The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) by Stella Riley Page B
Authors: Stella Riley
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told you afore. I give up fighting after Marston Moor and I ain’t about to take it up again now. Still … it’s good you’ve got it all worked out. Busy as a body-louse, ain’t you?’
‘You know me. No task too large, no detail too small.’
‘Maybe so. But you’re seeking a hare in a hen’s nest this time, Captain. Noticed General Leslie’s face, have you? Looks as miserable as a gib-cat, he does.’
‘That’s his natural expression,’ murmured Ashley. ‘Jem … do you have to spit on my armour?’
‘Being as we ain’t got no polish – yes.’ Mr Barker set about buckling the back and breast into position. ‘I heard as Hamilton said this caper was ‘grasp all or lose all’. Wouldn’t dice on them odds, myself. And I can’t see a fop-doodle like Buckingham bringing good, honest northern lads flocking in, neither.’
Nor could Colonel Peverell but he merely said, ‘I’d like to be ready today, if possible.’
‘Put your sword on, then,’ retorted Jem, stepping back. ‘I’m done. Fine as a lord’s bastard you look, too. Major Langley’ll be using you as a mirror.’
It was the morning of August 16 th . Having ascertained the enemy’s position, the Royalist army covered the remaining miles to Warrington with increased alertness and arrived at the bridge over the Mersey in time to see Lambert and Harrison pulling their troops back to guard the London road rather than engage over unfavourable ground.
Colonel Peverell watched appreciatively for a time and then, finding the King beside him, said blandly, ‘Such a nice, orderly retreat. Do I have permission to spoil it a bit?’
Charles smiled.
‘More than that, Ash. You have my express order to do so. And Leslie can go hang.’
Ashley grinned and, wheeling his horse, threw a series of concise orders to his Major. Fortunately, Francis had been expecting them … and, in less than five minutes, the regiment was trotting smartly across the bridge in the wake of Lambert’s rear-guard.
It was only a brief skirmish and it inflicted little damage. It did, however, clear a path for the advancing Royalists and its effect on morale was enormous. By evening, even the dourest Scots were talking about how the New Model had fled before them; and Ashley’s own men – having fought their first action under his leadership – were as one in deciding that their pernickety Colonel might be a rattling good fellow after all.
* * *
It was the first and only moment of encouragement. Despite all the King’s high hopes, the Lancashire Royalists did not flock to his banner as he moved on south and no Catholics appeared at all. This was a bitter blow. Charles had known that his English supporters might be reluctant to join with the Covenanters but he had counted on using his personal presence to sway them. What he hadn’t bargained for was that the Royalist leaders who hadn’t compounded for their estates were mostly in prison … or that when General Massey left to go recruiting again, he took with him a declaration from the ministers of the Kirk, telling the Presbyterians not to associate with the Malignants. The result was that the Cavaliers stayed offendedly at home and recruits only arrived by the handful.
Leaving the volatile Earl of Derby to use his local influence to mend matters, Charles decided to march on by way of Whitchurch and the Welsh borders in the hope of finding more support there than he had in the north. Once more, he was disappointed. When he sent the Governor of Shrewsbury a cordial summons to surrender, he received a curt refusal addressed to ‘ The Commander-in-Chief of the Scottish Army’ . Gloom descended once more on the weary, travel-stained army; and Colonel Peverell found maintaining his customary éclat required a good deal of well-concealed effort.
Sometimes, when fatigue and anxiety regarding the current situation started to
‘You know me. No task too large, no detail too small.’
‘Maybe so. But you’re seeking a hare in a hen’s nest this time, Captain. Noticed General Leslie’s face, have you? Looks as miserable as a gib-cat, he does.’
‘That’s his natural expression,’ murmured Ashley. ‘Jem … do you have to spit on my armour?’
‘Being as we ain’t got no polish – yes.’ Mr Barker set about buckling the back and breast into position. ‘I heard as Hamilton said this caper was ‘grasp all or lose all’. Wouldn’t dice on them odds, myself. And I can’t see a fop-doodle like Buckingham bringing good, honest northern lads flocking in, neither.’
Nor could Colonel Peverell but he merely said, ‘I’d like to be ready today, if possible.’
‘Put your sword on, then,’ retorted Jem, stepping back. ‘I’m done. Fine as a lord’s bastard you look, too. Major Langley’ll be using you as a mirror.’
It was the morning of August 16 th . Having ascertained the enemy’s position, the Royalist army covered the remaining miles to Warrington with increased alertness and arrived at the bridge over the Mersey in time to see Lambert and Harrison pulling their troops back to guard the London road rather than engage over unfavourable ground.
Colonel Peverell watched appreciatively for a time and then, finding the King beside him, said blandly, ‘Such a nice, orderly retreat. Do I have permission to spoil it a bit?’
Charles smiled.
‘More than that, Ash. You have my express order to do so. And Leslie can go hang.’
Ashley grinned and, wheeling his horse, threw a series of concise orders to his Major. Fortunately, Francis had been expecting them … and, in less than five minutes, the regiment was trotting smartly across the bridge in the wake of Lambert’s rear-guard.
It was only a brief skirmish and it inflicted little damage. It did, however, clear a path for the advancing Royalists and its effect on morale was enormous. By evening, even the dourest Scots were talking about how the New Model had fled before them; and Ashley’s own men – having fought their first action under his leadership – were as one in deciding that their pernickety Colonel might be a rattling good fellow after all.
* * *
It was the first and only moment of encouragement. Despite all the King’s high hopes, the Lancashire Royalists did not flock to his banner as he moved on south and no Catholics appeared at all. This was a bitter blow. Charles had known that his English supporters might be reluctant to join with the Covenanters but he had counted on using his personal presence to sway them. What he hadn’t bargained for was that the Royalist leaders who hadn’t compounded for their estates were mostly in prison … or that when General Massey left to go recruiting again, he took with him a declaration from the ministers of the Kirk, telling the Presbyterians not to associate with the Malignants. The result was that the Cavaliers stayed offendedly at home and recruits only arrived by the handful.
Leaving the volatile Earl of Derby to use his local influence to mend matters, Charles decided to march on by way of Whitchurch and the Welsh borders in the hope of finding more support there than he had in the north. Once more, he was disappointed. When he sent the Governor of Shrewsbury a cordial summons to surrender, he received a curt refusal addressed to ‘ The Commander-in-Chief of the Scottish Army’ . Gloom descended once more on the weary, travel-stained army; and Colonel Peverell found maintaining his customary éclat required a good deal of well-concealed effort.
Sometimes, when fatigue and anxiety regarding the current situation started to
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