by Smith, Skye
Denzil's men broke the circle and put their arms around their colonel so that they could take his pistol from him. They tried to pull him away but he was having none of it. Now that Denzil was disarmed, Daniel stepped out from between he and Oliver and they began arguing again. Life was too short to listen to a lot of 'what-ifs' so he pushed back out through the circle and went to see about something hot to eat and drink to get rid of his shivers from the night spent on the frosty ground.
With the army kitchen destroyed it seemed to be every-squad-for-themselves as far as food was concerned. He decided that Balfour's porridge wasn't so bad after all, and went in search of the Colonel. In the village there were a lot of men running about. John Hampden had just arrived leading a long column of infantry, mounted infantry, cannons, and supply carts. The column was the size of another army. No wonder the king's generals had attacked Essex yesterday. They must have known that this column was on the way.
He didn't find Colonel Balfour, and his aide told him that he was already in with Essex planning the day's campaign. At least he was able to cadge a bowl of steaming porridge from the aide, and a bowl of steaming koffie. By mixing them together you couldn't tell how bad either of them was. While he ate he considered his situation. There was no reason for him to stay here. His clansmen were rescued, and Lindsey was sure to die. It was time for him to return to the fens and find out if his clan had set sail for the New World yet. Ah, the morning sunshine felt extra sweet on his face.
"Danny, good man,” Balfour said as he walked up and blocked out the sun. "I was just about to send a lad to find you. Fetch your horse, I need your advice."
Daniel groaned all the way back to fetch Femke. He should have ridden out first thing instead of cadging a breakfast. Instead he joined Balfour and five of his scouts as they rode to all corners of yesterday's battlefield. What they saw was sobering. The king's army had not fetched their wounded from the field, nor their dead. One of the scouts was counting them out loud.
"Don't count them, help them,” Daniel hissed at him.
"You're right as usual,” Balfour said and sent his scouts back to camp to bring out a company of infantry with shovels and stretchers.
"What are you looking for?" Daniel asked.
"I came to speak with our pickets about what was happening on the slopes last night,” Balfour replied, and that was how they spent the next two hours. The pickets confirmed the report that groups and gangs and squads of the king's pikemen had left the ridge in every direction, and had been doing so all night long.
"We didn't stop them,” one of the picket ensigns told the colonel. "They were pressed men, hungry men. They hadn't eaten for two days, and there was no food on offer up on the ridge unless you owned a saddle, so they were on their way to find some. We figured they wouldn't come back so we let them go."
By the time they had criss crossed to all the picket posts, corpses were being buried and the injured carried away. All the pickets told similar stories of the king's infantry deserting him because they were hungry and otherwise abused by the cavalryers. Eventually Balfour was satisfied and turned his horse back towards Kineton.
"You didn't need me along to visit the pickets,” Daniel complained.
"Ah, but I need to speak with you before I tell this news to Essex,” Balfour replied. "You were on the ridge well before the king claimed it. Tell me about it, and don't tell me more about the view. Tell me about roads and terrain and springs."
"Well, there is a rough cart track along the ridge. It leads to a hamlet at the north end. I didn't see any source of water up there, and the grass was long and dry."
"No sheep then?"
"Nay, not a moving thing. The farmers must have hidden them, or perhaps sold them to Banbury Castle. By the length of the grass I'd say it hasn't been grazed for months. Roads. There was a road off the ridge to the north and another away from the hamlet to the east. The hamlet was called Rat-something, and was well named for it was fit only for shepherds. Ratley. To the east of Ratley there were better roads to the villages down towards Banbury. Essex should pull stakes and move the army to Banbury by using the road that cuts through the south of the edge."
"I agree, however Essex thinks the army is too tired to move for a day or two. In truth I think he fears Rupert's flying army, especially after how they slaughtered the camp followers out of hand for no good reason."
"It is good that he fears them. You and I both know that cavalry can attack infantry but infantry can't attack cavalry. They are too mobile. I only know three ways of attacking cavalry."
"With other cavalry,” Balfour said thoughtfully, "what are the other two."
"Lure them into an ambush."
"And."
"Take their horses away from them." Daniel said with a smile, and then looked over his shoulder at the ridge. There were riders moving back and forth along it. "Come to think of it, the king can't stay up on that ridge for much longer. There is ample grazing for all the horses but not enough water. Say each of Rupert's men has a string of three, and say he has three thousand mounted men. That makes at least nine thousand horses. Give me twenty mounted skirmishers and I can stampede their spare horses. They'll be so thirsty that they will quit the ridge and come down here for a drink ... without their riders."
"Twenty? You mean twenty thousand. Even that may not be enough to take that ridge. Even if you could take it, they would escape down the gentle side."
"No, just twenty men. All this cold clear weather is because the wind has been from the east. It stiffens every afternoon. If someone were to sneak around the other side of the ridge and light the long grass in say, twenty places at the same time."
"A giant grass fire would sweep up the ridge." Balfour completed the thought. "Thank you, Danny. Now I have something to take to Essex other than the butcher's count."
"How bad is the butcher's count?"
"Very bad, but of course over a third of our losses were unarmed men in the camp. We have five hundred dead or nearly dead, another five hundred may or may not survive the week, and another five hundred may as well be sent home. The king lost about the same but almost all of them infantry. I can only guess at the king's desertions. Perhaps another two thousand, but that doesn't include those that may have deserted down the other side of the ridge, or to the south, so the number may be closer to four thousand."
"I pity the villagers around here. The deserters are so hungry that they will move like locusts across the farms. I suppose they will be all the pressed men. That leaves Charlie's infantry composed of the cavalryers' grooms and servants and the other able men from their manors."
"Exactly,” Balfour agreed and then kicked his horse to a trot in the direction of the manor of Kineton. Daniel went with him, but of course was not allowed into the inner sanctum of nobles and generals. He decided to wait close by in case Balfour had need of him. It was while he was cursing himself for volunteering yet again that a familiar voice called to him and a man eased down on the bench beside him.
It was John Hampden, Pym's political wizard, or rather, the Earl of Warwick's financial wizard, or more correctly, the Providence Company's strategic wizard. Today he was Colonel Hampden who had brought the last of the army here from Worcester. In the past, Hampden only deigned to speak to Daniel when he needed something. Why should today be any different?
"Colonel Balfour says I should ask you about the ridge,” Hampden began.
"Why?"
"Because he agrees with you that we should move camp to Banbury, and he wants you to convince me so that I can convince Essex."
Daniel always felt uncomfortable speaking with Hampden. The man was literate, well educated, and eloquent, but there was more to his mind than that. He had a memory for detail, and he was logical, and he was scary smart. In his presence he always felt like a little child speaking to an elder. After a deep breath he began explaining about the edge and the hills and the location alongside the main roads and Banbury Castle.
Hampden's
interview of him was typical of those in the past. He let Daniel ramble on until he seemed to be finished, and then he asked specific questions, intelligent questions, to keep the ramble going. Once Hampden had run out of questions, Daniel whispered, "Essex did not press his win yesterday. He could have captured the king and the princes. He could have forced the king's army off that ridge and could have scattered them to all points of the compass. Whose side is he on anyway?"
"The king and parliament,” Hampden answered also in a whisper. "The king has been misbehaving and Essex wants to force him to surrender and allow Parliament to run the kingdom in his name. He does not want to rout him or hurt him, or make him lose face. He wants him to surrender honorably."
"The fucking turd. Are you telling me that three thousand men died yesterday in hopes that Charlie would do the honorable thing? Did you see what Rupert did to our water boys?" Daniel's voice was rising and waiting officers were glancing over at them.
"Shhh,” Hampden said trying to calm him. "We will finish the job today. The army is whole again, complete with cannons." He looked up because Balfour had just walked out of the manor house.
Balfour was fuming but he took some deep breaths and kept his voice low as he spoke to them. "Essex refuses to move camp to Banbury. He is going to line up the entire army for battle in hopes that will be enough to make the king surrender."
"Then I had better be on my way,” Daniel told Balfour. "It will be a three hour ride to go the long way around to the eastern side of the ridge. Which company of skirmishers should I take with me." The more thought he had given it, the more he liked the idea of creating a wide, wild grassfire. It would be almost risk free, and he could leave for home directly after lighting it.
"Essex has forbidden it,” Balfour hissed. "He says it would not be ethical or moral."
Daniel shook his head. "Oh yes, much less ethical than slaughtering unarmed kitchen lads." What was he doing here? This battle was insane. Essex was insane. This entire war with Charlie was insane. He stood up to leave, leave Balfour and Hampden, leave Kineton, leave the war, and leave the kingdom. His last words he called out loudly so all of the officers could hear him. "The men of this army fight like lions, but they are led by donkeys."
Hampden and Balfour pretended they were not with him by whispering amongst themselves. They were trying their hardest not to crack a grin. Some of the other colonels gave Daniel the two finger salute, but most of the captains were nodding.
* * * * *
Daniel didn't leave Kineton. He couldn't leave. He was too curious to see the outcome of today's continuation of the battle. To make sure that none of the colonels, that is, the MP's who were now calling themselves colonels ... that none of the colonels who knew him from his London days could shame him into joining their regiments, he stayed out of sight. His plan was to take his looker up the church tower and view the battle from there. To make sure he was welcomed by the lookouts in the tower, he bought and brought a side of ribs from a walking-wounded-cook who was turning three entire horses on three giant spits above three giant charcoal pits.
There was no shortage of food in Essex's army for they now controlled the fields where all the fighting had taken place and therefore all the dead horses. One of the picket companies had even set up a spit close to the base of the ridge to see if they could entice more of the king's infantry to desert. It was foolish of course ... a tempting of the Wyred sisters to weave some irony. And they did, but not against the spitted horse.
As the tower watch munched and moaned away on the braised ribs, Daniel watched the irony through his looker. There were three field guns quite close to the picket company's spit. A squad of cavalry charged the pickets as if they were after the meat, but it was a fake charge. The true charge came straight down the steep slope, tied ropes onto the three field guns and hauled them away bouncing over the field and then up the steep slope where a squad of infantry were waiting to help haul them up.
"Why don't our cavalry or our pickets stop them?" one of the lookouts asked. He was a big lad, an apprentice butcher from Smithfields in London. This army life was a lark for him compared to years spent slaughtering cattle and humping the carcasses around for the journeymen.
Daniel had to stop laughing to answer. "Because those are the guns that Colonel Balfour and I spiked yesterday. Does the Devil Prince really think we would leave useful ordnance so close to his camp? Look at them watching so eagerly up on the ridge." He passed the looker to the apprentice. "See the very tall man. Umm, you look through the other end. That's it. See the very tall man. That is Rupert. Now see the very short man beside him. That is your king."
"Bugger, my little brother is taller than him and he be not yet twelve. There is two heads difference in their heights." The apprentice butcher was no small man. He grew up eating meat and hauling hundred weights of meat around. His chest made two of Daniels.
Eventually the king did send his army out to take up the same lines they had taken on the first day of the battle, but it was a pitiful display. Their infantry had thinned by half while Essex's infantry had almost doubled. When Rupert and his flying army came down the slopes to take up the wings, they did not stay long. Once facing the batteries of field guns that had arrived with Colonel Hampden, they decided to retire back up to the top of the ridge.
"Now we wait,” Daniel told the lookouts.
"Wait for what."
"Our general, the Earl of Essex assured me that once Charlie saw our full army that he would choose to surrender on good terms. That will be a sight worth waiting for. Are any of you gambling men? I'll wager a Spanish gold eight to a silver shilling that he doesn't."
That night Daniel spent the apprentices shilling on another side of horse, which he personally carried up the tower steps and presented to the lookouts. That night everyone slept. Everyone in both armies slept. They had hours of daylight and twilight to prepare meals and beds and take care of the wounded and the horses. Their veins were not thumping with anxiety, and their stomachs were full.
On the third day of the battle, the king's men did not even form a line. First the pickets, then the scouts and then the tower lookouts reported that the king's infantry was marching down off the ridge towards the northeast. Rupert's flying army was left on the ridge to guard their rear while they were getting away. Eventually Rupert also left the ridge heading northeast.
Daniel hung around the manor house eating left over horse ribs rather than brave the Scottish colonel's porridge three days in a row. He was eaten up with curiosity as to what Earl Essex and his donkey barons would decide to do now. What he eventually heard was beyond belief. Earl Ass had decided that the king was going to regroup his forces in Nottingham, where he had originally raised his banner to draw his army together.
That wasn't the unbelievable part of it. What was unbelievable was that Earl Ass was so sure of this that he was NOT going to split his army so that one part could support Banbury and the other support Northampton, which would block all roads south to London until they knew for sure the king's plans. No, instead he was going to march the entire army to Warwick in hopes of drawing the king into another battle. It beggared belief.
Certainly John Hampden, the smartest man in the army, did not believe it. Assex had never even asked for his opinion. Daniel and he shared the last of the ribs sitting on the same bench as yesterday. "I am again to bring up the rear, and again with only infantry under my command to protect most of our cannons, plus the supply carts, and all the walking wounded,” Hampden told him.
"What about the wounded that can't walk?"
"They are to stay here until we can send the supply carts back for them,” Hampden said, unconvincingly.
"You mean never."
"Probably."
"And you are good with that?"
"My lads are all from Buckinghamshire. The direct roads from Nottingham to London all pass through Buckinghamshire. No I am not good with that and neither are my lads. If our army would camp near Banbury, t
hen Buckinghamshire won't be savaged by Rupert and his devils. What about you? What are you going to do?"
"Time to go home. Time to sail to Bermuda." Daniel replied.
"I heard that Robert Rich offered you the governorship of Bermuda if you would be his man for a while longer. I would second that motion if it ever comes to a vote in the Somers Isles Company ... if you will scout for me until we reach Warwick castle."
"Nay. I've been away too long. Almost two months. My wives, er, wife, will be worried sick."
"Well take good care, and may the winds be kind to you,” Hampden said as he stood and walked off with the last of Daniel's ribs.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Edgehill by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 29 - Rupert's Vultures at Kineton, November 1642
The more Daniel thought about it the more anxious he was to get home to Wellenhay and see if the clan had set sail yet for Lyme in Dorset. With this in mind he decided not to go through Banbury, where he was sure to be delayed while he told the latest news of the battle, and instead rode south halfway to the Banbury road and then dismounted and he and Femke scrambled up and over the ridge. He was in luck, for there was no sign of any of Rupert's scouts on the farm cartway that ran along the top of the edge.
By early afternoon he was picking his way down the other side of the edge, the gentle side. The easterly wind sprang up, as it had done on each of the last four days, so it would be another cold crisp night again. The king's men must have been really cold camping up here on the ridge. It had been cold enough down below in the lee. As he was thinking this, he thought ... why not?
Why not start the grass fire anyway. He was here and now and the wind was right. The ridge had been the natural fortress that had kept Rupert's flying army safe from attack. If he took away the grazing for their horses, then they couldn't use it again. He took out his looker and stared along the ridge and then at the rolling hills and grass lands on the eastern side of it. The wind was running at slightly the wrong angle to the ridge, which meant that if he started a fire here, it may burn the ridge to the south of here, but not the ridge north of here where the king's camp had been. He would have to ride north along the eastern slope and set fire to the grass further north.