A YORKIST VICTORY AND A LANCASTRIAN REVENGE.
In the summer of 1459 Margaret of Anjou carried the Prince of Wales on
a progress through Chester, of which he was earl. The queen's object
being to enlist the sympathies of the men of the north, she caused
her son, then in his sixth year, to present a silver swan, which had
been assumed as his badge, to each of the principal adherents of the
house of Lancaster. Margaret had left the County Palatine, and was
resting from her fatigues at Eccleshall, in Staffordshire, when she
received intelligence that the Yorkists were in motion; that the duke
was arraying the retainers of Mortimer beneath the Plantagenet banner;
that Warwick was on his way from Calais with a body of warriors trained
to arms by Bedford and Talbot; and that Salisbury, at the head of five
thousand merry men of Yorkshire, was moving from Middleham Castle to
join his son and his brother-in-law at Ludlow.
Notwithstanding the rout of her friends at St. Albans, Margaret was
not daunted at the prospect of another trial of strength. Perhaps,
indeed, she rather rejoiced that the Yorkist chiefs afforded a fair
opportunity of executing her vengeance and effecting their ruin.
Her measures, with that purpose, were taken with characteristic
promptitude. She issued orders to James Touchet, Lord Audley, to
intercept Salisbury's march; and at the same time summoned Thomas, Lord
Stanley, to join the Lancastrian army with all his forces. Stanley,
who was son-in-law of Salisbury, answered that he would come in all
haste, but failed to keep his promise. Audley, however, exhibited
more devotion to the Red Rose. On receiving the queen's commands, he
undertook to bring her one Yorkist chief dead or alive; and hastily
assembling a force of ten thousand men in Cheshire and Shropshire,
boldly threw himself between the earl and the duke. On the evening of
Saturday, the 22d of September, Audley came face to face with Salisbury
at Bloreheath, within a short distance of Drayton, anciently the seat
of those Bassets who fought with so much distinction in the wars of the
first Edward.
The position of the Yorkists was the reverse of pleasant. The
Lancastrian army was greatly superior in number, and Audley had the
advantage of being posted by the side of a stream, of which the banks
were particularly steep. But Salisbury was not to be baffled. Seeing
that there was little prospect of success in the event of his crossing
to attack, the earl resolved on a military stratagem, and gave orders
that his army should encamp for the night.
Early on the morning of Sunday--it was St. Tecla's Day--Salisbury set
his men in motion; and, having caused his archers to send a flight
of shafts across the river toward Audley's camp, feigned to retreat.
Audley soon showed that he was no match for such an enemy. Completely
deceived, the Lancastrian lord roused his troops to action, caused his
trumpets to sound, and gave orders for his army passing the river. His
orders were promptly obeyed. The men of Cheshire, who composed the van,
dashed into the water, and plunged through the stream; but scarcely had
they commenced ascending the opposite banks when Salisbury turned, and
attacked them with that degree of courage against which superiority
of numbers is vain. The battle was, nevertheless, maintained for
hours, and proved most sanguinary. The loss of the Yorkists was indeed
trifling,[4] but more than two thousand of the Red Rose warriors
perished in the encounter. Audley himself was slain, and with him some
of the foremost gentlemen of Cheshire and Lancashire, among whom were
the heads of the families of Venables, Molyneux, Legh, and Egerton. The
queen, who witnessed the defeat of her adherents from the tower of a
neighboring church, fled back to digest her mortification at Eccleshall.
The Earl of Salisbury soon found that his success was calculated to
convert neutrals into allies. Lord Stanley, on receiving the queen's
message, had gathered a force of two thousand men; but, being reluctant
to commit himself on either side, he contrived, on the day of battle,
to be six miles from the scene of action. On hearing of the result,
however, he sent a congratulatory letter to his father-in-law; and
Salisbury, showing the epistle to Sir John Harrington, and others of
his knights, said, jocosely, "Sirs, be merry, for we have yet more
friends."
The contest between York and Lancaster now assumed a new aspect.
Salisbury, rejoicing in a victory so complete as that of Bloreheath,
formed a junction with York at Ludlow; and the duke, perceiving that
moderation had been of so little avail, and believing that his life
would be in danger so long as Margaret of Anjou ruled England, resolved
henceforth upon pursuing a bolder course. He could not help remembering
that he was turned of forty, an age at which, as the poet tells us,
there is no dallying with life; and he began to consider that the time
had arrived to claim the crown which was his by hereditary right.
Having resolved no longer, by timidity in politics, to play the game
of his enemies, York set up his standard and summoned his friends to
Ludlow. Fighting men came from various parts of England, and assembled
cheerily and in good order at the rendezvous; while, to take part in
the civil war, Warwick brought from Calais those veterans who, in other
days, had signalized their valor against foreign foes. The projects of
the Yorkists seemed to flourish. Salisbury's experience, knowledge,
and military skill were doubtless of great service to his friends; and
having thrown up intrenchments, and disposed in battery a number of
bombards and cannon, they confidently awaited the enemy.
Meanwhile, the Lancastrians were by no means in despair. The king,
having, with the aid of the young Dukes of Somerset and Exeter, drawn
together a mighty army at Worcester, sent the Bishop of Salisbury to
promise the Yorkists a general pardon if they would lay down their
arms. The Yorkists, however, had learned by severe experience what
the king's promises were worth, and received the bishop like men who
were no longer to be deluded. "So long," said they, "as the queen has
supreme power, we have no faith in the king's pardon; but," they added,
"could we have assurance of safety, we should express our loyalty, and
humbly render ourselves at the king's service."
The king, having received the answer of the insurgent chiefs, advanced
on the 13th of October to the Yorkist camp, and made proclamation, that
whoever abandoned the duke should have the royal pardon. Though this
appeared to be without effect, the king's army did not commence the
attack. Indeed, the Yorkist ranks were most imposing, and the duke's
guns wrought considerable havoc in the Lancastrian lines. Observing the
formidable attitude of his foes, the king resolved to delay the assault
until the morrow; and, ere the sun again shone, an unexpected incident
had changed the face of matters, and thrown the Yorkists into utter
confusion.
Among those who heard the king's proclamation was Andrew Trollope,
captain of the veterans whom Warwick had brought from Calais. This
mighty man-at-arms had served long in the French wars, and cared not
to draw his sword against the son of the Conqueror of Agincourt.
After listening to the king's offers of pardon, and considering the
consequences of refusing them, Trollope resolved upon deserting; and,
at dead of night, he quietly carried off the Calais troops, and making
for the royal camp, revealed the whole of York's plans.
When morning dawned, and Trollope's treachery was discovered, the
adherents of the White Rose were in dismay and consternation. Every
man became suspicious of his neighbor; and the duke was driven to the
conclusion that he must submit to circumstances. No prospect of safety
appearing but in flight, York, with his second son, the ill-fated Earl
of Rutland, departed into Wales, and thence went to Ireland; while
Salisbury and Warwick, with the duke's eldest son, Edward, escaped to
Devonshire, bought a ship at Exmouth, sailed to Guernsey, and then
passed over to Calais.
The king, on finding that his enemies had fled, became very bold; and
having spoiled the town and castle of Ludlow, and taken the Duchess of
York prisoner, he called a Parliament. As measures were to be taken to
extinguish the Yorkists, no temporal peer, unless known as a stanch
adherent of the Red Rose, received a summons; and Coventry was selected
as the scene of revenge; for, since the unfortunate result of the
Commission at Guildhall, the queen looked upon London as no place for
the execution of those projects on which she had set her heart. Away
from the metropolis, however, Margaret found herself in a position to
do as she pleased; and at Coventry Bloreheath was fearfully avenged.
With little regard to law, and still less regard to prudence, the most
violent courses were pursued: York, Salisbury, Warwick, and their
friends, were declared traitors; and their estates, being confiscated,
were bestowed on the queen's favorites. The chiefs of the White Rose
appeared utterly ruined; and England was once more at the feet of "The
Foreign Woman."