Unscathed, in spite of the terrible dangers of the _melee_, Fred, after
succeeding in reaching his companions, joined them in their charge, and
was driven back in their reverse, riding headlong as they rode in what
was hardly a retreat, but rather a running fight, till seeing his
opportunity, he made for where he could see General Hedley striving, in
company with the officers, to check the retrograde movement, but
striving in vain.
For there was a wild valour and dash exhibited by the Cavaliers, which
for the time being carried all before them. No sooner had something
like a rally been made by the Parliamentarians, than the Royalists
charged at them in a headlong rush, which would have ended in almost
total destruction with some troops.
But there was a sturdy solidity about the followers of General Hedley,
and the result of these charges was that, while some fell, the others
were merely moved here and there, and as soon as their assailants had
passed on they seemed to hang together again, driven outward always, but
not scattered. In fact, for mile after mile the running fight was
continued, growing slower and slower as horse and man were wearied out,
till, had a minute's grace been afforded them, General Hedley felt that
he could have gathered his men together, and by one vigorous charge have
changed the state of affairs.
But the opportunity for re-formation was never afforded, and the great
crowd of mounted men of both parties rode on mingled together in
confusion, right over the wild moorland countryside. The number of
individual combats was almost countless, and their track was marked by
the heather being dotted with fallen men, the wounded, and often the
dismounted, and by exhausted or hopelessly foundered horses.
And still the fight went on, with the attacks growing more feeble, till
the Cavaliers' horses could hardly be spurred into a canter, and many a
one stopped short.
It was a strange flight, in which the beaten gave way slowly, and with
an obstinate English tenacity of purpose, which made them cling to their
enemies, and refuse to acknowledge their rout. They were broken up,
and, according to all preconceived notions of cavalry encounters, they
ought to have scattered and fled, but they only went on as they were
driven and broken up in knots, and the Cavalier leader knew perfectly
well that the moment he ceased his efforts, the other party would, as it
were, flow together again and return their charge, perhaps with fatal
results to his little force, for his men were growing completely
exhausted.
"If I could only get a troop together!" muttered General Hedley between
his teeth; and again and again he tried to rally his men. But the
Cavaliers dashed at them directly, the efforts proved vain, and the
_melee_ continued--a struggle in which order was absent, and men struck
and rode at each other, broke their weapons, and often engaged in a
mounted wrestling bout, which ended in a pair of adversaries falling
headlong to the ground. Fred would have been out of the skirmish early
in the engagement from the exhaustion of his horse, but as the pace grew
slower, the poor brute recovered itself somewhat, and whenever flight or
attack grew more rapid, exerted itself naturally to keep as near as
could be in the ranks.
The scene was terrible for one so young, as he sat there grimly, often
in the middle of a confused crowd, his sword drawn ready more for
defence than offence, for now that the excitement of the flight was
over, and he had rejoined his regiment, there was little of the blind
desire to strike and slay in Fred Forrester's breast. He contented
himself with turning aside thrusts and meeting blows with a clever
guard, as some Cavalier tried to reach him, while twice over he found
another sword interposed on his behalf.
The fight must have lasted for half an hour, when about a dozen of the
Cavaliers raised a shout, and made a dash at where General Hedley was
slowly retreating, their object being evidently to take him prisoner
before, from sheer exhaustion, the pursuit was given up.
But the idea was not so easy to carry out, though for the moment the
general was alone. The horse he rode was strong and fairly fresh, those
of his would-be captors pretty well foundered, and, in addition, there
was help at hand.
Fred had just had a narrow escape, for a stout Cavalier had forced his
own horse alongside, contriving, in spite of the lad's efforts, to get
upon his left or weaker side, and pressing him sorely. Fred had need
for all the skill with the sword he had picked up since he had been with
the army, and he had dire need for more power in his muscles, for after
a minute's foining and thrusting, he found his guard beaten down through
his adversary's superior strength, a hand was outstretched, catching him
by the collar of his jerkin, and in spite of his efforts he was dragged
sidewise toward the pommel of his enemy's horse.
"I'll have one prisoner, at all events," growled the man, fiercely; and
he gave Fred's horse a savage kick in the ribs, with the intention of
making him start away.
Had the horse followed the enemy's wishes, his rider would have been
unseated, but, instead of starting away, the well-drilled beast pressed
closer alongside the horse by his side, and Fred still clung to the
saddle.
"Ah, you wretched young Puritan spawn! Would you sting?" growled the
man, as Fred made a desperate effort to use his sword. "Then take
that."
The Cavalier rose in his stirrups, and was in the act of striking with
all his might, when a fresh sword parted the air like a flash, swung as
it was by a muscular arm, and the middle of the blade caught the
Cavalier trooper right upon the plated cheek-strap of the morion he
wore, dividing it so that the steel cap flew off, and the man dropped
back over the cantle of his saddle, his frightened horse making a bound
forward and carrying his master a dozen yards before he fell heavily on
the heath.
"Who says I can't use a sword as well as a scythe?" cried a familiar
voice.
"Oh, Samson, you've saved my life," cried Fred.
"Serve you right, too, my lad--I mean, serve him right, too. Trying to
chop down a boy like you."
"I am sorry. Look, look, look!" cried Fred, excitedly.
"Eh? Look? What at?"
"Over yonder, where all those Cavaliers are crowding together to make
another charge."
"Yes, I see 'em. What a state their horses are in!"
"But don't you see Scarlett Markham? And who's that with them? I see
now. Your brother."
"What, Nat? Where, where? Let me get at him. There's going to be a
prisoner took now, Master Fred, and he'll have to look sharp to get
away."
Samson set spurs to his horse, but Fred checked him by seizing the
bridle.
"No, no," he said; "keep by me, and let's close up to the general. This
is no time for personal feelings, Samson. We must think only of our
party."
"Ah, well, I won't hurt him, Master Fred; but how would you like your
brother to be hunting you about the country, as Nat has been hunting us?
Wouldn't you like to have a turn at him?"
"I have no brother, Samson," replied Fred, as he glanced in the
direction where, about a hundred yards away, Scarlett was in the midst
of a group of the Cavaliers, who were steadily driving the grim
Cromwellian troopers before them, and effectually keeping them from
combining so as to retaliate with effect.
Then Scarlett was hidden from his sight, and yielding slowly step by
step, the Parliamentarians kept up a defiant retreat.
It might be supposed that at such a time the slaughter would be
terrible; but, after the first onset, when men went down headlong, the
number of killed and wounded were few. For there were no withering
volleys of musketry, no field-pieces playing upon the disorganised
cavalry from a distance; it was a sheer combat of mounted men armed with
the sword, against whose edge and point defensive armour was worn; and
in consequence many of the wounds were insignificant, more injuries
being received by men being dismounted than by the blades.
The officers of the retreating party kept up their efforts to rally
their little force, but always in vain, for the gathering together of a
cluster of men resulted in the Cavaliers making that the point for which
they made, and they carried all before them.
"They are more than two to one, literally," growled the general,
fiercely, as he felt that there was nothing to be done but to summon his
men to follow, and, taking advantage of the fresher state of their
horses, put on all the speed they could, and make for a valley right
ahead, where they might elude their pursuers, and accepting the present
defeat endeavour to make up for it another time.
Giving the order then, the trumpet rang out, and the men sullenly
obeyed, setting spurs to their horses, and for the most part extricating
themselves from their pursuers, whose horses began to stagger and even
stop as their masters urged them to the ascent of a slope, up which the
Parliamentarians were retreating.
This being the case, their own leader ordered his trumpeter to sound a
halt, and the successful party set up a tremendous cheer as they waved
their hats and flashed their swords in the sunshine.
"Yes," muttered General Hedley, as he looked back at his triumphant
enemies exulting over his defeat, but too helpless to pursue, "make much
of it; a reverse may come sooner than you expect."
"I don't like being beaten like this, Master Fred," grumbled Samson,
leaning over to smooth the reeking coat of the horse his young master
rode; "and it's all your fault."
"My fault? How?"
"Holding me back as you did, and letting that brother of mine get away
sneering and sniggering at me, with his nose cocked up in the air, and
swelling with pride till he's like the frog in the fable."
"How do you know he was sneering at you?" said Fred, who felt stiff,
sore, and as if he would give anything to dismount and lie down among
the soft elastic heather.
"How do I know, sir? Why, because it's his nature to. You don't
understand him as I do. I can't see him, because I can't look through
that hill, but I know as well as can be that he's riding on his horse
close to Master Scarlett, and going off."
"Going off?"
"Yes, sir, in little puffs of laughing. It's his aggravating way. And
he's keeping on saying, `Poor old Samson!' till it makes my blood bile."
"What nonsense! He is more likely to be riding away jaded, and sore,
and disheartened."
"Not he, sir, because he aren't got no heart, and never had none--
leastways, not a proper sort of heart. I can feel it, and I always
could. He's a-sneering at us all, and thinking how he has beaten us,
when, if you had let me have my head, I could have gone at him sword in
hand--"
"And cut his head off?"
"Cut his head off, sir? Why, it aren't worth cutting off. I mean to
keep my sword, which is a real good bit o' stuff, and as sharp as a
scythe, for better heads than his. I wouldn't stoop to do it. No,
Master Fred, I tell you what I'd have done: I'd have ridden up to him
right afore 'em all, and I should have said, `Nat, my lad, your time's
come;' and I should have laid hold of him by the scruff of the neck, and
beat him with the flat of the blade till he went down on his knees and
said he wouldn't do so any more."
"Do what any more, Samson?"
"Everything as he have been doing."
"And suppose he wouldn't have let you beat him before all the others?"
"Wouldn't have let me, Master Fred? He'd have been obliged to. I
should have made him."
"You are too modest, Samson," said Fred, laughing.
"Oh no, I'm not, sir--not a bit. I wish sometimes I was a bit more so.
But you should have let me go at him, sir. I'd have made him run, like
a sheep with a dog at his heels."
"Ah, Samson," cried Fred, wearily, "it's sore work when brothers are
fighting against each other."
"No worse, sir, than two such friends as you and Master Scarlett was.
Why, you was more than brothers. Oh, I don't like this here at all."
"What?"
"Running away with our tails between our legs, like so many dogs with
stones thrown at 'em."
"It is miserable work, but better than being taken prisoners."
They rode on down into the coombe, and followed its wanderings with rear
and advance guards, though they felt but little fear of pursuit, and for
a long time hardly a word was spoken along the ranks. The horses were
going at a foot-pace, and as they went the troopers played surgeon to
each other, and bound up the slight wounds they had received, for these
were many, though not enough to render them beyond fighting if necessity
should occur.
Once the general called a halt, and posted scouts on the hills around,
while he gave his men an opportunity to water their horses at the
running stream at the bottom of the coombe, and to attend to the wounds
the poor beasts had received, many a sword-cut intended for the rider
having fallen upon his horse.
The surgery in these cases was simple and effectual. It consisted in
thrusting a pin, sometimes two, through the skin which formed the lips
of the wound, and then twisting a piece of thread round and round the
pin, passing it first under the head, and then under the point, the
result being that the wound was drawn close, and so retained with a pad
of thread. This rough treatment generally proved sufficient, and while
the treatment was in progress the poor animals stood patiently turning
their great, soft, earnest eyes upon the operator with a mournful look
which seemed to say, "Don't hurt me more than you can help." Sometimes,
but these were the exceptions, when instead of the above a stab had to
be attended to, and a plug of flax thrust in, the horse would start, and
give an angry stamp with its hoof, but only to stand patiently again, as
if it resigned itself to its master, who must know what was best.
The general soon gave orders to continue the march, for he knew that the
longer they stayed the stiffer and sorer his force would be; and once
more the retreat was continued in a south-westerly direction, while, as
the afternoon began to grow old, Samson, after having been very silent
for a long time, turned sharply round.
"What are you thinking about, Master Fred?"
"I was wondering whether Scarlett Markham will behave as well to my
mother as I did to his."
"He'd better," said Samson, fiercely. Then, after a pause, "Oh, I don't
feel afraid about that, sir. He's sure to. You see, he's a gentleman,
and there's a deal in being a gentleman. He'll take care of her, never
fear. That's not what I was thinking."
"What were you thinking, then?" said Fred, anxiously.
"Well, sir, to speak the plain, downright, honest truth, as a Coombeland
man should, whether he be a soldier or a gardener--"
"Yes, yes. Go on. You talk too much, Samson," said Fred, pettishly,
for he was faint and sore.
"Well, sir, suppose I do. But I aren't neglecting anything, and there's
nothing else to do. Seems quite a rest to hear one's self speak."
"Then speak out, and say what you were thinking."
"I was thinking, sir, that I wish I was a horse just now."
"A horse? Why?"
"So as I could have a good fill of water, and keep on taking a bite of
sweet fresh green grass."
"Why, Samson!"
"Ah, you don't know, Master Fred. I'm that hungry, it wouldn't be safe
to trust me anywhere near meat; and not so much as a turnip anywhere,
nor a chance to catch a few trout. I wish I could tickle a few; I'd eat
'em raw."
"I'm sorry, Samson, and I haven't a scrap of food with me."
"No, sir, nor nobody else. You see, we were all out for exercise, and
not on the march, with our wallets full. And that aren't the worst of
it. Master Fred, I could lie down and cry."
"Because you are so hungry?"
"No, sir; but when I think of what we've left behind at the Hall.
Ducks, sir, and chickens; and there was hams. Oh!" groaned Samson,
laying his hand just below his heart, "those hams!"
Fred was weak, tired, faint, and low-spirited, but the doleful aspect of
his henchman was so comic that he burst into a fit of laughter.
"Well, Master Fred," said the ex-gardener, letting the reins rest on the
horse's neck, as he involuntarily tightened his belt, "I did think
better of you than to s'pose you'd laugh at other folk's troubles. Then
there was the cider, too. It wasn't so good as our cider at the Manor,
sir, for they hadn't got the apples at the Hall to give it the flavour,
spite of old Nat's bragging and boasting; but still, it wasn't so very
bad for a thirsty man, though I will say it was too sharp, and some I
tasted yesterday told tales."
"What of, Samson?"
"My lazy, good-for-nothing brother, sir," said Samson, triumphantly.
"Told tales of your brother--of Nat?"
"Yes, sir. There was a twang in that cider that said quite aloud,
`Dirty barrel,' and that he hadn't taken the trouble to properly wash it
out before it was used; but all the same, though it was half spoiled by
his neglect, I'd give anything for a mugful of it now, and a good big
home-made bread cake."
"So would I, Samson," said Fred, smiling.
"And them enemies with my brother are all riding comfortably back to
feast and sleep; and while we're camping cold and miserable on the
hills, they'll all be singing and rejoicing."
"I hope they are thinking more of the poor wounded fellows they will
have to pick up on their way back. Hallo! Look! Steady there. Halt!"
He passed the word received from the front, for half a mile ahead, on
one of the hills, a scout was signalling.
Fresh men were sent forward, and as the signals evidently meant danger
ahead, the general hurriedly took up a position of advantage, one which
gave him the choice of advance or retreat.
"Dismount!" was the next order, so as to rest the horses as much as
possible.
"More fighting," said Samson, in a low, grumbling tone. "Well, if one
don't get enough to eat, one get's enough hard knocks, and I never felt
miserly over them. Look here, Master Fred, are we going to have another
scrummage?"
"Hush! Yet, I think so."
"So do I, sir," said Samson, taking up his belt another hole. "Very
well, then; I'm that hungry, that I'm regularly savage now, and this
time I mean to hit with all my might."
"Silence, there!" said a deep stern voice, and General Hedley rode along
the regiment, scrutinising his little force, and waiting the return of
the men sent out before deciding whether he should make a bold advance
or a cautious retreat.
The horses took advantage of the halt to begin cropping the tender
growth around, and as Fred listened and watched the movements of the
scouts far away on the hillside, it seemed hard to realise that he was
in the midst of war, for high overhead a lark was singing sweetly, as it
circled round and round, ever rising heavenward; and at his feet there
was the regular tearing sound of the grass.
These recollections of home and peace came back as, with a look of
boyish pleasure on his face, Samson pointed to the lovely little copper
butterflies flitting here and there, their dotted wings glistening in
the sun.
"Look at 'em, Master Fred," he whispered; and then stood with his hand
upon his horse's withers, the stern man of war once more, as his master
made a gesture bidding him hold his peace.
For quite half an hour they stood there by their horses' sides, every
minute being of value in the rest and refreshment it afforded the weary
beasts.
The scouts could be seen following up, as it were, the movements of some
force hidden by the hills from where the regiment had halted, and by
degrees they began to work over the eminence and disappeared, while the
general seemed to be fretting with impatience, till all at once those
near him heard him utter a low "Hah!" and he gave the order to his men
to prepare to mount.
A thrill ran through the long line of men, and Fred heard his follower
utter a low, adjuration to his unwilling steed.
"Leave off eating, will you? Hold your head up. Who are you, that you
are to go on feasting while your master starves?"
The horse looked at him reproachfully, and had to content itself with
chewing a few strands of grass off his bit.
The reason for the general's order was plain enough directly, for they
could see one of the advance men coming back at full gallop down the
distant hill, and long before he could reach them the other scouts
appeared, retiring slowly in two lines, one sitting fast and facing the
approaching force, while the other careered by them, and took up a fresh
position in their rear.
There were only ten men out, at a distance of sixty or seventy yards
apart, but as they drew nearer to their goal their lines contracted, and
this was continued so that they could ride in as a compact little knot.
Meanwhile the first man came tearing in as fast as his horse could go,
and when he was a few hundred yards away, the order was given, and the
dismounted men sprang into the saddle.
"Don't seem to have a bit of fight left in me now," muttered Samson.
"No dinner, and no Nat here to make a man feel savage. Wish I was back
at the Manor, digging my bit o' ground. Anybody might fight for me."
At that moment a fresh order was given, and every man sat stern and
ready for the advance or retreat, wondering which way they would go, and
of what nature the force was, evidently advancing fast.