Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XVI.

  THE EXECUTION OF KING CHARLES.

  The news of the failure of the Welsh insurrection and the Scotchinvasion, while the risings in Kent and Essex were crushed out, showedHarry Furness that, for the time at least, there was no further fightingto be done. Cromwell, after the defeat of the Scotch, marched with hisarmy to Edinburgh, where he was received with enthusiasm by Argyll andthe fanatic section, who were now again restored to power, andrecommenced a cruel persecution of all suspected of Royalist opinions.Now that the Scotch had been beaten, and the Royalist rising everywherecrushed out, the Parliament were seized with fear as to the course whichCromwell and his victorious army might pursue. If they had been soarrogant and haughty before, what might not be expected now.Negotiations were at once opened with the king. He was removed fromCarisbrook to a good house at Newport. Commissioners came down there,and forty days were spent in prolonged argument, and the commissionersreturned to London on the 28th of November with a treaty signed. It wastoo late. The army stationed at St. Albans sent in a remonstrance toParliament, calling upon them to bring the king to trial, and statingthat if Parliament neglected its duty the army would take the matterinto its own hands. This remonstrance caused great excitement in theCommons. No steps were taken upon it however, and the Commons proceededto discuss the treaty, and voted that the king's concessions weresufficient. On the 29th a body of soldiers went across to the Isle ofWight, surrounded the king's house, seized him and carried him to HurstCastle. The next day Parliament voted that they would not debate theremonstrance of the army, and in reply the army at Windsor marched onthe 2d of December into London. On the 5th the Commons debated all dayupon the treaty.

  Prynne, formerly one of the stanchest opposers of King Charles, spokewith others strongly in his favor, and it was carried by a hundred andtwenty-nine to thirty-eight. The same day some of the leaders of thearmy met, and determined to expel from the house all those opposed totheir interests. On the 7th the Trained Bands of the city were withdrawnfrom around the House, and Colonel Pride with his regiment of footsurrounded it. As the members arrived forty-one of them were turnedback. The same process was repeated on the two following days, untilover a hundred members had been arrested. Thus the army performed arevolution such as no English sovereign has dared to carry out. Afterthis it is idle to talk of the Parliament as in any way representingthe English people. The representatives who supported the king had longsince left it. The whole of the moderate portion of those who hadopposed him, that is to say, those who had fought to support theliberties of Englishmen against encroachments by the king, and whoformed the majority after the Royalists had retired, were now expelled;there remained only a small body of fanatics devoted to the interests ofthe army, and determined to crush out all liberties of England under itsarmed heel. This was the body before whom the king was ere long toundergo the mockery of a trial.

  King Charles was taken to Hurst Castle on the 17th of December, andthree days later carried to Windsor. On the 2d of January, 1649, theCommons voted that in making war against the Parliament the king hadbeen guilty of treason, and should be tried by a court of a hundred andfifty commissioners. The Peers rejected the bill, and the Commons thenvoted that neither the assent of the Peers nor the king was necessaryfor a law passed by themselves.

  All the encroachments of King Charles together were as nothing to thisusurpation of despotic power.

  In consequence of the conduct of the Peers, the number of commissionerswas reduced to a hundred and thirty-five; but of these only sixty-nineassembled at the trial. Thus the court which was to try the kingconsisted only of those who were already pledged to destroy him. Beforesuch a court as this there could be but one end to the trial. When,after deciding upon their sentence, the king was brought in to hear it,the chief commissioner told him that the charges were brought againsthim in the name of the people of England, when Lady Fairfax from thegallery cried out, "It's a lie! Not one-half of them." Had she said notone hundredth of them, she would have been within the mark.

  On the 27th sentence was pronounced. On the 29th the court signed thesentence, which was to be carried out on the following day.

  From the time when Harry Furness left Brentwood at the end of Augustuntil the king was brought to London, he had lived quietly atSouthampton. He feared to return home, and chose this port as hisresidence, in order that he might, if necessary, cross into France atshort notice. When the news came that the king had been brought up fromWindsor, Harry and his friends at once rode to London, Every one was soabsorbed in the great trial about to take place that Harry had littlefear of attracting attention or of being molested should any onerecognize in the young gentleman in sober attire the rustic who had ledthe rising in the spring. To London, too, came many other Cavaliers fromall parts of the country, eager to see if something might not beattempted to rescue the king. Throughout London the consternation wasgreat at the usurpation by the remnant of the Commons of all the rightsof the Three Estates, and still more, at the trial of the king. Thearmy, however, lay in and about London, and, with Cromwell at its head,it would, the people felt, easily crush out any attempt at a rising inthe city. Within a few hours of his arrival in London, Harry saw thatthere was no hope from any effort in this direction, and that the onlypossible chance of saving the king was by his arranging for his escape.His majesty, on his arrival from Windsor, had been lodged in St. James'Palace, and as this was completely surrounded by the Roundhead troops,there was no chance of effecting an invasion thence. The only possibleplan appeared to be a sudden attack upon his guards on his way toexecution.

  Harry gathered round him a party of thirty Cavaliers, all men ready likehimself to sacrifice their lives for the king. Their plan was to gathernear Whitehall, where the execution was to take place, to burst throughthe soldiers lining the way, to cut down the guards, and carry the kingto a boat in readiness behind Whitehall, This was to convey him acrossto Lambeth, where fleet horses were to be stationed, which would takehim down to the Essex coast.

  The plan was a desperate one, but it might possibly have succeeded,could the Cavaliers have gained the position which they wished. Thewhole of the army was, however, placed in the streets and passagesleading to Whitehall, and between that place and the city the cavalrywere drawn up, preventing any from coming in or going out. When theyfound that this was the case, the Cavaliers in despair mounted theirhorses, and rode into the country, with their hearts filled with griefand rage.

  On the 30th, an hour after the king's execution, proclamation was madethat whoever should proclaim a new king would be deemed a traitor, and aweek later, the Commons, now reduced to a hundred members, formallyabolished the House of Peers. A little later Lord Capel, Lord Holland,and the Duke of Hamilton were executed.

  Had the king effected his escape, Harry Furness had determined to returnto Abingdon and live quietly at home, believing that now the army hadgrasped all power, and crushed all opposition, it was probable that theywould abstain from exciting further popular animosity by the persecutionof those who had fought against them. The fury, however, excited in hismind by the murder of the king after the mockery of a trial, determinedhim to fight to the last, wherever a rising might be offered, howeverhopeless a success that rising might appear. He would not, however,suffer Jacob and William Long any longer to follow his fortunes,although they earnestly pleaded to do so. "I have no hope of success,"he said. "I am ready to die, but I will not bring you to that strait. Ihave written to my father begging him, Jacob, to receive you as hisfriend and companion, and to do what he can, William, to assist you inwhatever mode of life your wishes may hereafter lead you to adopt. Butcome with me you shall not."

  Not without tears did Harry's faithful companions yield themselves tohis will, and set out for Abingdon, while he, with eight or ten comradesas determined as himself, kept on west until they arrived at Bristol,where they took ship and crossed to Ireland. They landed at Waterford,and journeyed north until they reached the army, with which the Marquisof
Ormonde was besieging Dublin. Nothing that Harry had seen of war inEngland prepared him in any way for the horrors which he beheld inIreland. The great mass of the people there were at that time but a fewdegrees advanced above savages, and they carried on their war with abrutal cruelty and bloodshed which could now only be rivaled in thecenter of Africa. Between the Protestants and the English and Scotchsettlers on the one hand, and the wild peasantry on the other, a war ofsomething like extermination went on. Wholesale massacres took place, atwhich men, women, and children were indiscriminately butchered, theferocity shown being as great upon one side as the other. In fact,beyond the possession of a few large towns, Ireland had no claimwhatever to be considered a civilized country. As Harry and his comradesrode from Waterford they beheld everywhere ruined fields and burnedhouses; and on joining the army of the Marquis of Ormonde, Harry felteven more strongly than before the hopelessness of the struggle on whichhe was engaged. These bands of wild, half-clad kernes, armed with pikeand billhook, might be brave indeed, but could do nothing against thedisciplined soldiers of the Parliament. There were with Ormonde, indeed,better troops than these. Some of the companies were formed of Englishand Welsh Royalists. Others had been raised by the Catholic gentry ofthe west, and into these some sort of order and discipline had beenintroduced. The army, moreover, was deficient in artillery, and not morethan one-third of the footmen carried firearms. Harry was, a day or twoafter reaching the camp of Lord Ormonde, sent off to the West to drillsome of the newly-raised levies there. It was now six years since he hadbegun to take an active part in the war, and he was between twenty-oneand twenty-two. His life of active exertion had strengthened hismuscles, broadened his frame, and given a strength and vigor to his talland powerful figure.

  Foreseeing that the siege of Dublin was not likely to be successful,Harry accepted his commission to the West with pleasure. He felt alreadythat with all his devotion to the Royalist cause he could not wish thatthe siege of Dublin should be successful; for he saw that the vastproportion of the besieging army were animated by no sense of loyalty,by no interest in the constitutional question at stake, but simply witha blind hatred of the Protestant population of Dublin, and that thecapture of the city would probably be followed by the indiscriminateslaughter of its inhabitants.

  He set out on his journey, furnished with letters from Ormonde toseveral influential gentlemen in Galway. The roads at first were fairlygood, but accustomed to the comfortable inns in England, Harry found theresting-places along the road execrable. He was amused of an evening bythe eagerness with which the people came round and asked for news fromDublin. In all parts of England the little sheets which then did serviceas newspapers carried news of the events which were taking place. It istrue that none of the country population could read or write; but thealehouses served as centers of news. The village clerk, or, perhaps, thesquire's bailiff, could read, as could probably the landlord, and thusthe news spread quickly round the country. In Ireland news traveled onlyfrom mouth to mouth, often becoming strangely distorted on the way.

  Harry was greatly struck by the bareness of the fields and the povertyof the country; and as he journeyed further west the country becamestill wilder and more lonely. It was seldom now that he met any one whocould speak English, and as the road was often little more than a track,he had great difficulty in keeping his way, and regretted that he hadnot hired a servant knowing the country before leaving the army. Hegenerally, however, was able to obtain a guide from village to village.The loneliness of the way, the wretchedness of the people, the absenceof the brightness and comfort so characteristic of English life, madethe journey an oppressive one, and Harry was glad when, five days afterleaving Dublin, he approached the end of his ride. Upon this day he hadtaken no guide, being told that the road was clear and unmistakable asfar as Galway.

  He had not traveled many hours when a heavy mist set in, accompanied bya keen and driving rain, in his face. With his head bent down, Harryrode along, paying less attention than usual to his way. The mist grewthicker and thicker. The horse no longer proceeded at a brisk pace, andpresently came to a stop. Harry dismounted, and discovered that he hadleft the road, Turning his horse's head, and taking the reins over hisarm, he tried to retrace his steps.

  For an hour he walked along, the conviction growing every moment that hewas hopelessly lost. The ground was now soft and miry and was coveredwith tussocks of coarse grass, between which the soil was black andoozy. The horse floundered on for some distance, but with suchincreasing difficulty that, upon reaching a space of comparatively solidground, Harry decided to take him no further.

  The cold rain chilled him to the bone, and after awhile he determined totry and make his way forward on foot, in hopes of finding, if not ahuman habitation, some walls or bushes where he could obtain shelteruntil the weather cleared. He fastened the reins to a small shrub, tookoff the saddle and laid it on the grass, spread the horse rug over theanimal to protect it as far as possible, and then started on his way. Hehad heard of Irish bogs extending for many miles, and deep enough toengulf men and animals who might stray among them, and he felt that hisposition was a serious one.

  He blamed himself now for not having halted immediately he perceivedthat he had missed the road. The only guide that he had as to thedirection he should take was the wind. On his way it had been in hisface, and he determined now to keep it at his back, not because that wasprobably the way to safety, but because he could see more easily wherehe was going, and he thought by continuing steadily in one direction hemight at last gain firm ground. His view extended but a few yards roundhim, and he soon found that his plan of proceeding in a straight linewas impracticable. Often quagmires of black ooze, or spaces covered withlight grass, which were, he found, still more treacherous, barred hisway, and he was compelled to make considerable detours to the right orleft in order to pass them. Sometimes widths of sluggish water were metwith. For a long time Harry continued his way, leaping lightly from tuftto tuft, where the grass grew thickest, sometimes wading knee-deep inthe slush and feeling carefully every foot lest he should get to a depthwhence he should be unable to extricate himself. Every now and then heshouted at the top of his voice, in hopes that he might be heard by somehuman being. For hours he struggled on. He was now exhausted with hisefforts, and the thickening darkness told him that day was fading. Fromthe time he had left his horse he had met with no bush of sufficientheight to afford him the slightest shelter.

  Just as he was thinking whether he had not better stop where he was,and sit down on the firmest tuft he could find and wait for morning,when perhaps the rainstorm might cease and enable him to see where hewas, he heard, and at no very great distance, the sudden bray of adonkey. He turned at once in the direction of the sound, with renewedhopes, giving a loud shout as he did so. Again and again he raised hisvoice, and presently heard an answering shout. He called again, and inreply heard some shouts in Irish, probably questions, but to these hecould give no answer. Shouting occasionally, he made his way toward thevoice, but the bog seemed more difficult and treacherous than ever, andat last he reached a spot where further advance seemed absolutelyimpossible. It was now nearly dark, and Harry was about to sit down indespair, when suddenly a voice sounded close to him. He answered again,and immediately a barefooted boy sprang to his side from behind. The boystood astonished at Harry's appearance. The latter was splashed andsmeared from head to foot with black mire, for he had several timesfallen. His broad hat drooped a sodden mass over his shoulders, thedripping feather adding to its forlorn appearance. His high riding bootswere gone, having long since been abandoned in the tenacious ooze inwhich they had stuck; his ringlets fell in wisps on his shoulder.

  After staring at him for a minute, the boy said something in Irish.Harry shook his head.

  His guide then motioned him to follow him. For some time it seemed toHarry that he was retracing his steps. Then they turned, and by whatseemed a long detour, at last reached firmer ground. A minute or twolater they were walking along
a path, and presently stopped before thedoor of a cabin, by which two men were standing. They exchanged a wordor two with the boy, and then motioned to Harry to enter. A peat firewas burning on the hearth, and a woman, whose age Harry from her aspectthought must be enormous, was crouched on a low stool beside it. Hethrew off his riding cloak and knelt by her, and held his hands over thefire to restore the circulation. One of the men lighted a candle formedof rushes dipped in tallow. Harry paid no heed to them until he felt thewarmth returning to his limbs. Then he rose to his feet and addressedthem in English. They shook their heads. Perceiving how wet he was oneof them drew a bottle from under the thatch, and pouring some of itscontents into a wooden cup offered it to him. Harry put it to his lips.At first it seemed that he was drinking a mixture of liquid fire andsmoke, and the first swallow nearly choked him. However he persevered,and soon felt the blood coursing more rapidly in his veins. Finding theimpossibilty of conversing, he again sat down by the fire and waited thecourse of events. He had observed that as he entered his young guidehad, in obedience probably to the orders of one of the men, darted awayinto the mist.

  The minutes passed slowly, and not a word was spoken in the cottage. Anhour went by, and then a tramp of feet was heard, and, accompanied bythe boy, eight or ten men entered. All carried pikes. Between them andthe men already in the hut an eager conversation took place. Harry feltfar from easy. The aspect of the men was wild in the extreme. Their hairwas long and unkempt, and fell in straggling masses over theirshoulders. Presently one, who appeared to be the leader, approachedHarry, who had now risen to his feet, and crossed himself on theforehead and breast. Harry understood by the action that he inquired ifhe was a Catholic, and in reply shook his head.

  An angry murmur ran through the men. Harry repressed his inclination toplace his hand on his pistols, which he had on alighting from his horsetaken from the holsters and placed in his belt. He felt that even withthese and his sword, he should be no match for the men around him. Thenhe bethought of the letters of which he was a bearer. Taking them fromhis pocket he held them out. "Ormonde," he said, looking at the men.

  No gleam of intelligence brightened their faces at the word.

  Then he said "Butler," the Irish family name of the earl. Two or threeof the men spoke together, and Harry thought that there was somecomprehension of his meaning. Then he read aloud the addresses of theletters, and the exclamations which followed each named showed thatthese were familiar to the men. A lively conversation took place betweenthem, and the leader presently approached and held out his hand.

  "Thomas Blake, Killicuddery," he said. This was the address of one ofthe letters, and Harry at once gave it him. It was handed to the boy,with a few words of instruction. The lad at once left the hut. The menseemed to think that for the time there was nothing more to be done,laid their pikes against the wall, and assumed, Harry thought, a morefriendly aspect. He reciprocated their action, by unbuckling his beltand laying aside his sword and pistols. Fresh peats were piled on thefire, another candle was lit, and the party prepared to make themselvescomfortable. The bottle and wooden cup were again produced, and theowner of the hut offered some black bread to his visitor.