As the prince’s quick eye alighted on the earl, he checked his impatient steed in order to speak to him. Hitherto they had seen little of each other, though Rupert was a relative of the countess; but Lord Derby had a genuine admiration of the prince, whose daring and military skill he fully appreciated; while Rupert, though sharing the king’s belief that Lord Derby nourished ambitious designs, did full justice to his noble qualities.
Courteous salutations passed between them; but Prince Rupert’s manner was necessarily grave, as he thus addressed the earl:
“I have to offer your lordship my sincere condolence on the death of the noble earl your father. Intelligence of the sad event was received by his majesty this morning, and he immediately communicated it to me. I own that I scarcely thought your lordship would come hither at a season of such heavy affliction; but I did not estimate aright your devotion to the king. In truth, he has great need of your services. ’Tis not too much to say that you alone can put down the rebels in Lancashire, and I doubt not you will quickly do it.”
“Two months ago I could have crushed the rebellion in that county without difficulty, your highness,” replied the earl; “but now things are changed. Manchester and Bolton are both strongly fortified and well garrisoned.”
“I know it, my lord,” replied Prince Rupert. “But neither town can hold out long against you, if you are resolved to take it.”
“Manchester will make an obstinate resistance,” remarked the earl.
“If it should be so, put the whole garrison to the sword,” said the prince, sternly. “Spare none. Too much leniency has been shown the rebels. But you will receive your orders from the king. You will find Lord Molineux and Sir Thomas Tyldesley with him. I am going to Leicester. Farewell, my lord. Remember me, I pray you, to my cousin, the countess. I hope soon to hear you are master of Manchester.”
As Prince Rupert rode down the hill, Lord Derby and his followers, passed through the gateway of the castle.
CHAPTER V
Charles the First
THE Earl of Derby expected to find the court thronged with musketeers and pike- men, but very few soldiers were to be seen. Half a dozen yeomen of the guard, bearing partisans, were stationed at the entrance to that part of the castle occupied by the king and his suite.
Having dismounted, the earl proceeded thither followed by Frank Standish, and was ceremoniously conducted by a groom of the chambers and some other officers of the household to the royal apartments.
Frank Standish remained in the guard-chamber, where several other persons were waiting, but the earl was at once taken to the king’s cabinet.
At a table covered with papers and despatches sat Charles. Why attempt to depict the features of the unfortunate monarch, since all are familiar with them, and can summon up his image at will? Suffice it to say, that although the king looked grave and melancholy, his countenance did not want the placidity that habitually characterised it.
His habiliments were of black velvet, and a falling band, deeply edged with lace, served to set off his noble head.
With the king were the two persons referred to by Prince Rupert — both of whom were friends of Lord Derby.
Viscount Molineux of Maryborough was a fine-looking young man, and had quite the air of a Cavalier. Sir Thomas Tyldesley of Mierscough Lodge, near Lancaster, and the representative of an old Lancashire family, was likewise a handsome man, but somewhat older and more robust than his companion. Both were accoutred in steel breastplates and tassets, and each had a long sword suspended from a baldrick.
As the Earl of Derby went to kiss the king’s hand, his majesty said earnestly:
“My lord, I thank you for coming to me now. I take it as a proof of your devotion.”
“Your majesty is well aware that I am ever ready to obey your behests,” replied the earl. “In staying to receive my father’s last sigh, I felt sure I should not incur your majesty’s displeasure.”
“I should have been sorry if you had done otherwise, my lord,” said Charles; “and if you had tarried to lay your father in the tomb, I should not have blamed you, however much I might regret your absence. I have urgent need of your services. The rebellion is making rapid progress in Lancashire, and must be checked. No one can accomplish this so effectually as yourself, since no one has such power and influence as you have in the county. I have been consulting with Lord Molineux and Sir Thomas Tyldesley, and they entirely agree with me that to your lordship alone ought the task to be entrusted.”
“Such is our opinion, sire,” observed Lord Molineux. “No one can raise so large a force in Lancashire as the Earl of Derby.”
“That is quite certain,” added Sir Thomas Tyldesley. “Your majesty will recollect that his lordship once raised sixty thousand men, and what has been done before may be done again.”
“Not now, Sir Thomas,” said the earl. “I doubt if a third of the number may be got together. Had your majesty deigned to follow my advice, and raised your standard at Warrington instead of here, at Nottingham, you would now have a large army. Instead of this, I fear that very few have responded to your proclamation.”
“Few, indeed,” said the king. “I have only three hundred infantry and some militia brought me by the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire.”
“Not more, sire?” exclaimed the earl, startled.
“At Leicester I have eight hundred horse,” pursued the king. “Prince Rupert has just been here, and urges me strongly to quit this castle, representing to me that I am in great danger from the Parliamentarian forces at Coventry. But I cannot retire from Nottingham.”
“I observe there is no cannon on the wall,” said Lord Derby. “Should an attack be made on the castle how can you resist it? I beseech your majesty to retire in time, or you may fall into the hands of the enemy. Lathom House is fortified, and would stand a siege. Take possession of it, sire. I will undertake to raise you two thousand foot and a thousand horse. With these you can hold out against the rebels till you can get together an army, and give them battle.”
“I have planted my standard at Nottingham,” replied the king; “and at Nottingham I will remain. I will not trust myself in Lancashire — unless at the head of an army, and it seems you cannot muster six thousand men.”
“The large force I had mustered has dwindled away,” said Lord Derby.
“Most of them have joined the rebels,” observed Lord Molineux.
The Earl of Derby looked grave.
“I have come here in obedience to your summons, sire,” he said. “How can I serve you?”
“I may ask more than your lordship can perform,” said the king. “My desire is, that you should crush the rebellion in Lancashire, and begin with Manchester. Can you do this?”
“I have every confidence that I can carry out your wishes, sire,” replied the earl. “But I doubt not the garrison at Manchester will be strongly reinforced by the Parliament. I may not, therefore, be able to accomplish the task as quickly as you expect. I believe the town is fully prepared for a siege.”
“Lord Molineux and Sir Thomas Tyldesley have just told me so, but I can scarcely credit it,” remarked the king.
“A German engineer, named Rosworm, has thoroughly fortified the town, sire,” said Sir Thomas Tyldesley.
“There will be this advantage in the siege, sire, that it will distract the attention of the enemy from Nottingham,” observed the Earl of Derby. “What I most dread is that your majesty should be attacked. Once more I beg you to let me bring you all the aid I can.”
“I will send to you, if it should be necessary,” said Charles. “Lord Southampton, Culpepper, and others of my council suggest that I should propose terms of peace in order to gain time — but I like not the plan.”
“’Tis good advice, my liege,” rejoined the Earl of Derby. “Much may be done while the question is discussed, and if some successes are gained in Lancashire, the present posture of affairs may be wholly changed.”
“I will not revoke my proclamation, or lower my tone,”
said the king.
“It is not necessary to do so, sire,” rejoined the earl. “But if the overtures of peace should be rejected by the Parliament, the indignation of the people will be roused, and troops will be more easily raised.”
“You convince me by your reasoning, my lord,” said Charles.
“And now I must pray your majesty to permit my immediate departure,” said the earl. “Since active measures are resolved upon, no time should be lost in putting them in execution. Ere long, I trust to give you a good account of my proceedings.”
“I am with you, my lord, unless his majesty has aught more to say to me,” observed Lord Molineux.
“And I,” added Sir Thomas Tyldesley. “I must not be absent when Manchester is to be besieged.”
“I am sorry to part with you, my lord,” said Charles. “But I will not detain you.”
With a profound reverence, Lord Derby quitted the cabinet followed by Lord Molineux, and Sir Thomas Tyldesley.
In the ante-chamber they found Frank Standish, who easily perceived from the earl’s looks that he was far from satisfied with his reception by the king; and the impression was confirmed when he learnt that Lord Derby intended to depart forthwith.
Without a moment’s needless delay, the earl quitted Nottingham Castle with his friends, who accompanied him to Chester.
Since the opportunity was offered Lord Derby of attending his father’s funeral, he caused the ceremonial to be performed on the following day, and laid the late earl’s remains in the vault beneath the Stanley Chapel in Ormskirk Church.
CHAPTER VI
Colonel Rosworm
IN an inner room of an old black and white timber and plaster house situated in a street near the Collegiate Church in Manchester, were two persons.
One of them, whose accoutrements proclaimed him an officer of rank in the Parliamentary army, was Colonel Richard Holland, commander of the garrison and governor of the town. He had strongly marked features, and an authoritative manner, though on the present occasion he had somewhat relaxed his importance.
His companion, unmistakably a foreigner, was no other than the redoubted German engineer, of whom mention has been previously made.
Colonel Rosworm was about fifty, and had served under Wallenstein during the Thirty Years’ War. But he appeared none the worse for the hardships he had undergone. His cheeks had been gashed at the battle of Lutzen, but this circumstance only heightened the manly character of his physiognomy, and indeed the scar was almost hidden by a bushy red beard. Though his look was determined and somewhat stern, his manner was distinguished by military frankness.
He could not be called handsome but his features were well formed, and his figure strong and well-proportioned. He did not exceed the middle height, but bore himself so well that he looked tall.
Such was the famous German engineer, to whom the defence of Manchester against the Royalists and malignants, as they were termed, had been entrusted by those belonging to the Puritan faction. That he was equal to the task seemed now conclusively proved by the effectual manner in which he had fortified the town — surrounding it entirely with mud walls, and protecting the entrances with stout posts, chains, and barricades. Colonel Rosworm’s plan was entirely satisfactory to the Parliamentary governor of the town, and he gave it his unqualified commendation.
The house in which we find the engineer and the governor belonged to the former. He had occupied it ever since he arrived in the town from Ireland. It was a small habitation, but quite large enough for himself and his daughter. Colonel Rosworm was a widower, having lost his wife some years ago. But she had left him a most lovely girl, whom he guarded with as much vigilance as he would have done a fortress.
Gertrude Rosworm, at the period of our story, was just nineteen, and remarkable for her personal attractions. Her profuse flaxen locks, summer blue eyes, delicately fair complexion, and graceful figure won her many admirers among the youth of the town, but none of them were allowed by her jealous father to approach her. However, further description of her must be deferred till she appears on the scene.
Colonel Rosworm was closeted with the governor in a small room opening from the house place, which enjoyed the advantage of a bay window looking into the street.
The walls were garnished with pikes, swords, muskets, and petronels, and several pieces of armour and steel caps were hung up ready for use.
Colonel Rosworm wore a buff coat and boots, but had relieved himself of his sword and pistols. On the table beside them was a flask of claret and a couple of tall glasses.
They were talking of a banquet given some six weeks ago by a gentleman of Manchester to Lord Derby — then Lord Strange — at which time a tumult occurred in the town when several persons were killed.
“This disastrous affair may be regarded as the commencement of the Civil War in Manchester,” observed the governor. “But I do not think Lord Strange altogether in fault. The provocation came from our side, and I am thankful to say I had nothing to do with it.”
“The occurrence took place just before my arrival,” remarked Colonel Rosworm, who spoke the language perfectly, though with a strong German accent; “but it does not appear that Lord Strange had any designs upon the town.”
“He merely came to attend a grand banquet given in his honour,” replied the governor. “Sir Richard Girlington, sheriff of the county, Lord Molineux, Sir Gilbert Hoghton, Sir Alexander Radcliffe, Sir Thomas Prestwich, Sir Edward Mosley, of Alport Lodge, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, Mr. Farrington, of Worden, and several other Royalist gentlemen were present, but all might have passed off quietly if Colonel Holcroft and Colonel Birch had not marched into the town with a large party of men, armed with pikes and muskets, and struck up their drums in the market-place to call out the militia.”
“That was certain to cause an affray,” remarked Rosworm. “Perhaps they merely meant to disturb the party at the banquet.”
“I suspect they had a deeper design,” said the governor. “But be that as it may, they were interrupted by the sheriff, who quitted the banquet, and suddenly appeared in the market-place with a few followers, and ordered them in the king’s name to lay down their arms, and keep the peace. They refused, and the sheriff was unable to enforce compliance. Meanwhile Lord Strange, with Lord Molineux, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, and the rest of the gentlemen likewise quitted the banquet, and came to the sheriff’s assistance. A sharp conflict took place in the streets, during which several men were killed on both sides, but it ended in the discomfiture of Holcroft and Birch. The latter would have been shot, had he not taken refuge under a cart. Lord Strange and his friends were highly incensed, and declared it was a treacherous design to assassinate them. Next morning the chief persons of the town waited upon his lordship, who was a guest of Sir Alexander Radcliffe, of Ordsall Hall, to express their great regret at the occurrence.”
“Had Lord Strange chosen, he could easily have taken the town at that time, and carried off the magazine,” observed Rosworm. “But now we are secure from attack.”
“We shall not be left long in peace,” said the governor. “Lord Strange has just succeeded his father and is now Earl of Derby. I hear he is raising a large body of men.”
“Most probably he will march to the king’s assistance,” rejoined Rosworm.
“If I am rightly informed he has received orders from his majesty to besiege this town,” said Colonel Holland. “We may therefore expect a visit from him shortly.”
“Come when he may he will find us prepared,” said Rosworm. “But if your excellency apprehends an immediate attack it may be well to provision the town, and get in all the men you can from Bury, Rochdale, and the neighbouring places.”
“I have sent scouts to Warrington where the earl now is,” said the governor, “and expect to receive precise information to-morrow. Meanwhile, no precautions must be neglected.”
“Strict watch shall be kept to-night on the ramparts and at the gates,” rejoined Rosworm. “I myself will visit the se
ntinels, and see that they do not neglect their duty. If aught occurs alarm bells shall be rung, and a light displayed from the church tower.”
“You have not served under the great Wallenstein without learning something, colonel,” observed the governor, with a smile.
“I have learnt that he who guards a fortress must not sleep at night,” said Rosworm. “Depend upon it the enemy shall not take us unawares.”
At this moment the door was partly opened, and a pleasant voice inquired:
“May I come in, father?”
Rosworm answered in the affirmative, and Gertrude entered.
CHAPTER VII
Gertrude Rosworm
HER presence seemed to light up the little room. A lovely blonde with the fairest tresses, and the tenderest blue eyes imaginable. A glance from those blue eyes possessed an almost resistless witchery. Figure slight and symmetrical. She was simply, yet very becomingly attired. On her head she wore a coverchief, her flaxen locks were wholly unconfined, and allowed to flow over her shoulders. A kerchief covered her neck; a girdle, totally destitute of ornament, spanned her slender waist; and her gown, worn long enough to conceal her small feet, was made of the plainest stuff. No ornament whatever.
As she entered the room, the governor rose to salute her. Though he passed no compliments upon her looks, he did not attempt to conceal his admiration.
“What dost thou want with me, child?” inquired Rosworm, regarding her with a look of affection, not unmingled with pride — for the engineer was very proud of his lovely daughter.
“There is a young man without, father, who desires to speak with you, when you are at leisure,” replied Gertrude.
“Dost know him?” demanded Rosworm.
“I neither know him, nor did he tell me his business, father,” she replied. “He is a stranger. But he looks a gentle youth.”
“Hum!” exclaimed Rosworm. “I warrant me he hath a simpering smile like some of the lack-brains who haunt my door.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 756