The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  While he was thus occupied, the prisoner appeared, still guarded by Lieutenant Vosper, Trubshaw, and the halberdiers, and his appearance was the signal for a renewal of the terrible outcries that had before assailed him. He bore them undauntedly, continuing perfectly motionless, until the executioner called out from above that all was ready. He then sprang quickly up the ladder, as if eager to meet his doom.

  In another minute all was over, and his body swinging in mid air; while a universal groan — though not a groan of pity — burst from the spectators.

  Thus died the traitor Gives, whose name is still execrated in faithful Worcester.

  At the moment when Urso was launched into eternity, the discharge of a cannon from Fort Royal informed Cromwell that the spy he had employed had been punished with death.

  Cromwell, who was with Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby on Perry Wood at the time, could not control his rage.

  “The man’s execution is justified by the laws of war,” he said; “but it shall cost the citizens of Worcester dear. The great service he rendered us last night shall be requited as he desired. His widow shall have the reward I intended for him.”

  “How much is it to be?” asked Lord Grey.

  “Two hundred pounds, and a pension of two hundred a year,” replied Cromwell.

  “A good reward, in sooth,” said Lord Grey. “She will be well consoled for his loss.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXII.

  HOW THE EARL OF DERBY ARRIVED AT WORCESTER.

  The end of August had arrived. The anniversary of the battle of Dunbar — fought on the 3rd of September, 1650 — was close at hand. Cromwell, as we have shown, had resolved to wait for this auspicious day, if he should not be forced by the king to accept a battle sooner. But Charles had been so much discouraged by the failure of the camisade that he hesitated — perhaps too long — before risking a general engagement. A few unimportant skirmishes had taken place between the outposts, sometimes with advantage to one party, sometimes to the other, but these were all.

  The interval was employed by Cromwell in making strong intrenchments at Perry Wood, where he had mounted a battery with heavy guns. As this battery threatened Fort Royal and the city, Charles was eager to attack it, but was dissuaded from the hazardous attempt by his generals. The jealousies among the Royalist leaders, already alluded to, had increased in bitterness, and, in consequence of these disputes, which he found it impossible to check, he could form no plan with the certainty of carrying it out. All his designs were frustrated.

  Cromwell, on the other hand, took counsel from no one. His instructions were implicitly obeyed. What his precise plans now were could only be conjectured. They were known to Lambert, Fleetwood, Ingoldsby, and the generals stationed at Upton, but to no others.

  Charles had recently changed his quarters, and had removed to the ancient mansion belonging to the mayor, where he enjoyed greater privacy than he could command at the palace. The residence he had chosen is one of the largest old houses in the city, and stands at the north end of New-street, looking into the Corn Market. Over the porch is the appropriate inscription, “Love God — Honour the King.” Here he could retire when completely worn out by the ceaseless toils of the day, certain of being undisturbed.

  On the evening of Monday, the 1st of September, he was seated in a large old-fashioned room on the ground floor of the ancient mansion referred to. The dark oak panels were hung with tapestry, and the cumbrous oak furniture was of Elizabeth’s time. He had just dined, but had eaten little, and was in a very despondent mood. Careless, who was in attendance, filled a large silver goblet with claret, and handed it to him. The king raised the cup to his lips, but set it down untasted.

  “I never saw your majesty so downcast before,” remarked Careless. “A cup of wine will cheer you. The claret is good, I’ll answer for it, for I have emptied a flask.”

  “Wine will not rouse my spirits,” rejoined Charles, gloomily. “I am quite worn out. I will hold no more councils of war. They are utterly unprofitable. There is no deliberation — no unanimity of opinion — each plan, however promising, is violently opposed. What will be the end of it all? — certain defeat.”

  “Yes, I own your generals are difficult to manage, my liege,” replied Careless. “But you humour them too much, and in consequence they presume on your good-nature, and disregard your authority. Enforce obedience to your commands. That is Old Noll’s plan.”

  “Would you have me resemble him?” cried Charles.

  “Yes, in that particular, my liege. He would not be where he now is if he were not absolute. At your next council explain your plans, but do not allow them to be discussed.”

  “Why summon a council at all, if those composing it are not to deliberate?”

  “Merely that your generals may hear the expression of your will.”

  “Well, thy notion is not a bad one,” replied Charles, smiling for the first time.

  “Let no one speak but yourself, my liege, and there can be no wrangling, no contention.”

  “That is indisputable,” said Charles.

  At this moment a sound was heard in the passage.

  “Some one is without!” exclaimed the king. “But be it whom it may, I will not be disturbed.”

  Thereupon Careless left the chamber, but almost immediately returned.

  “I have disobeyed your majesty,” he said; “but I am sure you will pardon me.”

  As the very distinguished-looking personage who had entered with him advanced slowly towards the king, Charles perceived who he was, and sprang forward, exclaiming:

  “Welcome, my dear Lord Derby! Welcome to Worcester! Of all men living you are the one I most desired to see. Once more, welcome! You have arrived most opportunely. We are on the eve of a great battle — a battle that must decide my fate! — and I could not have fought it successfully without you.”

  “Thank Heaven I have arrived in time!” cried the earl. “I was aware that a battle was imminent, and almost despaired of reaching Worcester in time to take part in it; but here I am at last, ready to fight for your majesty.”

  “You can do more than merely fight for me, my lord,” said Charles. “You can give me the benefit of your advice. I sadly want a counsellor.”

  “I fancied you had already too many counsellors, sire,” observed the earl.

  “Nay, that is true,” rejoined Charles. “But I want a leader like yourself — entirely devoted to me — one who will not thwart me. Heaven has sent you to me at the right moment, and my hopes are now revived.”

  “If I had not been protected by Heaven, I could not have overcome the difficulties I have had to encounter in coming hither, my liege,” replied the Earl of Derby.

  “Have you quite recovered from the hurts you got at Wigan, my dear lord?’ asked the king, anxiously.

  “Not entirely, my liege,” replied the earl. “Six-and-twenty wounds are not cured in a week. But I am able to sit a horse, and wield a sword. Finding myself strong enough for the journey, I left Boscobel this morn, attended by Captain Giffard of Chillington and his brother, with a dozen of their retainers. We got on without accident or interruption, till within a few miles of Worcester, and though we had quitted the high road, and taken to the fields and lanes in order to avoid the enemy, we were discovered by a party of skirmishers, and chased almost to the gates of the city. We found the Foregate walled up, and so entered by St. Martin’s-gate.”

  “The Foregate has been walled up as a matter of precaution,” said Charles. “But you look pale, my good lord. Be seated, I beg of you. A cup of wine, Careless.”

  The earl emptied the goblet proffered him.

  “That has marvellously restored me,” he said. “I did feel somewhat faint and exhausted after my long ride.”

  The colour was now, in some degree, restored to the earl’s pallid countenance, but as Charles gazed at him with deep interest, he saw how severely he still suffered from his numerous wounds.

  Never did the spirit
of loyalty burn more strongly in any breast than in that of James Stanley, seventh Earl of Derby. This is sufficiently proved by the earl’s haughty response to Ireton, when summoned to surrender the Isle of Man to the Parliament. “I have received your letter with indignation,” he wrote, “and with scorn I return you this answer, that I cannot but wonder whence you should gather any hopes from me that I should, like you, prove traitorous to my sovereign, since you cannot be insensible of my former actings in his late majesty’s service, from which principle of loyalty I am in no way departed. I scorn your proffers; I disdain your favours; I abhor your treasons; and so far from delivering this Island to your advantage, I will keep it to your destruction. Take this final answer, and forbear any further solicitations, for if you trouble me with any more messages upon this occasion I will burn the paper and hang the messenger.”

  To Charles II. this loyal and chivalrous peer was as devoted as he had been to that monarch’s martyred sire.

  Born in 1606, the Earl of Derby was still in the prime of manhood, and was endowed with a frame of extraordinary vigour. Skilled in all athletic exercises, brave to a fault, prompt, determined, undismayed by danger, he would have been a great general but for his excessive rashness. Somewhat below the ordinary height, he was powerfully built and well proportioned. His features were cast in a large and noble mould, and his dark, deep-sunk eyes had a grave and thoughtful expression, that harmonised with his sombre and melancholy aspect. Baines, the historian of Lancashire, thus describes him: “His was one of the old Stanley faces which we love to look upon as they darken in their frames, and to associate with deeds of chivalry, as enduring as the history of that country with whose annals their names are so proudly connected.”

  The Earl of Derby was married to Charlotte, daughter of Claude de la Tremouille, Duke of Thuars, and through this union he became allied to the royal houses of Nassau and Bourbon. The Countess of Derby was exceedingly beautiful, and her high spirit was equal to her beauty. Her heroic defence of Latham House for four months against the Parliamentarian forces is one of the most memorable incidents of the Civil Wars.

  Such was the seventh Earl of Derby, not the least illustrious of a long and illustrious line. The earl’s tragical end is well known, and it forms one of the darkest pages in the sanguinary annals of the period.

  “I must now inquire after Roscarrock,” observed the earl. “He is here, I trust. But I have heard nought of him since he left Boscobel.”

  “He arrived here safely nearly a week ago, and has well-nigh recovered from his wounds,” replied Charles. “Go find him, and bring him here at once,” he added to Careless.

  “I shall only have to tell him that Lord Derby has arrived, and he will hurry hither,” replied Careless, who instantly departed on his errand.

  Left alone with the earl, Charles acquainted him with the present posture of affairs, and explained his difficulties to him. After listening with deep interest to all that was said by the king, the earl replied:

  “I am sorry to find your majesty thus embarrassed, but I trust I shall be able to relieve you from your perplexities. I have some influence both with Hamilton and Buckingham, and I will use it to heal their differences. If they can be reconciled — and this shall be my first business — there will be little difficulty with the others, except perhaps with Lauderdale, but I will endeavour to soothe his wounded pride. This is not the moment for disputes. All quarrels must be settled after the battle.”

  “You give me fresh heart, my dear lord,” cried Charles. “I was in despair, but you have restored my confidence. With my father’s best and staunchest friend by my side, I shall yet triumph.”

  Just then the door opened, and Roscarrock entered, followed by Careless. Joyful exclamations were uttered as the two companions-in-arms embraced each other. There was something so touching in their meeting that both Charles and Careless were moved by it.

  As soon as the excitement caused by seeing the earl was over, Roscarrock made a reverence to the king, and said, in an apologetic tone:

  “I trust your majesty will pardon me. I have been carried away by my feelings.”

  “The warmth of your feelings does you honour, colonel,” observed Charles. “I am as rejoiced as yourself at the Earl of Derby’s arrival. His presence will animate my troops. He will have the command of a regiment, and you will be with him.”

  “I thank your majesty,” replied Roscarrock, bowing. “Heaven grant we may be more fortunate than we were at Wigan!”

  “That disaster will now assuredly be repaired,” observed Charles; “though you will have Cromwell himself to contend with. But you said the two Giffards of Chillington accompanied you from Boscobel,” he added to the earl. “Where are they?”

  “They are waiting to learn your majesty’s pleasure respecting them,” replied Lord Derby.

  “In the street?” cried Charles.

  “Ay, in the street, my liege,” said Roscarrock. “I spoke with them as I came in. They have not dismounted. Your majesty has not two more loyal subjects than Thomas and Charles Giffard.”

  “That I will answer for,” added Lord Derby. “And they are brave as well as loyal.”

  “You praise them so highly that I must needs see them,” remarked Charles, smiling. “Bring them to me, Careless. Boscobel belongs to them, you said, my lord?”

  “To Tom Giffard, the elder brother, my liege. The Giffards are a very ancient Roman Catholic family, and have remained constant to the faith of their forefathers.”

  “I do not dislike them for adhering to the old religion,” said Charles.

  “Besides Chillington, they have another seat called White Ladies,” pursued the earl. “Your majesty will understand what Boscobel is like when I mention that it is a secluded recusant’s house, full of priests’ hiding-places, so wonderfully contrived, that none concealed within them were ever discovered. I felt perfectly safe there.”

  “A good place of refuge, no doubt,” remarked Charles. “’Tis well to know of it. But here come the Giffards.”

  As he spoke, the two brothers were ushered in by Careless. Both were handsome, stalwart young men, and their good looks and manly bearing very favourably impressed the king. A strong family resemblance existed between them. They were fully armed, as were all gentlemen at that distracted time. The king accorded them a most gracious reception.

  “I am glad to see you, gentlemen,” he said. “And since you have come to Worcester, I must, perforce, detain you till after the battle. I want recruits — above all, such recruits as you.”

  “We have come to offer our services to your majesty,” replied Captain Giffard.

  “I accept them,” said Charles. “You shall serve under Lord Derby.”

  “Your majesty has anticipated the request we were about to prefer,” observed Charles Giffard.

  “My Lord of Derby,” said the king to the earl, “you must take up your quarters here. For many reasons I desire to have you with me.” The earl bowed, and Charles turned to the two Giffards and said: “Gentlemen, you will likewise find quarters here. The kindness and hospitality shown by you to Lord Derby demand some return. Nay, nay, good sirs, you will not incommode me. The house is large, and has plenty of rooms within it. Major Careless will see you comfortably bestowed.”

  It need scarcely be said that this gracious proposition was gladly accepted — indeed, it could not be declined. The Earl of Derby and the two Giffards were lodged that night in the old mansion in New-street with the king.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  IN WHAT MANNER JANE LANE WAS CAPTURED, AND BROUGHT BEFORE CROMWELL.

  Though often urged to do so by the king, Jane Lane did not leave Worcester till the last moment, but when it became certain that a battle was imminent, Charles insisted upon her departure. Very early on the morning of the 2nd of September she quitted the city, accompanied by Colonel Lane and Sir Clement Fisher. By riding hard, she hoped to reach her home in Staffordshire before night. Her companions wer
e not going with her further than Bewdley, where they hoped to procure a safe escort for her.

  Having selected the road they deemed most secure, the party were galloping along a lane near Hindlip, when they heard a shout, and the next moment a party of musketeers, evidently Parliamentarians, with an officer, came upon them from a cross road. There was nothing for it but instant flight. As they turned back, the musketeers galloped after them, and fired a few shots — luckily without effect.

  Thinking to escape more quickly, Jane Lane jumped a hedge on the left, and gained a broad meadow. But neither her brother nor Sir Clement followed her, while the sounds she heard convinced her they were being hotly pursued. She rode partly across the meadow, and then stopped, uncertain what to do, still hoping her companions would join her. But they came not, and fresh firing at a distance added to her fright. What was she to do? She could not proceed on her journey alone, and yet a return to the city was fraught with the utmost peril. Yet this was the course she resolved on after a few minutes’ consideration, and she rode down to the bottom of the field, anxiously listening for any warning sounds. The enemy, however, was nearer at hand than she imagined, and she had no sooner got out of the field by clearing another hedge than she was made prisoner by a couple of musketeers. No rough usage was offered her, but seizing her bridle, the men took her to their leader, who was posted beneath a wide-spreading beech-tree, with a dozen troopers beside him.

  “Soh! you have captured the Moabitish maiden,” observed the leader.

  The words and the stern tone in which they were uttered caused Jane to look at the speaker, and she then, to her astonishment, perceived she was in the presence of the Lord General himself. Instead of being alarmed by the discovery, she felt her courage return.

  “Thou knowest me, damsel, I perceive,” observed Cromwell, perceiving the effect he had produced upon her. “Answer truthfully the questions I shall put, and you have no cause for fear.”