_BACK AT BRIDGEWATER._
"The Duke back in the town--here!" cried my lord, and he half rose from
his pillows in his excitement; whilst Miss Blake and Mistress Mary, who
were sitting together near to the pleasant oriel window, started up,
and Mistress Mary exclaimed,--
"Sure I thought that I heard the sound of a distant tumult but now.
Dicon, Dicon! art sure of it? What has brought him hither again? not
misfortune? Say it is not misfortune!"
"Mistress, I know not the rights of it yet," I answered, breathless
with the haste with which I had rushed back with the news. "All I can
say is that he is here, and his army is fast following; that all the
town is gone out to meet him, and that the streets are full of people
all talking and welcoming him. There is no cloud on their faces. They
are as glad and as loving as when he entered last. I stayed to ask
nothing, but fled back with the news. I saw him riding bravely amidst
his officers, and I missed no familiar face. If some of his soldiers
have deserted him, I think his captains are stanch."
"Back at Bridgewater!" repeated my lord, who had sunk again upon his
pillows, being indeed too feeble to sit up. "That is strange! Is it a
retreat, or but a piece of strategy? Dicon, go forth and ask more, and
come and tell us again. Where are the Wiltshire horse of which we have
heard? Ask that, good Dicon. And how about the march upon London? Has
that, too, been abandoned? Does the Duke think his work is done when
but a few ungarrisoned towns in the West stand for his cause?"
"Dear love, be not dismayed," said Mistress Mary, rising and coming
towards him with that light in her eyes which I knew so well. "What
does it matter to God whether deliverance is wrought by many or by few?
He is the God of battles. He fights ever upon the rightful side. Why
need our hearts quake or feel fear? All will be well. The Lord will
arise, and His enemies will be scattered!"
I saw a strange smile cross the Viscount's face as Mistress Mary spoke
these words in that full, sweet voice of hers that was like music in
his ears. He did not answer, but put out his uninjured hand, and she
came and laid hers upon it. Then they looked into each other's eyes,
and I think that all thoughts of the Duke or of coming warfare passed
out of the minds of both. I have lived to see something of the power of
love in human lives, but I think I never saw such beautiful and perfect
love as that which existed between my lord and fair Mistress Mary. From
the time, only a day and a half now, since she had first appeared
beside him, he had made a wonderful advance on the road to recovery;
and Miss Blake had, of her own accord, offered to stay for a few days
at the inn, that Mistress Mary might help to nurse her lover back
to health and strength. Just now the whole country was so disturbed
that the movements of private individuals were not like to attract
notice. Lord Lonsdale had gone to London, Mr. Blewer was away none knew
whither. There was nobody to note the absence of Mistress Mary from
her accustomed home; and if any asked for her, he would be content on
knowing that she was away with Miss Blake upon a visit. Her guardian,
the only person who could interfere, was at a safe distance, and there
was no schooling going on at such a time of excitement. Many parents
had removed their daughters in affright at the turn affairs were
taking, and at the prominent way in which Miss Blake and her pupils had
come forward on the occasion of the proclamation of the kingship of the
Duke. So it was easy for both to be absent just now; and it was the
best of medicines for my lord to see the sweet face of Mistress Mary
beside him, and to be ministered to by her gentle hands. I was never
afraid to leave him now, and just at this exciting time was glad of my
liberty.
I rushed forthwith into the streets again, and soon found my way to the
soldiers' quarters, where they were being bountifully done to by the
loyal towns-folk. There was nothing of dismay or fear in their aspect,
and they told us of a gallant victory they had won at Philip's Norton
over the enemy. I never had a very clear idea of what that battle was
like, for some said one thing and some another; but it was plain our
army had discomfited that of the false King, and that after some sharp
fighting, and a good deal of cannonading which had made great noise but
done little hurt, the rival army had drawn off in retreat, leaving our
bold fellows masters of the field.
Why they had not then marched forward instead of retreating backward is
a matter I have never fully understood. I think the men themselves did
not know. Some said that they had not enough horse to cross Salisbury
Plain, since Mr. Adlam had not brought his promised troop; and others,
that the Duke was still thinking of a retrograde move upon Bristol.
But however that may have been, the men were very bold of aspect and
full of martial ardour. They admitted that there had been a good many
desertions after the fight at Philip's Norton. Numbers of poor yokels,
who had never seen war before, and had been scared by the guns and
disheartened by the hardships of the wet marches and lack of food,
had deserted to their homes upon finding themselves so near. But the
stouter-hearted fellows who remained laughed at the poor spirit of
these comrades, and vowed themselves better off without them. Mistress
Mary, when she heard, looked at her lover with one of her radiant
glances, and said,--
"Is it not like that sifting of Gideon's little band? All who were
faint-hearted were to go to their own homes. In a holy cause we want
none but those whose hearts are set upon the noble end, and who know
not a thought of faltering and fear. Oh, I am glad there has been such
a sifting! I think that God will never work with unworthy instruments.
Dear love, how I would that thou couldst go forth with them again!
Yet I will not even repine at that, since thy hurt was gotten in a
righteous cause, and I have the sweet task of ministering to thee."
Such sweet words and looks went far to reconcile my lord to the fret
and weariness of sickness. I think he scarce felt the pain of his
wounds when Mistress Mary was by; and if his nights were sometimes
restless and full of feverish visions of disquiet (for my lord always
felt that ill would come of this thing), by day his lady's presence
would chase these visions away, and give him that rest of body and mind
which his state so greatly needed.
The next day, Saturday, completed the week which we had spent at
Bridgewater, and certainly a great change for the better had taken
place in my lord's condition. He was so much stronger that I sometimes
thought he would ask speech of some of his brothers in arms, now in the
town once more; but he never did. And it may be that this thing was the
saving of him in the days which quickly followed, for I do not think
his presence in the town was ever really known. Men had so much to
think of in those days that faces and names slipped out of their minds,
and there was such coming and going that none could rightly say who was
here and who was not. We had not thought to keep my lord's presence a
secret, yet I verily believe the thing remained hidden from knowledge.
He lay in a large chamber well out of the way of the noise of the inn,
and Mistress Mary took the charge of him, with Miss Blake to help
her, and in all the excitement and stir in the place that quiet upper
chamber and its occupant were well-nigh forgotten.
Saturday was a day of rejoicing to the town. It was said that help was
at hand, though none knew exactly from whence it was coming. A report
that eight thousand troops from France had been landed to quell the
insurrection in the West was proved to be untrue. Messengers had been
sent out from the Duke in various directions, and the people believed
that great things would come of it. The march upon London was still
eagerly spoken of, and it was in all men's mouths that news was daily
looked for of a rising there; whilst lower whispers declared that there
was a plot on foot to stab the usurping King in Whitehall, and that
Colonel Danvers had declared he believed it would soon be done, the
people being so incensed against him, and that then the Duke would only
have to march boldly forward to find himself King of all the realm.
The temper of the soldiers was so loyal and fervent that all the
Taunton men were permitted to go home to see their wives that day,
on the promise of returning on the morrow; and that promise they
faithfully fulfilled. And I trust that Taunton felt something ashamed
of its panic of a few days since when tidings reached it of the bravery
of the Duke's army, and the successes it had gained.
My lord heard all this with great quietness, and it was Mistress Mary's
eyes that kindled and glowed and flashed as I came in and out with
news. Not that any plot for assassination found favour in her pure
eyes; but she said with grave severity of mien,--
"A man does but reap that which he sows. If ever monarch has sowed evil
and cruelty and injustice, it is he who now sits upon England's throne.
God is in heaven, judging right; and if He send him a quick retribution
in this life, it may be that he will find pardon in the world to come."
Sunday dawned fair and clear, and we had no thoughts of what a day it
would be for us. I had heard that the Rev. Robert Ferguson, of whom
mention has been made, who was one of the Duke's chiefest advisers and
the chaplain to the army, was to preach to the soldiers upon the Castle
Green that morning; and I was very anxious to hear him, albeit I had
taken a great dislike to the man from some words dropped anent him by
my lord, who made no secret of his distrust of the fellow. He had been
hoping to preach at Taunton in St. Mary Magdalene's Church two Sundays
before, had it not been decided to move from that city upon that day.
He had even made a raid on Mr. Harte's house in Taunton, where he
seldom was to be found, since he lived at his Cathedral residence, and
left Mr. Axe in charge there, and had robbed him of a gown in which to
enter the pulpit. But the sermon had after all never been preached, and
now we were to hear it in Bridgewater.
I remember little of the discourse save the text, which was received
with a murmur of approbation when it was spoken, though afterwards I
remember that I thought of it with a certain thrill of dismay,--"The
Lord God of gods, the Lord God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall
know; if it be IN REBELLION, or if in transgression against
the Lord (save us not this day)."
Mistress Mary was with me, and listened to every word, and went back
to her lover with a new light in her eyes and colour on her cheek. I
fear I looked more at the people than at the preacher, and that his
eloquence was lost upon me. But men said that he had preached a fine
sermon; and when I heard Mistress Mary quote pieces of it to my lord,
I thought it sounded finer and better and purer than it had come from
his lips. I think my lord felt the same, for he presently said with a
smile,--
"I think that thou couldst convert me to anything, sweet Mary; but I
fear the reverend gentleman's remarks would have found but little echo
in mine heart. A man must be true to himself and his cause ere he can
look for others to trust him; and if treachery was ever written upon
any face, it is written on the face of that man."
"But he will not betray the cause?" asked Mistress Mary, breathlessly.
"May be not. He has more to hope from the Duke than from any other man
or any other cause. Self-interest may keep him stanch; but such a man
as that would sell himself anywhere to the highest bidder. I misdoubt
me now that he is not half a spy."
Leaving Mistress Mary and my lord to talk these things over together,
I strolled into the sunny street, for to-day was bright and fine; and
hardly had I gone a few furlongs before I was met by a fellow whose
face and name were known to me--one Richard Godfrey, servant to a
gentleman of the neighbouring village of Chedzoy. He was hot with the
haste with which he had come, and on seeing me he cried out,--
"Hi, Dicon lad! dost know where the Duke of Monmouth--the King--is to
be seen?"
At first I thought him jesting, and answered with a jest; but he
quickly made me understand that he really meant what he said.
"My master has sent me," he said, "to tell the Duke that the King's
army has encamped not six miles away on the plain of Sedgemoor. We saw
them from the church tower this morn, and he sent me to spy out their
numbers, and to bring speedy news thereof to the Duke here. There be
several thousand lying there, close to the village of Weston Zoyland on
Penzoy Pound--thou knowest the place, Dicon. But they be drinking and
revelling, and have no thought, as it seems, of attack. Bring me to the
Duke, and let me tell him all. So is my master's will."
After hearing this, I lost not a moment in conducting the messenger to
the Duke's quarters; and, as good fortune would have it, we met him
coming forth with several of his officers, all of whom were speaking
of a move that day, though whether upon London, or whether into
Gloucestershire, we humble folks did not know.
Upon hearing Godfrey's message great excitement prevailed, and a rapid
move was made towards the church tower, from whence, by the aid of
spy-glasses, we could descry the position of the enemy, and see that
our messenger had brought us true tidings.
Now instantly there came into the minds of the Duke's counsellors
the desire to make a sudden attack by night upon the careless and
unsuspecting foe. We could not see whether they had intrenched
themselves or no, but Godfrey said he would go again and bring us word,
and then guide us over the plain of Sedgemoor by night; for there were
various rhines--as we call the deep water-drains which intersect it--to
be crossed, and only those familiar with the district knew the places
where these were fordable.
Meantime the waggons were loaded up, the soldiers were drawn up and
fed, and preparations made for a march out so soon as the evening
should be come. The soldiers returning from Taunton, whither they had
gone to see their wives or friends, found that they were to be led into
battle that very night, to cut to pieces (as we fondly hoped) the whole
army of the Earl of Feversham!
The greatest joy and enthusiasm prevailed. The men who had seen the
King's troops draw off from Philip's Norton, and who had never met any
serious check, despite the fact that they had not been led to the walls
of Bristol, or been called upon for any very great achievement, felt
confident of winning a great victory over a sleeping and careless army.
When Godfrey returned with the news that the enemy was not intrenched,
that the greatest carelessness prevailed, that officers and men were
drinking themselves drunk, and that Lord Feversham was at Chedzoy
with one of his bodies of horse, the men huzzahed aloud, and tossed
their caps into the air. Visions of easy victory, a routed army, and
abundance of plunder rose up before their eyes, and they only clamoured
to be led against the foe as fast as they could travel.
Godfrey was our leader. He advised the Duke not to take the direct
route to Weston Zoyland, because the Earl had placed bodies of horse
to guard that road; and we must also make a circuit to avoid Chedzoy,
where more dragoons had been posted. Our way lay along the Eastern
Causeway, as the lane is called, as far as Peasy Farm, and then bearing
round to the south, we should march straight down upon them, leaving
Chedzoy on our right.
How shall I describe the brave show that our army made marching forth
in the bright sunshine of that July evening?--the horsemen with my
Lord Grey (the Duke would not divide the cavalry, as some wished him
to do, though, had my lord the Viscount been there, methinks he would
have put one half under his charge); then the foot-soldiers, the
Blue, the White, the Red, the Green, the Yellow regiments, as well as
the independent company from Lyme; and behind these the waggons of
artillery and the four field-pieces. Never had I seen a more gallant
sight; and I could no more keep away from following than a bee can
tear himself from a flower. Blackbird was as eager as I, and as much
excited; and I rode ahead beside Godfrey, and let him ease himself by
resting a hand on Blackbird's neck as we went.
At first we did not hasten, for we wanted the darkness to fall before
we emerged from the shelter of the lanes upon the open moor. And as
we wended our way through the gathering dusk, we talked of the great
things that would follow this coming victory, and how, when once the
King's army had dispersed before us, we should march unimpeded to
London to set the crown upon the royal victor's head.
The march of a great host is a more tedious matter than one would
believe who has not seen it, and darkness had fallen before we reached
the moor. This was what we wanted; but the darkness was bewildering
too, and the crossing of the two great rhines which lay in our path
became more difficult than had been supposed. Indeed Godfrey lost his
way altogether for a time, so that some have said he betrayed us and
the cause, and have spoken much ill of him. But I am well assured that
such was not so, for I was hard by him all that strange journey, and I
am very sure that he did his best to lead us by the right road.
The troops, as you may guess, were thrown somewhat into disorder by
the passing of these fords; and now believing that the rival army lay
before us without intrenchment or defence of any kind, and being hot
and eager for the struggle, the men marched very fast, and so increased
the disorder in their ranks.
After passing the second rhine, we were (according to Godfrey) not more
than a mile from the enemy; and here the Duke halted, and I heard that
the cavalry were ordered to advance, followed by the guns, and that the
foot were to get into rank and follow to support the horse so soon as
the first charge had been made.
And how shall I describe that battle, fought in the darkness of a
summer night, about which so many stories are told that one's brain
reels with the effort of trying to understand and piece together all
that is spoken concerning it? Perhaps I had better content myself with
telling as far as I can remember what I myself saw and heard, though my
recollections are indistinct, and so mixed with the tales afterwards
heard that sometimes I scarce know what it was I saw in person, and
what it was that was afterwards told me.
But at least I know that when the horse had started I followed behind
them on Blackbird, too eager to feel fear, and resolved, should a
splendid and victorious charge be made, to be the first to carry back
the news of it to the Duke, who remained with the infantry.
Up till now we believed that our approach had been unknown to the
carelessly-guarded army; but we knew that it could not remain unknown
much longer. The horse were charging straight upon the camp, when
suddenly there came a halt, some angry and dismayed exclamations, and
the sudden accidental discharge of a pistol. Who fired the shot has
never been known; it was believed to have been an accident, caused by
the dismay which seized the horse on finding that a deep rhine--the Old
Bussex Rhine--of which Godfrey seemed to know nothing lay between them
and the camp on Penzoy Pound.
Immediately confusion reigned, but the word was given to skirt along
and find a ford. In the darkness and disorder I knew little of what
passed; but the whole place was astir--sentries were calling, the
rattle of arms was heard, when suddenly I heard a shout which told me
that our men were across the rhine. Next moment the darkness was lit up
by a flash of fire, whilst the terrible roll of musketry rang through
the night air. These volleys were repeated again and again; yet it
seemed but a few minutes before I was almost carried off my feet by the
return of our horsemen, who came galloping back in confusion and dismay.
"What has happened?" I cried breathlessly, as Blackbird was carried
along by the backward rush of the snorting horses, terrified at the
flash and smell and noise of fire-arms, so that their riders could not
control them even had they desired to lead them again against the foe.
Then one said one thing and one another; but all agreed that we
were betrayed, that the cause was lost, that the enemy was securely
intrenched behind a deep fosse, and that those of the horse who had
crossed it would never come back alive.
At that methinks some spirit not mine own possessed me, for I fell into
a kind of fury, and called out to those about me,--
"Men, if you be men and not cowards, follow me for the sake of
England's honour, and strike one blow for freedom and the Duke, if we
die for it!"
Then pulling up Blackbird, and making him wheel round sorely against
his will, I seized an axe from the belt of one of the men near to
me, and galloped furiously back toward the camp, where the battle was
raging hotly.
I know not how many came with me; some twenty or thirty, I think. I
trow I must surely have been mad at that moment; but I cared not what
befell me, so that I struck but one blow for the cause I loved. And
I think that the fury of my spirit entered into Blackbird, for he no
longer feared to face the flash of fire nor the rattle of the muskets,
and even the boom of the great field-pieces only made him gallop the
more willingly. I think it was his instinct that led us to the place
where the rhine could be crossed, or else he leaped clean over it. For
the next minute I and some score of followers were charging through the
enemy's camp, scattering right and left all who opposed us, and for the
moment spreading confusion in our train.
"King Monmouth! King Monmouth!" I shouted at the top of my voice, as I
waved my axe about my head, feeling that I could slay the veriest giant
as though he had been a child; and indeed I did cut down more than one
adversary who aimed a blow at me as I swept past.
"Down with all usurpers! Death to all traitors and Papists! King
Monmouth! King Monmouth for England!"
Shouting these words, and charging through the camp like furies, I and
my few followers dashed on madly, whilst behind us we heard the tide
of battle raging, and knew not how the day would turn. Suddenly we
were brought to a halt by a shock the like of which I had never felt
before. We had flung ourselves in the darkness upon a compact mass of
horsemen, drawn up in Weston Zoyland by the Earl of Feversham himself
(as I heard later), and about to start forth to the relief of those in
front.
"Down with the traitors! No quarter!" I heard shouted, as the awful
shock brought Blackbird to a standstill, flinging him back on his
haunches, and nearly knocking the breath out of my body.
I remember setting my teeth and trying to pray; for I was assured that
my last hour had now come, and was surprised that I felt no fear,
being yet full of the overmastering fury which had first possessed me
when I saw the flight of Lord Grey's horse. But quicker than lightning
Blackbird had recovered himself; and wheeling round with that dexterous
agility of which he was such a master, he was off through the darkness
like a flash, whither I knew not. I heard a rattle behind me; there
was a whizzing and singing in my ears. The right arm, with which I was
still holding my axe, dropped numb to my side, although I felt no pain.
A sort of mist came round me. The sound of the battle reached my ears
like a continuous hum. I found myself thinking that I was in church,
and that the organ was playing; then I remember nothing more for what
seemed to me an immense time, and woke to find myself lying in a ditch
with Blackbird above me, and the clear light of a summer's morning
breaking slowly in the east.
Where was I? what had happened? and what meant all that noise of crying
and shouting, groaning and shrieking, which assailed my ears?