Major General Harrison and his squadrons had no idea where the king was, but they had no doubt that he must be in a desperate state, and that he would be captured soon. They had too many people looking for him for any other outcome to seem possible.
While Charles could grasp the temptation that a sum as vast as £1,000 represented, his general appreciation of the value of money was that of a pampered prince. Unaware of the great luxury that meat was to a family such as the Penderels, the king asked if he could have some mutton for his Sunday dinner the next day. His hosts were keen to oblige, but had nothing so costly in their larder. It is said that William and Joan Penderel had last tasted meat at the christening of their eldest child, several years earlier.
William had no livestock of his own, and so, rather than disappoint the king, he chose to turn thief. He crept out into the night to steal a sheep from a flock belonging to one of Boscobel’s tenant farmers, William Staunton. Careless ran it through with his dagger before he and William skinned it and hacked it up, before presenting the king with a hindquarter. Charles cut slices off the joint into collops, which he seasoned and pricked, then fried in a pan. He would later boast that he had been senior cook during the preparation of this delicious dinner, while Careless had been a useful under-cook. The tactlessness of his request for a meat that was such a rare luxury was, for now, lost on him.
With the king having eaten his fill, the vexed question arose of where to hide him that night. It was decided he should stay where the Earl of Derby had felt safe during his brief time there in late August, after his men had been routed at Wigan Lane.
At Boscobel there were two priest holes. One could be reached from the main bedroom, which had a sliding section in the lower part of its wooden panelling. In the floor inside was a trapdoor, leading to a space five feet two inches deep, four feet six inches long and three feet four inches wide – too small to be comfortable for a six-foot-two-inch man to stretch out in, but then, it had not been designed with comfort in mind. From this, it was possible to walk down steps inside the great chimney that led to an exit into the garden. This exit was impossible to see from the outside, since it was swathed in creepers.
The second hiding place was higher up in the house. Its entry point was a square hole at the top of a staircase leading up to an attic area known as ‘the gallery’. Unlike the cramped, windowless sleeping space below, this had the benefit of space and light.
As Charles hid up in Boscobel, the Penderel brothers busied themselves on his behalf. Richard went to Wolverhampton to buy provisions for the king, and to ask George Mainwaring, a contact of Major Careless, if he could harbour two, nameless, Royalists on the run. Mainwaring replied, with regret, that he was unable to do so, but suggested an approach be made to a gentleman he was sure could help: Thomas Whitgreave, of Moseley Hall.
Wilmot, who was already at Moseley, was unaware that Charles had set off from Whiteladies on his unsuccessful journey towards Wales. On the evening of Friday, 5 September he sent John Penderel to Whiteladies to tell the king that he had found an excellent hiding place with Thomas Whitgreave. John was directed to do all he could to encourage Charles to join him there, but when he arrived at Whiteladies he was told that the king had already left.
This is one of many instances when it is as well to remember to place the events in this tale against their backdrop. This was an age with severely limited communications. While that was often of benefit to the king during his travels, because it prevented his enemies from structuring and seeing through a comprehensive search for him, there were also occasions when the inability to communicate threatened to upend the escape attempt.
This was such an occasion. Nobody had any means of knowing that the king’s Welsh plan had come to nothing, and that he was adrift in a hostile landscape, more in need of Wilmot’s company than ever. Instead, an unavoidable reliance on out-of-date news, shared in good faith, now threatened to part the king and his right-hand man for good.
John Penderel returned to Moseley and told Wilmot what he had just heard at Whiteladies. Pleased that Charles had apparently identified and taken a chance of reaching safety, Wilmot felt released from the obligation of waiting in the area in case the king needed his assistance. His loyalty must now be to himself. He told Colonel Lane that he would, after all, be delighted to make use of his sister Jane’s pass, and asked the colonel to send his and his servant’s horses across to Moseley Hall.
Feeling sure that he would not see the king again on English soil, Wilmot thanked Whitgreave for all his great help, acknowledging that without his assistance he would certainly have been captured. He then sent John Penderel home to Whiteladies, after expressing gratitude for his great loyalty and energy from the time he had guided him away from Whiteladies till this, the moment of final farewell. Wilmot and his servant then rode to Colonel Lane’s at Bentley Hall, with the aim of collecting Jane’s pass and riding with her towards Bristol and, if all went well, a ship to France.
John Penderel returned to Whiteladies the next day, Saturday, 6 September. While there was still no sign of the king, Richard’s wife advised John to head straight away for Boscobel House. There he found Charles with Major Careless, despondent about his chances of escape.
John transmitted Wilmot’s message, bidding the king to join him at Moseley Hall. This was a ray of hope, and was received with great excitement by Charles. He was eager to join up with his friend, and put in motion the plan of getting to London, then overseas, with a man he had identified from the start as the perfect escape companion.
Convinced by Careless that staying on at Boscobel in the meantime would lead to his certain capture, he headed off with the major to hide in the oak tree for the day, feeling certain that he would soon be by Wilmot’s side. He had no way of knowing that Wilmot was no longer at Moseley Hall.
On Sunday, 7 September Major General Thomas Harrison wrote a report to Parliament listing the many successes his troops had already enjoyed while mopping up pockets of the enemy as they fled. He was pleased to report the utter destruction of the Scottish force, before reminding his comrades in London of the God-given nature of their victory: ‘The Lord grant that the Parliament (whom He hath thus further honoured, and owned in the eyes of all the world) may improve this mercy, entrusted to their management, according to the will of God, in establishing the ways of righteousness and justice: yet more relieving of the oppressed.’ There was no place in Harrison’s world order for corrupt or ungodly kings: ‘All his enemies shall be made his footstool,’ the major general wrote, with complete certainty.3 That would include the highest-born in the land.
At daybreak on that same day, John Penderel arrived once more at Moseley, this time as the king’s messenger. He found Thomas Whitgreave and Father Huddleston on horseback, preparing to ride to Whiteladies. While taking a walk together even earlier that day, they had decided to travel there to find out more about the recent extraordinary goings on at the house, first-hand.
As soon as he drew close to them, John asked Whitgreave and Huddleston where Lord Wilmot was. They replied that he was no longer there, but had set off for Colonel Lane’s house, before heading for Bristol. Penderel vented his despair at the cruel turn of events: ‘Then are we all undone, for His Majesty is now forced back to Whiteladies, weary, wet, enduring there hunger and cold all day long in the woods, no place to harbour him at night but some poor cottage or other, with dangers worse than all other hardships who hath sent me to my Lord to procure his speedy remove, not resolving which way to remove, nor we able to advise.’4
He explained that when the king had reached Boscobel, and joined up with Major Careless the previous morning, the mood had been grim: nobody could think how to help him, and he had grown ‘very melancholy’. It had only been John’s report that Wilmot was at Moseley Hall that had brought Charles out of his gloom. The king still believed, John said, that he and Wilmot could make good their escape together.
As they digested another piece of astonishing
news, Whitgreave and Huddleston were conscious that Penderel must be exhausted. He had been busy running urgent errands between Moseley, Whiteladies and Boscobel, without a break, for most of the previous twenty-four hours. Before that he had endured the stress of trying to keep the uncontrollable Wilmot safe. But his work was not done yet.
Whitgreave and Huddleston realised that they now had to act, in person. They could commit nothing to paper, with the king’s safety in play, and interception of a letter likely to result in his capture. They also knew that Colonel Lane did not know John Penderel, so would be unlikely to trust him, especially given the general upheaval that all were experiencing after the battle of Worcester. They decided they must accompany John back to Bentley, to speak with Lane, and see if there was a way of bringing about the reunion of the king and Wilmot.
On arrival at Bentley, Whitgreave and Huddleston discovered to their relief that Wilmot had yet to set off from the house. Whitgreave explained to Lane that he could vouch for John Penderel, who had come to see him and Huddleston after recently spending time with a very eminent person, whose name could not be disclosed at this point. Whitgreave said that it was essential that John be immediately taken to Wilmot, so he could pass on to him a message of the utmost urgency from this anonymous source.
Lane immediately took John to Wilmot. On hearing the message from the king, Wilmot quizzed John about Boscobel: where it was, what the hiding places were like, and if the enemy had searched it yet. Everything he heard convinced him that it was far too dangerous a place for Charles to remain in. He told John that the king must be brought to Moseley Hall as soon as possible.
John asked Thomas Whitgreave and Father Huddleston to describe where exactly at Moseley he and his brothers should bring the king to. He estimated that they would be able to get him there at around midnight that Sunday night; or certainly by one o’clock the next morning. After receiving clear directions, he headed off to find his brothers, so they could prepare the king for his journey.
John returned to Boscobel to report to Charles the thrilling news that Wilmot was at Bentley, but that he was moving back to Moseley to meet up with the king there, that night. It was now a matter of getting the king the eight miles to Moseley, without his having to walk there on sore feet. The Penderels had cast around for a horse. A friend called Mr Stanton, who lived in nearby Hatton, would have lent his, but somebody else was already borrowing it at the time. With no alternatives, Major Careless persuaded Humphrey Penderel to let his old mill horse, weary from years of lugging packs and provisions, carry the king that night. A worn-out bridle and saddle were found.
Charles said he would just take Careless and John Penderel with him, but the consensus was against this. The Penderel brothers insisted that they all come, to protect the king on such a dangerous expedition. They also convinced Charles and Careless that the major was too well known in the area, as a prominent Royalist, to be included in an already extremely risky journey. Charles said goodbye to Careless, and wished him luck in his own escape.
So it was that, at eleven o’clock that Sunday night, Charles left Boscobel for Moseley. The five Penderel brothers, accompanied by their brother-in-law, the second Francis Yates, led the king through the darkness. The members of this makeshift royal escort were all armed with clubs, pikestaffs or scythes, and some also had pistols.
They advanced in a basic defensive formation, two men in front, two behind, and one either side of the mounted king. Despite it being so late, they kept to little-known paths. The way was rutted, and several times the old mill horse lost its footing. Charles called out to Humphrey, who was leading his horse, to take greater care, otherwise he would fall. Humphrey replied that while his nag was used to carrying heavier loads than the king, it was unaccustomed to having ‘the weight of three kingdoms on his back’. This quick-witted comment, coming at a time of high tension and danger, had them all chuckling for some time.
The seven men safely reached Pendeford Mill, two miles short of Moseley Hall, at which point the Penderels told Charles he must walk the remainder of the journey, as they felt the safest way from that point was along a footpath that was too narrow for the horse. Humphrey steered the nag into a ditch, so the king could dismount with greater ease. He then proceeded on foot, with a walking stick taking some of the weight off his feet.
Charles at last approached Moseley Hall at around two or three o’clock in the morning of Monday, 8 September. As he began to head for the house, with Francis Yates and Richard and John Penderel, it suddenly struck him that he would not see the other three again, so he turned back.
‘I am troubled,’ he apologised, ‘that I forget to take my leave of my friends; but if ever I come into England by foul or fair means, I will remember you, and let me see you when ever it shall so please God.’ William, Humphrey and George kissed the king’s hand, wished him well, and disappeared home, unaware of what would happen to Charles now, but sure that they had played their part in at least giving him a chance of escape, and survival.
11
Reunion
If you hear anything of the King, be pleased to communicate it.
Sir Edward Nicholas to Sir George Radcliffe
Whitgreave and Huddleston had waited till the rest of the Whitgreave family were in bed before taking up separate stations outside, awaiting the arrival of Wilmot from Bentley, and of the king from Boscobel.
Wilmot met up with Whitgreave as arranged, on time, by his dry pit. Whitgreave took Wilmot back up to the bedroom he had so recently vacated, with its adjacent priest hole. But Wilmot, impatient to know if the king had arrived, was unable to relax. As it grew ever later, and the expected time of Charles’s arrival slipped by, Wilmot began to fret terribly. It seemed that, yet again, he and his master would miss one another.
Wilmot knew that he must stay inside, near to the safety of the priest hole, in case an enemy search party appeared and surprised him out in the open. He persuaded Whitgreave to wait outside in the orchard, urging him to let him know as soon as he spotted anyone drawing near.
Eventually, three hours after Wilmot’s prompt appearance, Whitgreave made out some shadowy figures approaching. He informed Wilmot that he thought his friend was about to arrive, and Wilmot told Whitgreave to stay beside the orchard door, to greet him when he came. Meanwhile Wilmot waited inside, at the bottom of the staircase, holding a torch.
Charles, Francis Yates and Richard and John Penderel advanced through the garden, entering by a heavy wooden door whose iron-studded design the king would always remember. He now saw Thomas Whitgreave, and would later recall noticing that he was in frail health.
For his part, Charles looked nothing like Whitgreave’s image of a king. ‘When he came to the door,’ Whitgreave later confessed, ‘with the Penderels guarding him, he was so habited, like one of them, that I could not tell which was he, only I knew all the rest.’ It was a brief welcome, Whitgreave recalling: ‘I could scarce put off my hat to him, but he discovering by the light the stairs, immediately went to them, where his Lordship expected him, and took him up to his chamber.’
Father Huddleston was waiting upstairs, and he subsequently remembered his first impressions of the king’s clothing: ‘The habit that the king came in … was a very greasy old gray steeple turned hat, with the brims turned up, without lining or hat-band, the sweat appearing two inches [deep] (through it) round the band-place; a green cloth jump-coat, threadbare, even to the threads being worn white; and breeches of the same with long knees down to the garter; with an old sweaty leather doublet, a pair of white flannel-stockings next his legs, which the King said were his boot-stockings, their tops being cut off to prevent their being discovered; and upon them, a pair of old green yarn stockings, all worn, and darned at the knees, with their feet cut off; which last he said he had of Mr Wolfe, who persuaded him thereto, to hide his other white ones, for fear of being observed. His shoes were old, all slashed for the ease of his feet and full of gravel, with little rolls of paper between h
is toes; which he said he was advised to, to keep them from galling. He had an old coarse shirt, patched both at the neck and hands, of that very coarse sort which in that country go by the name of nogging-shirts … He had no gloves, but a long thorn-stick, not very strong, but crooked three or four several ways, in his hand; his hair cut short up to his ears, and hands coloured, his Majesty refusing to have any gloves when Father H. offered him some, as also to change his stick.’1
Whitgreave took the two Penderel brothers and Yates to get something to eat and drink before they set off home again. They were still tucking in when Huddleston appeared, telling Whitgreave that he must, please, come upstairs at once.
Whitgreave entered the chamber, and saw Wilmot and the king talking. Charles was heard to ask after his other leading followers, who had dispersed after the defeat, ‘What is become of Buckingham, Cleveland, and others?’ But Wilmot, cocooned since Worcester in the protective web spun by John Penderel, had no answers to the question.
Wilmot then noticed that Whitgreave and Huddleston had entered the room and, with great solemnity, announced a point that they had both fully grasped already: ‘This gentleman under disguise, whom I have hitherto concealed, is both your master and mine, and the master of us all, to whom we all owe our duty and allegiance.’
Wilmot and Huddleston knelt before the king, and kissed his hand. Whitgreave came forward, also kneeling, before throwing his arms around his royal guest’s knees in joy. Charles beckoned to the men to stand. Whitgreave remembered the king telling him that Wilmot had already given him such a warm report of his loyalty and bravery that he would never forget it. Charles then asked, ‘Where is the private place my Lord tells me of?’ Whitgreave showed the priest hole to the king, who declared it the best he had ever seen.
To Catch a King Page 15