Believe or Die (9 page)

Then, over the course of a few short months, Parliament’s budding strategy collapsed around them. Typhus struck all along the Thames Valley decimating unit after unit of Roundheads. Immediately after this came disastrous news from the West. Hopton had soundly defeated Waller at Landsdown Hill, his Cornish footmen reigning triumphant over the field. Then, although he had not immediately been able to capitalise on his victory, he had pursued Waller and virtually destroyed him at Roundway Down amid terrible scenes of horsemen tumbling over a precipice to their deaths. Further ill tidings followed: Parliament now discovered that a second convoy of supplies had reached the King, slipping by totally unnoticed. Now, revitualled and rearmed, and with two splendid victories under their belts, the Royalists were ready to move.

Bristol was called by many the ‘second city’ in the land. It had a port, and, vitally for the King, it also boasted the largest number of gunmakers outside London. The King’s forces with Prince Rupert and the now famous Cornish Foot to the fore, finally took Bristol in late July. The fighting was some of the most savage yet seen. The Royalist casualties were horrendous, but the prize had been won. As a consequence of the massive losses experienced by the King’s men, a sergeant of Ebden’s Foot, badly but not fatally wounded in the storm, was promoted to Lieutenant. Wil Pitkin was an officer.

Some seventy miles away, and as a consequence of both Roundway Down and typhus, Richard Mead was also promoted to Lieutenant. He was also layed low by a bout of the ague and the fever-ridden and delirious Mead was carried into an inn at Ickleford by his concerned troopers. They were reasonably sure it wasn’t typhus but whatever it was, they had no means of treating it. As if in answer to a prayer, a convoy of wagons trundled to a halt outside and a short, handsomely busted woman entered the inn like a galleon under full sail. Ignoring the troopers she examined the collapsed form of Richard Mead and promptly chivvied everyone out of the room.

For two days she kept him clasped against her naked flesh and on the third day, the fever broke. On the fourth day, Annie and her girls were gone. Annie recognised no sides in the war, to her they were all just potential customers and at that moment in time, The King’s Army in Oxford appeared to have the most money within reasonable reach. Also, they didn’t have the tiresome preachers that were beginning to irritate and interfere with Annie and her business.

Now
was the time, advised the King’s counsellors, to march on London! But Charles overruled them. He had been truly stunned by the losses incurred in the taking of Bristol and was not in a hurry to repeat such a costly ‘victory’. Instead, he ordered his commanders to take Gloucester, being of the opinion that a slower, more methodical campaign would be more appropriate. His Generals protested in vain, but eventually resigned themselves to His Majesty’s pleasure and committed to the task before them. So be it they reasoned, Gloucester’s taking would be beneficial, therefore we will take it forthwith by storm and sack.
No
, said the King,
you will besiege it and thus preserve my Army
. ‘But my Liege,’ they protested, ‘Time is of the essence, we have not the leisure to starve the Garrison out.’ With a haughty
Do as you are bid’
, the King dismissed their arguments; a siege it would be. His Majesty then dismayed them even further by detaching a large component of the Army to mount a similar siege on Exeter. Charles was obdurate; he had in his mind already won this war, all was now mere detail. He would take Gloucester and Exeter then march on London from three directions, the west, north-west and the south-west. He considered his scheme irresistible, unbeatable! His Generals considered it pure folly.

The siege of Gloucester was commenced in appalling weather. Massey, the Governor of the city, flatly refused to surrender and although his garrison numbered a mere fifteen hundred, they were defending a narrow, stoutly built perimeter. No, Gloucester would not be surrendered decreed Massey, then he retired to privately pray that the Royalists had no heavy artillery. They didn’t. The ordinance was stuck axle deep in rivers of mud, loosely known as roads, all the way back to Bristol. Desperate riders flayed their exhausted, lathered mounts to Essex’s headquarters with news of Gloucester’s predicament and the Parliamentarian commander thanked God for a useable opportunity. Gathering his typhus-ravaged troops and bolstered by the London Trained Bands, he ordered an immediate march to Gloucester. He was biting his lip when he did so. Trained Bands frequently refused to serve away from their own counties, but the Londoners agreed and the relief force set off. It was not a moment too soon. Massey was down to his last keg of powder.

But the Royalists reacted swiftly and got between the now dangerously exposed Essex and his base in London and the two armies clashed in a bloody but indecisive battle at Newbury. After hard fighting, the King withdrew to preserve his forces and Essex made it back to London. Despite the setback at Gloucester, the King was still in a good position in both the West and the South-West. He also learned that his subjects in the North were doing him great services.

In the north of England, the rival commanders Newcastle and Fairfax had been fighting without cease on behalf of their opposing causes. Fortune swung this way and that for months then Newcastle won a major victory at Adwalton Moor placing Yorkshire firmly in the King’s grasp. Newcastle, elated by this result, and with the bit firmly between his teeth, pushed on. In Lincolnshire, Parliamentarians under Cromwell had taken Gainsborough only to be promptly evicted by the buoyant Newcastle and pushed all the way back to Peterborough. It was all going very well decided Charles, yes, very well indeed.

But ‘Black Tom’ Fairfax, though he may have lost a battle, had no intention of losing the war, neither had he been idle while his enemy had been rampaging around the countryside. By sheer force of spirit he regrouped and motivated his men then stormed and took Hull, which he immediately fortified with every resource he could muster. The move stunned Newcastle who had thought his adversary out of the fight, at least for the foreseeable future. It also gave him a serious problem: Hull being a major port and supply route into the heart of the country, and he agonised over what to do next. His original plan, to march south and link up with the King, now looked less inviting as it left Hull in the enemy’s hands and Fairfax like a thorn in his rump.

So then, should he take Hull
then
join His Majesty? Eventually, it was the latter course he decided upon, understandably, but as events would come to show, wrongly.

As 1643 drew to a close, certain facts became undeniable. England, that peaceful and prosperous isle, was a bloody and chaotic mess. The King’s stubbornness matched by that of the ‘Hawks’ in Parliament rendered peace out of the question. This sorry affair must be played out until the end. One other fact was also clearly apparent to all – Parliament was loosing.

In December 1643, just when it appeared things could hardly get any worse for Parliament, John Pymm, principal architect of the resistance to Charles’ policies, died. The driving force, the inspiration behind the struggle was gone, and thus too was the King’s most dedicated and implacable opponent. Yet even as he lay on his deathbed in unspeakable agony from stomach cancer and cysts in the gut, Pymm’s political astuteness reached its pinnacle enabling him to thwart the King even from beyond the grave. Unbeknown to the Royalists, and indeed most of his partners in strife, Pymm had brokered a deal with the Scots. Those north of the Wall had never forgiven Charles for his attempt to make them worship as
he
thought they should and they blamed him for the subsequent riots and warfare that had afflicted their land. Pymm had played upon Charles’ wish to impose
his
version of the Christian religion on the Scots and pointed out that that was, amongst other things, what Parliament was fighting against. And if the King won in England, how long before he turned his attention to the Scots again? It was a master stroke and the deal became formalised as the Solemn League and Covenant. Monitored by a committee, Parliament and the Scots Covanteers would fight united under a Common Act of Worship that would prevent Charles leading them down the road to Popery. The Scots assumed that everyone around the table was talking about Presbyterianism, but Pymm’s careful wording and phrasing of the document ensured it would be ambiguous enough to escape from at a later date. Ultimately, the pact did indeed fall apart, but by then it had served its purpose exactly as Pymm had intended. With the deal struck – so did the Scots!

By the time of their intervention, the Scots could boast an army of twenty thousand Horse and Foot, a large proportion of whom were experienced veterans. They were professionals and markedly more efficient in matters military than their English counterparts. A considerable part of that army under Leslie now crossed the Tweed heading south.

The Royalists were horrified. Totally out of the blue, or so it appeared to them, a huge army had come from nowhere to assist Parliament. Not only that, but the Scots were aiming straight for the Tyne with its coal supplies so vital to the King’s industries. Lord Newcastle, about to attack Hull, was obliged to race north in an effort to block the Scots. No sooner had he done so than the ever-alert Fairfaxs’, both father and son now, swept out of Hull, attacked Selby and marched on York. Breathless messengers advised Newcastle who, with a despairing gasp, abandoned his notion of battling the Scots. York was of the utmost priority, it must be held for the King. He about-turned and forced his men south again consoling himself that the Scots under Leslie would probably take the Border country and then loot and consolidate before doing anything else. After all, that’s what these ‘heathens’ had done throughout history was it not? But Leslie did no such thing. The Covanteers had given their oath that they would see this war through to its proper conclusion and if that meant marching all the way to London, then so be it. Leslie didn’t even pause for breath. He pursued Newcastle all the way back to York halting only when the latter disappeared through its gates. Then he linked up with Black Tom Fairfax and together they commenced to besiege the city. Newcastle was dumfounded by the rapid train of events. He glared wide-eyed over York’s ancient walls at the besieging Roundheads and Covanteers and tried to comprehend how it had happened. For heaven’s sake, a short while ago he had been winning! His aide, Major Legge, left the mystery-solving to his commander and set about a review of the city’s defences, shaking his head at Newcastle’s gaping jaw and muted mutterings. Farther south, someone else was trying to make sense of it all as well.

In a remarkably short space of time, the King had seen his fortunes in the north reversed, almost before his very eyes. But reverses were one thing, York was another; it must be saved. Charles called for Rupert and instructed him to raise the siege. Simply that, raise the siege and relieve York. No suggestion as to how this might be effected, no intelligence as to the strength of the opposition, just to do it. And in the King’s mind it was done. Rupert, however, worshipped glory above all things. Even if contrary advice and crucially dark information had been forthcoming, he would still have attempted the task, for he was Rupert, and Rupert had started to believe in his own invincibility. His was a legend in the making and he intended to live up to it. He immediately gathered up all the forces at his disposal and set off, gathering in every man he could from outlying garrisons as he marched. Wil Pitkin was one such.

The King himself set off for Worcester, for reasons evident only to him, from where he despatched a letter to the fast moving Rupert. Rupert read the letter, and then he reread it. It baffled him. What was the King asking him to do exactly? Was he to link with the King’s forces then relieve York? Or was he to relieve York
then
rejoin the King? But such was his confidence that there was only one way
he
could personally interpret the King’s message. Glory beckoned! He would save York then march back to rejoin his Sovereign in triumph.

The affair started brilliantly for the Prince. By sheer skill and audacity he outfoxed and out marched both Leslie and Fairfax, who were still to deploy their siege lines, to arrive, apparently in overwhelming strength outside the walls of York. It was a bluff, for he was gambling on using the Garrison of York to augment his forces, which were nowhere near as strong as they initially appeared. Yet the swiftness of Rupert’s arrival had caused his enemies to take pause and they withdrew to take stock. Rupert was ecstatic and wanted immediately to pursue and destroy them. Time was of the essence; he must win here and rush south to join the King. But the Garrison of York did not share Rupert’s enthusiasm for battle or his impetuosity for rapid movement.

Unknown to Rupert, the King, or rather his commanders, had met and defeated a Parliamentarian army at Croperdy Bridge three days earlier. The opposing forces had blundered into each other and the Royalists had reacted quickest and most successfully. The outcome of this was that there was now no real urgency for Rupert to hasten south to aide his Sovereign. The Prince, however, was unaware of this and was still convinced that there was not a moment to lose. All he knew was that for the immediate present, he still had enemies outside York to deal with. He would destroy them utterly, save the North, then head south. Is that not what Charles’ letter instructed? He read it yet again. Yes, that was obviously what the King intended. Yet
still
, Newcastle was reluctant to move from the comparative safety of York’s massive walls. Furious rows ensued with the reluctant Major Legge trying to mediate. Eventually, and mainly because there had been inferences to a lack of honour and commitment, Newcastle agreed to sally forth in support of Rupert.

The Royalist forces formed their battle lines on Marston Moor on the 2nd of July and prepared to chase the Roundheads out of Yorkshire. Or rather, they started forming, for it was a long, drawn out affair. Newcastle’s tired command did not actually take its place until four in the afternoon. His deputy, Eythin, made clear that he was not impressed by Rupert’s plans and dispositions. Rupert, for his part was infuriated by Newcastle and Eythin’s tardiness in arriving on the field. When the ever patient Legge tried to bring some sense of balance to an increasingly heated staff meeting, all assembled turned on him and he was ordered back to York and bid
Not to interfere in the debates of his betters
. As he rode away, he noticed that the Parliamentarians had not in fact retreated as everyone had assumed, not yet anyway.