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CHAPTER XXIV.
WHAT CHARLES BEHELD FROM THE SUMMIT OF THE CATHEDRAL TOWER

Brightly dawned the fatal 3rd of September, 1651, as if the day just breaking were destined to be one of peace and rejoicing rather than of strife and bloodshed. But the gladdening influence of the sunshine that gilded its towers, spires, and pinnacles could not dispel the gloom hanging over the devoted city. Men sprang from their restless couches oppressed with the sense that the dreadful contest in which they must of necessity take part was close at hand. Before night the king's fate would probably be decided. If he fell, the city dedicated to his cause would fall with him.

This conviction forced itself upon the minds of all who arose that morn in Worcester. After arming themselves, many of the soldier citizens looked round at their quiet homes as if taking leave of them for ever, or gazed with unspeakable anguish at their wives and children, well knowing the beloved ones would not be spared if the ruthless Parliamentarians should obtain the mastery. Some few were unmanned, but the majority faced the terrible situation resolutely, and conquered their emotion. Of victory they had now but little hope, yet they did not absolutely despair, since in war there is always a chance. Their word had been given to the king, and it must be kept, be the consequences what they might. If they could not secure him the throne they could die for him, and they were determined to sell their lives dearly. As to surrender, such a thought never occurred to these loyal folks, and if advantageous terms had been offered by Cromwell they would have rejected the dishonouring proposal with scorn.

Half an hour before daybreak the reveillé was beaten in the streets, the citizens who belonged to the different corps having been ordered to muster at an early hour on the College Green, at the Cross, and in other places. To these different points they were now marching, and the clank of arms resounded in all quarters.

The men of Worcester were not inexperienced in military service, most of them having been engaged in the two previous sieges of the city. A considerable number were employed on the walls and fortifications to assist the regular artillerymen, but others were formed into companies, each corps being commanded by a skilled officer. These companies were intended as a reserve force. The city being under military rule, the authority of the mayor was to a certain extent superseded, but he had quite enough to do as commander of the mounted civic guard, which being augmented by recruits brought by gentlemen of the county new formed a regiment four hundred strong.

All the gates of the city were strongly guarded, and, as already intimated, the Foregate, which formed the principal outlet on the north, had been walled up. No one, without an order, could cross the bridge; and no boats, except the large flat-bottomed ferry-boats employed for the transit of troops and horses, were allowed on the river.

Grim war had set its stamp on Worcester. Since the citizens had all become soldiers, there seemed to be soldiers everywhere – none but soldiers. No women were abroad; they were afraid to stir forth, and would fain have barricaded their dwellings. The clank of arms, the beating of drums, the call of the bugle, were the only sounds heard in the streets.

The churches were open, and those who chose stepped in to breathe a prayer – the last, perhaps, they might ever utter. Alas! how those sacred edifices were soon afterwards profaned! The taverns likewise were open – indeed, they had been open all night – and were full of Cavaliers fortifying themselves before assembling for duty with a morning's draught of canary. A large body of the mounted civic guard was drawn up in front of the Guildhall awaiting the mayor's appearance, while small detachments were patrolling the streets. In the Corn Market the king's body-guard was assembled, ready to escort his majesty to the cathedral.

As soon as it became light, anxious looks were directed towards the strong intrenchments thrown up by Cromwell on Perry Wood, and to the camp on Red Hill, but no movements were distinguishable at either place.

Charles was as early astir as any of the citizens. He had slept soundly on the last night he was destined to pass at Worcester, and awoke refreshed and in good spirits, fully prepared for any perils and fatigue he might encounter. Had he known all he would have to go through during the next twenty-four hours he might have felt grateful for the good night's rest he had enjoyed.

Half an hour before daybreak he was roused by Careless, and after making a hearty breakfast with Lord Derby, put on his armour and rode with the earl to the cathedral.

A council of war had been summoned to meet the king soon after daybreak on the summit of the cathedral tower, whence the whole surrounding district could be surveyed, and the movements of the enemy more easily discovered than from any other post of observation in the city, and his majesty was now proceeding to the place of rendezvous.

Alighting at the northern portal, Charles and the Earl of Derby entered the sacred edifice, and found the Duke of Hamilton, the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Lauderdale, Lord Talbot, Lord Wilmot, Lord Rothes, and several other distinguished personages, assembled in the nave.

All being fully armed, they formed a very striking group. The anxious expression of their countenances, which none cared to conceal, showed how deeply they were impressed with the perilous position of affairs. Charles appeared far more hopeful than his generals, and returned their grave salutations with a cheerfulness that surprised some of those who expected to find him despondent.

Massey had so far recovered from his wounds that he was able to attend the council, and Pitscottie was likewise present; but Montgomery, Keith, Drummond, Dalyell, and Sir Alexander Forbes were necessarily absent, and Lesley had sent an excuse.

Several small groups of soldiers were collected within the cathedral, and amongst them were half a dozen Highlanders, who formed Pitscottie's guard.

Inviting the members of the council to follow him, the king proceeded to the north aisle of the choir, in which was the entrance to a spiral stone staircase communicating with the tower. Two musketeers were stationed at this door. Careless mounted first; the king went next, and the others followed, as they might, in no particular order.

In the belfry, which he soon reached, Charles found Middleton and Colonel Legge, and was well pleased to see them, but being impatient, he scarcely paused a moment, and quickly ascended a second circular staircase, narrower and steeper than the first, and soon gained the summit of the tower.

A wide and beautiful prospect now lay before him, but it was not the beauty or extent of the landscape that attracted him. The lofty post he had attained enabled him to see the whole of the adjoining districts on the south and south-east of the city, Red Hill and Perry Wood, both banks of the river, the junction of the Teme and the Severn, Powick with its church crowning a woody eminence, and all the country skirting the right bank of the Severn, and lying between Powick and Upton.

But before proceeding with our description, let us say a word about the cathedral tower, on the summit of which the king stood.

Some five centuries old, being finished in 1374, this structure, one of the finest in the kingdom, and the richest in embellishment, is upwards of one hundred and sixty feet high, measured from the roof of the central transept from which it springs. Exquisite tabernacle work surrounds the upper stage, and the eastern façade is ornamented by figures, one of which represents Edward III., at the latter end of whose reign the tower was completed. Viewed from all points, owing to the position of the reverend pile it adorns, the tower appears to singular advantage.

About fifty years subsequent to the date of our history, this noble structure was repaired – judiciously repaired, we are bound to add – and the existing pinnacles and battlements were erected. In other respects it is unaltered since Charles II.'s time, except what has been done internally in the belfry and clock-chamber by the unwearied exertions of the Rev. Richard Cattley, one of the present minor canons of the cathedral.⁶ As the battlements at the time of our history were more than six feet high, a wooden platform had been constructed to enable the king and his attendants to look over them without inconvenience. Above the tower, on a tall flag-staff, floated the royal standard.

Springing up the wooden steps Charles leaned over the south parapet, and gazed eagerly at the posts of the enemy. In another minute the whole of the battlements were thronged, and a dozen field-glasses anxiously directed towards Perry Wood and Red Hill.

The main body of the Parliamentary army which now occupied the former post remained stationary, but it was evident that some movement was taking place on the western slopes of Red Hill – probably in the direction of the Severn – and thinking this might be so, Charles directed his scrutiny to the near bank of the river, but though he scanned it carefully for a couple of miles he could discern nothing to justify alarm. The river that flowed past the lofty pile on which he stood was nowhere disturbed. Next following the Teme from its point of junction with the larger river – its course being easily traced by the withies and willows fringing its banks – his eye rested on the old bridge of Powick. A desperate effort he had always felt would be made by the enemy, early in the day, to secure this pass; but he did not foresee, nor did any of his generals foresee, the skilful manœuvre by which its capture would be effected.

Charles had every reliance on General Montgomery's vigilance and bravery, supported as he was by Colonel George Keith.

Viewed from the cathedral tower on that bright morning, Powick seemed close at hand, and though the old bridge was partially veiled in a slight mist arising from the river, Montgomery's brigade could be seen drawn up on Wykefield, a large meadow, close beside it – the helmets and accoutrements of the men flashing in the sunbeams.

Satisfied that Montgomery was on the alert, and that no immediate danger threatened him, Charles continued his inspection, and, with his field-glass, swept the district lying between Powick and Upton.

Suddenly an exclamation broke from him that caused all the other glasses to be turned in the same direction as his own, and it was then perceived by all that a large body of cavalry was skirting the Old Hills.

Almost immediately afterwards another regiment of horse could be descried somewhat nearer the Severn. Both were evidently advancing upon Powick Bridge.

"That must be Fleetwood's brigade," cried Charles, still keeping his glass fixed on the troops.

"Your majesty is right," observed Massey, who was standing behind the king. "It is Fleetwood's regiment – Ingoldsby is nearer the river – and with him are Goff and Gibbons. The troops coming through Woodsfield copse, if I mistake not, are commanded by General Deane. Montgomery will have enough to do to maintain the bridge against such odds."

"He must be reinforced – and quickly," cried Charles. "No troops can be spared from the city. Dalyell must send a detachment from St. John's. Careless shall take a message to him at once."

"I will go myself, sire," said Massey, "and take command of the detachment."

"But have you strength enough for the task, general?"

"My strength will return when I meet the enemy," rejoined Massey.

Charles did not attempt to stay him, and he departed.

Again the king watched the regiments advancing from Upton. They came on slowly and cautiously, while the skirmishers scoured the fields and lanes.

"How is this?" cried Charles, angrily. "Are they to be allowed to reach Powick without hindrance?"

"Not so, my liege," replied Middleton, who had taken Massey's place behind the king. "They will meet with a warm reception anon. Look more closely, and you will perceive that the hedges are lined with soldiers. Those are your new recruits, and they are just the men for this sort of work. Ah! they are beginning in earnest now."

As he spoke, firing was heard in the distance, and looking in the direction of the sound, Charles perceived that several of the skirmishers had been shot down, while the riderless horses were careering wildly over the field.

A stronger party was instantly sent on to clear the hedges. But this was no easy task. General Middleton was right. The new recruits understood this kind of fighting. Excellent marksmen, and well posted, they gave their enemies a vast deal of trouble. Driven from one spot, they quickly took up another position, and even while retreating managed to do considerable execution. Their officers knew every inch of ground, and where to place them. Advantage was taken of every lane and defile, and the enemy's progress towards Powick was very considerably checked.

Among the officers who commanded these gallant little bands, which were scattered about the coppices and orchards in order to distract the enemy, and if possible throw him into confusion, were Colonel Lane, Captain Hornyold, and Sir Rowland Berkeley of Cotheridge. Sir Rowland rode a piebald horse, and the peculiarity of his steed caused him to be remarked by Colonel Goff. In Sir Rowland's corps were Lieutenant Vosper and Corporal Trubshaw, both of whom displayed great courage. Half of this brave little corps were cut down; but the rest – and Vosper and Trubshaw were among them – reached Powick Bridge, and were then posted with Captain Woolfe in a water-mill on the banks of the Teme.

CHAPTER XXV.
HOW CROMWELL CONSTRUCTED A BRIDGE OF BOATS ACROSS THE SEVERN

Charles and his council were still watching with great interest the desultory fighting previously described, and expressing surprise and admiration at the courage and pertinacity displayed by the recruits, when their attention was suddenly called to a circumstance that materially tended to increase the king's anxiety.

About a mile below the city, on the left bank of the river, is a woody acclivity called Bunn's Hill. It is a fine grassy slope, and the land beyond the summit has a park-like appearance, being ornamented with fine timber and coppices. The high road to Bath, which passes over Bunn's Hill, is distant about half a mile from the Severn. The hill itself slopes towards the river, and there is more rough wood on that side than on the summit. After passing the top, and getting on to the level, the slope towards the Severn becomes somewhat more precipitous, until a place is reached, now called "The Ketch" – about half a mile beyond the summit of the hill. For some distance the bank is then a nearly perpendicular marl rock, some thirty or forty feet in height. Bunn's Hill is not quite half a mile from the confluence of the Teme and the Severn. The appearance of Bunn's Hill was somewhat wilder when Charles gazed at it from the cathedral tower than it is at the present day, but its general features are unchanged.

While looking towards the woody slopes we have just described, the king perceived a large body of soldiers, amounting perhaps to a thousand, issue from a coppice that had hitherto screened them from view. They had with them pontoon-carriages and some cannon, and descending to the banks of the river, selected a favourable spot for their purpose, and immediately began to construct a bridge of boats.

The sight of this operation, which was carried on most expeditiously, greatly excited Charles.

"This must be stopped," he exclaimed. "If yonder pontoon bridge should be completed, Cromwell will cross the river and outflank Montgomery. We ought to have foreseen it."

Then calling to Pitscottie, who stepped towards him instantly, he added, "Haste to your regiment, colonel. Fortunately, it is not far from the spot you have to reach. That bridge of boats must not be completed, or if it should be finished before you arrive, it must be destroyed."

"It shall be done, my liege, if I sacrifice all my men in executing your majesty's order," replied Pitscottie. "Trust me, Cromwell shall never set foot on the west bank of the Severn."

With that Pitscottie disappeared.

In an inconceivably short space of time he was seen crossing the river in one of the large flat-bottomed boats we have before mentioned. His charger and his guard of Highlanders were with him. On reaching the bank, he quickly disembarked, and mounting his steed, galloped off towards his camp, his swift-footed men almost keeping up with him.

Not entirely satisfied with Pitscottie's ability to execute the order given him, Charles was about to send Colonel Legge with a detachment of men to Bunn's Hill to interrupt the pontoniers, but the Duke of Hamilton dissuaded him from the design, saying that the forces round the city must on no account be diminished.

"Rather let a general attack be made upon the enemy on Perry Wood, sire," said Hamilton. "We shall thus most effectually divert Cromwell from his designs on Powick. He cannot be everywhere."

The Earl of Derby coincided with the duke in opinion, but Charles, who had noticed that Fleetwood and Ingoldsby were driving the recruits before them, and drawing near to Powick, became very impatient, and cried out:

"Not till I have conferred with Montgomery and Keith – not till I have seen yon bridge of boats destroyed – must the general attack be made. If Montgomery is forced to retreat, we shall be hemmed in. On my return, we will attack Cromwell's intrenchments on Perry Wood, as proposed, and I will lead the assault in person. To-day will decide our fate. To you, my good Lord Rothes, and to you, brave Sir William Hamilton, a word at parting, as I may not see you again till all is over. To no better hands than yours could the maintenance of the Castle Hill be confided. Hold it to the last. Those who can be spared may accompany me to Powick. The rest must repair to their posts, and hold themselves in readiness for the signal of attack."

Attended by the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, and one or two others who eagerly availed themselves of his permission to accompany him, Charles then quitted the summit of the tower.

Hastily descending the circular stone staircase, he passed out of the cathedral. In another moment he was joined by his attendants, and the whole party proceeded quickly to the quay and embarked in one of the flat-bottomed boats we have previously mentioned. Their horses were brought over in a similar conveyance, under the charge of Careless; and in a third boat came half a dozen musketeers of the guard, who did not even dismount as they were ferried across the river. No time was lost in the disembarkation, and in a few minutes more the king and his attendants were speeding towards Powick, followed by the musketeers.

As they rode on, the continuous rattle of musketry was heard in the direction of Bunn's Hill, and they all concluded that Pitscottie was now actively engaged in checking the attempt of the Republican corps to cross the river at this point by means of the bridge of boats.

Such was the king's opinion – such the opinion of the Earl of Derby – but in reality, before the Scottish leader could bring up his regiment, the bridge of boats was completed.

CHAPTER XXVI.
HOW CROMWELL THREW A FLYING BRIDGE OVER THE TEME

The first person to cross over was no other than Cromwell himself. Under the Lord General's personal superintendence the pontoon bridge had been constructed with the utmost rapidity, and, strange to say, almost without opposition. He crossed the river on foot, at the head of the column of men we have described, and at once prepared for action, for he saw Pitscottie advancing with his regiment of Highlanders to attack him. With the promptitude which he ever displayed, the Lord General took up an excellent position, and after a sharp conflict, during which he was reinforced by a detachment of horse, he drove back the Highlanders with great slaughter.

Pitscottie retreated towards Pitmarston, and satisfied with routing him, Cromwell marched towards the Teme, his object being to throw a flying bridge across that river, so as to allow reinforcements to be sent to Fleetwood and Ingoldsby during their attack upon Montgomery at Powick.

When this important manœuvre was accomplished, he felt he should be master on the west side of the river, since a quick and uninterrupted communication could be kept up with his generals. His progress, however, towards the Teme was not unopposed, but, on the contrary, was seriously obstructed by the Royalist infantry. He had to pass through a meadow, the hedges of which were lined with soldiers, who fired on his men as they marched on. But these obstacles were removed by the troopers, and the Teme being reached, a flying bridge across it was speedily constructed. Thus Cromwell's able plan was accomplished, and he inwardly exulted at its success.

Without a moment's loss of time he sent Dighton, with a detachment, to Fleetwood, to acquaint that general with what had been done.

"Say to him," he added, "that the enemy is now compassed about, and bid him destroy them in the Lord's name."

Though he had no fear that the flying bridge across the Teme could be reached by the enemy, he left a sufficient guard for its protection, and then returned with the rest of his troops to the bridge of boats across the Severn.

The communication between the two bridges was now unobstructed, the enemy having been completely driven off. Cromwell, however, posted a battalion on the west bank of the Severn to defend this important pass.

Before crossing the river, he awaited Dighton's return. This active messenger brought him very satisfactory intelligence.

Fleetwood and Ingoldsby had reached the village of Powick, and were preparing to attack Montgomery's brigade. Lambert was bringing up his regiment to reinforce them, so that their success appeared certain.

"It is rumoured that Charles Stuart himself, with the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Derby, and some others of the malignant leaders, are with General Montgomery," observed Dighton. "From what I could learn they have only just arrived, and will not tarry long."

"They may tarry long enough to see Montgomery driven from the bridge," rejoined Cromwell, with a grim smile. "But no – I do Montgomery wrong. He is brave, and will hold his post as long as it can be held. Colonel George Keith, also, is a good soldier. Mark me, Dighton. Charles Stuart will hurry back to the city as soon as he has given his orders. I will find him employment there."

As he spoke, sharp firing was heard in the direction of Powick Bridge.

"Ha! the attack has commenced," cried Cromwell, to whose ears the sound was music. "Would I were with them. Yet they do not need me. I have no better general than my son-in-law Fleetwood, unless it be Lambert, and he is with him. Together they are resistless."

After listening for a few minutes to the rattle of musketry, which was now mingled with the sound of heavier guns, Cromwell raised his hands, as if invoking a blessing, and exclaimed aloud, so that all might hear:

"The Lord of Hosts go with them, and give them a glorious victory!"

He then crossed the pontoon bridge, and mounting his charger which was in readiness for him, rode up the pleasant slopes of Bunn's Hill, ever and anon turning to look at the conflict going on at Powick Bridge.

Halting for a short time at Red Hill, he gave his final instructions to Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby, both of whom were arrayed for battle, and then rode on to Perry Wood.

On arriving there, he gave instant orders that the largest guns in the battery should open fire on Fort Royal – preparatory to storming the fort.

The order was instantly obeyed. The engineers on the fort at once replied to the cannonade, and what would now be called an "artillery duel" commenced. The outposts of the royal army were likewise fired upon from other points, but no general attack was made on either side.