by Smith, Skye
"Er, no," Daniel stuttered. "I mean, yes I have a message from John Hampden but it is for the castellan of Banbury castle, not for you."
"Show it to me." As soon as he had it in his hands he read the addressing and then ripped open the seal and began to read the letter. Daniel objected but the baron simply waved away his objection with the words, "I've known Hampden since he was in nappies. I've backed his fine mind and brilliant ideas for twenty years," and then he finished the letter. "Essex is an ass," was his only comment. "Here, you had better be away to deliver it to Banbury. Thank you for the warning."
"So you are not going to make a stand?"
"Make a stand? With two hundred innocents here to be slaughtered when we lose? Nay sir, I will order the manor cleared of folk save the gatekeepers, and I will leave them instructions to try to hold the gates for the day to cover our escape, but when all is lost, to welcome Rupert inside. Hopefully when the good prince sees we are gone, he will leave my home in peace."
"I doubt it sir," Daniel said as he walked to a hanging rack in front of the fireplace where his filthy woolen cloak was steaming away to itself. "He will be furious that he has missed capturing you and yours. I doubt he will leave a stone of your house intact. Umm, by the way, do you know the Earl of Peterborough?"
"Henry Mordaunt?" the duke asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yes I do. Why do you ask?"
"Is it likely that he is a spy for the king, or even a turncoat?"
The duke sat down with a thump into the chair in front of the roaring log fire. "What have you heard?"
"That the king has a secret ally inside the walls of Banbury Castle. An ally who will surrender the castle and the armoury. You may not have heard yet, but Faithful Fortescue, the commander of Mordaunt's cavalry brigade, crossed the battlefield at Kineton and joined forces with Prince Rupert."
"The swine!" There was so much venom in the old man's answer that it started him coughing. When he could talk again he said, "This is grave news indeed. Mordaunt is indeed in Banbury Castle with a few hundred of his infantry and the governor trusts him implicitly. Do you plan on telling your warning to the governor?"
"We are strangers so why should he believe me? He is more likely to think me an agent of the king who is trying to spread rumours to drive a wedge into the castle defenses. Who is the Governor of Banbury?"
"A man by the name of Henry Huncks," the old baron replied, "and he is not a man who I would have chosen. He was appointed governor by the king back in March after he came back from being the Governor of Barbados. Hunks has been careful not to commit to one side or the other, and instead he plays both sides for his own means."
The name brought memories back to Daniel. Memories from last years visit to the Caribbean ... memories of the desperate straights of the folk of Barbados ... unnecessarily desperate. All of it was due to the corruption of the chief whoremaster of the island, Governor Huncks. "I was in Barbados when he was governor. The man is a viper."
The baron lifted himself back to his feet and hobbled towards a small writing desk near to the main door of the hall. "I would have you deliver a written message from me to John Meldrum at Banbury. A message for his eyes only, mind you. He is the colonel of my own regiment ... a trustworthy Scot who is long on military experience and short on respect for the king. When the battle at Kineton was over he brought ten of my companies, four hundred men, directly back to Banbury. Will you carry it for me?"
"I will," Daniel nodded. "While you write it, I will dry my feet and warm my bones in front of this fire."
* * * * *
With warm feet and a second message for Banbury shoved into his cloak, Daniel followed the baron out into the courtyard of the manor. It was alive with men and horses, women and children. All the women and children were being pressed into three carriages. There were other carts but they did not have horses harnessed to them. That made sense. A cart could travel at but a man's walking pace, whereas a sprung carriage could travel a good road at a trot ... double a man's walking pace.
He found Femke and his other three horses munching down on oats that some kind soul had thoughtfully provided. As soon as he was in her saddle, he motioned her towards the gate. The three Elizabeths waved to him and then he was through the gate under the gatehouse. It was pitch black outside and there was a biting cold that promised to put a skim of ice on the still water before morning. He had two miles to ride to get to Banbury, but those two mile could cost him his life if the devil's cavalry were already about. Unfortunately, as he didn't know the terrain he had no alternative but to use the main Banbury road.
He turned the horses and doubled back through the gate. "Baron," he yelled to the old man who was being wrapped in a heavy cloak by the eldest Elizabeth. The sick old man would likely be riding with the women in one of the carriages. "Baron, can you spare me a lad to guide me the back way into Banbury. I have a horse he can ride."
"I can do better than that, captain," the baron replied. "Three men from the Banbury garrison were here visiting their wives. Your spare horses will save them a cold walk back."
Five minutes later Daniel and his three Banbury troopers were riding down a farm lane towards the River Cherwell, which they could follow all the way to the castle.
"I pray they are all safe by morning," one of the men told him. He was a sergeant of the local trained band
Daniel was happy just to follow his lead, and he allowed his mind to wander. Trained band was what the English called their volunteer militia groups. Every shire and every large town had one, and the local militia armoury was under their control. The ultimate commander of the militia of a shire was the shire's appointed Lord Lieutenant. Parliament had been quick to replace most of the Lord Lieutenants with their own men.
Weeding out the king's supporters was a big problem for the Reform Party. Most of England's wealthy families were split between supporting the king and supporting parliament in collaring the king. Daniel suspected that most families were purposefully split so as to ensure the families survival no matter which side won. Daniel had been told some rules of thumb by his old friend Robert Blake of Bridgwater Somerset. They were rules that allowed you a good guess at which side a wealthy man would be on.
If he was from an ancient noble family then he and all his sons would side with the king.
If a family was Papist or secret-Papist or held Presbyterians in distain and preferred the High Church of England ... then the head of the family and all his sons would side with the king.
If a family had received honors, titles, knighthoods, or estates from the Stuart regime, especially from Charles, then the head of the family would side with the king, but his eldest son would side with parliament. A lot of these families were Scottish in origin and had followed the Stuarts to England to help them keep hold of the crown.
If a family had received honors, titles, knighthoods and estates from the Tudor regime, especially from Elizabeth, then the head of the family would side with parliament but his eldest son would side with the king.
If a family were merchants or ship owners then the head and all his sons would side with parliament.
If a family were strongly Presbyterian, and especially independents, then the head and all the sons would side with parliament.
If a man was the son of a lord or a knight, but not the eldest son, then he would join in the king's cavalry. Not so much because he approved of the king or disapproved of parliament, but because riding with the king's cavalry was the fastest way to gain honors or a knighthood for himself.
As they rode along Daniel asked the sergeant, "Do you know much about the Earl of Peterborough? Do you know which king made him an Earl?"
"D'ya mean the new Earl Henry or his father old John Mordaunt, cause they are very different men?"
"Tell me about the old man first."
"Well Henry's grandfather was a devout Papist who was thrown into the Tower because of the Gunpowder Plot. That meant that John Mordaunt was raised by the crown. King James lik
ed him so much that he had him raised with Charlie. Once Charlie was crowned, he made John the Earl of Peterborough, but in truth, John hated Charlie. I guess being raised with him just raised his contempt for him. John was so critical of Charlie that Essex made him his right hand general. Sadly he died of consumption this summer."
"And the new earl, Henry?"
"He's not the earl yet, though as old John's eldest he will likely be confirmed. What can I say. He's a typical twenty one year old prig who thinks he's better than everyone else. Old John sent him to France to keep him clear of this fight with Charlie, and that made him even worse cause he was livin' with Frenchie Papists. Now he's back and he's still just a captain in old John's brigade under Major Fairfax. In short, I don't trust him, not an inch."
"Bugger," Daniel muttered to himself. "None of the rules of thumb fit the family. Hmm, perhaps the Papist rule."
"What's that you say?"
"Do you know of the Compton family. The Earl of Northampton and his sons. I met young William Compton up in the hills."
"Oh aye, a bit. Will Compton and Captain Henry are cousins. Henry's mother... or was it his gran... one of them was a Compton. I've never met young Will but I've met his dad Spencer, the earl. Now there's a nasty piece of work. If you ask me, he's just a land based pirate ... a footpad with noble blood. If not for his noble blood, he'd have been swung by now."
The three guides were well known to the gate keepers so Daniel had no trouble getting into Banbury Castle. Once safe inside the walls they faced the daunting task of walking the horses to the stable paddock. This because the courtyards were packed with townsfolk and farm animals all trying to claim enough ground to sleep in. Banbury town had never been fortified, so while the two great armies had circled each other and then had done battle just north of here in Kineton, the townfolk had slept their nights inside the castle walls.
Eventually Daniel gave up as senseless the attempt to move the horses through the crowd. Once his message was delivered he would be away again to use the dark of night to get as far east of the king's army as possible before the sunrise, so it made more sense to leave Femke in the care of the gatekeepers. "Your horses," he told his three companions. "The horses, the saddles, and the weapons are now yours. Call them a reward for doing me a good turn."
The men could barely speak. They had not just been given a fortune in horse and gear, but they had been given a new way of life. From now on they would be mounted men, whether fighting in the trained band or afterwards. They gathered around him and slapped him on the back and shook his hand.
"Just a quick warning. They were captured in battle, and the men I captured them from still live. They ride with the Comptons. If that frightens you then sell the horses and saddles and pocket the coins." That gave them pause to think. Daniel laughed at their new caution. Where did they think he got three spare saddle horses in these times of horse shortages?
"Well I'm keeping mine," the sergeant said. "Here, you have a message for Colonel Meldrum, right? Come on then. I have to report in, so I'll take you to him." He handed his reins to his mate and then led Daniel and Femke back through the throng towards the gate.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Chapter 3 - A warning for Banbury in November 1642
They found Colonel John Meldrum on the wall doing his last rounds before turning in for the night. Since any light would ruin the night vision of the wall watch, Meldrum led them along to a tower and into the stone room which the wall watch used to warm themselves. There was a cauldron of hot soup simmering on a brazier and an oil lamp hung up on a hook above it. Meldrum held Baron Fiennes letter up to the lamplight to read, but it was short and simple so reading it took him but a moment. He growled at the men in the room that he needed some privacy and then waited impatiently until everyone but Daniel had cleared the room, shutting the heavy door behind them.
"So you must be Captain Daniel Vanderus. The old man says that you carry an open letter to the governor," Meldrum said. He must have lived in England for a long time because his English was flawless and there was little left of his Scottish burr. "I am to read it and then listen to your story. He also says that I can trust you. Is that true? Can I trust you?"
Daniel reached under his coat and passed two things to Meldrum ... Hampden's letter, and his double barreled dragon. The colonel took both in hand, though he was somewhat surprised at being offered the formidable pistol. He held the already open letter up to the lamp light and read it. This one took longer to read because it was more formal.
"The letter speaks for itself," Daniel said. "If you hold Banbury's walls for three more days, then the king will have no choice but to leave you in peace and hurry south in front of Essex's army. Now take a good look at that pistol."
Meldrum held the dragon up to the light. It was a handsomely crafted piece with much silverwork and much thought put into the crafting of the workings so that both flints were on the same side, and so that both, or either one, could be fired by the single trigger. "She's a marvel," he said admiringly, "and worth a village."
"Read the inscription on the under plate."
Meldrum ready the script etched into the silver. "Faith, this gun belongs to the King of Sweden. But there is no king anymore. He died in battle, so his daughter and her regent rule Sweden."
"It was given to Field Marshall Alexander Leslie as a symbol that Leslie was to be trusted to command the entire army if the king was killed in battle."
"Then this is Alex Leslie's gun?"
"Nay, it is mine," Daniel said proudly. "A symbol of Alex's trust in me."
Meldrum said something under his breath in Scottish, but then switched back to English, "I quit the service of our king when he ordered me to the River Tweed to do battle against Alex and his Covenanters. As if I would help Englishmen to kill Scots. Never."
"But the king is a Scot."
"Never. He's been across the border only three times in his life, and none of those visits ended well for him. Now tell me this story that the baron wants me to hear, and hurry before the bell rings for the next change of the watch."
Daniel told him all of it. How the king's infantry was still scattered and his artillery was crippled. How the king's main interest in Banbury was for its armoury and cannons. How Fortescue had led the Earl of Peterborough's cavalry to switch sides to the king at Kineton, and how Henry Mordaunt, the soon-to-be Earl of Peterborough, also wanted to switch sides. Finally he told the colonel that the baron had decamped the women and children and most of the garrison from Broughton because Prince Rupert had decided to do a Magdeburg on Broughton to encourage Banbury to surrender.
"Jesus wept ... a Magdeburg," Meldrum cursed. "And us with Huncks as the governor. This story of yours is so disturbing that I fear to believe it. It pits me against Huncks and Mordaunt and Fairfax, yet I have only your word on most of it. The baron's letter only confirms the last of it, that he has decamped and will go to ground in ... well never mind where. He trusted your word, but I have only just met you."
"Baron Fiennes trusts me, yes. Hampden trusted me with that letter to the governor and, by the way, you have not just met me. I was with Admiral Robert Rich when he ordered you and the London trained bands to sail to Kingston-upon-Hull because he didn't trust Governor John Hotham not to hand Kingston over to the king. At that time I was commanding Rich's personal yacht ... the Swift. I was the man who broke the dikes in order to protect Kingston's walls until you could arrive."
"You are that man! Rich's man!" Meldrum announced with eyes wide. "Of course you are, now that you mention it. Forgive me for not recognizing you, but you are dressed nothing like a sea captain."
"I am Rich's man," Daniel confirmed with a nod. He hated being known as some earl's man. He was a clansman. His clan always came first. His inner grumblings were interrupted by a knock at the heavy door, and he watched Meldrum walk to the door and speak with one of his men.
The colonel was muttering to himself in Scottish as he closed the door. He turned to face Daniel and told him, "Bloody Governor Huncks is bloody indisposed until bloody morning. Our gentleman governor collects commissions from all of the town whores, and tonight he is busy taking some payments in trade. You won't be able to see him until the morning, and the man rises late. Just as well, I suppose. You are exhausted to the point of falling down. I've just sent my man to set up a pallet for you in my quarters. In a way it's a good thing that Hunck is humping some chit because it gives us both a chance to rest our heads before we meet with him."
"No, I can't stay," Daniel told him with some alarm in his voice. "You can give him the letter for me. I'm away as soon as I get back down to my mare. I'm on my way home and I should have been there yesterday."
"Oh no," Meldrum growled. "You ain't doing a runner and be leaving all of this in my lap. You are the source of the news so you must do the telling. It will be my job to convince the others to accept your story and act on it."
As soon as they left the guard room, the watch rushed back in and all of them were blowing into their hands to warm them. Meldrum's quarters were on the level below but still high up from the courtyard level and the smell of a thousand farts and the noise of a thousand snores. There was no chimney and no fire in the small room but at least his aid had brought them a bucket of steaming water from the great kitchen hearth behind the tower. Finally Daniel could get clean.
While Daniel washed, Meldrum dressed in a bed robe and laid back on he bed to re-read the two letters, just to make sure that he had not missed anything in his eagerness to find the most important phrases. "Hampden is too literate for his own good," he grumbled. "What's wrong with simple sentences using simple words. All these fine, high sounding, five vowel words obscure the real meaning."
Daniel dried himself quickly so he could wrap himself in his still filthy cloak to get warm. The pallet that the aid had dragged in had seen better days, and was likely crawling with other men's fleas and lice. As bad as it was he would have no choice but to use it, for sleeping on the stone floor would chill him to the bone and destroy his back.