The Broken Font: A Story of the Civil War, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Moyle Sherer

  CHAP. XVI.

  Lastly stoode warre in glitteryng armes yclad, With visage grym, sterne lookes, and blackely hewed; In his right hand a naked sworde he had, That to the hiltes was al with bloud embrewed. SACKVILLE.

  The zeal and fidelity of Francis Heywood, in that perplexity andtrouble of the Earl of Essex which were caused by the desertion ofColonel Hurry at Thame, and by the information that he gave to PrinceRupert, were so conspicuous, and he rendered such gallant and eminentservice in that unfortunate field of Chalgrave, in which Mr. Hampdenfell, that he was promoted to a colonelcy of horse soon after.

  The army of Essex having been much weakened by the successfulenterprises of Prince Rupert, and being also more wasted by sickness,the Earl moved from Thame towards London, and quartered his troopsabout St. Alban's. Here Francis Heywood met with a very unfortunateadventure, which ended by his taking away the life of a brotherofficer; but the origin of the dispute and the fatal issue of it weresuch, that, even by a regular trial before a court of Puritanofficers, he was most honourably acquitted.

  It chanced that as he was passing before the abbey of St. Alban's alittle after dusk, he saw a drunken and noisy procession of the rabblecoming along by torchlight. He stopped to see what they were doing:when they approached close to him, his anger and disgust were stronglyexcited by observing a lewd wretch in a cope trailing in the dirt,with a service book in his hand, singing, as in scorn, the solemnwords of the church litany, amid the derision and jeers of the basefellows around him. Francis darted through the crowd and dealt theimpious knave a blow which laid him dumb in the gutter; and calling acorporal who came in sight had him picked up and confined in aguard-house for the night. It turned out that this rogue was a commonsoldier in the regiment of Sir Roger Zouch, to whom such arepresentation of the circumstance was made that he took up the matterin great wrath, and sent Colonel Heywood a challenge. Francisimmediately sought an interview with Sir Roger, to explain and justifywhat he had done. This furious fanatic not only defended and laudedthe crime of his soldier, but, in a paroxysm of rage, deaf to everyargument, rushed on Francis sword in hand; while the latter keptretreating and expostulating, till at length he was obliged to drawhis sword in self-defence.

  A home-thrust now soon put a period to Sir Roger's life. Fortunately,this contest took place in the open space near the Abbey, and in thepresence of many respectable witnesses both of the army and the town;and these cheerfully came forward and deposed to the necessity underwhich Francis was laid to defend himself.

  This circumstance made a great impression upon Francis; for though hestood acquitted in his conscience of all blame, and though he feltopposed in heart to such a mischievous spirit as that evidenced by SirRoger, yet it forced him to consider that it was against such men thatthe sincere churchmen in the royal ranks were honourably fighting.However, he did not slack in his zeal for that cause for which Hampdenhad already poured out his life-blood; but he confined himselfstrictly to the duties of his particular command, and, both by exampleand authority, enforced good discipline and quiet conduct among hisown troopers. He occasionally saw Cuthbert, but had now little comfortor satisfaction from those interviews. In gloom and in sadness ofspirits that unhappy man wore away his days: his temper had becomeembittered and stern; and he was ever unquiet and restless except inthe field, where he delighted to expose himself to every chance ofdeath. It has, however, been often observed, that that black tyrant,insatiate as he is, delights to pass by the wretched, and transfix thebosoms of those whose hopes are in the full blossom of promise. Ofthis war is ever furnishing examples.

  In a temper of mind very different from that of his brother didMartin Noble make his campaign under Caernarvon.

  About the middle of June, Prince Maurice and the Marquis of Hertford,with sixteen hundred horse, one thousand foot, and eight field pieces,marched to Chard, a fair town of Somersetshire, on the borders ofDevon, and effected their junction with the Cornish army, whichconsisted of three thousand foot, eight hundred horse, and four guns.This force soon possessed itself of Taunton, Bridgewater, and DunstarCastle, without bloodshed. Not long after they marched upon Wells,where a respectable body had been drawn together by the parliamentofficers, Popham, Strode, and others: these retired from the city asthe Marquis of Hertford advanced against it, and drew up on the top ofMendip Hill; and, waiting till the royal horse came on the same levelin front of them, pursued their retreat leisurely, and in good order.The King's horse followed them, till they having to pass through alane, near Chewton, were compelled, before their entrance into thatdefile, to leave their reserve fronted. The Earl of Caernarvon, whowas always in the van, and always charged home, perceiving thisadvantage, rode hard at them, entered the lane with them, routed thewhole body of their horse, and did good execution on them for twomiles. But the enemy being reinforced by a fresh strong party of horseand dragoons, which, by the cover of a hedge, had joined them withoutbeing discovered, rallied, charged, and pressed Caernarvon in histurn, who was now forced to retire through the village and lane, andfall back on the Prince's party, drawn up on the open heath.

  Though somewhat broken and chafed, his men rallied stoutly on thePrince's flank; and when the enemy came up, though now very superiorin numbers, the Prince and the Earl, seeing the danger of a retreatover those open hills, took the brave resolution to charge them. Thiswas so vigorously done by the Prince, and so briskly seconded byCaernarvon, that after a close and fierce melee, sword to sword, theenemy were driven from the field, and chased by Caernarvon again tillset of sun.

  This stirring and brilliant action of cavalry was Martin's firsttrial; and he acquitted himself in a manner so spirited and valiant,as won the warm praise of his gallant patron. He received two hurts,and was beaten off his horse; but as the army rested many days atWells, and his wounds were only sword-cuts, he was sufficientlyrecovered to be on horseback again before they marched forward. In thebattle of Lansdown, on July the 5th, he gained fresh reputation; for,having been twice engaged in the early part of that action against thefamous regiment of cuirassiers, by which the King's horse were soamazed and staggered, and having shown the most invincible courage intrying to restore confidence to the routed troopers, he was, in thelast advance against the hill, dismounted, his horse being killedunder him. He was himself at the moment immediately on the right ofthose brave Cornish pikes which Sir Bevil Greenvil was leading up. He,catching up the pike of a fallen soldier, fell into those ranks, bywhom the summit of the hill was soon won, and maintained throughoutthat bloody evening. Night fell upon both hosts, tired, battered, andcontented to stand still; but before morning Sir William Wallerwithdrew to Bath, and the field of battle, the dead, and other ensignsof victory, were left with the King's army.

  His next service was at Roundway Down, where Sir William Wallersuffered so great a defeat as very much clouded his affairs and allhis previous reputation. Early in August, Francis was with that armywhich sat down before Gloucester; but, as the horse are for the mostpart only lookers on at the operations of a siege, he here enjoyed acertain interval of leisure. At this period he contracted a closeintimacy with young Arthur Heywood, and he had a strange pleasure inconversing with the youth about his brother Cuthbert. They two wouldride together the circuit of the leaguer, observing the batteries andapproaches, and watching the play of the cannon both on and from thecity; or they would choose unfrequented roads, which led into valleysnear where there was no sight of camp or town; or in tent or camp hutthey would sit together for hours, and often as they did so, the nameof Cuthbert came up, and the one recollected the brother of hisboyhood, and the other, the kind and gentle tutor, who first woke himto good thoughts,--and it became a cement of love between them; andwhile they deplored the course which Cuthbert had taken, their heartswere full of affection for him. Nor was any one more forward to dojustice to his many excellent qualities than Sir Charles Lambert, whenhe chanced, as he often did, to make one of the tent party.

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nbsp; Sir Charles was, as Arthur told Martin, a changed man from the periodwhen his brother first knew him; and no one that had seen the grave,the manly, and thoughtful deportment of Sir Charles, the loyal anddevoted officer, could have deemed it possible that he was the sameperson who had once invited and deserved their suspicions and theircontempt.

  However, after lying nearly a month before Gloucester, and makinglittle progress in the siege, the King was roused by the news thatEssex was advancing to relieve the city. A last effort was decided on:the town had been most ably defended by Colonel Massey, the governor,who had made many bold and effective sallies, and interrupted thelabours of the siege with good success; but the garrison was nowreduced to great extremities for want of ammunition; therefore theKing battered the town heavily for thirty-six hours, made a fairbreach, and tried an open assault. The attempt was boldly made, andthe breach mounted, but, after a bloody conflict, the storming-partywas beaten back again. In this last affair Martin and Arthur werelooking on at the assault, when a cannon bullet struck and shatteredthe leg of the latter, so that he was forced to have his limbamputated considerably above the knee,--a most painful operation,which he bore with a cheerful courage and composure. Thus did theservice of this noble boy suddenly end, he being made a cripple forlife, and no longer able to share the honourable toils of warfare orto partake ever again of the pleasant and joyous exercises natural tohis age. The helplessness incident to the last season of life fellsuddenly upon him, and made him prematurely old. Martin parted fromhim as he lay in hospital with tears in his eyes, and they never metagain: however, Arthur was removed with other wounded to a place ofsafety, and when sufficiently recovered was sent to Oxford. Meantimethe siege of Gloucester was raised; and, when Essex marched into thatjoyful town, he found them reduced to a single barrel of powder, andother provisions nearly exhausted. He stayed three days in the place,after which his care was to retire again to London withoutencountering the King's army. He made a night march from Tewksbury toCirencester, where he surprised two regiments of the royal horse, andfound a great quantity of the King's provisions; hence he made hisroute through the deep and enclosed country of North Wiltshire directfor London. However, Prince Rupert, with five thousand horse, byincredible diligence and forced marches, got between London and theenemy, and detained him till the King, with his main army, came toNewbury.

  The forces of Essex being now intercepted in their movement, it wasnot the interest or wish of the King to engage in a battle, except onhis own terms and with choice of his own ground; but when, on themorning of the 18th of September, the hot spirits in the royal armysaw the host of Essex drawn up in fair battle array within a mile, andwhen they heard the beating of their drums and the breath of defiancefrom their trumpets, they would not be contained, and some youngleaders of strong parties got so far engaged that the King wascompelled to fight a general action.

  Never did hostile forces meet with greater fierceness and resolution.The field was obstinately disputed throughout the day, and night aloneparted the combatants. The foot of Essex had maintained their groundwith admirable steadiness; and the bold charges of Rupert and theroyal horse could make no impression on their stand of pikes. One ofthe regiments most frequently exposed to these desperate assaults wasthat of Maxwell, where Cuthbert commanded a company of pikes. Thiscorps, after having endured a storm of bullets from a body of theKing's musketeers in the last attack of the royal forces beforesunset, was come upon suddenly, and at a disadvantage, by somesquadrons of horse, and broken in upon. Nearly half their numbers werecut to pieces; but the rest, being well rallied, resisted, and slewmany of the horsemen that were intermixed with them, and finally droveoff the enemy.

  No one exerted himself in this most critical juncture with more energyand sternness than Maxwell; and Cuthbert showed in that difficulty anoble example to his men. His sword had already been plunged into thehorse of an assailant with such force, that by the action of thewounded beast he had been disarmed, and another horseman was rushingtowards him. He discharged his pistol swiftly, yet with an aim sotrue, that the young Cavalier was borne past him reeling in thesaddle, and thrown violently to the earth.

  When this short and confused conflict between the pikemen and theroyal horse was over, and there came a breathing time, and a pause inthe fighting at that spot, Cuthbert, who marked where his lastopponent fell, left his ranks, and hastened (it was not many yardsaway) to his succour. The young man, bareheaded and pale, lay upon theground: his bright hair was dabbled with blood--not his own, but thatof other combatants who had been slain near him: a pistol shot hadreached his gallant heart; the courageous and gentle spirit had fled.

  "Nothing can be done for him," said Randal, for whom Cuthbert hadcalled,--"come away."

  "Surely, surely there can," answered Cuthbert, in an agony, strangeand unaccountable even to himself.

  "Nothing, I tell you: he is dead."

  "Well, then, I will take care of the body, and bury it."

  "Let the dead bury the dead," said Randal.

  "The battle is not over yet. Hark! there is the drum beating to fallin."

  Cuthbert heard it, and the loud voice of Maxwell, and saw the menrushing to their arms. He hurried to his post; and there, as he stood,saw stragglers coming in, who stopped and stooped upon the very spotwhere the body of the youth lay, as if to rifle it. His regiment wasat the same moment faced to the left, and moved a quarter of a mileoff to new ground. Here they halted and stood at ease.

  Now came rumours how that great and good men had fallen on the King'sside; that the gallant Caernarvon had been slain by the sword, andthat a bullet had taken the life of the noble Falkland.

  The trumpets did seem to wail them, they sounded so desolate andmournful as the shades of evening came on. As soon as he could getaway, Cuthbert again hurried to the place where the corpse of his ownparticular victim lay. He got a torch, and searched the body, if haplyhe might find a name: in the bosom next the heart there lay theminiature of a girl of calm pure beauty; from the features and thecostume, it seemed that of an Italian. Cuthbert sighed, and continuedhis search for some paper that might give a name. At last, in thebreast pocket of the doublet beneath his buff coat, he found aletter:--the address was "Martin Noble,"--the handwriting was that ofhis own father.