XXVI
Of the Progress of the Fight
I do not suppose it possible for any man who has not actually seen bloodshed and war to form a proper understanding of what happens when two armies meet to give each other battle. Never, indeed, could I have believed that war was one half so awful as I found it when, the signal having been given, the royal army and its enemy closed and men strove like furies to kill and slay on every side. The roar of the ordnance, the shouting of the commanders, the continual babel of shrieks, shouts, exclamations, and oaths which filled the air, mingled with the groans and sobs of the wounded and dying, made an impression upon me which nothing has ever effaced. Add to this the sights which presently met one’s eyes at every turn: blood flowing like water; here a man writhing in agony on the ground, there another just falling from his horse as the sword-thrust of his antagonist transfixed him; yonder, horses and men rolling in awful confusion together; in front, a comrade struck down in the very act of shouting defiance to the foe; behind, another falling as he encouraged his fellows to come on—such were the horrors that I saw around me ere the fight had raged half an hour.
Our company was in the first division of Prince Rupert’s Horse, and made a fine show, every man being well equipped and mounted, and apparently eager and anxious to fight. I sat between Jack Drumbleforth and Philip Lisle, being largely dependent upon them for guidance in nice matters of wheeling and turning. My horse, Captain, comprehended, I think, the nature of our business, for he neighed and snuffed the wind, and pawed impatiently at the ground. As the shouting of the main body of the Roundheads, led by Lord Manchester, came along to us on the wind, he tugged impatiently at his bridle.
“We shall soon be at it now,” said Jack, on my right. “Keep a firm bridle and a loose sword-arm, Will, until you are close in, and then let them have it, weight and all.”
Prince Rupert, his eyes flashing as he dashed forward, came sweeping along our line on his great warhorse. Right over against us were posted General Cromwell’s division of three hundred horse, looking like figures cut out of bronze and just as rocklike. We were to charge against these in front and flank, and the Prince was to lead us himself. The words of command came short and sharp, and with a great cry of “God and the King!” we were galloping over the rough ground in a rattling mass of steel and iron that flashed and clanked in the bright sunlight. The great sword in my hand felt like a switch. The fast pace intoxicated me, a red mist sprang up before my eyes; I had no other desire but to kill, and kill, and kill again.
“Steady, Will, steady!” said Jack. “Now for the crush!” and the two wings met with a sound that echoed and tingled in my ears. But above it all I heard the cry of the Parliamentarians, “God with us!”
I could no more tell you of what happened in that first few moments than I could describe the battle of Creçy. It was all confusion and tumult to me. Shouts, screams, groans, yells of pain and fierce oaths as a sword went home, the neighing of frightened horses and loud commands of the officers, made up an indescribable noise. When I came to my full senses I suddenly found myself as cool as if I were riding about in my own fields. I was slashing and stabbing and guarding with the rest of them, Jack at my right working away like a Trojan, while Philip Lisle on the left was fighting warily and coolly. Again and again we dashed on the front rank of the Ironsides, striving to break through them, but without success. They stood firm as a rock, giving thrust for thrust and cut for cut, and every now and then shouting out their battle-cry, “God with us!”
“They are like rocks,” said Jack, breathless, as we drew together to dash at them once more. “Like rocks of iron.”
The Prince, reckless and brave as a lion, was here and there in front and flank, encouraging and prompting his men. Beyond the Ironsides I saw a remarkable-looking man mounted on a hardy horse, very plainly accoutred, who gave his directions in a cool voice, as if knowing well how they would be obeyed. “See yonder, that’s Cromwell!” cried Jack, pointing to this man, and I looked again with wonder at the famous general. And then the two bodies closed once more, and once more we fought desperately to break the enemy’s line. The fighting became looser; the steady phalanx broke up on each side, and cutting and slashing became general. The Ironsides began to ride at us instead of allowing us to ride at them. A great trooper rode headlong at me, shouting his battle-cry and poising his long keen blade to cut me off forever. All my strength seemed to go into my arm and shoulder as I rose at him. My sword came down over his like a thunderbolt and shore its way through helmet and cap and head, while his own fell from his hand and rattled with him to the ground, where he lay a grim corpse and the tide of war rolled over him.
“Well struck, Will!” shouted Jack, who was parrying and thrusting on his own behalf. “A great blow. Ah, sir, your lunge was too low.”
His sword went straight through a man’s breast and came out behind. The trooper threw up his arms and would have fallen, but the sword, firmly fixed, held him up, let Jack tug at it as he would. Another trooper rode up to cut Jack down, thinking him defenceless. I reached over and hit him so true and full on the breastpiece with my sword that he tumbled over his horse’s crupper and lay kicking on the ground, while Jack tore his sword away from his antagonist, whose body immediately sank and was trampled into shapelessness by the hurrying crowd that pressed over it.
But the Ironsides, cool and intrepid, were breaking our ranks. Fast as a man fell another closed in, and their grim shout waxed more and more triumphant. A great gap opened in our midst, and they poured in amongst us, slashing and stabbing with terrible earnestness. A touch like lightning ran along my arm from shoulder to elbow, and I felt the hot blood run down it and saw it come trickling across the wrist. Jack at the same moment had his cheek cut open nearly from eye to mouth. But neither his opponent nor mine lived to make another stroke, for we cut them down ere ever they could raise their swords a second time. And yet the Ironsides swept on, and let Prince Rupert entreat and command as he would, he was powerless to stop the splendid work of those grim troopers, who did their work in silence, save when they opened their lips to shout forth the cry of “God with us!”
“We are beaten!” cried Philip Lisle. “See, Manchester has broken through our foot and is pursuing them. Confusion! we shall lose the day without doubt.”
“Look out, look out!” said Jack. “The Ironsides are on us again in new force. They ride like a whirlwind.”
And like a whirlwind they did ride, destroying all that came in their way. Flanked by the Scotch Horse under General Leslie, they rode through us, sweeping our companies away like chaff before the storm. Many men lost heart and turned and fled before that awful onslaught. For myself, I felt my heart like to burst with grief and rage, and would have ridden amongst the enemy to kill some half-dozen of them before I was killed myself, but Jack seized my bridle and steered his horse and mine through the mass of our own men, who had turned tail and were flying towards York.
“ ’Tis all over there, man!” he cried, as I strove to detach my reins from his grasp. “Let us where we shall be of some use. See, our left wing hath put the enemy to flight.”
And, indeed, what had happened to our right wing was equally happening to the enemy’s right, for Colonel Hurry had prevailed against them. At the beginning of the fight the Parliamentary troops under Sir Thomas Fairfax and Colonel Lambert were defeated, though Sir Thomas himself had fought his way with five or six troops through the Royalist army to his own left. And the brigade under Lord Fairfax, having given way, was further hampered by the cowardice of some newly-raised regiments under Sir Thomas, which, being panic-stricken, turned and fled in confusion on the troops in their rear, whom they threw into disorder and trampled underfoot. The right wing of the rebels thereupon broke up and fled for miles across country in the direction of Tadcaster and Cawood, crying as they went that all was lost. And so infectious was this panic that the other Parliamentary troops under Generals Manchester, Lever, and Fairfax gave way also, and were preparing to quit the field, when a sudden turn of fortune changed matters altogether.
For while our left wing was sweeping away the Parliamentary right, Cromwell came back from his pursuit of our right, and seeing the state of affairs, made haste to repair the damage. Sir Thomas Fairfax at the same moment rallied his horse, and Manchester’s foot, returning from the chase of our troopers, got into order with the other two divisions and came on again to attack our left wing, which by that time had pursued the Parliamentary right as far as the baggage wagons. So here was the battle to be fought over again, just when each side thought it won, our left having been victorious while our right was defeated, and the same thing having happened to the other side.
Now, Philip and Jack and I had wheeled away with several others when the Ironsides broke our ranks, and had gone over to our victorious left, so that when the rebels under Cromwell and Fairfax came on again to meet us, we fell in with a troop of horse and prepared to contest the matter once more. A fierce and terrible contest it would doubtless be, though there could hardly be more bloodshed, I thought, than had already taken place. For as we rode across the field, it was indeed pitiable to see the sights which met our eyes in every direction. Roundhead and Cavalier alike lay on the ground, dying or dead. Here a poor wretch implored us as we passed to dismount and put him out of his misery; there another with eyes starting from their sockets begged us to find him a drink of water. The dead lay in heaps in some places where the charge had been thickest.
Here and there the ground was literally torn up as if by the plough, and a hedge of dead and wounded on each side bore witness to where the cavalry had charged along and carried all before them. Horses, riderless, were galloping over the moor, some towards York and some towards Tadcaster, while others, apparently unconscious of the dreadful surroundings, cropped the herbage where it had not been trampled into waste. Over the whole field a mist of smoke seemed to hang, and far away in the twilight the great towers of York Minster rose towards heaven as if in witness against the scenes of violence on earth.
Neither Philip nor Jack nor I had come through the earlier part of the fight unscathed, for my arm was cut in a nasty manner and bled more than I liked, and Jack’s face was covered with blood from the wound in his cheek, while Philip had received a slash across the thick part of his sword-arm, which was fortunately not deep in extent. Nevertheless we went into the fight again side by side, resolved to do what lay in us to win the day for the King.
Now, that fight in the fast-falling shadows was twice more fierce and bloody than even the hot business of the afternoon had been. Our men fought well and bravely; yea, as the Prince himself said next day, no army could have fought more bravely. Many a time did we make ground and gain an advantageous position, only to be swept away again by these grim Ironsides, who rode on us to kill and slay without mercy, shouting their cry of “God with us!” For three hours the fortunes of the fight hung in the balance, but the superior tactics of the Parliamentary generals and the invincible powers of the troopers under Cromwell carried the day at last. There was no withstanding the onslaught of these men, who rode together like a wall and swept away whatever opposed itself to them.
And so as the darkness came on the King’s troops broke into hopeless confusion and fled away towards York, and the battle was over and we had lost. Philip and Jack and I were together till the end, and fought, I think, to the last. We spoke little as we rode into York that night, for we were dead beaten and our hearts were low within us. We had ridden out in the morning confident in our cause and hopeful of victory, and our cause was now in a worse state than ever, and victory was with the Parliamentarians. We had lost thousands of men, and the field looked more like a butcher’s shambles than the peaceful fields of England. Sir William Wentworth was slain, and with him Sir William Langdale, Sir Thomas Metham, Sir William Lambton, Colonel Eury, and Colonel Slingsby. Sir Charles Lucas, general of Lord Newcastle’s horse, was a prisoner, and Generals Porter and Tilyard, with nearly three thousand rank and file, were in the hands of the enemy, who had also secured twenty-five pieces of ordnance, a hundred and thirty barrels of powder, and several thousand arms. It was a defeat signal and undoubted.
The next morning there were rumours of a strange nature in York. It was said that Lord Newcastle and his friends, dissatisfied with Prince Rupert’s conduct, had resolved to leave the country and abandon all further part in the war. Nor was this rumour unfounded, for presently the Marquis set out for Scarborough, being conducted thither by a troop of horse, and accompanied by a distinguished company of officers and gentlemen who sailed with him from that port for Hamburg. It was sixteen years ere Lord Newcastle came into the land again, and then the Commonwealth was over and Charles the Second had come to the throne. As for Prince Rupert, he too immediately summoned what force he could and marched out of York to the northward, where at twelve miles’ distance from the city he awaited the coming of Colonel Clavering and his three thousand men, and with them went away into Lancashire. In this way York was abandoned to the care of its own loyal citizens, who continued to defend it against the Parliamentary army.
Now, I knew not what to do when Philip and Jack announced their intention of following Prince Rupert, but after some thought I decided to return home. The harvest was coming on, and it behoved me to attend to my own business. So I took a regretful farewell of my two friends and rode away through the gates southward, hoping to get home without let or question of any man. But in this hope I was wrong, for I had not ridden two miles out of the city, when I was seized by a troop of Cromwell’s Ironsides, who, in spite of all my remonstrances, carried me with them to the besiegers’ camp, and there put me into safe keeping.