Title: Boscobel, or the Royal Oak
Author: William Harrison Ainsworth
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Boscobel or, the Royal Oak
William Harrison Ainsworth




BOOK THE FIRST: THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER.



Chapter 1. HOW CHARLES THE SECOND ARRIVED BEFORE WORCESTER, AND
CAPTURED A FORT, WHICH HE NAMED "FORT ROYAL"

During the Civil Wars, the old and faithful city of Worcester suffered
severely for its devotion to the royal cause. Twice was it besieged--
twice sacked by the Parliamentarians. In 1642, the Earl of Essex
marched with a large force against the place, stormed and pillaged it,
and sent several of the wealthier citizens prisoners to London. Four
years later--namely, in 1646--the city again declared for the king,
and being captured by the Roundheads, after an obstinate defence,
underwent harder usage than before. Besides plundering the
inhabitants, the soldiers of the Commonwealth, exasperated by the
resistance they had encountered, did much damage to the public
buildings, especially to the cathedral, the interior of which
magnificent edifice was grievously injured. According to their custom,
the troopers stabled their horses in the aisles, and converted the
choir into a barrack, and the chapter-house into a guardroom. The
organ was destroyed; the rich painted glass of the windows broken;
many monuments mutilated; and the ancient records preserved in the
library burnt. The exquisitely carved stone cross in the churchyard,
from the pulpit of which Latimer and Whitgift had preached, was pulled
down. Before this, John Prideaux, somewhile Bishop of Worcester, had
been deprived of his see, and the dean and prebends dismissed--Church
of England divines having given place to Presbyterian ministers,
Independents, and Anabaptists.

But notwithstanding their sufferings in the good cause, the loyalty of
the Worcester Cavaliers remained unshaken. Heavy fines and
imprisonment could not subdue their spirit. To the last they continued
true to the unfortunate king, though any further attempt at rising was
checked by the strong garrison left in charge of the city, and
commanded by Colonel John James, one of the strictest of the
Republican leaders.

After the terrible tragedy of Whitehall, the Cavaliers of Worcester
transferred their allegiance to the eldest son of the royal martyr and
heir to the crown. All the principal citizens put on mourning, and
every countenance, except those of the soldiers of the garrison, wore
a sorrowful aspect. A funeral sermon, the text being, "Judge, and
avenge my cause, O Lord," was preached by Doctor Crosby, the deprived
dean, to a few persons assembled secretly by night in the crypt of the
cathedral, and prayers were offered up for the preservation of Prince
Charles, and his speedy restoration to the throne. The service,
however, was interrupted by a patrol of musketeers, and the dean was
seized and lodged in Edgar's Tower, an old fortified gate-house at the
entrance of the cathedral close. Never had Worcester been so gloomy
and despondent as at this period.

Nor did the hopes of the loyal citizens revive till the middle of
August, 1651, when intelligence was received that Charles, who had
been recently crowned at Scone, had escaped Cromwell's vigilance, and
crossing the Border with a considerable army, had pursued the direct
route to Lancaster. Thence he continued his rapid march through
Preston to Warrington, where he forced the bridge over the Mersey, in
spite of the efforts of Generals Lambert and Harrison to arrest his
progress. The young king, it was said, was making his way to his
faithful city of Worcester, where he meant to establish his head-
quarters and recruit his forces before marching on London.

The news seemed too good to be true, yet it obtained ready credence,
and it was evident Colonel James believed it, for he forthwith began
to put the fortifications in order. The commandant, in fact, had
received a despatch from General Lambert, informing him that he and
General Harrison had failed in preventing the young King of Scots from
passing the bridge over the Mersey at Warrington, and had been
disappointed in their expectation that he would give them battle on
Knutsford Heath, where they awaited him.

Favoured by night, the young king had continued his march unmolested,
it being understood from prisoners they had taken, that he was making
for Worcester. Charles Stuart's forces, Lambert said, had been greatly
reduced by desertions since he entered England, and now amounted to no
more than eight thousand infantry and three thousand horse, and he was
only provided with sixteen leathern guns. As yet he had obtained few
recruits, the country gentlemen holding aloof, or being prevented by
the militia from joining his standard. But the Earl of Derby had
undertaken to raise large levies in Lancashire and Cheshire, and had
been left behind by the king for that purpose. It was to defeat the
earl's design that the two Parliamentary generals deemed it expedient
to remain where they were rather than pursue the royal army. Many
malignants, Papists, and Presbyterians, ill affected towards the
Commonwealth, would doubtless join Lord Derby, who, unless he were
speedily discomfited, might become formidable. But discomfited he
assuredly would be, and his forces scattered like chaff, since the
Lord would fight on the side of his elect. This good work achieved,
the two generals would hasten to the relief of Worcester. Speedy
succour might also be expected from the Lord General Cromwell, who was
in close pursuit of the Scots' king, at the head of twelve thousand
cavalry and infantry. Colonel James was, therefore, exhorted to hold
out.

General Lambert further stated in his despatch, that Charles was
accompanied by the most experienced leaders in the Scottish army--by
the crafty and cautious Colonel Lesley, who had so long baffled
Cromwell himself--by Generals Montgomery, Middleton, Massey, and
Dalyell, and by the valiant Colonel Pitscottie, with his Highland
regiment. Besides these, there were several English and Scotch nobles,
the Dukes of Buckingham and Hamilton, the Earls of Rothes, Lauderdale,
Carnworth, and Cleveland; Lords Spyne, Sinclair, and Wilmot; Sir John
Douglas, Sir Alexander Forbes, and others.

While scanning this imposing list, and reflecting that the royal
forces numbered at least eleven thousand men, Colonel James asked
himself how he could possibly hold out against them with a garrison of
only five hundred? He was ill supplied with cannon and ammunition, and
the fortifications were ruinous. Moreover, the citizens were hostile,
and so far from lending him aid, were ready to rise in favour of the
king. He should have to contend against foes within as well as enemies
without. His position seemed desperate, and though as brave a man as
need be, he was filled with misgiving.

Before proceeding, it may be proper to ascertain how far the old city
was capable of defence. Five years previously it had stood a
lengthened siege, but the circumstances then were wholly different,
for the citizens were arrayed against the besiegers, and fought
obstinately. The walls were much damaged at that time, and had only
been partially repaired, consequently the towers and bastions were in
a dilapidated state. Outside the walls, on the south-east, there was a
strong detached fort of recent construction. The castle, which in days
of yore rose proudly on the south side of the cathedral, completely
commanding the navigation of the Severn, had long since been pulled
down, the only vestiges of it left being some fragments of the donjon.
The mound on which the mighty fabric once stood could have been easily
fortified, if time had permitted, and would have formed an important
work. The city, which was of great antiquity, had four gates, each
flanked with towers. The strongest resembled a barbican, and commanded
the quay and the ancient stone bridge across the river. On the north
was the Foregate, "a fair piece of work," as it is described by old
Leland, and not far from it was St. Martin's-gate. On the south was
Sidbury-gate, giving access to the London-road. The Sidbury-gate was
covered by the modern detached fort to which reference has already
been made. Deep dykes, supplied by the Severn, strengthened the
defences on the east and south-east, but the suburbs constituted a
danger, since the habitations would afford shelter to an enemy. Thus
it will be seen that the city was not in a condition to stand a siege,
and the commandant might well despair of holding out, even for a few
days, against the royal forces.

No city can be more charmingly situated than Worcester on the banks of
England's noblest river, in the midst of fair and fertile plains,
abounding in orchards and hop-gardens, and in full view of the lovely
Malvern Hills; but in the middle of the seventeenth century it was
eminently picturesque, as well as beautiful. It was then full of
ancient timber houses, with quaintly carved gables and open balconies,
from the midst of which rose the massive roof and tower of the
venerable cathedral, and the lofty spire of St. Andrew's Church. The
old walls, grey and ruinous as they were, the fortified gates, the
sculptured crosses, and the antique stone bridge, with its many-
pointed arches, contributed to its beauty. The noble episcopal palace,
the group of old buildings near the cathedral, and the ruins on the
Castle Hill--all formed a striking picture when seen from St. John's
on the opposite side of the river.

"The wealth of Worcester standeth most by drapery," quoth old Leland,
who wrote in Henry VIII's time, and the place had long been noted for
its broadcloths and gloves. But many of the wealthiest drapers,
glovers, and hop-merchants had been ruined by the heavy fines
inflicted upon them by the grasping Parliamentarians, and the city had
scarcely yet regained its former prosperity.

Almost simultaneously with the arrival of General Lambert's despatch,
a letter was brought by a secret messenger to Mr. Thomas Lysons, then
mayor of Worcester, and an avowed Royalist. It came from Captain
Fanshawe, the king's secretary, and gave a very different version of
the affair at Warrington from that furnished by Lambert.

According to Fanshawe, his majesty had displayed great personal
courage on the occasion. He found the enemy, consisting of about seven
thousand men, united under Lambert and Harrison, in possession of the
bridge across the Mersey, which they had partly broken down, and he
immediately attacked them with his advanced troops. His impetuosity
proved irresistible. A passage being forced, the whole army followed,
and the enemy retreated in great disorder, and with heavy losses.
During the night, upwards of three thousand of the "rebellious
rogues," as Fanshawe styled them, disbanded. The Parliamentary
generals did not venture to attack the king again, but allowed him to
continue his march towards Worcester without further interruption. The
faithful citizens might, therefore, prepare to welcome their
sovereign, who would soon be with them.

The mayor immediately called a public meeting in the Guildhall, and
read Captain Fanshawe's letter to the assemblage. Great was the
enthusiasm excited by it. The hall resounded with cries of "Long live
Charles II!" The joyful intelligence quickly spread throughout the
city, and crowds collected in the High-street, shouting "Down with the
Commonwealth! Up with the Crown!" The concourse was dispersed by
Colonel James and a troop of horse, but in the conflict several
persons were wounded, and some killed. The mayor and the sheriff, Mr.
James Bridges, were seized, and detained as hostages for the good
behaviour of the citizens--the commandant threatening to hang them
both if any further disturbance occurred. Luckily for the two
gentlemen, the city remained tranquil throughout the night, for most
assuredly the commandant would have been as good as his word.

Next day--Friday, the 22nd of August, 1651--the scouts sent out by
Colonel James reported that the first division of the royal army,
commanded by the young king in person, was close upon Red Hill--
already described as a woody eminence about a mile distant, on the
south of the city.

Shortly afterwards, the enemy's cavalry skirmishers could be
distinguished on Perry Wood. Then the advanced guard appeared--the
helmets and corslets of the cuirassiers glittering in the sunbeams.
Thousands of loyal citizens, who were forbidden to mount the
fortifications, climbed to the roofs of the houses, and to the tops of
the churches, to obtain a glimpse of the royal army, and could not
restrain their enthusiastic feeling when they beheld it.

Colonel James, who had been actively employed throughout the whole
night in making the best defensive preparations in his power, had seen
that all the engineers on the ramparts were at their posts, and he now
proceeded to the detached fort near the Sidbury-gate.

Mounting to the summit, which bristled with cannon, he turned his spy-
glass towards the brow of the hill opposite to him, and presently
beheld a company of richly accoutred officers ride out of the wood
that clothed the eminence, and proceed to reconnoitre the
fortifications from various points. That the foremost of the troop was
the young king himself he had no doubt, as well from the splendour of
his accoutrements and the white plume in his hat, as from the
deference paid him by his attendants. Evidently his majesty's
brilliant staff was composed of the general officers and nobles
mentioned in General Lambert's despatch. That they were planning the
attack of the city was clear.

While watching the young monarch's movements and gestures narrowly
through his glass, Colonel James saw him sign to one of his aides-de-
camp, a fine-looking young man, and remarkably well mounted, who
instantly rode up at the summons.

Major Careless, the aide-de-camp in question, was as brave as he was
handsome, though somewhat rash, and an especial favourite of the king.
Having received his majesty's orders, he promptly obeyed them.
Accompanied only by a trumpeter bearing a flag of truce, he galloped
down the hill, shaping his course towards the Sidbury-gate, and,
within fifty yards of it, he halted, and the trumpeter blew a blast so
loud that the old walls rang again.

A shower of bullets from the battlements would have answered the
summons, if Colonel James had not previously sent word that the flag
of truce must be respected.

The men eyed the insolent Cavalier sternly, and one of them called
out, "If thou hast any message for the commandant of the garrison, he
will be found in yonder fort."

Thereupon Careless moved off glancing haughtily and contemptuously at
the artillerymen on the ramparts as he rode along.

On reaching the fort, he descried Colonel James stationed near the
edge of the parapets, and leaning upon his sword. Half a dozen
musketeers in their steel caps, buff coats, and bandileers, were
standing behind him.

"Are you the commandant?" he called out.

"Ay," replied Colonel James. "What wouldst thou with me?"

"Thus much," said Careless, in a loud authoritative voice: "In the
name of his majesty, King Charles II, who is on yonder hill with his
army, I require you to deliver up this his city of Worcester, which
you unlawfully hold as deputy of a presumptuous and rebellious
parliament. His majesty is willing to extend his clemency towards you,
and if you at once throw open the gates, and lay down your arms--"

"Hold!" interrupted the commandant, sternly. "I do not recognise the
authority of him whom thou stylest king. The house of Jeroboam, who
sinned, and who caused Israel to sin, has been cut off. I will not
deny that the young man Charles Stuart, hath been crowned in Scotland,
but in England he hath no rule. His proclamation has been burnt by the
common hangman in London, and a counter-proclamation published by the
Parliament, declaring him, his aiders and abettors--of whom thou,
thyself, art one--guilty of high treason against the State, and
punishable by death. Shall I, an officer of The Commonwealth, and
intrusted with the charge of this city, open its gates to a proclaimed
traitor? Shall I command my men to lay down their arms to him? Not so.
I utterly disregard thy king's summons, and though he be backed by the
whole Scottish host, yet will I not yield the city to him, but placing
my trust in the Lord, will maintain it against him."

"Provoke not the king by your obstinacy," said Careless, losing
patience. "If you force us to storm the fortifications, you can expect
no quarter. We will put you all to the sword."

Perfectly unmoved by the threat, Colonel James answered, in the
religious jargon then habitually adopted by the Republican soldiers:

"The Lord of Hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge. I doubt
not we shall have timely succour."

"From whom?" demanded Careless, with a sneer.

"From the Lord General Cromwell, who is hastening hither with his
legions."

"The city will be ours, and thou and thy rebel horde will be destroyed
ere that arch-traitor and parricide can arrive," cried Careless,
fiercely.

"Keep guard upon thy tongue, or I will not answer for thy safety,"
said the commandant, checking the musketeers behind him, who were
preparing to give fire. "Take back my answer to the king, thy master.
I have nothing to add to it."

"We will soon be with you," shouted Careless.

And, shaking his hand menacingly at the soldiers, he rode off with his
attendant.

While this interview took place, Charles remained on Perry Wood with
his generals. He was not in the least surprised to learn from Careless
that his gracious offer had been rejected by the commandant.

"Let the attack be made at once," he cried. "I will lead it in
person."

"I admire your majesty's spirit," observed General Dalyell. "But I
pray you not to run so much risk."

"Risk, say you?" cried Charles, gaily. "Faith, Tom, you would have all
the credit of the affair. But you shall not rob me of it. I mean to be
first to enter yonder fort."

Generals Middleton and Montgomery likewise attempted to dissuade him
from his purpose, but ineffectually.

The general officers then rode off to give the necessary orders for
the attack. Trumpets were sounded, and shortly afterwards the sides of
the hill were covered with troops in rapid movement. Ere they got
half-way down, the guns of the fort opened upon them, but did not
check their progress. Presently the artillery of the Royalists
returned the fire of the Republicans, and the king, who was at the
head of the advanced guard, saw the cannon pointed.

His majesty being recognised, the commandant directed the musketeers
on the ramparts to make him their mark; but he really seemed to bear a
charmed life, for though an officer close beside him was hit by a
round shot, and his own horse was killed under him, he himself was
uninjured.

The leathern guns of the Royalists were worked so well, that three of
the fort guns were speedily silenced, and Charles then ordered instant
preparations to be made for the assault.

Scaling-ladders were placed against the walls. Several men were struck
down while executing this perilous task, but no sooner was it
accomplished than Charles caused the trumpet to be sounded, and sword
in hand, mounted the nearest ladder.

A soldier, armed with a pike, strove to hurl him from the ladder, but
the man was shot by Careless, who followed the king closely.

Again, while springing over the parapets, Charles was opposed by a
musketeer, but he cut him down, and next moment the heroic young
monarch was joined by Careless, and instantly afterwards by a dozen of
his body-guard, and their number was quickly augmented.

Charles was now master of the fort, for the Republican soldiers, after
an ineffectual resistance, were put to the sword.

In the struggle, Colonel James discharged a pistol at the king, but
missed his mark, and in his turn was attacked by Careless.

"I told you we would soon be with you," cried the Cavalier. "Yield,
and I will spare thy life."

"I would not accept life at thy hands," rejoined the commandant. "Look
to thyself!"

And beating down Careless's point with his heavy blade, he stepped
quickly backwards and disappeared. He had, in fact, dashed down a
narrow staircase communicating with the lower chambers of the fort,
and secured his retreat by pulling a trap-door over the entrance.

Meanwhile, Charles had torn down the flag of the Commonwealth, and
replaced it by the royal standard. As soon as this signal of victory
could be distinguished by his forces loud cheers were raised.
Possession was immediately taken of the fort, but no prisoners were
made, for Colonel James, and the few of his men left alive, had
evacuated the lower chambers. They had fled, it appeared, by a covered
way, and had entered the city through a postern near the Sidbury-gate.

By-and-bye the general officers came to congratulate the king on his
victory and express their admiration of his prowess, and it then
became a question whether the siege should be continued--General
Dalyell being of opinion that the city could be captured before night,
if an immediate attack were made upon the fortifications; but Charles
decided on waiting till the morrow.

"I have done enough for the day," he said. "Since I am master of this
fort, the city is at my disposal, and I can occupy it at my leisure."

"Very true, my liege," observed Dalyell. "But the garrison will take
advantage of your forbearance to escape."

"I will not molest them if they adopt that prudent course," said the
king, laughing. "They have ceased firing from the walls."

"But the men are still at their posts."

"If they give us any further trouble, we can turn these guns upon
them. Hark ye, gentlemen. Henceforth this fort shall be known as Fort
Royal."

"A fitting designation, since your majesty has captured it," said
Dalyell.

"Let the tents be pitched," said Charles. "The day's work is over. We
can take our rest after our long march. To-morrow we will enter the
city in triumph."

All happened precisely as Charles had foreseen. Not another shot was
fired by the Republicans. The Royalists encamped quietly on the hill.
But though no apprehensions were entertained of an attack, those
within Fort Royal were kept on the alert throughout the night.

Colonel James, however, had other designs. Convinced by what had
happened that the fortifications were no longer tenable, he decided on
abandoning them. With the whole of his men, he quitted the city
secretly at dead of night, taking the mayor and the sheriff with him
as prisoners. Crossing the bridge over the Severn, he rode off in the
direction of Gloucester.

The Royalists were aware of his retreat, but, in obedience to the
king's injunctions, did not seek to interrupt him.



Chapter 2. SHOWING HOW THE MAYOR OF WORCESTER AND THE SHERIFF WERE
TAKEN TO UPTON-ON-SEVERN, AND HOW THEY GOT BACK AGAIN.

Fatigued by his long march of three hundred miles and upwards, Charles
slept so soundly in his tent on Perry Wood, that neither the beating
of the drum at daybreak, the challenging of the sentinels, nor any of
the customary camp sounds, disturbed him. The men themselves answered
very reluctantly to the reveille. However, the fresh morning air soon
revived them. A day of ease and enjoyment lay before them. No more
toilsome marches, no more skirmishes, but rest--for that day, at
least. Two-thirds of the infantry were without shoes, but being hardy
Scots they did not count this an inconvenience. They all bemoaned the
ragged and weather-stained condition of their uniforms, but they had
heard that Worcester was famous for broadcloth, and the king had
promised them better garments when they reached the city.

The morn was lovely, and gave promise of a splendid day. At that early
hour, the view from the heights of the old and picturesque city, with
the broad river flowing past it, was enchanting, and delighted even
the rough soldiers who gazed at it. The fair Malvern Hills, however,
chiefly called forth their admiration as reminding them of their
native mountains, though they admitted that few of the Scottish
valleys could compare with the fertile vale of the Severn.

While many a greedy eye was fixed on Worcester, and many a cunning
tongue was talking of its wealth, and the plunder it would yield, if
they were only allowed to pillage it, the attention of the soldiers
was attracted to the walls, which had now become thronged with the
citizens and their wives and daughters, while all the church bells--
and no church in the old city lacked its proper complement of bells--
began to ring forth joyous peals. It was clear that the city was now
awake and astir, and the half-famished soldiers hoped that immediate
preparations would be made for their refreshment, and on an
extraordinary scale.

It was about this time that Major Careless, who had attired himself
rather hurriedly, being excited by the prodigious clangour of the
bells, entered the king's tent, and found the young monarch fast
asleep--fast as a top.

"Zounds!" mentally ejaculated the aide-de-camp; "his majesty must
sleep soundly, since this din does not disturb him--but no wonder.
I'll give him another hour."

And he turned to depart, when Charles suddenly ceased breathing hard,
and opened his eyes.

"What sound is that?" he cried, raising himself on his elbow and
listening.

"The bells of Worcester ringing for your majesty's glorious victory--
that's all," replied Careless.

"And enough too," cried the king, looking well pleased. "What has
happened to the garrison?"

"Evacuated the fortifications--taken to flight."

"Just what I expected--just what I desired."

"But your majesty did not expect--nor, I presume, desire--that Colonel
James would take the mayor of Worcester and the sheriff with him."

"'Sdeath!" exclaimed the king. "Has he had the audacity to do so?"

"Even so, my liege. No doubt they were specially obnoxious to him on
account of their loyalty, and he might wish to hold them for ransom.
'Tis lucky he didn't carry off others. There are several prisoners of
note in Worcester--Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, and Colonel Mervin
Touchet. But the rascal contented himself with the mayor and the
sheriff. At what hour will it please your majesty to enter the city?"

"At noon," replied Charles.

"Not till noon! why, we have no rations," cried Careless, in dismay.
"Your army has nothing to eat. Will your majesty keep the men fasting
till noon? If you could only see how hungry they look, you would feel
some pity for them."

"They shall all have a good breakfast in Worcester--that I promise
them."

"There will be plenty of grumbling at the delay."

"Bah! they always grumble. I must give my loyal subjects time to
decorate their houses and make all necessary preparations for my
entrance, or I shall disappoint them of their anticipated spectacle."

"Your hungry soldiers will pray that twelve o'clock may come."

"Let them listen to the bells. How blithely they sound!"

"Excuse me, sire. When we are enduring the pangs of hunger the
sweetest sounds become a mockery. Spare us this aggravated torture."

"Leave me; and let it be announced by sound of trumpet throughout the
lines that we shall make our triumphal entrance into Worcester at
noon."

As Careless went forth on his errand with a dissatisfied look Charles
sprang from his couch, and with the aid of a groom of the chamber and
a page, for he had brought a large retinue of servants with him on his
march, proceeded to dress himself, bestowing infinitely more care on
the decoration of his person than he had done since he left Scotland.

His tall, fine figure was well displayed in doublet and hose of
crimson velvet and white satin; his yellow maroquin boots were deeply
fringed with lace, and he wore point-lace at his wrists and around his
throat. His shoulder-knot was enriched with diamonds, his sword-hilt
glittered with gems, and his plumed hat was looped up by a large
diamond brooch. His long black locks were worn in the true Cavalier
fashion, and fell over his shoulders. All his princely ornaments were
put on for the occasion, the Garter, the George of Diamonds, and the
Blue Riband.

Charles was then in the heyday of his youth, being just twenty-one.
Though his features were harsh--the nose being too large, and not
well-shaped--and his complexion swarthy as that of a Spanish gipsy,
his large black eyes, full of fire and spirit, gave wonderful
expression to his countenance, and made him, at times, look almost
handsome. His manner was singularly affable and agreeable, and very
different from the cold, repelling stateliness of his ill-fated
father.

The young king was adjusting his mantle before the little mirror hung
up in the tent, preparatory to going forth, when a noise outside
attracted his attention.

Next moment Major Careless entered the tent, his looks beaming with
satisfaction.

"How now, Will," cried the king. "Have you found a breakfast that you
look so gay?"

"No, my liege, but I have found the mayor and the sheriff, and that is
more to the purpose. They have escaped from the commandant, and have
ridden up from Worcester to pay their homage to you, and relate their
adventures."

"Are they without?"

"Just alighted, sire. They are in a sorry plight, but in their zeal to
attend upon your majesty they would not tarry to change, and hope you
will excuse them."

"Excuse them! marry will I! I shall be delighted to receive them.
Bring them at once."

The two gentlemen were then introduced, and their habiliments
undoubtedly bore traces of the hardships they had undergone. But
Charles was better pleased to see them thus than if they had been in
their robes of office, and said so.

Mr. Lysons, the mayor of Worcester, and a wealthy draper of the city,
was a middle-aged man, but strong and active, and had a ruddy,
pleasant countenance. Mr. Bridges, the sheriff, and by trade a glover,
was a few years younger than the mayor, and not quite so stout. Both
of them had looked exhausted when they arrived, but they brightened up
wonderfully as they entered the king's presence.

Charles advanced to meet them, and gave them his hand to kiss in the
most gracious manner possible. After congratulating them heartily on
their escape, he inquired, with an air of much interest, how they had
contrived it.

"Your majesty shall hear," replied the mayor. "It will always be a
feather in our cap to have escaped from Colonel James. With what
particular object he carried us off we know not, but it is certain he
meant to take us to Gloucester. Shortly after midnight we were brought
out of Edgar's Tower, where we had been imprisoned, and were strictly
guarded by the troopers as we rode out of the city, but no attempt
whatever at rescue was made by our fellow-citizens. Probably no one
knew at the time that we were being carried off. Little did we dream
as we rode across the bridge that we should be back so soon.

"A dreary ride we had, and our thoughts, which were not very pleasant,
were disturbed by those psalm-singing Puritans. They did not speak
very respectfully of your majesty. But we told them a day of reckoning
was at hand, and that you would drive them all before you. 'Let him
first set your worship free, and his honour the sheriff,' said one of
the troopers--a snuffling rogue, whom his comrades called Ezra. 'Ay,
let him follow us to Gloucester,' observed another, who was very
appropriately named Madmannah. 'Be sure that he will follow, and force
you to evacuate the city, as you have done Worcester,' I rejoined. In
such pleasantries the time was passed.

"A halt was made at Upton-on-Severn. Now the Roundheads have no
especial dislike to ale and cider, and do not hold it sinful to
indulge in those liquors if good. Knowing the drink they delight in
was to be had in perfection at the Red Lion, at Upton, they roused the
house, and compelled the host and tapster to broach a cask of stout
March ale and another of cider. The troopers then dismounted, and tied
up their horses while they emptied their cans, leaving us to the care
of Ezra and Madmannah.

"Apparently, no one suspected us of any attempt to escape; yet we were
already meditating flight, if any favourable opportunity should occur.
By the light of the lanterns we could see them filling their cans. The
temptation soon became too strong for Madmannah. He joined the others,
but soon returned with a bottle of cider for Ezra. While they were
enjoying the pleasant drink, we suddenly broke away and plunged into a
hop-garden that adjoined the inn-yard. Both musketeers fired at us,
but did us no harm. Fortunately the night was dark, and we were
screened by the tall hop-poles.

"Alarmed by the firing, several other musketeers joined in the
pursuit, but they got into each other's way, and created great
confusion, in the midst of which we reached a wood, and being well
acquainted with the locality, made our way for the meadows on the
banks of the Severn. Then we were safe.

"After keeping in these meadows for two or three miles, we ventured on
the high road, and galloped off at full speed for Worcester, without
hearing anything more of the troopers or their commander. We caught
sight of the old city just at daybreak. 'Here we are back again, after
only a few hours' absence,' I remarked, as we passed through the
barbican at the head of the old bridge. 'Who would have thought it!'
'Not I,' replied the sheriff. 'We are in ample time for the rejoicings
on his majesty's glorious victory.' 'What if we ride up to the camp on
Perry Wood, and seek an audience of him?' I remarked. 'Not in this
plight,' said Mr. Bridges. 'His majesty will excuse us,' I replied."

"Ay, that I will, my good friends," cried Charles. "I am truly glad
that you came to me at once. With such subjects as you I shall never
stand upon ceremony. I have long known you both as two of the king my
father's most faithful adherents."

"We are equally devoted to the king, your father's son, my liege,"
rejoined the mayor. "And now, having been honoured by this audience,
we will return to the city and prepare for your majesty's reception."

"Before you take your departure, gentlemen," interposed Careless,
"permit me to remark to you that the entire army is without
provisions. The sooner, therefore, you can prepare for us the better."

"We will expedite matters as much as possible," said the mayor. "But I
am afraid we shall require three or four hours."

"His majesty's forces number eleven thousand men, as I understand,"
said the sheriff. "It will be impossible to provide for so many
without some little delay."

"Quite impossible," observed the king. "I will only beg you, as my
loving subjects, to treat my Scottish soldiers hospitably, even if you
make a great sacrifice."

"Your majesty shall have no ground of complaint," said both
magistrates.

"There is a point on which I must address a caution to you," pursued
Charles. "The greater part of my army, as you are doubtless aware, is
composed of members of the Scottish Kirk. They are bitter sectarians,
ever ready to dispute on religious questions, and to reprove those who
differ from them. Prevent, if you can, all quarrels among them and
your fellow-citizens."

"We have had plague enough already with those Anabaptists,
Presbyterians, and Independents," said the sheriff. "I am happy to say
there are very few left in faithful Worcester now we are rid of the
garrison. We will not quarrel with the Scots, since they have come
hither with your majesty. At noon all shall be ready for your
reception."

Making a profound reverence to the king, the two gentlemen then
withdrew, accompanied by Careless.

The king had lost his favourite charger at the attack on the fort on
the previous day; but another steed, in no respect inferior, had been
supplied him by the Duke of Buckingham, and mounted on his new
acquisition, he now proceeded to make an inspection of the camp. He
was attended by all his general officers, and by the nobles who had
accompanied him in his march from Scotland.

The men had begun to strike the tents at Perry Wood; for it had been
decided by his majesty, after consultation with Lesley, Middleton, and
Massey, that the main body of the army should be moved lower down the
hill, and not far from the Sidbury-gate, while Dalyell, with his
brigade, should fix his quarters at St. John's, on the right bank of
the river, and Middleton, with two thousand men, should encamp on the
Pitchcroft, a large plain, extremely convenient for the purpose, on
the north of the city, and on the left bank of the Severn.

Having completed his tour of inspection, Charles rode down with his
staff to Fort Royal; and he was surveying the scene of his late
brilliant exploit, and receiving fresh compliments from his
attendants, when he was surprised to see Careless come forth.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Breakfast is served, sire," replied the aide-de-camp.

"Breakfast!" exclaimed Charles.

"By St. George! I am glad to hear it," cried the Duke of Buckingham,
Lord Wilmot, and several others. "I hope there is enough for us all."

"Enough, and to spare," replied Careless.

Amid general exclamations of satisfaction the king and those with him
then dismounted, and were conducted by Careless into a large chamber,
where a plentiful repast awaited them.



Chapter 3. HOW CHARLES MADE HIS TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO WORCESTER; AND
HOW HE WAS PROCLAIMED BY THE MAYOR AND SHERIFF OF THAT LOYAL CITY

Meanwhile, an almost indescribable scene of bustle and confusion was
taking place within the city.

The pealing of bells, which, as we know, commenced at the earliest
hour of morning, continued almost without intermission. Great fires
were lighted on the Castle Hill, in the cathedral close, on the quays,
and at Pitchcroft, at which huge joints of meat were roasted--barons
of beef, entire muttons, barbecued hogs. All loyal citizens were
enjoined by the mayor to provide the best food they could, and in the
greatest quantity, for the king's army. It would be a lasting disgrace
to them, it was said, if any of their brave deliverers should be
stinted.

While part of each household was busily dressing food, the others were
engaged in decorating the habitations. The balconies were hung with
tapestry, gaily-coloured cloths and carpets, and the crosses were
adorned with flowers. The royal standard floated over the Sidbury-
gate, as well as on the summit of Fort Royal, and flags were flying
from all the steeples.

Such extraordinary zeal and activity were displayed, that, long before
the appointed hour, all the preparations were completed, and the good
folks began to be impatient for the coming of their Sovereign.

The entire host was now gathered on the hillside, and presented a
magnificent spectacle, as viewed from the city walls, which were
densely thronged. The Sidbury-gate was thrown wide open, a guard of
halberdiers being drawn up on either side of the entrance; while the
mayor, the sheriff, and the aldermen, in their full robes of office,
were stationed beneath the archway.

At length the sound of martial music was heard, and a squadron of
glittering cuirassiers was seen riding down the hill. Then came
Charles, attended by his staff, and followed by Colonel Pitscottie's
regiment of Highlanders. The strange, picturesque garb, and unusual
weapons of these stalwart mountaineers--their claymores, dirks, and
targets--filled the beholders with amazement. Nor were the citizens
less astonished by the shrill, warlike notes of the bagpipes, which
they heard for the first time.

As soon as it was perceived that the king had set out, a loud
discharge of cannon took place from the walls; and this, if possible,
heightened the general excitement. Regiment after regiment--cavalry
and infantry--were now moving down the hill--colours flying, bands
playing--the accoutrements of the cavalry flashing in the sunbeams
like so many mirrors.

The splendour of the king's staff produced an immense effect--some of
the nobles being singularly fine-looking men. Indeed, the Duke of
Buckingham, who rode at the head of the brilliant cortege with the
Duke of Hamilton, was accounted the handsomest and most accomplished
Cavalier of his time. Lord Wilmot was also a noble-looking personage--
tall and well-proportioned. Foremost among the military leaders rode
General David Lesley, who commanded one division of the Scottish army.
Thin and stern-looking, he had a thoughtful cast of countenance. With
him was Major-General Montgomery, who had strongly-marked features and
a keen eye, and looked like a thorough soldier. Then came Lieutenant-
General Thomas Dalyell, who had served with distinction under Charles
I., and in whom the young king placed much confidence. With Dalyell
was Vandrose, a Dutch general. Generals Middleton and Massey brought
up the list.

Despite the rich apparel of the nobles and the splendid accoutrements
of the general officers, none of them pleased the beholders so much--
especially the female portion of them--as Colonel Pitscottie, who, as
he rode at the head of his Highlanders, looked the beau ideal of a
Scottish chieftain. He was strongly built, with a red beard, and light
blue eyes of extraordinary power. Pitscottie was as brave as a lion,
and as true as his own sword. Such were the distinguished persons on
whom the spectators gazed from the city walls.

The whole space between the Sidbury-gate and the ancient Commandery
was thronged, but a space was kept clear for the king, and for the
passage of the troops, by halberdiers placed at frequent intervals.

Here Charles was detained for a few minutes by the enthusiastic
demonstrations of the crowd, who would scarcely allow him to proceed.
They shouted, stretched out their arms towards him, and hailed him as
their rightful sovereign and their deliverer. He could not fail to be
touched by such manifestations of loyalty. Though the sun was pouring
down his fiercest radiance upon his jetblack locks, he remained
uncovered all the time, and bowed around repeatedly with the grace
peculiar to him.

As soon as he was able to move forward, the mayor, with the sheriff
and aldermen, advanced from the gateway to meet him, and, bowing
reverentially, bade him welcome to the city.

"The city of Worcester has ever been faithful to you, sire," said the
mayor, "though constrained to yield to superior force. We now joyfully
open our gates to you and your victorious army, and pray you to enter
the city."

"I thank you heartily for your welcome, Mr. Mayor and gentlemen,"
replied Charles. "I never doubted your loyalty and devotion. The king,
my father, always spoke of Worcester as his 'Faithful City.' I shall
never speak of it otherwise. Again I thank you for the reception you
accord me. It is precisely what I expected from you."

Loud acclamations followed these gracious words, which were delivered
with admirable effect by the young monarch.

With the utmost despatch, the mayor and the civic authorities then
mounted their steeds, which were in readiness for them, and preceded
the king as he entered the city, the mayor carrying the sword of state
before his majesty.

Trumpets were blown, drums beaten, and the bells, which had been
silent during the ceremonial at the gate, began to peal joyfully again
as the royal cortege moved up Sidbury-street, and shaped its course to
the High-street, which it speedily reached. This long and handsome
street, which runs through the centre of the city from the cathedral
to the Foregate, is now totally changed in appearance, though it
occupies pretty nearly the same ground as heretofore. The ancient
street, however, being incomparably more picturesque and striking than
the modern thoroughfare, its demolition cannot but be regretted. The
houses, as already mentioned, were built of oak, painted black and
white, in the charming fashion of the period, though not according to
any uniform design, so as to avoid a monotonous effect. In many
instances they were richly ornamented with curious and elaborate
carvings. One peculiarity belonging to them, and constituting a great
charm, was the possession of open balconies; and these were now, for
the most part, filled with well-dressed dames and damsels, some of
whom boasted considerable personal attractions. Worcester, it is well
known, has been at all times famous for pretty women. The rails of the
balconies were hung with tapestry, carpets, and rich stuffs, and these
decorations gave the street a very lively appearance. The concourse on
the footways contented themselves with cheering the king as he passed
along, and did not attempt to press upon him, while the damsels waved
their kerchiefs from above. Had Charles been the handsomest young
prince in Christendom (which he certainly was not), he could not have
captivated more hearts than he did as he rode along the High-street,
and gazed at the well-filled balconies on the right and left. Each
fair nymph on whom his eye rested for a moment fancied herself the
special object of his admiration, while many a one--perhaps with some
reason--believed she had been distinguished by a bow from his majesty.

In this manner Charles rode on--receiving fresh homage from all
classes of his subjects as he proceded--till he came to the Guildhall,
where the civic authorities had already halted, and where he himself
alighted, in order to sign certain warrants. Like almost all the other
edifices in the street, the Guildhall has been rebuilt, and though we
have every respect for the modern fabric, we should have been better
pleased if the ancient structure, with its recollections of the past,
had been preserved. Allowing the mayor and his fellows to conduct his
majesty into the great hail, we shall leave them there, having more to
interest us outside.

Troops were now pouring into the city, and were marching in different
directions; some regiments being taken by their officers to the Castle
Hill, others to the cathedral close, and others to the quays--at all
of which places good eatables and drinkables, and in the greatest
abundance, were provided for them. On that day, in all parts of the
city, thousands of hungry soldiers were feasted--every house being
open to them. And to the credit of the Scots it must be stated, that
they in no wise abused the hospitality shown them.

While his majesty was signing the warrants in the Guildhall, a halt
took place in the High-street, and when thus seen from above, the
various regiments of horse and foot, with their flags and banners, now
forming an almost solid mass, presented a splendid spectacle. A good
deal of animated conversation between the officers and the damsels in
the balconies took place during this interval, and some amusing
incidents occurred, one of which must be related.

Among the spectators collected nearly opposite the Guildhall were an
elderly dame and an exceedingly pretty damsel--the old woman's
granddaughter, as it turned out. They evidently belonged to the middle
classes. With them was a sallow, ill-favoured personage, whose
closely-cropped black hair, steeple-crowned hat, plain Geneva band,
and black cloak, proclaimed him a Puritan. It was certain that he was
passionately enamoured of the damsel, whom he addressed by the name of
Mary, for he watched her every look with jealous eyes; but it was by
no means equally certain that she returned his passion. Rather the
contrary, we should say.

Urso Gives, for so was pretty Mary's suitor named, was more than
double her age, and far from well-favoured, but he was tolerably rich,
and this was enough for Dame Rushout, Mary's grandmother.

Urso Gives was a tailor, and had prospered in his business. For a
knight of the thimble, he was not devoid of mettle, and somewhat
quarrelsome and vindictive. He was decidedly a Republican, and in
religion an Independent. As may be imagined, this was a bitter day for
him, and he would not have come forth upon it had it not been to watch
over pretty Mary Rushout, who was determined to see the young king. So
he was compelled to place Mary and her grand-dame in a good position
opposite the Guildhall, and there they had an excellent view of the
young monarch, and saw him dismount.

Mary Rushout was enchanted. Never had she beheld any one so graceful,
so majestic as the king. How royally he bestrode his steed! How
beauteous were his long black locks!--Urso must let his own hair grow
long. And then how his majesty's diamonds sparkled! She could not help
calling out "Long live the king!" Charles noticed her, and told her,
with a smile, "She was the prettiest girl he had seen that day, and
deserved a better lover." Was not this enough to turn her head? Was it
not enough to madden the irritable and jealous Urso? The by-standers,
who were staunch Royalists, laughed at him, and this exasperated Urso
beyond all endurance. He broke out against the king, called him the
chief of the malignants, and the favourer of heresy and profaneness,
and would have gone on in the same strain if he had not been soundly
buffeted on all sides.

Mary Rushout and her grand-dame screamed, and their cries attracted
the attention of an aide-de-camp, who was waiting his majesty's
return. It was Major Careless. Seeing a pretty girl in distress he
pushed forward his steed, and quickly extricated her and the old dame,
while Urso took advantage of his interference to escape.

A Cavalier so gallant as Careless we may be sure did not retire after
such an introduction, and he found Mary Rushout very willing to flirt
with him. He soon learned all about her and about Urso Gives, and that
they both dwelt in the Trinity, and continued chatting with her till
Charles came forth from the Guildhall.

The royal cortege was once more put in motion, and proceeded to the
large open place near the Foregate, in the midst of which stood the
antique sculptured cross previously mentioned. The place was now
filled with people, but the assemblage was no farther disturbed than
was necessary to allow the troops to form a square round it.

The mayor and the sheriff having made their way to the cross, trumpets
were sounded, and, amid the silence that ensued, the mayor, in a
sonorous voice, proclaimed Charles King of England, Scotland, France,
and Ireland. Tremendous acclamations followed, and guns were fired
from the top of the Foregate.

Even then the assemblage did not move, nor did the troops quit their
position.

Trumpets being again sounded, a Manifesto was published in the king's
name, declaring a general pardon to all the inhabitants of the city as
should henceforward conform to his authority; and also announcing that
warrants had just received the loyal sign-manual in the Guildhall,
whereby his majesty summoned, upon their allegiance, all the nobility,
gentry, and others, of what degree and condition soever, of the county
of Worcester, from sixteen to sixty, to appear in their persons, and
with any horses, arms, and ammunition they had or could procure, at
Pitchcroft, near the city, on Tuesday next, being the 26th of August,
1651, "where," pursued the king, "ourself will be present to dispose
of such of them as we shall think fit for our service in the war, in
defence of this City and County, and to add to our marching army."

On the king's return to the city, the mayor ceremoniously conducted
him to his private residence, where a grand collation had been
prepared, of which his majesty and his suite partook.



Chapter 4. HOW CHARLES WAS LODGED IN THE EPISCOPAL PALACE; AND HOW
DOCTOR CROSBY PREACHED BEFORE HIS MAJESTY IN THE CATHEDRAL

The ancient episcopal palace--which had been prepared, as well as
circumstances would permit, for the reception of the king and his
suite--was a large and stately pile, and, from its size, grandeur, and
the number of apartments it contained, was well fitted to be the
temporary residence of a monarch--even had that monarch been firmly
settled on the throne--and, indeed, it was again occupied by royalty
at a later date, when George III. and his queen visited Worcester in
1788. By far the most important mansion in the city, it occupied a
commanding position on the left bank of the river, and from its fine
bay windows presented a very imposing façade. The roof was lined with
battlements, towers, and belfries, and on the highest of these towers
the royal standard now floated, while sentries were stationed at the
river gate, and at the upper gateway. The palace was surrounded by
high embattled walls, within which was a garden laid out in the old
formal style, and boasting a broad terrace. The garden had been
utterly neglected by the Roundheads, and the terrace was covered with
grass. Internally, the mansion, which was erected probably about the
beginning of the sixteenth century, contained a noble hall, with a
richly carved screen, an exquisite chapel, a carved oak staircase of
great beauty, conducting to a long gallery, the deeply embayed windows
of which, while they embellished the exterior, commanded fine views of
the country, and the broad intermediate tract once known as Malvern
Chase, but now a most fertile district, through which, as Dyer sings,
"--the wide Majestic wave of Severn slowly rolls."

Considerable damage had been done to the gallery and the rooms opening
from it by the Roundheads, who had torn down the fine old tapestry
once adorning the oak panels, and injured the carvings. Most of the
old furniture, being of oak, had withstood a great deal of barbarous
usage, and an immense ponderous bedstead, in which many a bishop had
reposed, was prepared for his majesty. A good many other beds had to
be provided for the king's suite, and for his large retinue of
servants, but this was satisfactorily accomplished, and luckily there
were rooms enough to accommodate all. Fortunately, also, the mansion
possessed a vast kitchen, having no fewer than three large grates,
whence hospitality had been dispensed by the worthy prelates in the
olden time. At these three grates cooks had been at work, roasting and
boiling, throughout the day.

The first persons presented to the king on his arrival at the palace
were Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, and Colonel Mervin Touchet, who
had been kept prisoners by the commandant of the garrison. Lord Talbot
and Sir John said they had only waited to see his majesty, and were
about to depart instantly to raise recruits for his service, but
Charles would have them stay and dine with him. Another person whom
the king was delighted to see was Doctor Crosby, the loyal divine, who
had suffered imprisonment for his zeal in his majesty's behalf.

Dinner was served in the great hall, and what it wanted in
ceremoniousness was more than compensated for by abundance of viands
and excellence of wine. Not much form was observed. The mayor occupied
a seat on his majesty's right, and the sheriff on the left. Grace was
said by Doctor Crosby, We shall not particularise the dishes, but we
must mention that a Severn salmon of prodigious weight--quite a regal
fish, that had allowed itself obligingly to be captured for the
occasion--was set before the king. Moreover, the stewed lampreys were
an entirely new delicacy to his majesty, and pleased him greatly.

Charles was in high spirits, and laughed and jested in the most good-
humoured manner with those near him. Of a very sanguine temperament,
he had never doubted the success of his expedition, and the events--
unimportant as they were--that had occurred since his arrival before
Worcester heightened his confidence. For the first time he had been
victorious, and had been warmly welcomed by his subjects. He had been
assured that a great number of recruits could be raised in the county
before the general Muster took place at Pitchcroft, and he felt
certain Lord Derby would bring him large levies from Lancashire and
Cheshire. He would then give battle to Cromwell, defeat him, and march
on triumphantly to London. His confidence seemed to be shared by all
the nobles and general officers present--even by the cold and cautious
Lesley. While quaffing their claret and burgundy, they predicted the
utter defeat of Old Noll and the destruction of all rebels.

Next day, being Sunday, was comparatively calm after the great
previous excitement. Not that the city had by any means resumed its
ordinary aspect--that was clearly impossible with a large army
encamped outside the walls, and many regiments quartered within them--
but the Scottish soldiers, being strict observers of the Sabbath,
conducted themselves in a very orderly and decorous manner. Much
preaching was there in the camps at Red Hill and Pitchcroft, and
officers might be heard reading the Bible and holding forth upon
sacred texts to their men, who listened with the profoundest
attention.

All the churches--and Worcester, as we know, abounded in churches--
were filled with congregations in which the military element
predominated; but the cathedral--as might be expected, since it was
known that the king would attend divine service there--collected
within it all the principal personages of the city, all the chief
officers of the army, and as many regiments as the vast pile could
contain. Never, perhaps, before or since, has the interior of this
grand old edifice presented such a striking sight as it did on this
memorable occasion. Its marble monuments and effigies, its chantry and
lady-chapel, had been mutilated, as we have already told, by the
Roundheads, but these injuries were now concealed from view by the
throng collected within the aisles of the choir and the retro-choir.
Owing likewise to the attention being directed to other objects, the
loss of the splendid painted glass in the windows was scarcely
noticed. The majestic pillars lining the broad nave rose up amid a
mass of troops that not only occupied the body of the fane, but the
aisles. Seen from the entrance of the choir, paved with steel caps,
and bristling with pikes, muskets, and carabines--for the men all
carried their arms--the nave presented an extraordinary coup-d'oeil.
Stationed within the south transept, Pitscottie's Highlanders
contributed materially to the effect of the picture. All the nobles in
attendance upon the king, with the general officers, occupied the
stalls in the choir--Charles being seated in the bishop's throne.

As this was the first time on which the service of the Church of
England had been performed within the cathedral since its desecration
by the Parliamentarians, it may be conceived with what satisfaction
the members of that religion were enabled to resume their own form of
worship within it--and this satisfaction was heightened by the
circumstances under which they came back. The organ was gone, but the
military music substituted seemed not inappropriate to an occasion
when hymns of triumph were sung. Certes, the drums, trumpets, and
other martial instruments, resounding from the roof, produced an
extraordinary effect.

The sermon was preached by Doctor Crosby, and was a most eloquent and
fervid discourse. The pale countenance of the venerable dean flushed,
and his eyes blazed as with fire, while he denounced the murderers of
the martyr king, and declared that the vengeance so long delayed would
speedily fall upon them. Rebellion, which had stalked un-checked
through the land, would be crushed, and the monarchy restored. To
Charles he attributed the highest spiritual authority, and spoke of
him as "in all causes, and over all persons, next under God, supreme
head and governor"--expressions at which his Presbyterian hearers took
great offence. The earnestness, however, of his manner could not fail
to impress them with a conviction of his sincerity.

A council of war was subsequently held within the palace, and it was
decided that the fortifications should at once be thoroughly repaired,
so as to enable the city to stand a siege, if necessary, though no
tidings had yet been heard of Cromwell. After an early repast, Charles
rode forth with his retinue into the city, and was surprised to find
the High-Street so empty, and almost all the houses shut up; but his
surprise ceased when he reached the camp at Pitchcroft, and found that
the vast plain was covered with people, and resembled a fair. The
Scottish soldiers were quiet, and took no part in the profane
recreations of the dissolute Cavaliers, who were everywhere swaggering
about, and making love to all the pretty damsels.

Charles was enthusiastically received, but he did not stay long on
Pitchcroft. After riding through the principal line of tents, he
returned and crossed the river to St. John's, where Dalyell's brigade
was placed to protect the approach to the bridge. Lower down, on the
meadows on this side of the river, Pitscottie's Highlanders were
encamped, and the king passed them on his way to Powick, which he
desired to see. From the Highlanders' camp, which was almost opposite
the episcopal palace and the cathedral, the finest view of old
Worcester could be obtained, and he paused for some minutes,
enraptured by the charming picture.

A delightful ride of a mile, or somewhat more, along this bank of the
Severn brought the king and his attendants to the Teme at its point of
junction with the larger river, and then following its deeply-ploughed
channel, and watching its swift flowing current through the fringing
trees, they rode on to Powick.

Near Powick there was a woody island of some little extent, round
which rushed the river--here, as elsewhere, too deep to be forded. The
island was gained by a bridge from either bank, and the importance of
the point was so obvious, that the king determined to place a battery
upon it.



Chapter 5. HOW CHARLES RODE TO MADRESFIELD COURT; AND HOW MISTRESS
JANE LANE AND HER BROTHER, WITH SIR CLEMENT FISHER, WERE PRESENTED TO
HIS MAJESTY

Next morning another council of war was held at the palace. No tidings
as yet of Cromwell--no despatches from the Earl of Derby. After an
hour's deliberation the council broke up, and the king proceeded to
the Castle Hill, which was being fortified under the superintendence
of Lord Rothes and Sir William Hamilton.

The city walls, in the reparation of which hundreds of men had been
employed since midnight, were next inspected by his majesty, who was
well satisfied with the progress made. He then visited both camps, and
while riding along the High-street with his escort, attended by Major
Careless, was loudly cheered. Ever since the king's arrival at
Worcester the weather had been splendid--a circumstance that
contributed in no slight degree to the gay and festive air that
prevailed within the city. The taverns were full of roystering
Cavaliers, smoking, drinking, dicing, and singing bacchanalian songs.

On his return from the camp at Pitchcroft, Charles paid a visit to the
mayor at his private residence, and had a long conference with him.
Having given all the instructions he deemed necessary, and feeling
that his presence was no longer required, Charles, anxious to escape
from the ceaseless applications by which he was beset, crossed the
river, and, still attended by his escort and Careless, rode in the
direction of the Malvern Hills, his destination being Madresfield
Court, an old fortified mansion, buried in the midst of thick woods of
oak, beech, elm, and other trees, stretching almost from Malvern to
the banks of the Severn.

The day, as we have said, was splendid, though excessively hot, but
shaded by the trees, which sheltered him with their mighty arms from
the oppressive summer heat, Charles found the ride through the forest
enchanting. He seemed to breathe more freely now that he was away from
the crowded city and the bustling camps.

A lovely sylvan scene, such as he had not for some time contemplated,
was offered to his gaze. Madresfield Chase, which formed part of the
old forest of Malvern, boasted some trees of great age and vast size.
Generally the chase was flat, but occasionally a knoll could be
discerned, crowned with timber. A long and beautiful glade of some
miles in extent led towards the ancient mansion, which could not,
however, be distinguished. Rising in front, above the trees, appeared
the lovely Malvern Hills, and their summits, bathed in sunshine,
looked so exquisite that Charles wished he could be transported to one
of them.

"I never look at a mountain top," he remarked to Careless, "without
desiring to ascend to it."

"'Tis a natural wish I think, my liege," replied the aide-de-camp. "At
least, I have the same feeling. Those hills are not difficult of
ascent, and command a magnificent view. The highest of them, and the
nearest to Malvern, is the Worcestershire Beacon; the other is the
Herefordshire Beacon. Both noble hills."

"Can we ride to the top of the Worcestershire Beacon?"

"Easily, sire."

"Have you ever made the ascent on horse-back?"

"Never--either on horseback or on foot, sire."

"Then you know nothing about it. However, the difficulties, if there
are any, won't deter me. I cannot resist the inclination to ride up to
the beacon. We will make the ascent in the evening, when it grows
cooler. 'Tis too sultry just now."

"Very true, sire. I should be loth to quit these trees for the bare
hill-side."

They then rode on till they came in sight of the grey old structure,
which was a very good specimen of a castellated mansion, being
strongly built, embattled, flanked with towers, surrounded by a broad,
deep moat, defended by a drawbridge, and approached by a grand
embattled gateway.

During the Civil Wars, Madresfield Court had been alternately in the
possession of the Royalists and the Roundheads. Strongly garrisoned by
Charles I., taken by Colonel Fynes at the first siege of Worcester,
retaken by the Royalists, and again captured in 1646, it had remained,
until within the last few days, in the quiet possession of its owner,
Colonel Lygon, who prudently acted with the Parliamentarians. On the
arrival of Charles at Worcester, Colonel Lygon was driven forth, after
an ineffectual attempt at resistance, and his mansion seized and
garrisoned for the king. It was now in a condition to stand a siege,
being already well victualled, and well provided with arms and
ammunition. Falconets were placed on the gateway, and larger ordnance
on the battlements.

Charles was well pleased to see the royal standard displayed from the
roof of the old mansion, and to note the preparations for defence.
Trumpets were sounded and drums beaten on his approach. The drawbridge
was lowered, and the officers and men prepared to turn out and receive
his majesty. Charles, however, halted beneath a spreading oak that
grew on a wide lawn in front of the mansion, and was contemplating the
ancient edifice with some pride in being once more its master, when
Careless drew his attention to three persons on horseback, who had
just issued from an avenue on the right. From their attire, and from
their steeds, the equestrians looked like persons of distinction. One
of the party, who specially attracted the king's attention, was a
young lady, slight in figure, and extremely graceful. Even beheld at
that distance, it might be safely asserted that she was lovely, and
when she drew near, she more than realised any notions the king had
formed of her beauty. Her companions were Cavaliers undoubtedly--both
fine-looking young men, distinguished by their military bearing.

"Know you whom they are?" inquired the king of Careless.

"Unless I mistake not, sire, he in the black velvet doublet, slashed
with white, is Colonel Lane of Bentley Hall, in Staffordshire--"

"The Lanes are staunch Royalists?" interrupted Charles.

"Staunchest of the staunch, sire. With the colonel is his sister,
Mistress Jane Lane, one of the fairest damsels in the county, and
devoted to your majesty. He on the roan horse, and in the green
jerkin, laced with silver, is Sir Clement Fisher, of Packington Hall,
in Warwickshire."

"Jane Lane's suitor, I'll be sworn!" cried Charles.

"Your majesty has hit it," replied Careless, with a smile.

While this brief colloquy took place, the party had stopped, as if
awaiting permission to advance.

"Bring them to me, and present them," said Charles.

Careless, who was a preux chevalier, executed his task with infinite
grace. It was a charming sight to witness Jane Lane's presentation to
the young king. There was an ingenuousness in her manner that
delighted Charles. She seemed to possess great spirit and force of
character, and yet she had all the most agreeable feminine qualities.
As to her beauty there could be no question. Brighter black eyes,
features of greater delicacy and refinement, tresses more exquisite,
Charles had never beheld. Though she coloured deeply when she first
encountered the king's gaze, she manifested no embarrassment.

There was a certain likeness between Colonel Lane and his sister,
though the colonel had strongly-marked traits, a firm mouth, and a
bold, determined look. But he had dark eyes like Jane, and in them
resided the expression that constituted the likeness. Sir Clement
Fisher was an admirable specimen of a Cavalier--handsome, brave,
chivalrous, he seemed formed to win a fair lady's heart. Whether he
had won that of Jane Lane will be seen.

"How is it I have not yet seen you at Worcester, gentlemen?" inquired
Charles.

"We are on our way thither, sire," replied Colonel Lane. "You will see
us at the Muster at Pitchcroft to-morrow. We have not been lukewarm in
your majesty's cause."

"Even I have done something for you, sire," said Jane. "This morning I
have secured your majesty forty horse; and I hope to render you still
better service before the day is over."

"My sister is zealous, you perceive, sire," remarked Colonel Lane,
with a smile.

"Were there a hundred like her I should soon have an army," observed
Charles, highly pleased.

"But what is the great service you hope to render me?"

"Nay, sire," she rejoined, playfully, "you must allow me to keep my
secret. 'Twill be a surprise to you to-morrow."

"Then I will ask you no further questions, yet I would fain know why
you came here. You could not have expected to find me at Madresfield."

"Pardon me, your majesty, I did expect to find you here."

"Oddsfish! you must be a witch," cried Charles, laughing.

"There is no sorcery in the matter, sire. Have you not sent a
messenger to Mr. Thomas Hornyold, of Blackmore Park, commanding him to
attend upon you at Madresfield this afternoon?"

"And you have seen the messenger?"

"I have, sire. I have read the message, and I told Tom Hornyold I
would come in his stead, and make his excuses. The blame of his
disobedience of your majesty's order must rest entirely with me. I
have sent him to Sir Rowland Berkeley."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Charles.

"He will do more good with Sir Rowland than here. But that is not all.
He has promised me to see Sir Walter Blount, Sir John Winford, and Mr.
Ralph Sheldon of Beoley. Will you forgive now for my great
presumption, sire?"

"Forgive you! I am beyond measure indebted to you."

"Sire!" she cried, with a look that bespoke her conviction of the
truth of what she uttered, "I believe that I am destined to render you
a signal service. My brother will confirm what I am about to say. It
was foretold of me when I was a child, by a famous astrologer, that I
should save a prince's life. The prophecy must refer to you."

"It may be so," said Charles, smiling at her enthusiasm. "At all
events, I shall look upon you as my guardian angel."

"My heart beats only with loyalty, sire. I have no other feeling in my
breast."

"No other feeling, fair mistress?" said the king, glancing towards Sir
Clement.

"It is perfectly true, sire," observed the young baronet, with a
somewhat despondent look. "Mistress Jane Lane vows she will never wed
till your majesty is seated on the throne."

"And I will keep my vow," cried Jane.

"Then I trust ere long Sir Clement may be in a position to claim you,
and that I may be present at your nuptials," said Charles. "But
whither you go?" he added, seeing they were preparing to depart. "Will
you not enter the house?"

"We must pray your majesty to excuse us," said Colonel Lane, bowing.
"We have much to do. We are going to cross the hills into
Herefordshire."

"Nay, then you must stay till the heat of the day is abated, and I
myself will bear you company for part of your journey, for I design to
ascend the Worcestershire Beacon. 'Tis not fit your sister should be
exposed to this fierce sun."

"I am not one of those damsels that care for my complexion, sire,"
observed Jane, laughing. "The sun will not melt me."

"Nay, then I will not detain you," rejoined Charles. "I shall see you
to-morrow at the Muster at Pitchcroft. You must not be absent, fair
mistress."

"Be sure I will not, sire," she replied. Bending reverentially to the
king, she rode off with the others.

"A noble girl!" exclaimed Charles, gazing after her with admiration.
"She is the incarnation of loyalty."



Chapter 6. HOW CHARLES ASCENDED THE WORCESTERSHIRE BEACON AND OF THE
AMBUSCADE PREPARED FOR HIM AS HE CAME DOWN.

After examining the preparations made for the defence of the old
mansion, Charles sat down with Careless and the officer in command of
the garrison to a repast prepared for him in the great hall. When he
had finished it he ordered his horses. The officer asked if his
majesty required his escort.

"No;" replied Charles. "I am not about to return to Worcester. I am
charmed with this place, and shall sleep here to-night. I mean to ride
to Malvern. Major Careless will attend me."

So his majesty set forth, accompanied only by his aide-de-camp. A
pleasant ride through the woods brought them to the foot of the giant
hill, on a ridge of which stood the little secluded village of
Malvern. Yes, the little secluded village of Malvern. Where terraces
of well-built houses now spring above each other on the hillside--
where countless white villas peer from out the trees, contrasting
charmingly with the foliage, and helping to form one of the prettiest
towns in England--a town as healthful as pretty--nothing was then to
be seen but a few small habitations, in the midst of which rose the
old priory church and the beautiful gateway adjoining it. The priory
was pulled down at the Dissolution of the Monasteries, and with it the
glory of Malvern had departed. Devotees were still attracted by the
Holy Well, and marvellous cures were said to be wrought by its waters,
but such pilgrims were rare, and Malvern remained an obscure,
unfrequented village, until its beauties and salubrity were discovered
in the early part of the present century.

Charles and his attendant halted on the ridge on which this charming
town is now built, and surveyed the extensive prospect it commands.
They were not aware that they were watched from behind a tree by a
tall, ill-favoured man, in the garb of a Puritan. This eaves-dropper,
who had followed them cautiously for some minutes, ascertained their
purpose, and as soon as they began to ascend the hill, he hurried down
to the little inn near the priory gate.

All difficulties in the ascent of the lofty hill, known as the
Worcestershire Beacon, have now been removed, and well-made paths
enable even invalids to reach its summit almost without fatigue. But
at the time when Charles and his attendant mounted it, it had a stern,
solitary air, and its silence was unbroken by any sound except that of
the sheep-bell, or the cry of a bird of prey. Sheep-tracks alone led
up its rugged sides, and conducted the pedestrian through the broad
patches of furze, or past huge protruding rocks, to the smooth turf
above. Charles being a daring horseman, took the nearest road, and not
unfrequently came to places where it was too steep to proceed with
safety, and had to retrace his course and seek a less dangerous
ascent. The only person in sight was a shepherd tending his flock, and
he was far off. At length the king and his attendant gained the
rounded summit of the hill, which was covered by turf smooth as
velvet, and fragrant with thyme.

Hitherto, both Charles and Careless had been too much occupied by the
difficulties of the ascent to pay much attention to the vast panorama
opening upon them as they mounted the hill. But as they now gazed upon
it, they were lost in admiration, and quite forgot the trouble they
had experienced.

It boots not to describe the thoughts that passed through the king's
breast, as his eye ranged over that astonishing prospect, which,
comprehending as it does nine or ten counties, showed him a large
portion of his kingdom, and that perhaps not the least beautiful
portion. How many towns and villages--how many noble mansions--could
he count in that wide-spread landscape! On the left, and almost as it
seemed at his feet, lay the old and faithful City of Worcester, with
his army encamped around it. Two other cathedral towns, with their
church towers and steeples--Gloucester and Hereford--could likewise be
distinguished. Charles sought the Severn for some time in vain. Owing
to the height of its banks, it could only be here and there discerned.

He hung long upon this incomparable prospect, and then turned to the
Herefordshire side of the hill, whence the view was almost equally
fine, three distinct mountainous chains, of beautifully varied form,
meeting his gaze.

On quitting the green sward the perils of the descent commenced, and
they were obliged to proceed with caution, the ground being covered
with loose stones and fragments of rock. They proceeded singly,
Charles taking the lead, and were skirting a huge mass of granite that
obstructed their course, when suddenly half a dozen men, armed with
muskets, whose steel caps and buff coats showed they were
Parliamentary soldiers, and who had evidently been lying in ambush
behind the rocks, sprang forward, one of them seizing the king's
bridle, and two others forcibly preventing him from using his arms.
Careless was treated in precisely the same manner, and the capture was
so quickly executed that it was perfectly successful.

At the same time two persons appeared on the top of the rock, which
rose to some little height above them. In one of these Careless
recognised Colonel James; the other, who kept back, was the spy we
have previously mentioned.

"Release me, villains!" cried Charles, furiously, as he vainly
attempted to free himself from the grasp of the soldiers who held him.

"Not so," said the leader of the ambuscade from above. "The Lord hath
delivered thee into my hand, as He delivered Jabin, King of Canaan,
into the hands of the children of Israel. I will not put thee to
death, but will take thee and thine officer as prisoners to the Lord
General, to deal with ye as he may see fit. With thy capture the
invasion of the men of Moab is at an end."

Scarcely were the words uttered than a loud report was heard, and he
dropped on the rock, apparently mortally wounded.

"The Amalekites are upon us!" shouted the spy. "Save yourselves!"

So saying, he jumped down on the other side of the rock and
disappeared.

Supposing their commander killed, and not knowing what force might be
upon them, the soldiers did not dare to carry off their prize, but
sought safety in flight.

Next moment, from among the rocks beneath, issued Sir Clement Fisher,
who had fired the shot, while close behind him appeared Colonel Lane
and his sister.

"Heaven preserve your majesty!" shouted the two Cavaliers, raising
their hats; while Jane, whose dark eyes flashed, and whose face was
radiant with delight, echoed the loyal aspiration.

Charles heard them, and raised his hat in response.

"Haste thee to Madresfield Court," he said to Careless. "Bring a
detachment of horse to scour these hills. I will have the villains who
have dared to lay hands upon me."

"Your majesty--"

"Obey me. I shall have Colonel Lane and Sir Clement Fisher with me.
Away! Spare not the spur."

Thus enjoined, Careless dashed down the rocks at the hazard of his
neck.

Charles then descended to his preservers, who had moved to a less
rugged spot, and thanked them heartily.

"The prophecy is fulfilled," he said to Jane. "You have saved my
life."

"Nay, it was Sir Clement who delivered you, sire," she replied. "But I
may, at least, claim the merit of having perceived your majesty's
peril."

"You may claim more," remarked Sir Clement Fisher. "Had it not been
for your coolness and self-possession, we could not have succeeded in
effecting his majesty's deliverance."

"I said you are my guardian angel, and so you are," cried Charles.
"But I must learn what took place. Let me have the description from
your own lips."

"Since your majesty commands me, I must speak, though Sir Clement
could better explain the matter," she rejoined, blushing. "Then, thus
it was, sire. We had accomplished our errand, and were returning
through yonder pass between the hills, when we observed your majesty
and Major Careless near the beacon. We could see you both quite
distinctly, and our gaze never quitted you till you were about to
commence your descent. I then begged my brother to quit the lower
road, in order that we might meet you as you came down. Your course
lay towards those rocks, and while gazing in that direction, I noticed
some armed men moving stealthily about among them, and pointed them
out to my brother and Sir Clement, who at once recognised them as
rebel soldiers, and felt sure that an ambuscade had been placed there.
What was to be done? impossible to warn you. A plan occurred to me. I
showed my companions how, by keeping among the rocks, we could
approach the ambuscading party unperceived, and they followed my
counsel, as it seemed the sole chance of saving your majesty. We got
near enough to enable Sir Clement to bring down the leader of the
troop."

"And luckily not another shot was needed," said Sir Clement.

"I know not whether you were my deliverer or Sir Clement," said
Charles. "But I am equally indebted to you both. And now you must all
accompany me to Madresfield Court. I shall need your escort,
gentlemen."



Chapter 7. HOW COLONEL LEGGE BROUGHT IMPORTANT NEWS TO THE KING, AND
HOW HIS MAJESTY PAID A VISIT TO SEVERN END.

Careless was able to execute the king's commands much more quickly
than he expected.

Encountering a small party of dragoons near Malvern, he ordered them
to scour the lower part of the hill, while he himself reascended the
heights. The Roundheads, however, had made good their retreat. They
had hidden their horses, it appeared, in a deep chasm, on the hill-
side, and after their unsuccessful attempt, had descended into the
plain, where they were lost among the woods.

A singular discovery was made by Careless. On visiting the rock, on
which the commandant had fallen, he found the spot stained with blood,
but the body was gone. By whom had it been removed? Not by the
Roundheads--that was certain. In all probability Colonel James had not
been mortally wounded, as was at first supposed, but had recovered
sufficient strength to crawl off. The search made for him proved
ineffectual, and Careless was obliged to return to Madresfield Court
without having effected a single capture. The king having by this time
recovered his good-humour, laughed at his aide-de-camp's ill success.

"Oddsfish!" he exclaimed. "I had nearly lost my crown by that foolish
ascent of the Worcestershire Beacon--rather too high a price to pay
for a fine view."

His majesty was alone, Colonel Lane and those with him having
proceeded to Worcester.

Next morn, Charles arose betimes, broke his fast lightly, and had just
mounted his charger with the intention of setting off to Worcester,
when his departure was stayed by the arrival of Colonel Legge, one of
his most gallant and trusted officers, and familiarly called by his
majesty "honest Will."

Colonel Legge brought very important news. He had been with a
reconnoitring party to Evesham, and had captured a couple of Roundhead
scouts, from whom he had obtained information respecting the enemy's
movements. Cromwell was approaching with a large army, having
seventeen thousand horse and foot under his own command; while the
regiments of Lord Grey of Groby, Fleetwood, Ingoldsby, Lambert, and
Harrison, together with the militia that had recently joined the
Parliamentary forces, swelled the amount to upwards of thirty
thousand.

"Nearly treble my force," exclaimed Charles. "But were they forty
thousand I should not fear them."

"'Tis well you are prepared, sire," remarked Legge.

"Much has yet to be done," replied the king. "The passes of the Severn
and the Teme must be looked to. Upton, Powick, and Bransford Bridges
must be broken down. Haste thee to Worcester, Will. Summon a council
of war to meet me three hours hence. By that time I shall have visited
Upton and Powick, and perhaps Bransford. Is Massey at Upton?"

"Massey's head-quarters are at Severn End, sire, the residence of
Judge Lechmere. The judge sides with the Parliament, but I suspect he
is a time-server, and will always support the party in power. If your
majesty is victorious, he will throw himself at your feet. Severn End
is a fine place, and Massey seems to like his quarters. Judge
Lechmere's nearest neighbour is loyal Tom Hornyold, whom you will
assuredly see at Pitchcroft to-day."

"Oddsfish! Judge Lechmere must be an astute fellow from thy account of
him, Will," replied Charles, laughing. "I will go first to Severn End.
Perchance I may see the judge. If so, I will have a word with him."

"Fine him heavily, sire, or imprison him, if he will not join you,"
said Legge.

"Humph! I like not to have recourse to harsh measures," rejoined
Charles. "Still, an example ought to be made of such a man. Now, off
with thee to Worcester, Will. Say to all that thou hast left me in
good spirits."

"I can say so with truth, my liege," replied Legge.

Careless undertook to conduct his majesty to Severn End, being well
acquainted with Judge Lechmere's residence. Their course lay through
the loveliest part of the chase, but Charles was too much preoccupied
to notice the beauties of the scene, and Careless did not venture to
disturb the profound reverie into which his royal master had fallen,
and which lasted till they came to the precincts of a large, well-
timbered park, in the midst of which stood a fine old house embosomed
in a grove of rook-haunted trees.

"Is this Severn End?" asked Charles.

"No, my liege; this is Blackmore Park, the abode of your staunch
adherent, Captain Thomas Hornyold."

"And a charming place it is," observed the king; "I would all my
staunch adherents were as well housed!"

After skirting the moss-grown park pales for a few minutes, they came
upon a long and stately avenue, down which a troop of horse was
riding, with their leader at their head.

"As I live that must be Tom Hornyold's troop!" cried Charles, halting,
while Careless signed to the king's escort to stop.

Seeing Careless ride towards him, and comprehending the aide-de-camp's
object, Captain Hornyold put his troop into a trot, and presently drew
up before the king.

Tom Hornyold's manly bearing, open countenance, frank manner, and
steady look prepossessed the king in his favour.

"I trust your majesty will pardon my inattention to your summons
yesterday," said Hornyold, after making an obeisance. "Here are forty
good men and true, who will fight well for you, and I have had barely
time to get them together."

"Mistress Jane Lane explained all to me, Captain Hornyold," rejoined
Charles, graciously. "You did quite right, and I thank you heartily.
By my faith, you have brought me some famous recruits."

As he moved towards the troop, he was welcomed with a shout that
startled the clamorous rooks overhead, and put to flight a herd of
deer that had been couching beneath the trees.

Well pleased with the appearance of the recruits, many of whom were
remarkably fine-looking young men, and all well accoutred and
extremely well mounted, the king thus expressed his satisfaction:

"Good men--good horses--good weapons, and strong arms to wield them--
those you have brought me, Captain Hornyold, and I thank you once
more. Gentlemen," he added to the troops, "I cannot tarry longer with
you now, though I fain would say something more, but I have much to
do, as you are aware. I shall see you again at Pitchcroft. Au revoir!"

Bowing graciously to Captain Hornyold, he then rode off, attended by
Careless and followed by his escort.

On quitting Blackmore Park, the king approached another equally well-
wooded domain, which he did not need to be told belonged to Judge
Lechmere.

It was, in sooth, Severn End, and their road towards the house led
them for a short distance near the bank of the river. The grounds
contained many noble trees, amongst which were several towering elms
and broad-armed oaks that delighted Charles, as did a remarkably fine
service tree, which he pointed out to his attendant.

As they drew near the picturesque old mansion, it was easy to perceive
that it was under military occupation--sentinels being placed at the
entrance, while small parties of dragoons were gathered on the
terrace, as if awaiting orders; and a troop of cavalry was drawn up on
the lawn. A soldier was walking a powerful charger to and fro before
the porch.

Drums would have been beaten, and trumpets sounded, but the king would
not allow any announcement of his arrival to be made. Leaving his
escort at the extremity of the lawn, he rode up to the portal with
Careless. He then dismounted and marched up the steps, merely
returning the salutes of the officers he encountered.

Loud and angry tones were audible as he crossed the hall, and guided
him to the room in which General Massey could be found. The door being
partly open, Charles pushed it aside and entered a large chamber with
a somewhat low roof, panelled with black oak, ornamented with several
full-length portraits.

This was the dining-room, and in the midst of it stood General Massey,
booted and spurred, with his hat on, and his riding-whip in hand,
evidently prepared to mount his charger.

A fine, tall, broad-shouldered man was the general, and well became
his rich accoutrements. His back being towards the door he did not
notice the king's entrance. Full of wrath, as we have intimated, he
was pouring his fury on the head of a grave-looking personage in a
black velvet gown, and having a black skull-cap on his head, who was
standing calmly before him.

Perhaps this individual, whom Charles had no doubt was Judge Lechmere,
recognised his majesty. If so, he gave no sign, but kept his keen grey
eye steadily fixed on the irate general.

"Hark ye, judge," thundered Massey. "'Tis you, and such as you,
supporters of this rebellious Parliament, who ought to suffer most,
and by Heaven you shall suffer. You shall be forced to contribute
largely to the expenses of the war you have compelled his majesty to
undertake for the recovery of his throne. You are fined five thousand
pounds."

"By whom am I fined that large sum?" demanded Lechmere, in a calm
tone. "Not by the king, I am well assured. He would not commit such an
injustice."

"You are fined by me--that is sufficient. I have his majesty's warrant
for all I do."

"Not his written warrant," said the judge.

"I need it not," cried Massey. "What doth your Lord General, as you
style him? I do not desire to imitate his ruthless and robber-like
proceedings. I do not intend, like him, to plunder churches,
hospitals, and private dwellings. I do not mean to break open chests
and carry off gold by the sack, and plate by the cartload, as he did
at Worcester, after the first siege. But I will imitate him in one
thing. I will punish wealthy offenders like yourself by fines
proportionate to their means. You have amassed money, I know, and,
though a lawyer, I hope have come by it honestly. Had you been loyal
you might have kept your money. But since you are a rebel, and a
favourer of rebels, you shall disburse your gains for the king's use.
You shall pay me the live thousand pounds I demand."

"And yet you affirm that you design not to plunder me," observed Judge
Lechmere, still with perfect calmness. "What call you this but plunder
on the greatest scale? Better strip my house of all it contains--
better carry off my pictures and my plate--than fine me in a sum so
large that I cannot pay it. Again I say, I am certain the king would
not allow this demand to be made."

"His majesty will approve of what I do," rejoined Massey. "But I will
not bandy words with you. You are now in my court, judge, and my
decision holds good here. I will have the sum I have named--no less.
Two thousand pounds--the first instalment--must be paid before noon on
Thursday. That will give you two days to raise it. If you fail, I will
have you shot in your own court-yard. You hear! No excuses will avail.
Till then you are a prisoner in your own house."

"If I am a prisoner, how am I to raise the money, general?" asked the
judge.

"That is your concern," rejoined Massey. "Have it I must--or you die!"

As he turned to quit the room, he perceived Charles standing behind
him.

"Ah! sire," he exclaimed. "I did not know you were here."

"Am I indeed in the king's presence?" exclaimed Judge Lechmere, with
well-feigned astonishment.

"You are in the presence of the sovereign to whom your allegiance is
due, my lord judge," rejoined Charles, with dignity.

"Whatever my feelings may be towards your majesty," said Lechmere, "I
cannot consistently--"

"You dare not declare yourself in my favour, eh, judge?" cried
Charles. "Well, I will give you till Thursday for reflection.
Naturally, you are included in the general pardon I have published,
and if you then return to your allegiance, I shall be disposed to
forget the past, and will remit the heavy fine imposed upon you by
General Massey. Nay, I will do more; I will take you into my favour."

"I thank your majesty for your goodness. I will perpend the matter."

"Methinks it requires little consideration," observed Charles,
somewhat sternly. "You have to choose between your lawful king and a
usurper. You will best consult your own interests in serving me."

"I am inclined to believe so, sire--nay, I am certain--yet give me
till Thursday."

"I have said it," rejoined Charles. "I now leave you in General
Massey's hands."

With a grave bow to the judge, who had rushed forward as if to throw
himself at his majesty's feet, but stopped suddenly, he quitted the
room, followed by Massey.

As he crossed the hall he laughed heartily.

"Your judge will turn Royalist on Thursday, if nothing happens to-
morrow," he said.

On quitting Severn End, Charles accompanied General Massey to Upton.

They rode through Hanley, where a stately pile belonging to the Earls
of Gloucester once stood, and where Massey's troops were now encamped.

The general had with him a detachment of five hundred horse and a
regiment of dragoons, and he assured the king that he felt confident
of preventing the enemy's passage at Upton Bridge, come in what force
he might.

Together they carefully examined the fine old bridge, which, like the
bridges of Worcester and Powick, was somewhat narrow, but had deep
angular recesses. It was strongly built of stone, and had several
arches.

Charles advised its total destruction, but Massey was of opinion that
it would suffice to break down the central arch; and the king giving
his assent, a large body of men was at once set to work upon the task.

After witnessing the commencement of the operations, Charles took
leave of Massey, urging him to be more than ever vigilant, as the
safety of the army now depended on him, and rode on with his escort to
Powick.

The security of this important pass seemed to be guaranteed by the
presence of General Montgomery and Colonel Kirke, with two battalions
of foot and a regiment of horse, and Charles, with a mind very much
quieted, crossed the river to Worcester.



Chapter 8. OF THE COUNSEL GIVEN BY COLONEL LESLEY TO THE KING

When Charles arrived at the palace, the war council was already
assembled. Several general officers, however, were necessarily absent.

A long and anxious discussion ensued, and great diversity of opinion
prevailed--jealousies having sprung up amongst the commanders. His
grace of Buckingham hated the Duke of Hamilton, and derided his plans;
but his own rash counsels were rejected.

Charles felt sure, he declared, that he should be largely reinforced
by the levies which the Earl of Derby was bringing from Lancashire and
Cheshire.

But he cared not if his army should be inferior to that of the enemy
in number.

"There is no fear of treachery," he said. "The loyalty of the citizens
of Worcester is unquestionable. They will fight for me as bravely as
they fought for the king, my father. No defeat will subdue them. But
why do I talk of defeat? Let us speak of the victory, that is
certain."

"The next battle must be decisive, sire," remarked the Duke of
Hamilton. "We must conquer, or die."

"We will conquer," cried Charles, energetically.

"We will," cried several voices.

Having remarked that Lesley took no part in the conference, the king
drew him aside and inquired the meaning of his sombre looks.

"Are you afraid of Cromwell?" he asked.

"I am afraid of my own men, sire," replied Lesley. "They are
discontented, and do all I can, I am unable to remove their
dissatisfaction."

"Of what grievance do they complain?" asked Charles.

"I need not remind your majesty, that nearly five thousand Scottish
soldiers have returned to their own country since we crossed the
border--"

"Deserted, if you please, colonel," interrupted Charles.

"Well, deserted, sire. But they had this excuse. Being zealous
Presbyterians, they had conscientious scruples against establishing
the Episcopal government in England by force of arms; and like
sentiments prevail, to a great extent, among the remainder of the
troops. Since our arrival at Worcester their discontent has
perceptibly increased. They do not like to fight with the Cavaliers.
For this reason, they are not pleased with the Muster about to take
place to-day, neither do they desire to be joined by the levies
promised by the Earl of Derby."

"They fear that my devoted adherents may become too strong for them.
Is it not so, colonel?" asked Charles, coldly.

"They deem that a preponderance of the royal party--strictly so
called--though we are all Royalists--would be contrary to the true
interests of Scotland, and to the welfare of the Kirk."

"Ah, I see!" exclaimed the king. "The Committee of the Kirk of
Scotland have troubled their consciences--meddlesome fools that they
are! But you must keep your men in good humour, Lesley. They must
fight this battle. Assure them that I am a zealous partisan of the
Covenant, and that when I ascend the throne I will ratify all the
conditions imposed upon me."

"Humph!" exclaimed Lesley. "I may give them these assurances, but they
will not believe me. So critical do I consider the position, that if I
dared to offer your majesty a counsel, it would be to return to
Scotland without hazarding an engagement."

"Return to Scotland!--never!" exclaimed Charles, indignantly. "How
dare you make a proposition so dishonouring to me, Lesley? I have not
advanced thus far into my kingdom to go back again without a blow."

"I knew my advice would be distasteful to your majesty, but I deemed
it my duty to give it."

"No more!" cried the king. "Quell this mutinous spirit in your men,
Lesley--quell it, by whatever means you can. Mark well what I say, and
fail not to repeat it. When we have routed the rebels--and we shall
rout them--those who have fought best for me shall receive the highest
reward."

Before Lesley could make any reply, Pitscottie approached his majesty.

"Where are your Highlanders, colonel?" demanded Charles.

"Drawn up in the College Green, sire. I await your orders to march
them to the place of Muster."

"Have they heard that Cromwell is at hand?"

"Ay, sire; and they are eager to meet him."

"No discontent among them--ha?"

"Discontent! No, sire. They were never in better spirits. All they
desire is to prove their zeal to your majesty, and use their
broadswords against the foe."

"Brave fellows!" exclaimed Charles, glancing significantly at Lesley.
"They shall serve as my body-guard to-day."



Chapter 9. OF THE GRAND MUSTER AT PITCHCROFT

Ever since the old city of Worcester was built and encircled by walls,
Pitchcroft has afforded its inhabitants a delightful place for
exercise and recreation. On this broad, flat plain, bounded on the
west by the Severn, and completely overlooked by a natural terrace on
the further bank of the river, many a grand tournament has been held
in the days of our earlier monarchs. Magnificent pavilions and
galleries have been reared upon the wide mead--splendid cavalcades
have come forth from the city gates--nobles, knights, squires,
jesters, and fair dames--and many a lance has been splintered at the
royal jousts of Worcester. In 1225, these displays incurred the
displeasure of the Church--a grand tournament being held on Pitchcroft
in that year, when all the noble personages concerned in it were
excommunicated by Bishop Blois. Sports and pastimes of all kinds have
been familiar to the plain from time immemorial--games which, by a
pretty figure of speech, have been described as Olympian, and which,
we rejoice to say, are not altogether discontinued. Not only has
Pitchcroft been the scene of many a knightly encounter and many a
festive meeting, but when the loyal city was invested, it witnessed
frequent conflicts between Cavaliers and Roundheads, and one well-
fought action, in which the fiery Rupert took part.

On the morning appointed for the Muster, Pitchcroft was even more
thronged than it had been on the previous Sunday, and presented a far
gayer and more animated appearance. A great number of troops was
assembled there, while the new levies were continually pouring into
the plain through Foregate-street.

Before proceeding to the place of rendezvous, the recruits entered the
city, and halted for a time in the area near the Cross, where their
numbers were registered by the mayor and the sheriff, who acted as
commissioners.

Among the principal names inscribed on the muster-roll were those of
Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, Sir Walter Blount, Sir Ralph Clare,
Sir Rowland Berkley, Sir John Winford, Mr. Ralph Sheldon of Beoley,
Mr. John Washburn of Witchinford, and Mr. Thomas Hornyold.

Lord Talbot's troop, which was far more numerous than any other, was
composed almost entirely of gentlemen, whose accoutrements and horses
were far superior to those of ordinary cavalry. The regiment was
commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Mervin Touchet, and subsequently
proved exceedingly efficient. Every Cavalier who came singly to
Worcester was included in some troop or other.

These arrangements were made by Colonel Lane and Colonel Legge,
assisted by Sir Clement Fisher. As quickly as one troop was filled up,
it was sent off to the place of Muster. It was calculated that two
thousand Worcestershire Cavaliers, including of course retainers and
servants, answered the king's summons on that day.

The sight of so many recruits tended materially to dissipate the alarm
not unnaturally excited by the rumours of Cromwell's near approach.
Having begun to distrust the Scottish soldiers, the citizens were glad
to have some defenders on whom they could confidently rely. For this
reason, as well as for their gallant bearing and handsome equipments,
the recruits were lustily cheered as they appeared on the plain.

A large concourse was collected in Foregate street, and on the
northern walls, to see the new troops come forth. The Scottish
regiments of cavalry and infantry excited but little curiosity, the
chief objects of interest being the numerous small bodies of horse,
extending for a quarter of a mile on the left--each little troop with
its officers in front.

The effect of this arrangement was extremely good, and delighted the
spectators on the city walls and those on the west bank of the river.

The last troop had just got into its place, when the shrill notes of
the pibroch were heard, and the Highlanders, with Colonel Pitscottie
at their head, marched forth, and were received with cheers by the
crowd assembled in Foregate-street.

Acclamations greeted the king. His majesty looked extremely well, and
charmed the beholders, as he always did, by the extreme affability of
his demeanour. On this occasion he was only attended by Careless and
Colonel Blague. The recruits instantly attracted his attention--their
numbers giving him manifest pleasure--and he expressed his
satisfaction at beholding them audibly to his attendants.

He had not proceeded far, when the mayor and the sheriff advanced to
meet him.

Opening a scroll which he held in his hand, the mayor in a loud voice
recited the long list of loyal gentlemen of the county who had
responded to his majesty's summons. The king looked highly gratified,
and repeated each name as it was given out.

When the mayor had made an end, Charles rode towards Lord Talbot, who
was nearest him on the left, and while surveying his splendid troop
with admiration, called out, so that all might hear him:

"Why, my good lord, these are all gentlemen. Better mounted, better
equipped Cavaliers, I would not desire to see."

"They are all loyal gentlemen," replied Lord Talbot, bowing; "and as
such I am proud to present them to your majesty."

"Long live the king! Confusion to his enemies!" shouted the gallant
band, brandishing their swords.

The shout was caught up by the next troop, which was commanded by Sir
John Pakington, and was echoed far and wide.

After a few complimentary observations to Colonel Touchet, Charles
moved on, inspecting in turn all the new-raised troops. Had loyalty
been chilled in any breast, his majesty's gracious manner would have
kindled it anew--but all were loyal. The king could not help noting
that in almost every troop gentlemen had joined, and horses and
accoutrements were generally so good that officers could scarcely be
distinguished from privates.

Captain Hornyold's troop was stationed near the Scottish cavalry--Sir
Clement Fisher acting as second captain. But the real commander, in
the king's estimation, was Jane Lane, who was posted in front on her
steed.

A glance of triumph lighted up her fine eyes as Charles addressed her:

"You only want arms to become a veritable Amazon."

"I will wear them if your majesty commands."

"No, you have brought me so many recruits that it is unnecessary. How
many troops have you helped to fill up?"

"I have done my best, sire, but I have not brought you half so many as
I could desire. The Worcestershire gentry are loyal, but irresolute
and cautious--I will not use stronger epithets. They try to excuse
their lukewarmness on the ground that they suffered so much from fines
and sequestrations during the Civil Wars. But, as I tell them, that is
no excuse. They ought to risk all--sacrifice all, if need be--for
their sovereign. Many have come here to-day. But," she added, with a
look of mingled grief and indignation, "some, on whom I fully counted,
are absent."

"I scarcely miss them. When I have won a battle, they will hasten to
rally round my standard, but I shall know how to distinguish between
late comers, and those who have been true to me in the hour of peril."

"All here are true men, my liege. I would not say as much for yon
Scottish soldiers." Then lowering her voice so as only to be heard by
the king, she added: "Do not trust Lesley, sire. He may play you
false."

"Why do you entertain these suspicions?"

"From what I hear of the conduct of his men, and of his own discourse.
Heaven grant my fears may prove groundless!"

"If Lesley proves a traitor I am undone, for he commands the third of
my army, and his men will obey no other leader. But I will not believe
him false."

"What news has your majesty of the Earl of Derby?" asked Jane, still
in the same whispered accents. "Pardon the question. 'Tis prompted by
the deep interest I feel--"

"No messenger from the earl has arrived as yet. But I have no
apprehensions of a reverse. Doubtless, he is marching hither with the
levies he has obtained, but has been compelled to turn aside from the
direct route to avoid Cromwell."

"Would he were here now!" exclaimed Jane, earnestly.

"I would so too," responded Charles, with equal fervour. "But he will
not fail me at the right moment, and will cut through any opposing
force to join me."

"Is it not strange you have not heard from him, sire?"

"Not so strange--since the enemy is between us. Besides, if he has not
effectually disposed of Lilburn, he may be harassed by him in his
march. A few hours, I trust, will bring me tidings of the friend on
whom I reckon most."

Banishing the gloom that had gathered on his brow during his converse
with Jane, he turned to Captain Hornyold, and delighted that loyal
gentleman by his praises.

Having completed his inspection of the new troops, Charles proceeded
towards the centre of the plain, where Pitscottie and his Highlanders
were drawn up. Here he stationed himself, and immediately afterwards
it became evident, from the movement that took place, that the
recruits were about to march past.

With as much promptitude and precision as if they had belonged to the
regular cavalry, Captain Hornyold's troop came up. By the side of
their leader rode Jane Lane, but she proceeded no further, being
called upon by the king to take a place beside him.

Each little troop rode past in rapid succession--each being commended
by the king in no measured terms--and they all deserved his praises,
for a finer set of men were never got together.

Almost all of them were in the full vigour of manhood, and the ardour
displayed in their looks and bearing, and in the shouts they could not
repress, formed a striking contrast to the sullen visages and moody
silence of the Scottish soldiers, who seemed to regard their new
comrades with aversion.

But the coldness of the Scots was more than compensated for by the
genuine enthusiasm of the citizens, who put no bounds to their
rapturous delight, and shouted lustily as the new troops rode by.
Every officer, and indeed almost every one in each company, being
known, they were familiarly addressed by name, and cheered
individually as well as collectively by the spectators.

After defiling past the king, the troops were formed into four
regiments of five hundred each--respectively commanded by Colonel
Mervin Touchet, Colonel Legge, Colonel Wogan, and Colonel Lane.

Attended by Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, Sir Walter Blount, Sir
Ralph Clare, Sir Rowland Berkley, and Sir John Winford, the king rode
slowly past them--ever and anon raising his hat--and manifesting by
his looks the high gratification he felt.

Amid the loud and reiterated cheers of the concourse, his majesty then
returned to the city--preceded by Colonel Pitscottie and his
Highlanders, and attended by the gentlemen we have just mentioned.



Chapter 10. THE BIVOUAC ON THE PLAIN

Shortly after the king's departure, two of the newly-raised regiments
proceeded to the quarters temporarily assigned them in the city. Next
day they encamped on the west side of the river. The regiments left
behind remained where they were, and commenced their experience of
military life by bivouacking on the plain. They did not undergo much
hardship, since the night was fine and warm, and the moon being nearly
at the full, every object was as distinctly visible as during daytime.

As far as eatables and drinkables were concerned, the newly-enrolled
troops had no reason to complain. Plenty of provisions and an abundant
supply of good liquor--ale, perry, cider, canary, sack, and other
wines, were sent them by the mayor and sheriff. Though novices in the
art of war, the new soldiers were adepts in drinking, and could empty
their cups as well as the oldest campaigner. Every Cavalier was
welcome to a share of their runlet of sack or claret--but they did not
invite the Scottish soldiers.

Though the night was fine and warm, as we have described, they kept up
their fires, and sat around them to a late hour. These groups, with
arms piled, and horses picketed beside them, lent a very picturesque
appearance to this part of the plain. Further on could be seen the
tents of the Scottish soldiers, bathed in moonlight, but few were
stirring near them except the sentinels. It would almost seem as if
the Scots had retired to rest earlier than their wont to avoid hearing
the songs and laughter of their roystering comrades. A great noise was
undoubtedly made, for a dozen Cavalier ditties were chanted at the
same time by different parties. At last, however, the recruits grew
tired of singing, and began to talk of the war. Round each fire were
collected individuals who had fought at both sieges of Worcester, and
these now favoured their companions with their recollections of those
stirring times.

"Nine years ago," said a burly-looking young man, who had been
addressed as Martin Vosper, "I was just nineteen--so you will readily
guess my age now--and I was then 'prentice to Mr. Lysons, the present
worthy mayor of Worcester. The city, as you know, has always been
loyal, and for that reason was regarded from the very first with
especial disfavour by the rebellious Parliament. In 1642, our faithful
Worcester, for I love to call it so, declared for the king, opened its
gates to Sir John Biron and the three hundred Cavaliers he brought
with him, and fortified its walls. The Roundheads did not leave us
long alone. Lord Say and Colonel Fynes, with a large force, laid siege
to the city; whereupon the king sent word from Oxford that he would
bring fifteen hundred horse and twice as many foot to raise the siege.
Our satisfaction at this agreeable intelligence was damped by hearing
that Lord Essex was marching against us with fourteen thousand men;
but just as we were beginning to despair, Prince Rupert, with his
brother Maurice, threw themselves into the city with a large body of
troops. Then we felt able to set Old Noll himself at defiance. Two
successful stratagems were practised. But I must first describe an
action that took place on this very plain. Determined to strike a
decisive blow before Lord Essex could bring up his forces, Prince
Rupert, on the morning after his arrival, with fifteen troops of
horse, marched forth upon Pitchcroft, and, sounding his trumpets
loudly, challenged the enemy to battle. A gallant sight his troops
made, I can assure you, when drawn up on the plain, for I watched them
from the northern walls. A word about the prince. Never did I behold a
fiercer-looking man. His eye went through you like a rapier. But to
proceed. At first the enemy appeared to decline the challenge, but
they were ready enough to fight, as it turned out, only their forces
were dispersed. Lord Say and Colonel Fynes were elsewhere, as I shall
presently explain, but Colonel Sandys and Colonel Austine brought up
their regiments, and the conflict began. 'Twas a splendid sight. What
tremendous charges Prince Rupert made! How he mowed down the
Roundheads! Still he could not break their ranks. The fight lasted for
a couple of hours with varying success, but the advantage seemed to be
with the prince, when a troop of horse was descried coming from the
Blockhouse fields, and a cry arose that it was the Earl of Essex with
his reinforcements. The alarm proved false, for the troops were those
of Colonel Fynes, but on seeing them, the prince ordered an instant
retreat, and dashed precipitately into the city, whither he was
followed so quickly by the Republicans, that the gate could not be
shut, and a desperate fight ensued, which lasted till midnight, the
streets resounding all the time with the rattle of musketry and the
clash of steel. Many a Cavalier died that night, but not before his
sword was reddened with the blood of his adversaries. The corn-market
was full of wounded and dying. Prince Rupert might have succeeded in
driving out the Republicans, if they had not been strongly reinforced
by Lord Say. At length the prince was compelled to abandon the city,
but he rode at the rear of his troops and drove back the Roundheads
who sought to follow him across the bridge."

"Those confounded Parliamentarians can fight, it must be owned,"
remarked one of the listeners. "But what were the stratagems you spoke
of just now, Vosper?"

"You shall hear, Simon Terret," replied the other. "But first give me
a cup of sack to drink the king's health, and confusion to all rebels.
From what I am about to relate you will perceive that the conflict on
Pitchcroft was part of a cleverly-devised scheme, that ought to have
succeeded better than it did. Prince Rupert having ascertained from
his scouts that Lord Say had taken a detachment of a thousand men to
Powick, while another equally large detachment had been taken by
Colonel Fynes to Perry Wood--the object of the two Republican
commanders being to surround the prince, as his highness perfectly
understood--he endeavoured to out-manuvre them. With this design a
clever spy was sent to Powick, who represented himself as a servant to
the Earl of Essex, and stated, with an air of great plausibility, that
Cromwell had entered Worcester--and that, if Lord Say advanced
immediately, the retreat of the Royalists would infallibly be cut off.
Duped by the man's apparent sincerity, Lord Say acted on the advice,
and fell into an ambuscade that cost him five-and-twenty men. Colonel
Fynes was imposed on in much the same manner. A messenger galloped up
to Perry Wood and informed him that Prince Rupert was advancing with
ten thousand men, whereupon he fell back four miles. But he found out
the stratagem rather too soon. It was his force that subsequently
alarmed Prince Rupert and caused his highness to retreat into the
city. Had not this discovery occurred, the prince would have beaten
the enemy in detail."

"I think I have heard that those two clever spies were hanged,"
remarked Terret.

"Ay marry, were they," replied Vosper. "They were hanged with several
other good citizens and staunch Royalists on a gallows as high as
Haman's, which was set up in the market-place by Old Noll."

"Would Old Noll were hanged on a like gallows!" cried several voices.

"The Jus Furcarum was an enviable privilege," remarked one of the
circle. "If I possessed the right, as did the old priors of St. Mary,
I would hang every Roundhead rogue of them all."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the others.

"Ah! never shall I forget the barbarities practised by Essex's
soldiers when they took the city," observed Vosper. "Heaven preserve
us from a repetition of such dreadful usage. But all these severities
did not check the loyal spirit of the citizens. You recollect the
second siege in 1646, Trubshaw," he observed to another person near
him, "when Worcester was invested by Sir William Brereton and Colonel
Birch?"

"Ay, Colonel Henry Washington was governor at the time," replied
Trubshaw--"as brave a man as ever drew sword, and as loyal."[1]
"Several skirmishes occurred outside the walls, but there was an
affair at St. John's in which I, myself, took part. The Parliamentary
generals had blockaded the city on that side, lining the approaches to
St. John's with musketeers, and quartering a large force behind the
tower. Determined to dislodge them, Governor Washington sallied forth
one night with a couple of hundred horse, of whom I myself was one,
and five hundred foot. Tybridge-street, which you know leads to the
bridge from St. John's, was strongly barricaded by the enemy, but we
drove back their advanced guard to Cripplegate, where being reinforced
by horse and foot, they made a stand, but they could not resist our
brave commander, who attacked them with such vigour that he quickly
routed them, and would have put them all to the sword if they had not
sought refuge in the church. We set fire to the houses in Cripplegate,
so they could no longer find shelter there. In this sortie we killed a
hundred of the enemy, and took ten prisoners. Our own loss was
trifling. Governor Washington gained much credit by the achievement."

"Not more than he deserved," remarked another of the interlocutors
named Barkesdale. "Governor Washington was a man of undaunted
resolution, as his answer shows, when he was summoned to surrender the
city. 'It may be easy,' he wrote to General Fairfax, 'for your
excellency to procure his majesty's commands for the disposal of this
garrison. Till then I shall make good the trust reposed in me. As for
conditions, if necessitated, I shall make the best I can. The worst I
know, and fear not."

"A brave answer!" cried Vosper. "Did you know Captain Hodgkins?
'Wicked Will,' as he was called by the Roundheads?"

"Know him! ay," rejoined Barkesdale. "Captain Hodgkins drank deeper,
and fought harder, than any Cavalier of his day. One night, after he
had emptied half a dozen flasks of claret, he crossed the bridge with
a small band of boon companions, surprised the enemy's guard at
Cripplegate, drove them back as far as the Bull Ring, which you know
is close to St. John's, and put several of them to the sword. In
returning, he fell from his horse in Tybridge-street, and not being
able to walk, was tossed into a boat and rowed across the Severn. In
another sally, being somewhat more sober, he brought back seven
prisoners."

"Seven prisoners! ha! ha!" laughed the whole circle.

"'Tis a pity he did not die a soldier's death," observed Trubshaw.
"His body was found in the Severn below the city, near Bunshill.
Whether he was accidentally drowned, or thrown into the river, is
uncertain."

"Wicked Will's death was a judgment," observed a deep voice behind
them.

Trubshaw and some others turned at the remark, and perceived a tall,
thin man, moving away in the direction of the river. Hitherto this
person had eluded observation as he had been standing among the
horses.

"A spy has been amongst us!--a Roundhead!" cried Vosper, springing to
his feet.

"Seize the rogue and make him give an account of himself!" cried
Trubshaw, likewise starting up. "What ho! Stand!" he shouted.

The spy paid no heed to the summons, but speeded towards the river.
The Scottish sentries were too far off to challenge him, and did not
fire.

Vosper and Trubshaw started in pursuit. But the spy reached the river
before them, and jumped into a boat, which he had doubtless moored to
the bank. When his pursuers came up he was pulling vigorously across
the stream. A pistol was fired at him by Vosper, but without effect.

With a mocking laugh he then altered his course, and rowing down the
stream, soon disappeared beneath one of the narrow arches of the
bridge.



Chapter 11. COLONEL ROSCARROCK RELATES HOW THE EARL OF DERBY WAS
ROUTED AT WIGAN

Ill news came to Charles on the morrow.

He was in his cabinet with his secretary, Captain Fanshaw, when
Careless entered and informed him that Colonel Roscarrock was without.

"Roscarrock!" exclaimed the king, struck by Careless's looks. "What
news brings he from the Earl of Derby?"

"Ask me not, I beseech you, my liege," rejoined Careless, sadly. "The
colonel will tell his own tale. I grieve to say he is wounded."

Comprehending at once what had occurred, Charles merely said, "Bring
in Colonel Roscarrock."

And as the aide-de-camp departed, he arose and paced the cabinet with
anxious steps, trying to summon his firmness for the painful
interview.

Presently Careless returned supporting the colonel, whose left arm was
in a sling.

Roscarrock was a tall, soldier-like, handsome man, but loss of blood
and excessive fatigue gave a haggard expression to his features. The
dusty state of his apparel and boots showed that he had ridden far.

"Alas, sire, I bring you bad news!" he exclaimed, in dolorous accents.

"Be seated, colonel, and I will hear you," said Charles, aiding him to
a chair. "We have sustained a defeat, I perceive, but ere you enter
into details, relieve my anxiety respecting the Earl of Derby."

"His lordship is sore hurt," replied Roscarrock, "but he is in safety,
and will be with your majesty ere many days."

"Thank Heaven for that!" exclaimed Charles, earnestly.

"You have lost many loyal subjects and brave soldiers, sire," pursued
Roscarrock. "Lord Widdrington is mortally wounded, if not dead. Sir
William Throckmorton cannot survive. Sir Thomas Tildesley, Colonel
Boynton, Colonel Trollope, and Colonel Galliard are slain."

"Alas! brave Widdrington! Alas! brave Tildesley! have I lost you?"
ejaculated Charles, mournfully. "Where did this dire disaster occur?"

"At Wigan, in Lancashire, my liege," returned Roscarrock. "At first,
everything promised success. As your majesty's lieutenant, the Earl of
Derby had issued his warrant commanding all your loyal subjects to
meet him in arms at Preston, and he had collected six hundred horse
and about nine hundred foot. With this force he marched to Wigan, with
the design of proceeding to Manchester, where he not only hoped to
surprise Cromwell's regiment of infantry but expected to obtain five
hundred recruits. I need not tell your majesty that I was with his
lordship. In a lane near the town we encountered Colonel Lilburn with
a regiment of horse. Our men shouted loudly as we dashed upon the
enemy, and fought so well that they drove Lilburn to the end of the
lane. But a reserve of horse coming up changed the fortune of the day.
What could our raw recruits do against Lilburn's veterans? Owing to
the earl's reckless daring, he was wounded early in the conflict,
which lasted upwards of an hour. How can I relate the disastrous
issue? Suffice it, the rout was total. Our men were panic-stricken,
and could not be rallied. Hundreds were slain in flight. Pursued by a
party of horse, the earl dashed into Wigan, and turned into a narrow
street. Observing an open door, he flung himself from his steed and
entered the house. A woman recognised him, and barred the door,
enabling him to escape through a garden at the back before the
Roundheads could search the house. By a miracle almost the noble
fugitive got out of the town, which was filled with Parliamentary
soldiers, and shaped his course towards the south. I was proceeding
slowly in the same direction, when Providence--for I like not to call
it chance--brought us together near Newport. At the house of a
Royalist gentleman named Watson, we met another true man, Mr. Snead,
who volunteered to conduc