CHAPTER II.
HOW THE FUGITIVE KING AND HIS COMPANIONS RODE FROM BARBOURNE BRIDGE TOWHITE LADIES.
More painful feelings were never experienced by a monarch than werethose of Charles as he fled from Worcester on the evening of thebattle. All was lost. The crown he hoped to win was gone. His life wasin jeopardy, and after a vain attempt to escape, he might be placed inthe hands of his enemies.
The cavalcade, as already mentioned, numbered about sixty persons ofvarious ranks, but all devoted to the king, and prepared to defendhim to the last. But it was the determination of the leaders of theparty to avoid any needless encounter. Having quitted the high road toKidderminster, they were now speeding along the lanes skirting the leftbank of the Severn, under the guidance of Lord Talbot's servant, Yates,and another man named Walker. Charles did not ride at the head of thetroop, but with the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Derby broughtup the rear. None of his attendants attempted to disturb the profoundreverie into which the unfortunate king was plunged, and so engrossedwas he by painful thoughts, that he scarcely seemed conscious of theirpresence.
It was a pleasant evening, and though the sun had already set behindthe Malvern Hills, the heavens were filled with rosy clouds, which werereflected on the surface of the river. The troop passed by severalfarm-houses, but the scared occupants only watched them at a distance.Anxious glances were occasionally cast back by the fugitives toascertain whether they were pursued, but no enemy appeared in sight.By degrees the calmness and beauty of the evening produced a soothingeffect on the king's troubled mind. What a contrast was offered betweenthe peaceful lanes through which he was now riding and the cityresounding with the din of arms, the roar of artillery, and frightfulcries.
Having passed Bever? Green, and dashed through the ford of the Salwarp,at Hawford Mill, but without meeting interruption of any kind, they nowpursued the Ombersley-road for some distance, but turned off at theMitre Oak for Hartlebury, and halted at the Old Talbot Inn, where theking drank a cup of sack, while his attendants refreshed themselveswith such liquors as they could procure.
Once more they were in motion, and a narrow by-road brought them toHartlebury-common, then of great extent and dangerous in places, but asthey could still see their way, they rode on without fear.
Nothing can be pleasanter, under certain circumstances, than a gallopacross a wild heath at the twilight hour; but when danger lurks onevery side, when the riders are flying for life--above all, when aking's safety is at stake, the sensations are not quite so agreeable.Deceived by the gathering gloom, the fugitives are apt to suspect thatthe foe is lying in ambush for them, and to turn needlessly from theircourse. This was the case with the flying troop. They avoided Stourportbecause they fancied there was danger in that quarter, and shaped theirrapid course past the dismantled manor-house of Hartlebury, whichhad been garrisoned by Charles I. during the Civil Wars. The ancientmansion might have afforded them shelter for the night, but they didnot dare to stop there.
They were still on Hartlebury-common, and were soon close uponKidderminster, but did not deem it prudent to enter the town. Skirtingthe valley in which it lies, and galloping past Hoobrook, theyproceeded by Chester-lane and Green Hill to Broadwaters. Thence upBlack Hill to Sion Hill. Next traversing the beautiful woody districtthat now forms Lea Park, they descended a gentle acclivity that broughtthem to the old bridge across the Stour.
Had there been light enough to distinguish it, a charming scene wouldhave been here presented to the king's gaze. But he crossed Hay Bridgewithout looking at the beautifully winding river or at the precipitousrocks on its opposite bank, well satisfied that there was no enemyconcealed amid the woods to dispute his passage.
By the time the troop reached Kinver Heath it had become quite dark,and the guides declared it was impossible to cross the wild and boggywaste at that hour.
Notwithstanding their representations, the king would have pushed onat all hazards, but the Earl of Derby, Charles Giffard, and Careless,who knew the heath, dissuaded him from his rash design. Lord Derbythought there would be far less danger in passing through Stourbridge,even if it should be occupied by militia, which was doubtful, than inattempting to traverse a morass in which they were almost certain to beengulfed.
"There are so many quagmires in Kinver Heath, that, even in daytime,it is difficult to avoid them," observed the earl. "At night it isimpossible."
"I am entirely of his lordship's opinion," said Captain Giffard. "Iknow Kinver Heath well, and I implore your majesty not to risk yourroyal person upon it."
"Are you afraid to go with me?" asked Charles.
"'Tis my duty to prevent your majesty from rushing on certaindestruction."
"Nay, then, if the danger is really so great, we must proceed toStourbridge, despite the militia."
"The rascals will not be on the look-out for us, so we shall mostlikely escape them," remarked Careless. "Besides, if we are slain, weshall die like gentlemen. Any death is preferable to being stifled in aquagmire."
"As the hour is late, I do not think the enemy will be on the alert,"observed the Earl of Derby. "But no precaution must be neglected. Inthe event of an attack, all of us who are near your majesty will speakFrench, so that your presence may not be suspected."
"'Tis well," replied Charles. "You hear, my lords and gentlemen, we areall to become Frenchmen when we reach Stourbridge."
The party then turned towards Stourton, and once more crossing theStour by the Stewponey Bridge, galloped on towards Stourbridge. Whenwithin a quarter of a mile of the town they came to a halt, andCareless and Captain Giffard were sent on to reconnoitre.
As Stourbridge at that time consisted only of one long street, itwas easy to ascertain whether any soldiers were on the watch, butnone could be discovered. The street was entirely deserted, all theinhabitants having, apparently, retired to rest.
Perfectly satisfied with their inspection, Careless and Giffardreturned to the royal party, and informed his majesty that he mightproceed without fear. Charles did not question the information he hadreceived, but judging it safest to speed through the town, placedhimself at the head of the troop, and galloped along the street.
Roused by the clatter of the horses' hoofs, several of the inhabitantsrushed to the windows, and just caught sight of the flying cavalcade.
The Royalists, however, had not got far when a drum was loudly beaten"to arms," showing that Careless and Giffard had been deceived. Itpresently appeared that a company of militia was quartered at thefurther end of the town, and their steeds being ready saddled andbridled, the men mounted and formed as quickly as they could in thestreet to check the fugitives.
But they did not succeed in their purpose. The king and his companionsdrew their swords, and dashed upon them with such impetuosity that theycut their way through the phalanx, and in another minute were out ofthe town. These soldiers of the militia, not being so well-seasonedas Cromwell's Ironclads, were staggered by the fierce and determinedassault of the Cavaliers, and did not attempt pursuit. Charles and hisparty, therefore, galloped on as swiftly as they could for a mile orso, when the king slackened his pace.
"Is there an inn hereabouts?" asked the king. "I am desperatelythirsty."
"My liege, there is a solitary hostel between Wordsley andKingswinford," replied Giffard. "But I know not what can be obtained atit."
"A cup of cider or ale will serve my turn now," replied Charles.
"The White Horse is not so badly provided," remarked Careless. "NatCoulter, the host, can brew as good a pottle of sack as any man inStaffordshire, but I doubt if he can supply us all--even with ale.However, we shall see."
On reaching the White Horse the fugitive Royalists found much betterentertainment than might have been expected. Nat Coulter was in bed,but he was soon roused from his slumbers, and with his wife and his twosons set heartily to work to serve his unexpected guests. He had plentyof ale and cider, with which the Cavaliers were perfectly content, butonly a single runlet of canary. However
, this amply sufficed for theking and the chief personages with him. As to provisions, they ranrather short, Nat Coulter's larder not being very abundantly supplied,but the hungry Royalists devoured all they could find. Though Nat andhis household were known to be loyal, Charles did not discover himselfto them, but spoke French, and was addressed in that language by hisattendants during his stay at the White Horse. Nat, however, being ashrewd fellow, afterwards declared that he had recognised the king.
A consultation was held in the little parlour of the inn. On quittingBarbourne Bridge, Charles, as we have already stated, had decided uponseeking a refuge in Boscobel. He had not abandoned this design, thoughduring the nocturnal ride his plans had undergone some change. It wasnow proposed that the king should proceed in the first instance toWhite Ladies, another secluded house belonging to the Giffards, abouta mile distant from Boscobel, where arrangements could be made for hismajesty's safety, and where he could separate from his companions. Boththe Earl of Derby and Roscarrock agreed that this would be the best andsafest course to pursue, and it was decided upon by his majesty.
WHITE LADIES.]
Again mounting their steeds, which had been as well cared for in theinterim as circumstances permitted, they rode on at a quick pace,tracking the woodlands in the neighbourhood of Himley, and obtainingglimpses of the extensive lake. No furnaces at that time bursting fromthe ground marred the sylvan beauty of the scene.
After passing Wombourn, the troop plunged into Brewood Forest, andwere soon buried in its depths. Guided through the intricacies of thewood by Charles Giffard, who was now in his own domain, and knew everyroadway, they at last reached a little valley entirely surrounded bytimber, in the midst of which stood an old-fashioned black and whitetimber mansion. Closely adjoining this ancient house, and almostappearing to form part of it, were the ivy-clad ruins of a monastery.
Day was just breaking at the time, and the picture presented to theking, and seen by the grey light of dawn, was inexpressibly striking.
"That is White Ladies, sire," said Charles Giffard. "There your majestywill find shelter."
Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651 Page 37