Pistoleer: Roundway Down

by Smith, Skye

  Once he had found the Dragon of Bristol he rode up close and called out to the stern watch, "Permission to come aboard!"

  "State yer name an' yer business," the call came back.

  "Captain Vanderus come to beg a berth from Captain Blake. Is he aboard? Oh, and my horse. Where do you stable yours?"

  "We'll take care of it, Danny," one of the men walking down the gang plank told him, "and yer gear. You go aboard."

  With his bedroll and saddlebags over his shoulder and his pistols under his belt, Daniel boarded the sturdy ship and made his way aft to the command cabin. Rob was waiting for him with a hand outstretched to shake his elbow. "Danny, what are you doing here? You should be enroute to Bermuda by now. Were your ships not in Lyme?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," Daniel grumbled and then yawned in Rob's face. He didn't apologize for Rob seemed as tired and as saddle sore as he was. "Tomorrow, after I rest."

  "That's a fine coat Danny, fit for someone shorter and fatter and better healed than you'll ever be. Which officer did you humble to claim it?"

  "It was a gift from Waller. My clothes were ruined by the explosion of the powder carts after Waller's win at Lansdown Hill."

  "Waller's win? Did you say his win?" Rob asked with mouth wide open. "Come in and lay down. You can use the bunk on the right." He picked up a flask and a cup. "Here, a tot of genever will set you right. What did you mean by win? Waller left the field. I was with him. And what's all this about an explosion? Was Waller hurt?"

  "Ah, then you didn't know that both armies left the field and both were in retreat. Once I caught up to Waller and told him what had happened in Hopton's camp, he stopped his retreat and regrouped. As for the carts, I happened on them in the dark and planted some grenado. Hopton himself caught me at it so I gave him a face full of dragon's breath so I could get away. Even if he survived the blast he will be blind for a while."

  "If there is any justice he won't have survived. That's a funeral I would pay to attend," Rob said wistfully. Hopton's army had looted all of Devon and Somerset including the homes of his family and friends around Bridgwater. "I didn't realize that Hopton had retreated. We were in a bit of a hurry to use the black of night to do our own retreating."

  "Waller's losses were light compared to Hopton's, but you would know that. You brought the wounded here. Hopton's losses were heavy. So heavy that Maurice's cavalryers have abandoned him, and his Cornish infantry are deserting him."

  Rob had a map of the area pinned to the wall and he walked over to look at it. Daniel sighed. All he wanted to do was sleep. He bowed low so he could follow him and as he bent he heard a stitch ripping in his new coat. Rob hadn't needed to bow, and was already to the map and pointing as he said, "It is too far back to his base in Cornwall, so if Hopton is in trouble he has no choice but to flee to the safety of Oxford. The hillsides are steep all around Chippenham, so he will keep to the main roads. That means the Chippenham Road that skirts Devizes and leads directly to Marlborough, and from there a good road all the way to Oxford."

  Daniel knew not to argue strategy with Rob, for Rob was a wonder at it. If Rob had been a lord, he would be a Colonel leading a full regiment rather than a Captain leading his own irregulars. "Aye," he replied, in all the right places, for he was too tired and too dejected to be paying much attention.

  "This win couldn't come at a better time," Rob continued. "The queen and her mercenaries are getting closer and closer to joining forces with the king. Did you hear that Hotham is no longer the governor of Kingston-upon-Hull? He was relieved of command and arrested for plotting to turn Hull over to the queen."

  "About bloody time. I was in Hull when it was first under siege and I had my suspicions about the man even back then."

  Rob was deep in thought. "All General Essex need do is to attack, or even to feign an attack on Oxford, and then Hopton will have no protection during his retreat. With Hopton and his officers captured, there will no longer be a royalist army in the West Country. That means peace in the West Country. That means crops. That means food enough for the winter. That means the royalist garrisons at Bridgwater, and Taunton, and all the rest will surrender. Perfect!" Rob became so excited at such good news that he couldn't stand still.

  "Far from perfect, Rob, but far better than it was all playing out only a few days ago. But it all depends on Assex getting off his fat arse and moving against Oxford. Myself, I wouldn't trust the man to wipe his own arse.” The sips of genever were restoring him, and he began a tirade against the idiocy of Essex that eventually ended with the story of how he came to miss his berth to Bermuda.

  Daniel's eyelids were almost closed as he finished the short version of these stories, and his last thought was again of Essex. "Well at least John Hampden is there. If nothing else, he himself will lead a feigned attack to keep the king's flying armies near Oxford."

  "But haven't you heard?" Rob interrupted. "You must have heard. Hampden is dead. An infected shoulder wound killed him."

  Suddenly Daniel felt very, very heavy, as if a great force was pressing down on him. John Hampden had been one of the few Parliamentarians that he admired and respected. A smart and moral man, which was a most uncommon combination. A strategist so canny that it was as if he could foresee the future. "It was no shoulder wound, Rob. His fancy French dueling pistol blew up in his hand. I was with him when it happened," and he told the story of that skirmish to save the payroll.

  He told the short version of the story, but it still took two more tots of Genever to finish. "But I swear to you that when I left him he was on the mend. His wound was bad, as are all hand wounds, but it was being well tended. If there was any sign of blood poisoning, they could have simply cut it off. No, there must be some mistake."

  "No mistake, Danny. He's dead. Gangrene. Even the notable physicians that rushed to his side from London could not save him."

  Daniel punched his pillow, and then punched it again and again. Between he and the local physician in Thame, the hard work of saving the hand had been done. "Notable physicians from London, eh? In whose pay?"

  "What do you mean?" Rob asked, looking over at him. "What are you saying?"

  "That devil Rupert was promising two hundred pounds to anyone could capture or kill Hampden. Two hundred pounds is a fortune, even for a notable physician. Well, I suppose we'll never know the truth unless one of them physicians is knighted in the near future." Daniel closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He suddenly wanted to be left alone.

  Later that night Rob was woken by the night watch and asked to come to the bridge. High above the bridge in the crow’s-nest he saw his old friend chanting away to the moon. He sent the watch to their beds and he took their place until Daniel came down. Rob had spent enough time in the Frisian villages of the Fens to know a prayer to the goddess of the Valkyries when he heard it. It wouldn't do for the crew to see Danny praying to a heathen goddess to help a brave friend to reach the hall of heroes.

  * * * * *

  "What's up?" Daniel said sleepily as Rob disturbed him by opening the cabin door, yet again. There was a rumble of activity out on deck. "Are you making sail?"

  "The opposite," Rob told him. "General Waller has called up every spare unit in Bristol to help him to chase down Hopton's army. Bloody Hopton. Well at least that is one call to arms that I will gladly answer. Are yee coming with us?"

  "I might as well, since I'm stuck here until I can find another ship to Bermuda."

  "We leave in an hour, perhaps two. Sam is out rousting his troop.” Sam was one of Rob's younger brothers, and he and Rob had been training a troop of Bristol lads in the tactics of pistoleering. By counting the Bristol lads, and those that followed Rob from Bridgwater, Taunton, and Lyme, they expected to march with ninety men in all.

  When they did mount up to ride towards the town gate they numbered over a hundred. Rob, Sam, and Daniel each took command of about thirty, with the greenest of the lads evenly mixed in with the veterans, but it was Rob who was in charge o
f all, and if it had been put to a vote, it would be the same. Rob had a reputation for riding hard, fighting hard, and bringing everyone back alive.

  They were stopped as they approached the Bath gate by Governor Fiennes of Bristol. "Captain Blake," Fiennes called to him from up on the wall above the gate. "You are to stay in Bristol. General Waller has agreed to assign your dragoons to the defense of my walls in the place of my sending him the five hundred infantry who should be manning my walls."

  Rob shrugged and dismissed his troop with a cheery call of, "Oh well. We could use a rest."

  Daniel could also use the rest, but he had other ideas on his mind and he told them to Rob as they turned back towards the ship. "I have half a mind to ride to the tip of Cornwall and see if I can't catch a boat to the Scilly Isles to join my ships."

  "The ships will be long gone by the time you get there," Rob replied. "Besides that, I doubt the safety of the roads with all those Cornish deserters on the move."

  "But what if Sayle breaks our agreement and does not join with my clan's ships? What then? They will still be waiting for him. No, I should go to the Scilly Isles just in case they need me as a pilot to get them to Bermuda."

  "Once it is clear to your clan that they have been left behind," Rob pointed out, "then they will return to Lyme. Not that I am advising you to ride to Lyme, yet again, but it would be more logical than riding the length of Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. At least you would be amongst friends when you got there. That said, if I were you I would stay here a few days and get a good rest before you start out again."

  "If you were me, you would be off chasing Hopton - out of curiosity if for no other reason," Daniel laughed. And then it came to him. He could do both. He could be a part of the chase after Hopton on the way back to Lyme.

  The same thought must have crossed Rob's mind at the same time, because he grabbed him by the elbow and squeezed hard and told him, "May God ride with you, and if he gives you the chance, shoot the bastard."

  "Again?" Daniel laughed.

  * * * * *

  Just south of Chippenham, Daniel met up with some of Waller's scouts who told him that Hopton was already camped in that town. Waller had camped to the north and east of the town to stop Hopton from making a break directly towards Oxford. Yes, Hopton still lived and was still in command but he was being carried by carriage along the roads. Despite his desperate situation, Hopton was refusing to surrender, but Waller was giving him this day to change his mind before he stormed Chippenham. The bad news was that Waller's scouts had yet to locate Prince Maurice and his flying army.

  Daniel rode eastward with the scouts, and they stayed well to the south of Chippenham, always on the lookout for Maurice, until they reached the main road to Devizes. There they turned towards Chippenham along this main road until they reached the fork where it joined with the main London road. The London road led directly from Chippenham to Marlborough. The scouts told him that if ever Hopton's army left Chippenham for Marlborough, that this was the all important fork. It was here that Hopton would have to decide whether to take the shorter high road to Marlborough and be open to ambush the entire way, or to take the longer low road by way of Devizes where there was a friendly garrison.

  It was at this fork that Daniel had to make his own decision. It would make sense to part company with these friendly scouts and head straight south across the high tracks of the Salisbury hills, and those of the Blackmoor, and be in Lyme within two days. These were the same empty moors that he had been crossing when John Hampden had died. Empty moors devoid of news about the war. Hampden had died and he had not heard of it for a week or more.

  The thought of Hampden's death caused him to groan. First Lord Brooke and now Hampden. Both of them critical to the cause. Both of them wise beyond their years in the strategies of politics. Both of them better military leaders than General Assex. Were their deaths just the fortunes of battle or had they been planned and executed. That set his mind to wondering who else the king would blame for this rebellion as much as he would have blamed John Hampden.

  John Pym for sure, but the man was sickly and kept safe in London. The Earls of Essex and Warwick, but the Lord General and the Lord Admiral were always surrounded by their lifeguards. His mind went back to the day at Westminster when the king's guard had entered parliament to arrest the king's main detractors. Who else were at risk that day besides Pym and Hampden?

  Denzil Holles? No, he was in no danger. After loosing so many men at Edgehill and Brentford, he had been become a spokesman for the Peace Party. William Strode? No, he was so busy preparing the legal case against Archbishop Laud that he was ignoring the war. The Earl of Manchester? As the commander of the Eastern Association he would be well hated by the king, but right now he was far away on the border of Yorkshire trying to help General Fairfax. Who else? Arthur Haselrig.

  Of course. Arthur was another leader of the rebellion who had earned the king's ire not only by his legal arguments in parliament and court, but also by being such a capable military commander. It was he who had raised and now commanded the only rebel regiment of heavy cuirassiers, the London Lobsters. He was now Waller's strong right arm. Moreover, he tended to lead his men from the front as John Hampden had done.

  Daniel took a longing look towards the south, but then turned Millie to catch up to the scouts. "I'll come with you to Waller's camp," Daniel told them, "for I need to speak with Arthur Haselrig." In truth, he needed to warn Haselrig that he may be the target of battlefield assassins, as John had been.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Pistoleer - Roundway Down by Skye Smith Copyright 2014-15

  Chapter 29 - Trapping General Hopton in Devizes in July 1643

  "Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell.” Daniel cursed under his breath at being back at the fork on the Marlborough Road so soon, and this time in command of a troop of Waller's dragoons. Why hadn't he left from here to travel the high roads to Lyme. Haselrig had scoffed at his warning that either the king or one of the devil princes would target him for assassination. His very words had been, "They are too noble for such vile practices. Besides, I wear very thick armour so any would be assassin would need a cannon." Once Waller heard that he was in the camp, Daniel had been pressed into service as a dragoon commander.

  "What's that you said?" the sergeant of the troop asked in his West Country accent. Sergeant Henry Foster did not take kindly to blasphemy..

  "Our orders are to block the Marlborough road within sight of this fork," Daniel told him, "in hopes of forcing Hopton down into Devizes and away from Oxford. Tell the men to get out their axes and start felling those trees up the road. And don't try to hide it. It must look like an ambush so Hopton's scouts will take a warning back to their general."

  "And of what use is an ambush that looks like an ambush?" Henry grumbled. "Typical army make work project." He was a canny veteran and a Wiltshire man, but he was also a bible thumper who blessed each of his pistol balls as he loaded them.

  "You heard me. Make it look like an ambush. Hopefully the royalists will turn towards Devizes without us actually having to fight them, for we are sure to be outnumbered. And tell the men that if we do ambush some scouts, to allow some of them to escape to take word back to Hopton."

  "Lord only knows why our worthy general did not storm Hopton's army in Chippenham," Henry growled.

  Henry was right of course. Waller had delayed the storming for a day out of fairness to his old friend Hopton. That had given Hopton time enough to call Prince Maurice and his flying army to Chippenham to be his rear guard as he marched out of the town. Right now it was Daniel's most fervent hope that Maurice and his flying army would still be at the rear of the column so this ambush would not include fighting any Bohemian knights.

  "Don't worry lads," Daniel told the men listening in. "Haselrig’s cavalry is dogging Hopton just to the north of this road, so by the time the enemy scouts are looking at your handiwork, we will have cavalry support."


  "Oh aye, and a fat lot of good they will be," one of the lads spoke back. "On Lansdown Hill the London Lobsters just sat on their great backsides and looked on."

  "Shut it, my lovelies," Henry interrupted. "Yes they were too heavy to maneuver on the steep slopes but they did block the gentler slopes to force the royalists to climb the steeper ones. The Lobsters are not nimble like dragoons because they are not supposed to be. Don't think of them as cavalry, but as a heavy moving wall. A moving wall in the middle of a battlefield is mighty useful even if all they do is sit on their backsides."

  Daniel disagreed, but he did not say so. To him cuirassiers and all heavy cavalry had outlived their time and that had been true even in the days of the long bow and the arbalest. Now with modern field guns and modern muskets, it was even truer. Thinking of this made him realize that it wasn't the weapons that had made heavy cavalry obsolete so much as the change in the rules of engagement due to the German wars.

  In the olden days, by church decree, the infantry had not been allowed to target the nobility, whether with arrows or bolts or musket balls. In those days the heavy cavalry was made up of nobs because they were the only ones with enough wealth for it. About twenty years ago in Holland and in the Germanies, the local lads decided to ignore the decrees of the hated papist church and began targeting the nobs. The rules of engagement had thus changed in Holland, and now he was seeing that same change on some of the battlefields in England.

  Of course, the steel used for the armour of the heavy cavalry had also changed, and now would deflect most musket balls and stop all arrows and bolts. The riders were safe enough within such armour but the strategic strength of such cavalry, of all cavalry, was also its greatest weakness - the horse. Horses made the cavalry fast and mobile, and gave the rider a height advantage with their weapons, but horses also made very large targets and a falling horse tends to injure her own rider.