When the second siege of Pontefract Castle was over, the Governor, Sir Thomas Fairfax, in pursuance of orders from the Commons, occupied himself in pursuing such of the Royalist forces as were still banded together, and in reducing the various manor-houses in that neighbourhood which were still fortified, and that he might not be hindered in this work he appointed one Colonel Cotterel to be his Vice-Governor, and gave him a force of a hundred men wherewith to occupy the Castle. For a while Colonel Cotterel left the Royalists of his neighbourhood pretty much to their own devices, doing no more than keeping his eye upon them so that they might not band themselves together again. But when the military power began to make itself felt—for at that time Cromwell and his army were the real rulers of England—he, taking his orders no doubt from his superiors, began to harass the Royalist gentlemen of his neighbourhood with exceeding severity. It was known which of us had helped to hold the Castle against the Parliament, and we presently found ourselves narrowly watched, and treated in such a fashion as was hard for flesh and blood to bear. But ere long even sterner measures were employed against us.
It was, I think, one evening about the middle of May, , that a party of troopers, headed by an officer, rode into our yard at Dale’s Field and called for me. I went out to speak to them, and found the officer to be one John Campion, a man that I had known many years for a stout Roundhead.
“Well, Master Dale,” said he, “we have come to request you to take a little ride with us this evening. Colonel Cotterel desires your presence at the Castle.”
Now, I could not at first understand why Colonel Cotterel should send for me, who wished not to have aught to do with him or his; but I reflected that I could not help obeying his summons, seeing that he had sent twenty armed men to fetch me, and I therefore saddled my horse and bade my friends farewell, telling them not to fear if I did not return that night. So we rode away, but came to a halt at Darrington, where Campion delivered a similar message to Jack Drumbleforth, who was then living with his father. What they wanted with us at the Castle neither Jack nor I could make out, but we agreed that we were being fetched thither for no good. And this turned out to be the case, for we were no sooner inside the Barbican than our horses were taken from us and we were shown into the Governor’s presence, who informed us that because of our resistance to the Parliament we were condemned to pay a fine, which in my case amounted to two hundred pounds, and Jack’s to half that sum. Moreover, continued Cotterel, he had received proof that we and others of our way of thinking were meditating a fresh rising in these parts, and we must therefore consider ourselves prisoners until such time as he saw fit to release us.
Now, we felt this to be very harsh and overbearing conduct, for it proved that the Roundheads were not willing to let us be at peace when we had no intention of being at aught else; and as for the fines, we felt it unjust to thus punish us for having done what we believed to be our duty. However, we were in their power, and could not help ourselves, and we therefore took up our quarters in the Castle with what patience we could, only begging them to inform our friends of what had happened to us. This they speedily did, for they shortly sent to Dale’s Field, and seized upon my cattle and sheep in satisfaction of the fine they had imposed upon me, so that I had neither horse, ox, nor sheep left, and poor Jacob Trusty was well-nigh beside himself with grief and anger.
We soon found that we were not the only prisoners in the Castle, for Colonel Cotterel had sent out and apprehended many Royalists of these parts whom he supposed to be inventing plans for another rising on behalf of the King. As for fines, he now busily employed himself in levying them upon all who had formerly defended the Castle. Some he obliged to compound for their estates, others he sentenced to the payment of fines such as he had imposed upon me, so that there was not a Royalist gentleman or yeoman in all Osgoldcross that was not cruelly made to pay for his loyalty. Some, indeed, paid great amounts. Sir George Wentworth was fined three thousand pounds; Sir Nicholas Yarborough paid six hundred pounds; Francis Neville paid a thousand pounds; Sir George Dalston paid seven hundred pounds; Sir William Lowther, the late Governor, paid two hundred; while Sir John Woolstoneholme of Nostel, who had given his plate to the King, was fined the value thereof, namely, ten thousand pounds.
We remained prisoners in Pontefract Castle for more than two years, during which time we saw naught of our friends, and knew little as to their welfare. But during that time a movement began amongst the Royalists of our parts, which ended in the Castle being surprised and wrested from the possession of our enemies. There was in the Castle at the time of our imprisonment a gentleman named Morrice, who had lived a somewhat adventurous life, and had fought on both sides during the war between King and Commons. In his youth he had been page to Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, and had subsequently entered the King’s service and fought as an officer. For some reason, which no one clearly knew, he quitted the Royalist forces and transferred his services to the Roundheads. In their cause
