THE CAMISADE.
Good watch was kept--the sentinels were at their posts--but the
quietude of the camp proved that no apprehensions of attack were
entertained.
"Kerioth would have been surprised and taken had I not received
this warning," mentally ejaculated Cromwell, as he rode up to the
commander's tent.
Lilburn had thrown himself on a couch, but hearing Cromwell's approach
he sprang to his feet, and met him at the entrance of the tent.
After a brief consultation between the generals, it was decided that
neither drums should be beaten nor trumpets blown, lest the sounds
should be heard by the enemy, but that the slumbering soldiers should
be quietly roused to arms; and this was done by Lilburn in person.
Meanwhile, Colonel Lindsey had arrived with the life guards from
Spetchley, and putting himself at their head, Cromwell rode to the
outpost nearest the city.
This outpost was about three hundred yards from the camp, on the slope
of the hill, not far from the London-road, and was stationed in a field
bordered on the north and north-east by high-banked hedges.
The night can scarcely be described as dark, though the sky was
covered with lazily-moving clouds, but through these the moon
burst occasionally. The old city, with its towers, steeples, and
fortifications, could be distinguished through the gloom; but no lights
were visible within it, and no sounds from it arose. So profound was
the stillness, that it might have been supposed that the inhabitants
and their defenders were alike buried in slumber, and that no attacking
party could be waiting to sally forth.
As Cromwell, with the life guards, cautiously descended the hill,
keeping under cover of the hedges, three-quarters past midnight was
struck by the cathedral clock--proclaiming that the hour was close at
hand.
The outpost reached by Cromwell was guarded by two hundred and fifty
foot and two hundred horse, but three hundred of the best troopers in
his army being now added, he deemed this force quite sufficient to
repel the attack.
Little time was left, but luckily those on guard at the outpost were
on the alert. Having placed his troops with the quickness and skill
peculiar to him, the Lord General stationed himself on a small woody
mound in the centre of the field, whence he commanded the approach
to the Sidbury-gate, and awaited the sortie with some impatience, but
without the slightest anxiety. Close behind him were Dighton and a
couple of cuirassiers.
He had not to wait long. While the single stroke of the cathedral bell
yet vibrated through the air, and was echoed by the clocks of the other
churches, the gate yawned wide, and a troop of sheeted spectres--for
such they seemed in the gloom--issued forth. The ghostly band formed
three regiments--the first being commanded by General Middleton, the
second by Sir William Keith, the third by Colonel Legge.
The troops came forth from the Sidbury-gate and formed in silence. If
any orders were given they did not reach Cromwell's ears, though he
was listening intently; and the ghostly appearance of the horsemen was
fully preserved until Middleton dashed off with the greatest rapidity,
when the clatter of hoofs and the jingling of arms proved that the
phantoms were substantial soldiers. The second regiment followed
instantly, galloping along the London-road as swiftly as the first; but
a momentary interval occurred before Colonel Legge started. The cause
of this brief delay was perfectly intelligible to Cromwell, and he gave
some orders to Dighton, who rode off at once to Colonel Lindsey.
Meanwhile, the two foremost regiments came on at full speed, and dashed
past the field in which the outpost was stationed, making it evident
that their point of attack was Lilburn's camp on the brow of the hill,
and showing that the outpost would be dealt with by the regiment that
followed.
In obedience to Cromwell's orders not a shot had been fired, and
Colonel Legge came on uncertain as to how he would be received by the
enemy. Easy access to the field could be obtained at several points
known to the Royalists, and small parties of men entered at these
places, but the main body, led by Colonel Legge, broke through the
hedge skirting the London-road, and were received by ranks of pikemen
three deep, the front rank kneeling, the centre stooping, and the rear
standing upright, and forming an almost impassable barrier. On the
flanks, right and left, were posted musketeers, who poured a terrible
volley upon the enemy as they gained the field.
Several saddles were emptied. Nevertheless, Colonel Legge, shouting to
his men to follow, charged the pikemen with the greatest intrepidity,
but it was impossible to cut through their ranks. Many horses were
killed in the charge, and others so desperately hurt that they bore
back their riders in spite of all efforts to force them on. Colonel
Legge's charger, though badly hurt, had still strength enough left to
sustain its rider, but would not again face the deadly pikes.
Caught as in a trap, it seemed as if the unfortunate Royalists must all
be slaughtered, but turning from the pikemen, Colonel Legge charged
the musketeers with a fury that proved irresistible. Having gained the
open field with such of his men as had been able to follow him, he
was joined by the others, who having entered at different points had
hitherto taken no part in the conflict. But before they could form they
were charged by Colonel Lindsey, at the head of the life guards, and so
shattered, that they could not recover, but fled from the field in the
greatest disorder, hurrying towards the Sidbury-gate faster than they
had quitted it. Many were shot while jumping the hedges, or pressing
through the gates. Colonel Legge was the last to retreat. His horse
carried him out of reach of the foe, and then dropped.
Cromwell watched the conflict from the mound on which he had taken his
stand, and did not quit his position during the short time occupied by
the conflict.
"It is the Lord God that fighteth for us. He it is that hath enabled us
to scatter them thus quickly," he exclaimed, as the Royalists fled in
disorder. "Pursue them not, but prepare to cut off the retreat of those
pestilent malignants who have gone on to attack the camp above--lest,
peradventure, they escape the snare laid for them."
It happened as Cromwell had foreseen. Instead of finding Lilburn
unprepared, when General Middleton and Sir William Keith reached the
camp on the hill, they quickly discovered that their design had been
betrayed. Duped by stratagems which they ought to have suspected, they
entered the camp, but had scarcely done so, when they were completely
surrounded by a force more than trebling their own.
Thus entrapped it would seem that nothing was left to Middleton but to
surrender. But the brave general was undismayed by numbers, and when
summoned to surrender, answered by a charge so fierce and impetuous
that the ranks of the enemy opened, and, ere they could close again, he
and his two regiments had passed safely through.
Down the hill they dashed at a headlong pace, and, though hotly pursued
by Lilburn, very few of them were captured. Luckily for the fugitives,
Cromwell was not able to get his life guards out of the field in
time to intercept them, or their utter destruction would have been
inevitable. As it was, they escaped with very little loss, considering
the terrible hazard they had encountered.
On reaching the nearest outpost of the royal army, Middleton found
Colonel Legge, and learnt the disaster that had befallen him.
"I cannot carry this bad news to his majesty," said Legge. "Tell him
what has happened."
"The king will not reproach you," said Middleton. "You have done your
best. We have been betrayed."
"That is certain," said Sir William Keith. "Lilburn was prepared for
us."
"And Cromwell himself was with the outpost when I attacked it," said
Colonel Legge. "I knew it not till too late."
"Would I had known it!" cried Middleton, furiously. "He should not have
lived to boast of this triumph. One of his spies has served him well on
this occasion. I will not rest till I have discovered the traitor."
"Lesley may help you to find him," said Legge.
"No; Lesley knew nothing of this," rejoined Middleton. "But come with
me to the king, and get it over. A word will explain all. We have been
betrayed."
[Illustration: OLD HOSTELRY OF GREY FRIARS.]