The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  The morn was lovely, and gave promise of a splendid day. At that early hour, the view from the heights of the old and picturesque city, with the broad river flowing past it, was enchanting, and delighted even the rough soldiers who gazed at it. The fair Malvern Hills, however, chiefly called forth their admiration as reminding them of their native mountains, though they admitted that few of the Scottish valleys could compare with the fertile vale of the Severn.

  While many a greedy eye was fixed on Worcester, and many a cunning tongue was talking of its wealth, and the plunder it would yield, if they were only allowed to pillage it, the attention of the soldiers was attracted to the walls, which had now become thronged with the citizens and their wives and daughters, while all the church bells — and no church in the old city lacked its proper complement of bells — began to ring forth joyous peals. It was clear that the city was now awake and astir, and the half-famished soldiers hoped that immediate preparations would be made for their refreshment, and on an extraordinary scale.

  It was about this time that Major Careless, who had attired himself rather hurriedly, being excited by the prodigious clangour of the bells, entered the king’s tent, and found the young monarch fast asleep — fast as a top.

  “Zounds!” mentally ejaculated the aide-de-camp; “his majesty must sleep soundly, since this din does not disturb him — but no wonder. I’ll give him another hour.”

  And he turned to depart, when Charles suddenly ceased breathing hard, and opened his eyes.

  “What sound is that?” he cried, raising himself on his elbow and listening.

  “The bells of Worcester ringing for your majesty’s glorious victory — that’s all,” replied Careless.

  “And enough too,” cried the king, looking well pleased. “What has happened to the garrison?”

  “Evacuated the fortifications — taken to flight.”

  “Just what I expected — just what I desired.”

  “But your majesty did not expect — nor, I presume, desire — that Colonel James would take the mayor of Worcester and the sheriff with him.”

  “‘Sdeath!” exclaimed the king. “Has he had the audacity to do so?”

  “Even so, my liege. No doubt they were specially obnoxious to him on account of their loyalty, and he might wish to hold them for ransom. ’Tis lucky he didn’t carry off others. There are several prisoners of note in Worcester — Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, and Colonel Mervin Touchet. But the rascal contented himself with the mayor and the sheriff. At what hour will it please your majesty to enter the city?”

  “At noon,” replied Charles.

  “Not till noon! why, we have no rations,” cried Careless, in dismay. “Your army has nothing to eat. Will your majesty keep the men fasting till noon? If you could only see how hungry they look, you would feel some pity for them.”

  “They shall all have a good breakfast in Worcester — that I promise them.”

  “There will be plenty of grumbling at the delay.”

  “Bah! they always grumble. I must give my loyal subjects time to decorate their houses and make all necessary preparations for my entrance, or I shall disappoint them of their anticipated spectacle.”

  “Your hungry soldiers will pray that twelve o’clock may come.”

  “Let them listen to the bells. How blithely they sound!”

  “Excuse me, sire. When we are enduring the pangs of hunger the sweetest sounds become a mockery. Spare us this aggravated torture.”

  “Leave me; and let it be announced by sound of trumpet throughout the lines that we shall make our triumphal entrance into Worcester at noon.”

  As Careless went forth on his errand with a dissatisfied look Charles sprang from his couch, and with the aid of a groom of the chamber and a page, for he had brought a large retinue of servants with him on his march, proceeded to dress himself, bestowing infinitely more care on the decoration of his person than he had done since he left Scotland.

  His tall, fine figure was well displayed in doublet and hose of crimson velvet and white satin; his yellow maroquin boots were deeply fringed with lace, and he wore point-lace at his wrists and around his throat. His shoulder-knot was enriched with diamonds, his sword-hilt glittered with gems, and his plumed hat was looped up by a large diamond brooch. His long black locks were worn in the true Cavalier fashion, and fell over his shoulders. All his princely ornaments were put on for the occasion, the Garter, the George of Diamonds, and the Blue Riband.

  Charles was then in the heyday of his youth, being just twenty-one. Though his features were harsh — the nose being too large, and not well-shaped — and his complexion swarthy as that of a Spanish gipsy, his large black eyes, full of fire and spirit, gave wonderful expression to his countenance, and made him, at times, look almost handsome. His manner was singularly affable and agreeable, and very different from the cold, repelling stateliness of his ill-fated father.

  The young king was adjusting his mantle before the little mirror hung up in the tent, preparatory to going forth, when a noise outside attracted his attention.

  Next moment Major Careless entered the tent, his looks beaming with satisfaction.

  “How now, Will!” cried the king. “Have you found a breakfast that you look so gay?”

  “No, my liege, but I have found the mayor and the sheriff, and that is more to the purpose. They have escaped from the commandant, and have ridden up from Worcester to pay their homage to you, and relate their adventures.”

  “Are they without?”

  “Just alighted, sire. They are in a sorry plight, but in their zeal to attend upon your majesty they would not tarry to change, and hope you will excuse them.”

  “Excuse them! marry will I! I shall be delighted to receive them. Bring them at once.”

  The two gentlemen were then introduced, and their habiliments undoubtedly bore traces of the hardships they had undergone. But Charles was better pleased to see them thus than if they had been in their robes of office, and said so.

  Mr. Lysons, the mayor of Worcester, and a wealthy draper of the city, was a middle-aged man, but strong and active, and had a ruddy, pleasant countenance. Mr. Bridges, the sheriff, and by trade a glover, was a few years younger than the mayor, and not quite so stout. Both of them had looked exhausted when they arrived, but they brightened up wonderfully as they entered the king’s presence.

  Charles advanced to meet them, and gave them his hand to kiss in the most gracious manner possible. After congratulating them heartily on their escape, he inquired, with an air of much interest, how they had contrived it.

  “Your majesty shall hear,” replied the mayor. “It will always be a feather in our cap to have escaped from Colonel James. With what particular object he carried us off we know not, but it is certain he meant to take us to Gloucester. Shortly after midnight we were brought out of Edgar’s Tower, where we had been imprisoned, and were strictly guarded by the troopers as we rode out of the city, but no attempt whatever at rescue was made by our fellow-citizens. Probably no one knew at the time that we were being carried off. Little did we dream as we rode across the bridge that we should be back so soon.

  “A dreary ride we had, and our thoughts, which were not very pleasant, were disturbed by those psalm-singing Puritans. They did not speak very respectfully of your majesty. But we told them a day of reckoning was at hand, and that you would drive them all before you. ‘Let him first set your worship free, and his honour the sheriff,’ said one of the troopers — a snuffling rogue, whom his comrades called Ezra. ‘Ay, let him follow us to Gloucester,’ observed another, who was very appropriately named Madmannah. ‘Be sure that he will follow, and force you to evacuate the city, as you have done Worcester,’ I rejoined. In such pleasantries the time was passed.

  “A halt was made at Upton-on-Severn. Now the Roundheads have no especial dislike to ale and cider, and do not hold it sinful to indulge in those liquors if good. Knowing the drink they delight in was to be had in perfection at the Red Lion, a
t Upton, they roused the house, and compelled the host and tapster to broach a cask of stout March ale and another of cider. The troopers then dismounted, and tied up their horses while they emptied their cans, leaving us to the care of Ezra and Madmannah.

  “Apparently, no one suspected us of any attempt to escape; yet we were already meditating flight, if any favourable opportunity should occur. By the light of the lanterns we could see the men filling their cans. The temptation soon became too strong for Madmannah. He joined the others, but soon returned with a bottle of cider for Ezra. While they were enjoying the pleasant drink, we suddenly broke away and plunged into a hop-garden that adjoined the inn-yard. Both musketeers fired at us, but did us no harm. Fortunately the night was dark, and we were screened by the tall hop-poles.

  “Alarmed by the firing, several other musketeers joined in the pursuit, but they got into each other’s way, and created great confusion, in the midst of which we reached a wood, and being well acquainted with the locality, made our way for the meadows on the banks of the Severn. Then we were safe.

  “After keeping in these meadows for two or three miles, we ventured on the high road, and galloped off at full speed for Worcester, without hearing anything more of the troopers or their commander. We caught sight of the old city just at daybreak. ‘Here we are back again, after only a few hours’ absence,’ I remarked, as we passed through the barbican at the head of the old bridge. ‘Who would have thought it!’ ‘Not I,’ replied the sheriff. ‘We are in ample time for the rejoicings on his majesty’s glorious victory.’ ‘What if we ride up to the camp on Perry Wood, and seek an audience of him?’ I remarked. ‘Not in this plight,’ said Mr. Bridges. ‘His majesty will excuse us,’ I replied.”

  “Ay, that I will, my good friends,” cried Charles. “I am truly glad that you came to me at once. With such subjects as you I shall never stand upon ceremony. I have long known you both as two of the king my father’s most faithful adherents.”

  “We are equally devoted to the king, your father’s son, my liege,” rejoined the mayor. “And now, having been honoured by this audience, we will return to the city and prepare for your majesty’s reception.”

  “Before you take your departure, gentlemen,” interposed Careless, “permit me to remark to you that the entire army is without provisions. The sooner, therefore, you can prepare for us the better.”

  “We will expedite matters as much as possible,” said the mayor. “But I am afraid we shall require three or four hours.”

  “His majesty’s forces number eleven thousand men, as I understand,” said the sheriff. “It will be impossible to provide for so many without some little delay.”

  “Quite impossible,” observed the king. “I will only beg you, as my loving subjects, to treat my Scottish soldiers hospitably, even if you make a great sacrifice.”

  “Your majesty shall have no ground of complaint,” said both magistrates.

  “There is a point on which I must address a caution to you,” pursued Charles. “The greater part of my army, as you are doubtless aware, is composed of members of the Scottish Kirk. They are bitter sectarians, ever ready to dispute on religious questions, and to reprove those who differ from them. Prevent, if you can, all quarrels among them and your fellow-citizens.”

  “We have had plague enough already with those Anabaptists, Presbyterians, and Independents,” said the sheriff. “I am happy to say there are very few left in faithful Worcester now we are rid of the garrison. We will not quarrel with the Scots, since they have come hither with your majesty. At noon all shall be ready for your reception.”

  Making a profound reverence to the king, the two gentlemen then withdrew, accompanied by Careless.

  The king had lost his favourite charger at the attack on the fort on the previous day; but another steed, in no respect inferior, had been supplied him by the Duke of Buckingham, and mounted on his new acquisition, he now proceeded to make an inspection of the camp. He was attended by all his general officers, and by the nobles who had accompanied him in his march from Scotland.

  The men had begun to strike the tents at Perry Wood; for it had been decided by his majesty, after consultation with Lesley, Middleton, and Massey, that the main body of the army should be moved lower down the hill, and not far from the Sidbury-gate, while Dalyell, with his brigade, should fix his quarters at St. John’s, on the right bank of the river, and Middleton, with two thousand men, should encamp on the Pitchcroft, a large plain, extremely convenient for the purpose, on the north of the city, and on the left bank of the Severn.

  Having completed his tour of inspection, Charles rode down with his staff to Fort Royal; and he was surveying the scene of his late brilliant exploit, and receiving fresh compliments from his attendants, when he was surprised to see Careless come forth.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Breakfast is served, sire,” replied the aide-de-camp.

  “Breakfast!” exclaimed Charles.

  “By St. George! I am glad to hear it,” cried the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Wilmot, and several others. “I hope there is enough for us all.”

  “Enough, and to spare,” replied Careless.

  Amid general exclamations of satisfaction the king and those with him then dismounted, and were conducted by Careless into a large chamber, where a plentiful repast awaited them.

  * * *

  CHAPTER III.

  HOW CHARLES MADE HIS TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO WORCESTER; AND HOW HE WAS PROCLAIMED BY THE MAYOR AND SHERIFF OF THAT LOYAL CITY.

  Meanwhile, an almost indescribable scene of bustle and confusion was taking place within the city.

  The pealing of bells, which, as we know, commenced at the earliest hour of morning, continued almost without intermission. Great fires were lighted on the Castle Hill, in the cathedral close, on the quays, and at Pitchcroft, at which huge joints of meat were roasted — barons of beef, entire muttons, barbecued hogs. All loyal citizens were enjoined by the mayor to provide the best food they could, and in the greatest quantity, for the king’s army. It would be a lasting disgrace to them, it was said, if any of their brave deliverers should be stinted.

  While part of each household was busily dressing food, the others were engaged in decorating the habitations. The balconies were hung with tapestry, gaily-coloured cloths and carpets, and the crosses were adorned with flowers. The royal standard floated over the Sidbury-gate, as well as on the summit of Fort Royal, and flags were flying from all the steeples.

  Such extraordinary zeal and activity were displayed, that, long before the appointed hour, all the preparations were completed, and the good folks began to be impatient for the coming of their sovereign.

  The entire host was now gathered on the hill-side, and presented a magnificent spectacle, as viewed from the city walls, which were densely thronged. The Sidbury-gate was thrown wide open, a guard of halberdiers being drawn up on either side of the entrance; while the mayor, the sheriff, and the aldermen, in their full robes of office, were stationed beneath the archway.

  At length the sound of martial music was heard, and a squadron of glittering cuirassiers was seen riding down the hill. Then came Charles, attended by his staff, and followed by Colonel Pitscottie’s regiment of Highlanders. The strange, picturesque garb, and unusual weapons of these stalwart mountaineers — their claymores, dirks, and targets — filled the beholders with amazement. Nor were the citizens less astonished by the shrill, warlike notes of the bagpipes, which they heard for the first time.

  As soon as it was perceived that the king had set out, a loud discharge of cannon took place from the walls; and this, if possible, heightened the general excitement. Regiment after regiment — cavalry and infantry — were now moving down the hill — colours flying, bands playing — the accoutrements of the cavalry flashing in the sunbeams like so many mirrors.

  The splendour of the king’s staff produced an immense effect — some of the nobles being singularly fine-looking men. Indeed, the Duke of
Buckingham, who rode at the head of the brilliant cortége with the Duke of Hamilton, was accounted the handsomest and most accomplished Cavalier of his time. Lord Wilmot was also a noble-looking personage — tall and well-proportioned. Foremost among the military leaders rode General David Lesley, who commanded one division of the Scottish army. Thin and stern-looking, he had a thoughtful cast of countenance. With him was Major-General Montgomery, who had strongly-marked features and a keen eye, and looked like a thorough soldier. Then came Lieutenant-General Thomas Dalyell, who had served with distinction under Charles I., and in whom the young king placed much confidence. With Dalyell was Vandrose, a Dutch general. Generals Middleton and Massey brought up the list.

  Despite the rich apparel of the nobles and the splendid accoutrements of the general officers, none of them pleased the beholders so much — especially the female portion of them — as Colonel Pitscottie, who, as he rode at the head of his Highlanders, looked the beau ideal of a Scottish chieftain. He was strongly built, with a red beard, and light blue eyes of extraordinary power. Pitscottie was as brave as a lion, and as true as his own sword. Such were the distinguished persons on whom the spectators gazed from the city walls.

  The whole space between the Sidbury-gate and the ancient Commandery was thronged, but a space was kept clear for the king, and for the passage of the troops, by halberdiers placed at frequent intervals.

  Here Charles was detained for a few minutes by the enthusiastic demonstrations of the crowd, who would scarcely allow him to proceed. They shouted, stretched out their arms towards him, and hailed him as their rightful sovereign and their deliverer. He could not fail to be touched by such manifestations of loyalty. Though the sun was pouring down his fiercest radiance upon his jet-black locks, he remained uncovered all the time, and bowed around repeatedly with the grace peculiar to him.