Waller had brought his huge army to its walls. But this was on an entirely different scale. York did not face one malevolent army, but two. When the marquis had fallen back on York, the Scots had given chase, joined with the Yorkshire Roundheads, and, during the third week of April, the combined armies brought more than twenty thousand men to the walls of York.
‘And that, my dear captain,’ Killigrew said, ‘is why I should like to speak with any man captured by our brave sally parties. The situation is dire. The weeks drag by, and all the while our enemy digs in. If we discover their weaknesses, then we may expedite victory.’
A short distance along the wall an artillery piece belched into sudden life, its colossal report echoing for several seconds. Smoke slewed across the rampart, mingling with the lingering dawn mist, and Forrester drew a long breath, savouring the bitter odour. ‘We have other strongholds, do we not? The castle at Pontefract? Sandal, Helmsley, Tickhill, Knaresborough.’
Killigrew sneered, exposing tiny teeth. ‘Mere outposts. The countryside is lost. The balance of power lies with the devil’s alliance.’
‘The Committee for Both Kingdoms,’ Forrester said. Consisting of fourteen members of the House of Commons, seven from the Lords and four representatives from Scotland, the Committee had been created in the wake of the Solemn League and Covenant, the agreement between Westminster and Edinburgh, providing Scots military might on condition that the Scottish system of church government was adopted in England. The Committee for Both Kingdoms was empowered to direct the coordinated rebel strategy, and it was that body which ultimately controlled Parliamentarian machinery in the north.
‘And the devil’s alliance has another weapon to discharge, do not forget.’
‘Sir?’
‘The Earl of Manchester looms large, I fear,’ Killigrew said darkly.
‘The Eastern Association,’ said Forrester. ‘How many?’
‘Eight thousand,’ Killigrew answered. ‘Perhaps nine.’
‘But the Oxford army keeps him in check, does it not?’
‘I pray so.’ Killigrew licked cracked lips and smoothed down his hair again. ‘But our defeat in the south makes matters a touch more fluid.’
‘And if the Eastern Association come hither?’
Killigrew grimaced. ‘It bears not consideration. We are well supplied here, thanks to the foresight of Belasyse and the preparations Newcastle has put in place. But our saving grace is the enemy’s failure to circumvallate the city. They have a large army, make no mistake, but it is not large enough to completely enclose us. If the alliance is reinforced, then they will cut York off from the world, and then, eventually, we will all starve.’
Forrester stared directly into Killigrew’s hard eyes. ‘The Eastern Association will come.’ He received a mute nod for reply. ‘Is there any hope?’
‘There is one.’
‘Rupert.’
‘The marquis brought four thousand good men to the city,’ Killigrew said, ‘but he had three thousand horse too. They left, of course, for there is not the fodder within these walls for such luxury.’ He spread his palms. ‘Where did they go, Captain Forrester?’
‘To Prince Rupert?’ Forrester ventured.
‘Perhaps, even now, he is on his way,’ Killigrew said, brightening.
Forrester chuckled mirthlessly. ‘And if he is not?’
‘Then York will soon be lost.’
Bolton-le-Moors, Lancashire, 29 May 1644
The place seethed. Buildings had been fired during the night and still their embers smouldered, thin fingers of black smoke poisoning the air and smudging the watery dawn. The foul odour of charred death clung to everything. Cries of the wounded and the forlorn replaced the birdsong. Women cradled sons, husbands held wives, children scurried like rats in search of lost parents and scarce food. Soldiers were everywhere, on the corners of every street, in houses gutted and robbed, in the taverns and in every alleyway
‘And that, my dear captain,’ Killigrew said, ‘is why I should like to speak with any man captured by our brave sally parties. The situation is dire. The weeks drag by, and all the while our enemy digs in. If we discover their weaknesses, then we may expedite victory.’
A short distance along the wall an artillery piece belched into sudden life, its colossal report echoing for several seconds. Smoke slewed across the rampart, mingling with the lingering dawn mist, and Forrester drew a long breath, savouring the bitter odour. ‘We have other strongholds, do we not? The castle at Pontefract? Sandal, Helmsley, Tickhill, Knaresborough.’
Killigrew sneered, exposing tiny teeth. ‘Mere outposts. The countryside is lost. The balance of power lies with the devil’s alliance.’
‘The Committee for Both Kingdoms,’ Forrester said. Consisting of fourteen members of the House of Commons, seven from the Lords and four representatives from Scotland, the Committee had been created in the wake of the Solemn League and Covenant, the agreement between Westminster and Edinburgh, providing Scots military might on condition that the Scottish system of church government was adopted in England. The Committee for Both Kingdoms was empowered to direct the coordinated rebel strategy, and it was that body which ultimately controlled Parliamentarian machinery in the north.
‘And the devil’s alliance has another weapon to discharge, do not forget.’
‘Sir?’
‘The Earl of Manchester looms large, I fear,’ Killigrew said darkly.
‘The Eastern Association,’ said Forrester. ‘How many?’
‘Eight thousand,’ Killigrew answered. ‘Perhaps nine.’
‘But the Oxford army keeps him in check, does it not?’
‘I pray so.’ Killigrew licked cracked lips and smoothed down his hair again. ‘But our defeat in the south makes matters a touch more fluid.’
‘And if the Eastern Association come hither?’
Killigrew grimaced. ‘It bears not consideration. We are well supplied here, thanks to the foresight of Belasyse and the preparations Newcastle has put in place. But our saving grace is the enemy’s failure to circumvallate the city. They have a large army, make no mistake, but it is not large enough to completely enclose us. If the alliance is reinforced, then they will cut York off from the world, and then, eventually, we will all starve.’
Forrester stared directly into Killigrew’s hard eyes. ‘The Eastern Association will come.’ He received a mute nod for reply. ‘Is there any hope?’
‘There is one.’
‘Rupert.’
‘The marquis brought four thousand good men to the city,’ Killigrew said, ‘but he had three thousand horse too. They left, of course, for there is not the fodder within these walls for such luxury.’ He spread his palms. ‘Where did they go, Captain Forrester?’
‘To Prince Rupert?’ Forrester ventured.
‘Perhaps, even now, he is on his way,’ Killigrew said, brightening.
Forrester chuckled mirthlessly. ‘And if he is not?’
‘Then York will soon be lost.’
Bolton-le-Moors, Lancashire, 29 May 1644
The place seethed. Buildings had been fired during the night and still their embers smouldered, thin fingers of black smoke poisoning the air and smudging the watery dawn. The foul odour of charred death clung to everything. Cries of the wounded and the forlorn replaced the birdsong. Women cradled sons, husbands held wives, children scurried like rats in search of lost parents and scarce food. Soldiers were everywhere, on the corners of every street, in houses gutted and robbed, in the taverns and in every alleyway
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