops here directly.”

The men, about fifteen in number, who had been in company with Grenville, considered that Chaloner’s advice was good, and without ceremony set off, with their horses’ heads to the northward, leaving Chaloner, Edward, and Grenville together on the field of the affray. About a dozen men were lying on the ground, either dead or severely wounded: seven of them were of the king’s party, and the other five of the Parliamentary troops.

“Now, what I propose,” said Edward, “is this: let us do what we can for those who are wounded, and then strip off the dresses and accouterments of those Parliamentary dragoons who are dead, and dress ourselves in them, accouterments and all. We can then pass through the country in safety, as we shall be supposed to be one of the parties looking for the king.”

“That is a good idea,” replied Chaloner, “and the sooner it is done the better.”

“Well,” said Edward, wiping his sword, which he still held drawn, and then sheathing it, “I will take the spoils of this fellow nearest to me: he fell by my hand, and I am entitled to them by the laws of war and chivalry; but first, let us dismount and look to the wounded.”

They tied their horses to a tree, and having given what assistance they could to the wounded men, they proceeded to strip three of the Parliamentary troopers; and then laying aside their own habiliments, they dressed themselves in the uniform of the enemy, and, mounting their horses, made all haste from the place. Having gained about twelve miles, they pulled up their horses, and rode at a more leisurely pace. It was now eight o’clock in the evening, but still not very dark; they therefore rode on another five miles, till they came to a small village, where they dismounted at an ale-house, and put their horses into the stable.

“We must be insolent and brutal in our manners, or we shall be suspected.”

“Very true,” said Grenville, giving the hostler a kick, and telling him to bestir himself, if he did not want his ears cropped.

They entered the ale-house, and soon found out they were held in great terror. They ordered every thing of the best to be produced, and threatened to set fire to the house if it was not; they turned the man and his wife out of their bed, and all three went to sleep in it; and, in short, they behaved in such an arbitrary manner, that nobody doubted that they were Cromwell’s horse. In the morning they set off again by Chaloner’s advice, paying for nothing that they had ordered, although they had all of them plenty of money. They now rode fast, inquiring at the places which they passed through, whether any fugitives had been seen, and, if they came to a town, inquiring, before they entered, whether there were any Parliamentary troops. So well did they manage, that after four days they had gained the skirts of the New Forest, and concealed themselves in a thicket till night-time, when Edward proposed that he should conduct his fellow-travelers to the cottage, where he would leave them till his plans were adjusted.

Edward had already arranged his plans. His great object was to ward off any suspicion of where he had been, and, of course, any idea that the intendant had been a party to his acts; and the fortunate change of his dress enabled him now to do so