Civil Conflict

by Oliver, Marina

  Making reassuring sounds, she approached the other pony. He backed a little, but she was able to get steadily nearer, and eventually, with little difficulty, to catch his mane and begin to pat his neck soothingly. To her delight she saw there was a halter still on him. She assumed he must have been tied in his stall, and released with the halter still there. Grasping it and making sure it was firm, she led the pony back to Janet.

  'Can you ride?' she asked Janet somewhat anxiously, and was thankful that she nodded.

  'Aye, in a rough and ready fashion. I was reared on a farm.'

  'Good. You mount the quieter one.'

  She came and assisted Janet to mount, then sprang on to the back of her own pony, catching up her skirts and riding astride so as to have better control over him. With halters only as guides, it was a difficult task to direct them, but Lysbeth was an accomplished rider, and once she had coaxed her pony to move in the right direction, Janet's more docile beast followed easily, and soon they were walking side by side, Janet issuing directions as they went.

  *

  They soon reached the village where Janet's sister lived, and roused the household, to explain what had befallen them. With exclamations of horror and anger against the Parliamentary troops, Janet's sister and her family bustled around, preparing a meal and beds for Janet and Lysbeth, and installing the ponies in a shed in the garden.

  The next day, an anxious conference was held. One of Janet's nephews was despatched to find out what had happened at the house. At about midday he returned to say some of the house had been saved when the fire had been put out, and the troopers appeared to have gone away. Lysbeth had in the meantime decided she must ride into Lincolnshire to acquaint her aunt and uncle of the disaster that had befallen them. Janet agreed this was best, for she could not remain long where she was. Deciding to set out the following day, she accepted gratefully the offer of escort from David, the eldest of Janet's nephews, and plans were made for the journey. As the troopers were no longer around, the boys were able to go back and rescue saddles and bridles from the stables that had escaped the fire. Lysbeth decided against returning to try and find some of her own possessions, as it would take too long, and early the next morning, well supplied with food, she and David, a boy of her own age, set off southwards.

  Avoiding the main roads where they might meet troopers, they came after two days' hard riding to the village where Mr and Mrs Wade were staying. With grateful thanks to David, they sent him back, bidding him keep the pony he was riding, and Lysbeth joined her aunt and uncle.

  Uncle John decided he would go home to see what could be salvaged from the fire, while Aunt Mary remained where she was. Her relatives offered Lysbeth hospitality also, but she refused, with many expressions of gratitude. In her renewed hatred of the Parliamentarians she had decided to join Arthur, and her aunt and uncle reluctantly agreed to let her go. Arthur was at that time in Oxford with the King, and many wives and sisters of the Cavaliers were there, so Lysbeth would have plenty of companionship.

  Within a few days, having spent the time replenishing her wardrobe so that she had a few gowns and linen to take with her, she set off escorted by one of the grooms, and eventually reached Oxford. They soon discovered where Arthur lodged, and he received Lysbeth with surprise, and dismay at her news. He was soon able to arrange a lodging for her, and though he was dubious about her joining the rest of the Cavaliers' ladies who were with the army, he had to agree it was about the only thing to be done in the circumstances.

  Oxford was a lively city, and Lysbeth, brought up in the quiet of the country, enjoyed to the full this new life. She began to recover her spirits and grieve less at the loss of her parents, aided by the admiration she received from Arthur's brother officers. She was now seventeen, beautiful and graceful, ready to flirt lightheartedly with them, taking none of them seriously. They made much of her, intrigued by the somewhat withdrawn and elusive quality she displayed when she considered her past sorrows, and competing to bring smiles to her eyes.

  Lysbeth was presented to King Charles, and was made aware of the charm he exercised, though she was conscious of the sadness in his manner. She was able to discuss the war with many of the officers, who delighted in describing their feats of daring to such an admiring listener. The only times Lysbeth felt constrained was when in the company of Sir James Howard. He refused either to discuss serious matters with her or to flirt with her, and appeared to treat her as a child still, which irked her greatly, particularly in her new-found adult confidence.

  *

  Chapter 8

  This happy interlude was soon ended, however, for Arthur came to tell her the armies were to rendezvous at Stow. Many of the ladies were to follow, and Lysbeth pleaded to be one of them, so Arthur arranged for her to travel with Mistress Weston, a motherly woman whose husband was one of the Captains in the Prince's cavalry. They moved from Oxford, taking lodgings in cottages on the way, and followed the army to the meeting at Stow on the eighth of May. After this, Prince Rupert went off towards Leicester, while Goring returned with his army to the west, no agreement having been reached on what the next move was to be. The Prince and his army captured Leicester at the end of May, and, against Rupert's advice, the King began to return to Oxford to relieve the siege there by Fairfax. They were resting near Daventry, when news came that Fairfax was moving towards them with his Parliamentary army, and the Royalists began to move northwards again.

  Lysbeth, with Arthur and the Westons, was billeted in a small cottage a few miles from Market Harborough the day after the army had moved from Daventry.

  'Why does the Prince retreat?' she had asked Arthur, puzzled.

  'He wishes to draw Fairfax more to the north, then choose the time to attack. If we could join with Montrose, 'twould make a vast difference to the King's prospects. Besides, we are fewer in number than Fairfax, for Goring, though recalled with his cavalry, has not yet arrived, and there is doubt that he will obey the order.'

  That night they were all awakened by knocking at the cottage door, and Lysbeth came downstairs to find a soldier excitedly talking to Arthur in the kitchen.

  'The Prince is making a stand, and the army is mustering at Harborough,' Arthur told Lysbeth briefly, then turned to the soldier. 'Right. My thanks to you.'

  The soldier hurried away to pass on the message, and Arthur's servant, John, a small wiry man some ten years older than Arthur, began to help him with his cuirass and helmet.

  'This time we must win, and end this horrible war,' Lysbeth said to him, as she sank on to a stool by the fire.

  'With God's help, Lysbeth,' he replied, as he belted his buff leather jacket and submitted to John's ministrations.

  'I am suddenly afraid, Arthur. The Prince does not want to fight. What of the fewer men?'

  'Be not concerned. We can defeat Fairfax with fewer men.' Arthur was unwilling to admit his own worries to Lysbeth. He was aware that the Parliament army had considerably greater numbers than the King, but even he did not realise the King was outnumbered by fourteen thousand to less than eight thousand.

  'Where is Fairfax now?'

  'It appears he reached Guilsborough late last night, and some of his troops reached Naseby and captured some of our patrols. The King has decided to try and hold the Roundheads on some high ground two miles or so south of Harborough. That is where I must ride.'

  'Aye, Sir,' John put in. 'We've a longish ride, and will have to hurry, Sir. Your sword, Sir, and your pistols. Nero is waiting outside. He's excited already, he can sense a battle.'

  'A true war horse, Nero,' Arthur laughed, as he came over to Lysbeth and bent to kiss her. She clung to him for a few moments, then reluctantly released him.

  'Fare you well, my dear. God keep you.'

  'Be of good heart, Lysbeth.'

  He turned and strode out, stooping to the low lintel. Captain Weston came downstairs and left, too. John followed them and shut the door, leaving Lysbeth alone in the kitchen

  *.


  She began to muse over the sudden changes in her life in the past three years, from the time she had first been aware of the war, the destruction of her home and that of her uncle, the deaths of her parents, and now the fact that she was sitting in a cottage and two armies were converging but a few miles away, preparing for what might be the decisive battle of the war.

  Her reverie was interrupted by the cottager's wife, who came through a small door from the rear.

  'Why, Mistress, will you not go back to bed? 'Tis yet an hour till dawn. You need to sleep.'

  Lysbeth looked up, startled.

  'Joan! I had forgotten where I was.'

  'Will you take a mug of soup before you go up again?'

  'No – yes, Joan. And some meat and bread, please. I must go out as soon as possible.'

  'Go out? Are you mad? Oh, I beg your pardon, but – '

  'Please, Joan. I will dress whilst you prepare it, and tell you my plan as I eat.'

  Lysbeth rose and climbed the stairs, and Joan, after staring at her in dismay, began to prepare the food with a disapproving clatter. As she set the bare table she grew more and more disturbed. Whoever heard of such a thing! A fine lady going out alone, before dawn, and the two armies only a few miles away! She began to rehearse arguments with which to dissuade Mistress Fenton, for although they had been in her cottage but a few hours, uninvited and inconvenient guests, she liked the handsome pair.

  The meal was ready as Lysbeth reappeared on the stairs. She was dressed in a black riding habit, and her long dark hair was no longer loose, but coiled neatly round her head. She drew the stool up to the table and began to eat. Joan had just plucked up courage to begin her arguments, and had opened her mouth, when Lysbeth turned to her.

  'I must go, Joan,' she said. 'I have had the strangest feeling, a presentiment, for many days now that I must not be separated from my brother. I am sure this battle will be decisive. If only we could truly defeat those men, we could return home.'

  'But of course the Prince will win, Mistress. What need for you to venture out there yourself? Why not bide here in safety, where your brother will know where to find you ?'

  'I must go.' Lysbeth looked pleadingly at her for understanding. 'I feel my presence is necessary, that we must not be parted, else some evil will befall him.'

  'But you cannot ride with him, my dear. You must be parted.'

  'I must get as close to the battle as I can, and he will feel my presence.'

  'But, the danger to yourself!'

  'Joan, please, no more. I must do it. Try not to dissuade me. If harm befell Arthur, and I were here, I could never forgive myself. I cannot explain. I am not one to pay regard to omens and suchlike, but this feeling I have is too strong to be ignored. Please understand and help me.'

  'I can see there'll be no stopping you. Very well, but let my Harry come with you. You cannot go alone.'

  'No, Joan. You need a man here for protection. But thank you.' She stood up. 'Now I must go. Polly is in the shed?'

  'Yes, Mistress. I will saddle her for you.'

  'No, Joan. Stay you here. I can do it myself.'

  Lysbeth straightened her shoulders, smiled at Joan, and went through the door leading to the tiny garden. There was just enough light from the cottage doorway for her to pick her way along the narrow path towards the large shed at the other end of the garden. Inside the shed a lantern glowed and as she opened the door she could see Joan's husband, Harry, sitting with his back to her, eating a hunk of bread and meat, and with a mug of ale beside him. He did not turn as she went in, assuming it was Joan, and he was startled to hear Lysbeth's voice.

  'Good morning, Harry. I've come for the mare.'

  'What! Mistress Fenton!'

  Lysbeth smiled at him,, and took the saddle from the bracket. She had turned to where the mare was tethered and was lifting the saddle over her back before Harry recovered from his astonishment.

  'Here, Mistress. You can't do that.'

  'But I am doing it.'

  She smiled and allowed him to finish saddling the mare. His badly concealed curiosity afforded her the first amusement she had known since the prospect of the coming battle had loomed over her. When Harry had bridled the mare, he led her outside and helped Lysbeth mount. With a wave of her whip she set off eastwards towards Market Harborough, glancing backwards to see him, making with all speed for the cottage door. Smiling, she urged the mare to a gentle trot, not daring to go faster in the darkness.

  *

  Lysbeth was determined to get as close to the fighting as she could. She could not explain even to herself why she had this desperate urge to be as close to Arthur as possible. Now she was riding in the general direction of Market Harborough, intending to leave the road and ride cross-country as soon as it was light enough to make this practicable, and so come up with the army. She had not thought beyond that. She did not wish to make her presence directly known to Arthur, but had a vague idea of concealing herself as near to the fighting as possible, with the hope that if the need arose she would have the opportunity of helping him. She also felt that by merely being there she would be helping Arthur in some way.

  Lysbeth had ridden for nearly two miles before it was light enough to urge Polly to a canter. There was a heavy ground mist, and she dared not risk laming the mare. But as soon as it was safe to do so, she quickened her pace, and by the time it was light enough to see more than a few yards ahead, she was within a mile of Market Harborough. Halting Polly, she looked round her, considering what best to do. There was a track ahead, leading off to her right, and it looked well used. She knew the battle would be to the south, and decided to strike off in that direction now, rather than risk getting caught up with the remnants of the army nearer the town. Soon she saw in front of her the houses of a small village, with folk stirring amongst them as they made ready for the day. She did not want to be observed, and managed to skirt the village without being noticed. From the far side she could see more clearly across to the east, where she expected the army to be situated.

  And there in the distance she saw what she had come to find. An army preparing for battle. To the girl, it looked a most confusing array, brilliant with many colours, men and horses milling about in no apparent order. They were too far off for her to distinguish much detail, and she was looking against the sun, just beginning to climb out of the mist which was being dispersed by a strong breeze. Lysbeth dismounted and led Polly into the shelter of a clump of trees. She tied the mare to one of them, and went to the edge of the copse where there was a slight rise in the ground from which she could get a good view of the army and its preparations. It seemed an age to Lysbeth before the army settled into some sort of order, but then it suddenly seemed to fall into a pattern, just as the last few stitches set in a tapestry made sense of the picture, and blocks of men solidified as the regiments formed. She estimated it to be about eight o'clock. There was no sign from where Lysbeth stood of the other army, the New Model Army under Fairfax, but she assumed it was some distance further off to the south, probably hidden by a slight ridge she could just discern. For an interminable time nothing happened, except for messengers riding back and forth along the lines. Much as she was dreading the battle, more so now she could see the army and visualise some of the reality of war, she was impatient for action. She was apprehensive of the outcome, but strangely eager to know what it held for her.

  Suddenly, there seemed to be a different movement in the army, and Lysbeth strained her eyes to try and discover what it was. The lines seemed to be moving, but not forward, as she had expected. They were moving sideways, in her direction. If they kept in the same path, they would pass within a hundred yards south of her position. She was undecided whether to stay there or try to move further out of their way, so as to avoid the possibility of detection. Eventually she decided to remain where she was, since it was unlikely they would come so far, having once been lined up for battle. But she was mistaken. The leading regiments were, she could now distinguish, P
rince Rupert's cavalry. Her heart gave a leap of mingled joy and apprehension. Arthur was amongst them! He was near to her! The cavalry began to pass close by where she was crouching in the undergrowth, and behind them were the infantry, with yet more cavalry in the rear. As the leading troops of cavalry reached a position about a quarter of a mile to Lysbeth's right, an order was given, and the whole column halted, and then deployed once more into battle order. In front of them the ground dropped away for a short distance, then began to rise gently towards a ridge of higher ground.

  As Lysbeth watched, she saw for the first time the opposing army, on the top of this ridge, about half a mile away. It was a mass of red, for all the soldiers were wearing red coats, and it was a stirring, frightening sight. Her heart began to beat so loudly she was afraid she would be betrayed by it, but the jingle of harness and the clink of steel against metal were surprisingly loud. Somehow Lysbeth had imagined a deathly silence while the armies were preparing for the first attack, but it was not so. She could hear the shouts of the officers – of whom there seemed a large number, and the guffaws of the men as they bandied jokes around.

  *

  Suddenly it changed. The atmosphere became tense, and silence descended on the men, to be broken only by a few metallic chinks. Even the horses became quiet, with hardly a snort breaking the uncanny waiting silence. Then, with the sound of trumpets, the army crashed into action. The cavalry immediately in front of Lysbeth set off at a steady pace, gathering momentum as they began to charge up the slope towards the opposing cavalry awaiting them at the top. Lysbeth forgot her need for concealment and stood up to view the scene better. She even advanced a little way out from the concealing trees, in her anxiety.

  'Arthur.'

  Her lips moved, but no sound came. She could not distinguish Arthur amongst the hundreds of cavalry, but she knew he was there, somewhere in front of her, amongst Prince Rupert's men, fighting for his King.

  The charging cavalry had almost reached the opposing flank, and in a few minutes it was over. The Cavaliers completely overwhelmed the Roundheads' left flank. Many of the Roundheads turned tail and fled in disorder, with Rupert's Cavaliers in hot pursuit.