“Ah, farmer,” he said, suddenly breaking off his conversation, and advancing to me, “let me see—will you fight for the King today? It will be a great victory—come, man, share the glory.”
“I will, sir, if—There are two friends of mine outside that are serving under your Highness. If I could be with them perhaps I should learn something of the manner.”
“And who are they?” he asked.
“Philip Lisle, your Highness, and John Drumbleforth.”
“Ah—I know them both. Well, William, get thee to Philip Lisle and tell him to take charge of thee, and I shall see thee strike a worthy blow today. God’s mercy! we cannot spare stuff like thee at this time.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and hurried out to tell Philip and Jack what had passed. I was eager to fly at the enemy, but Philip, when I told him what Lord Newcastle had advised, seemed grave and anxious.
“He is sage and wary in war,” said he, “and Prince Rupert is fiery and headstrong. However the die is cast. Yet there would have been no harm in waiting for a day or two, for the five thousand extra troops would have meant much to us. And now let us see about finding you some harness, Will.”
“It shall go hard today,” said Jack, “if we three do not split some Roundhead skulls. Hah! I would give a good deal to win a great victory today.”
There were a great many volunteers in the Prince’s army, men who like myself were farmers and yeomen, and who were minded to fight for the King, and it was to one of these companies that Philip Lisle and Jack Drumbleforth belonged. Presently, therefore, they took me to their headquarters and fitted me out with sword and breastplate, and with a great hat which had a gay plume in it, and this done we gave Captain an extra feed of corn so that he might be in good fettle, and the morning being then advanced, we went to such breakfast as we could get. This, indeed, was not stinted, for, despite the siege, provisions in York were plentiful, full preparation having been made by the beleaguered army before the investment closed in.
Now, the novelty of my position and the pride called up in me—naturally, as I think—by Prince Rupert’s admiration of my great figure, conspired to put away from my mind all thoughts of anything but the matter in hand. It never occurred to me that if I fell there would be a pretty to-do at Dale’s Field. Nay, the thought of falling in the fight never occurred to me at all. I was young and strong and could hardly understand anyone overcoming me. All I wanted was to get used to the swing of the long sword they had given me, and then to carve some record with it on the bodies of the rebels.
All that morning we stood to arms in readiness for the word of command. Bugles and trumpets were blowing all over the city; every few minutes some hurried horse and its rider came through one or other of the city gates with news of the enemy. Men posted on the great tower of the Minster observed their movements and sent down reports. And at last, just before noon was striking from the city clocks, the word was given, and our army moved away through the gates in the direction of Marston.
It was a wonderful and a striking sight to see that army, the flower of the gallantry and loyalty of England, go out across the smiling land to fight. There were fourteen thousand foot and nine thousand horse, with twenty-five pieces of ordnance. The Prince led on the right wing of horse, which had in it twelve divisions, consisting of one hundred troops of fifty men each. Sir Charles Lucas and Colonel Hurry were in command of the left wing, and Generals Tilyard and Goring, with Major-General Bute and the Marquis of Newcastle, led on the main body. We passed over the ferry at Poppleton and came on to the moor, from which the rebels at our approach hastily withdrew, so that we possessed ourselves of the greater part of the moor, and finally formed a long line extending from Marston village to Tockwith, the enemy meanwhile drawing up his force against us. Then those with me began to point out to me certain notable regiments of the Parliamentary army, such as that of General Cromwell, whose Ironsides were posted on the left wing, along with the regiment of Lord Manchester and the Scotch Horse. Upon these men, whose prowess had reached everyone’s ears by that time, I gazed with much interest, wondering how we should fare against them.
Now, by three o’clock both armies were fully formed for the battle, and there was general expectancy amongst all of us. Presently the great ordnance began to play on both sides; but these monstrous cannon did little damage beyond driving up clouds of dust and soil, and before five o’clock they had ceased firing, following which there was a long interval, neither party caring to begin the attack, for between the two armies there was a deep ditch, which was equally disliked of both. It did seem, indeed, that we were to have no fighting that day, but at seven o’clock we saw Lord Manchester’s foot advancing across the ditch, followed by the main body of the Parliamentary army, and so the battle began in dead earnest.
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
