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CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FIGHT OF POWICK BRIDGE

Meanwhile, a desperate conflict took place between the contending forces at Powick Bridge – hundreds of lives being sacrificed for the possession of this all-important pass.

The grey old bridge still stands, and if the stones could speak, they would have a terrible tale to relate. The situation of the old bridge is singularly peaceful and quiet. At the time of which we treat, there were no habitations near it except a water-mill, and two or three cottages, the village of Powick being about three parts of a mile distant. The bridge is strongly built, and narrow, with angular openings like those of Upton Bridge.

Peaceful as is the spot, it had already been the scene of a bloody conflict between the Parliamentarians and Royalists, in 1642, when Prince Rupert posted himself near a hawthorn-bush on the brow of a bank adjoining Wykefield, and dashed upon the Earl of Essex. But things were now destined to be changed. In front of the bridge, on the road to Powick village, Montgomery's infantry was posted, in ranks, five deep – the men being armed with pikes and carabines.

Attacked by Fleetwood's dragoons, they sustained the onset firmly, killing numbers of men and horses, but on the second charge their ranks were broken, and they were driven across the narrow bridge with great slaughter – many of them jumping into the river to avoid the merciless dragoons who were hewing them down. Deeply dyed with blood, the Teme was almost choked with the bodies of the slain. But it was on the further side of the bridge, at Wykefield, just mentioned as the scene of Rupert's victory nine years before, that the severest part of the contest took place.

On Wykefield, as three or four meadows hereabouts are designated, Montgomery's main body was drawn up, and when the confusion caused by the retreat of the advanced guard could be set right, a fierce attack was made on the Parliamentarians, and so energetic was it that the latter were driven back, and it seemed as if possession of the bridge would be regained by the Royalists. But the success was fleeting.

Another troop of horse came on – the bridge was cleared – Ingoldsby's regiment passed over – and the fight became general on the meadows, and soon extended as far as Rupert's hawthorn-bush.

Just below the bridge, on the left bank of the river, as we have previously mentioned, was a water-mill, and near it were two or three small cottages. The mill, which with its large wheel formed a picturesque object from the bridge, was occupied by a party of recruits, placed there by Montgomery. The party was commanded by Captain Woolfe, and amongst those with him, as we have already intimated, were Lieutenant Vosper and Corporal Trubshaw. These recruits were excellent marksmen, and being thus advantageously posted, did great execution upon the dragoons during the conflict on the bridge. Orders were given to dislodge them, but this was found impossible, owing to the continuous fire kept up by Captain Woolfe and his men. Nor would they have been driven out if the enemy had not set the mill on fire. The old structure was speedily in flames, and for a short time formed a striking object in the terrible picture. The blazing mill and some wooden outbuildings connected with it, which had likewise caught fire, were reflected on the river already dyed of a sanguinary hue, and filled with dying and dead.

While still burning, the mill was surrounded by dragoons, between whom, and the Royalist recruits, a desperate fight took place. With the fire at the back, and the enemy in front, no wonder the Royalists fought fiercely. Some few escaped – but the greater number were killed, or thrown back into the flames. Captain Woolfe and Vosper fought their way out, but poor Trubshaw was not so fortunate. His skull was split, and he staggered back into the fire.

Wykefield was now a complete field of battle, in which many marvellous acts of heroism were performed by the Royalists. Small parties of Cavaliers might be seen scattered over the field engaged against fearful odds – but still fighting furiously, and in some cases overcoming their antagonists. With the remnant of his brave regiment of Highlanders, Pitscottie had joined the fight, and lent what aid he could. But despite their gallant efforts to maintain their ground, the Cavaliers were driven back almost as far as Rupert's hawthorn-bush. Still, the fight went on, though the ranks of the Royalists were much thinned, and their ammunition began to fail. On the other hand, the Parliamentarians were being constantly reinforced.

Considering the inequality of the contending forces – the Parliamentarians being now three to one – the duration of the fight at Powick was remarkable. The contest lasted for nearly two hours, and during this time the Royalists held their ground stoutly against their adversaries.

Montgomery was severely wounded, and could with difficulty sit his horse.

Keith, who had thrown himself into the thick of the fray, in the vain hope of turning the tide, had been taken prisoner. Finding all against him, Montgomery, at last, was compelled to order a retreat, and strove to prevent it from being converted into a total rout.

The advance of the victors was somewhat checked by the soldiers, who lined the hedges, and fired at the enemy from every sheltered spot.

A stand was made at Pitmarston, but it was brief and ineffectual. The rout of the Royalists was then complete, and all who could escape the enemy's sword fled to St. John's, where General Dalyell's brigade was quartered, and where it was thought that the victorious Parliamentarians would be stopped. But such was not the case.

Earlier in the day, alleging that he could not spare them, Dalyell refused to send a detachment of his men with Massey to Powick, and now after a short resistance, which only reflected disgrace upon him, he ordered his brigade to lay down their arms to Fleetwood.

Having thus carried everything before them on the western side of the river, Fleetwood and Ingoldsby prepared to cross the bridge, and enter the doomed city.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
HOW THE BATTERY ON PERRY WOOD WAS TAKEN BY THE KING

The king was not present during any part of the disastrous conflict just described. On arriving at Powick Bridge with his attendants, he found Montgomery and Keith at their post, and confident of their ability to maintain it. No reinforcements had been sent, as yet, by Dalyell, but doubtless they would soon arrive, and Montgomery declared he did not require them.

Continuous firing having been for some time heard in the direction of the Severn, Montgomery, in obedience to his majesty's command, was about to detach a party of men to support Pitscottie, when a Highland soldier arrived in breathless haste bringing intelligence that his leader had been routed by the enemy. Charles could scarcely credit the news, but on ascertaining the full extent of the disaster, he felt the necessity of immediately returning to the city, and preparing against an attack on the south, which might now be expected.

He therefore rode back with his attendants, crossed the river at the palace-ferry, and at once proceeded to the Sidbury-gate, where he found the Duke of Hamilton. From the watch posted on the summit of the cathedral tower, the duke had already heard of Pitscottie's defeat and the construction of the flying bridge across the Teme. He did not for a moment attempt to disguise the perilous position in which his majesty would be placed if Montgomery should be worsted at Powick, and coincided with the king in opinion that the general attack should not be delayed, but advised that a visit should first be paid to Lesley, whom he had not as yet seen that morning.

Acting upon this counsel, Charles, attended by the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, Careless, and a small escort, rode to the Blockhouse fields, where Lesley was stationed with his Scottish horse. He found him with the whole of his large force under arms, and apparently ready for action. But he could not help noticing that Lesley looked exceedingly grave, and not altogether free from uneasiness.

"Is this man really the traitor he is generally thought?" mentally ejaculated Charles. "I will try him. Colonel Lesley," he cried, as he rode up, "I am resolved to take yon battery on Perry Wood. Bid your men prepare for the attack. I shall lead them in person."

On receiving this command, Lesley immediately drew near the king, and said, in a low voice:

"I beseech you not to call upon them to make the attack, sire. They will not follow you."

"Not follow me!" exclaimed Charles, fiercely. "Lesley, you are a traitor!"

"I have already told you, sire," replied Lesley, in the same low voice, "that the men are not to be relied on. They will not fight with your Cavaliers."

"What will they do, then?" demanded Charles, sternly. "Will they utterly desert me in my hour of need? Will they deliver me to the enemy?"

"No, sire; but if, in obedience to your commands, I order them to attack yon battery, not one of them will stir."

Just then the roar of artillery was heard. The battery had opened fire on Fort Royal, and was immediately answered – as we have already described – by the Royalist engineers. The din was heightened by the smaller ordnance of the Blockhouse, which now began to operate – though with little effect – against Cromwell's intrenchments.

"Can you hear this, and stand tamely by?" observed Charles, reproachfully, to Lesley.

"I cannot help it, my liege," was the Scottish leader's answer. "My men are mutinous and will not obey me. Look at them now, and you will be convinced that I speak the truth. But do not, I entreat you, compel me to put their disloyalty to the proof."

Charles cast his eye along the line nearest him, and the sullen and discontented aspect of the men fully confirmed Lesley's assertion.

The Earl of Derby had likewise taken a rapid survey of the regiment, and came to a like conclusion.

"A mutinous spirit evidently prevails among the men," he said to the king, "and may break out at once, if an attempt is made to force them into action. Leave Lesley to manage them. He can do it, if he will."

"'Tis the confounded Kirk committee that has been at work with them," cried Charles. "Lesley," he added, in a low significant tone to the Scottish leader, "you will gain nothing by deserting me; but much – very much – by standing firmly by me at this critical juncture."

"My liege," said Lesley, earnestly, "if you are in jeopardy, I will bring you aid. I cannot promise more."

Obliged to be content with this, Charles rode off with his attendants and escort, and regardless of the enemy's fire, which was now extending along the heights and increasing in fury, proceeded to visit his various outposts.

Very little impression was produced upon Fort Royal by the heavy cannonade directed against it from Perry Wood, nor was any immediate attempt made by the enemy to storm it.

Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby gradually drew closer to the Royalist outposts, but seemed to be awaiting the Lord General's signal for the grand attack. And such, in reality, was the case. From the apparent inertness of the enemy it was erroneously supposed by the Royalists that most of the Parliamentary troops had been drawn to the other side of the Severn. Cromwell, however, had a motive for all he did, and if he delayed the attack, it was because he deemed the right moment for making it had not arrived.

Never was he more cheerful than he appeared to be throughout this trying day. Confident of victory, he yet kept a watchful look-out upon the enemy, and seemed surprised that the attack, which he expected the king to make upon him, should be so long delayed. For this attack, come when it might, he was fully prepared; but as evening began to draw on, and no movement was made by the royal forces, he grew impatient.

"Time will scarcely be allowed us for the work," he said to the officers with him, "yet will I not move till I have full assurance that Fleetwood and Ingoldsby are masters of St. John's, and ready to enter the city."

At this moment a messenger rode up bringing the intelligence he so eagerly desired.

Montgomery was utterly routed – Keith a prisoner – Dalyell had surrendered. Fleetwood and Ingoldsby were preparing to cross the bridge, and enter the city. Lambert was marching towards the bridge of boats, and would soon bring his regiment to Perry Wood. Such was the sum of the despatch. The messenger had to take a circuitous route, or it would have been delivered sooner.

Cromwell could not conceal his satisfaction.

"The Lord of Hosts is with us," he exclaimed. "His holy arm hath gotten us the victory. Nothing remains but to finish the work so well begun. On this day twelvemonth, at Dunbar, the word was, 'The Lord of Hosts.' So let it be to-day. The signal then was, 'We have no white about us.' The same signal shall serve now. Make this known throughout the regiments, and then prepare for action."

While issuing these orders, Cromwell had noticed a movement at the Sidbury-gate, and now fixing his field-glass upon the spot he perceived that the main body of the royal army, horse and foot, was coming forth from the gate, evidently for the purpose of attacking him. He was at no loss to discover that the host was commanded by the king in person, and that Charles was attended by several of his most distinguished nobles. Indeed, from a closer survey, he felt certain that the Dukes of Hamilton and Buckingham were with him.

It was a splendid sight to see that gallant host issue forth from the gate, and familiar as he was with such spectacles, Cromwell watched it for some minutes with great interest – noting the strength of each regiment, and making many shrewd observations to his own officers.

"Charles Stuart hath come forth in all his bravery," he said. "But he and all his host shall be utterly discomfited. Up, and smite them. Spare none of the malignants. As to their prince, take him not captive, but slay him without pity."

Many circumstances had conspired to prevent Charles from making the attack he had meditated upon the enemy until so late in the day. But when he learnt that Dalyell had surrendered he no longer hesitated, but marched forth as we have just described. He was accompanied by the Dukes of Buckingham and Hamilton, the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, Sir Alexander Forbes, and several other distinguished personages, and had with him his best infantry and cavalry, and his bravest Cavaliers.

The command of the right wing was given to the Duke of Hamilton, that of the left to the Earl of Derby, with whom was Colonel Roscarrock, while he himself commanded the centre. Perry Wood was to be attacked on either side, while a charge was made on the battery.

The plan was executed with remarkable quickness and precision. No sooner were the men formed than a general charge was made on Perry Wood, each division taking its appointed course. Such was the impetuosity of the Cavaliers who formed the central body led by the king, that they drove back Cromwell's body-guard who rode down the hill to meet them, and rushing on with irresistible fury broke through the pickets, forced the intrenchments, and putting the artillerymen to the sword, actually obtained possession of the enemy's largest guns.

For a brief space Charles, who had led this wonderful charge – the most brilliant feat performed at the fight of Worcester – seemed master of the position. He was on the very spot just occupied by Cromwell himself, and had taken his guns. The valiant Cavaliers who attended their sovereign raised a shout of triumph, and struck the cannon with their swords.

With the king were Colonel Legge, Colonel Lane, Captain Giffard, Colonel Blague, Marmaduke Darcy, Wogan, and Careless. They had ridden close behind him, and had shared every danger he incurred. Colonel Legge, indeed, had saved the king's life. It was a singular sight to see the royal party on the top of the hill in the midst of the Parliamentarian forces. But their position seemed scarcely tenable, though Hamilton and Derby were pressing on, on either side, to their aid.

Nevertheless, Charles exulted in his brief triumph, and his exultation was shared by his companions. The hitherto invincible Ironclads had retreated before him, and were still in confusion and disorder, while both Hamilton and Derby, animated by the king's success, were driving all before them. Moreover, a most important result had been obtained by the capture of the guns. Fort Royal, which had suffered considerably from the ceaseless cannonade of the battery, was now left unmolested.

At this critical juncture, when his fate hung in the balance, and when the Scottish horse might have helped him to victory, Charles looked anxiously down to the spot where Lesley was posted. He was still there with his troops. But they remained motionless, although their leader must have been aware of the king's success, and must have felt how important aid would be at that moment.

"Does he move? – is he coming?" cried Charles.

"No, sire," rejoined Legge, straining his eyes in the direction of the Scottish cavalry. "He does not stir. Curses on him for a traitor."

"Oh, that Montrose were alive and in his place!" ejaculated Charles, bitterly. "He would not have served me thus!"

"No, sire," observed Careless. "Montrose would have secured you the victory."

It may be that the battle of Worcester was lost by Charles, owing to Lesley's inaction or treachery. If the king's extraordinary success could have been at once followed up, victory might have ensued. Who shall say?

CHAPTER XXIX.
HOW THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER WAS LOST BY THE KING

Cromwell was somewhat disconcerted by the unlooked-for advantage gained by Charles, but he quickly brought his disordered troops to their ranks, and prepared to bring forward his reserves. Like Charles, he looked down to the Blockhouse fields to see what Lesley would do, but was speedily reassured by finding the Scottish horse remain motionless.

"The men of Sechem have dealt treacherously with Abimelech," he said, with a stern smile. "Had Lesley come to his master's aid in time, he might have given me some trouble."

Detaching troops on either side to prevent a junction between the three parties of Royalists, he himself made a determined attack on the king.

The onset was terrible, but Charles and his Cavaliers bore it firmly, and maintained their ground, giving abundant proofs of valour, and showing of what stout stuff they were made, since they could thus resist the attack of Cromwell's veteran troops.

The conflict lasted for a considerable time – much longer, indeed, than Cromwell expected – but when Lambert arrived with his troops it became too unequal, and the Cavaliers were forced to give way. Besides, their ammunition was completely exhausted, and they were obliged to fight with the butt-ends of their muskets. After a most obstinate but ineffectual resistance, they retreated in disorder towards the city.

No junction had taken place between the battalions under the Duke of Hamilton and the Earl of Derby, but neither of these leaders were more successful than the king, though both fought valiantly. The Duke of Hamilton routed a troop of horse, but in a subsequent encounter his horse was shot under him, and he himself was so severely wounded, that he had to be taken from the field, and was conveyed to the Commandery. Sir John Douglas was likewise mortally wounded, and Sir Alexander Forbes, disabled by a shot through both legs, was left in this lamentable condition in Perry Wood during the whole night. Next day he was discovered by the enemy and taken prisoner. Both the Earl of Derby and Roscarrock escaped unhurt, but the battalion commanded by the earl was routed after a gallant fight.

Overpowered on all sides, the Royalists, after sustaining fearful loss, were compelled to retreat into the city. Lesley, who had taken no part whatever in the fight, finding that the day had gone against the king, moved his regiment towards Barbourne Bridge, about a mile on the north of the city, and close to Pitchcroft.

No sooner did Cromwell's engineers regain possession of the great guns than they began to cannonade Fort Royal with redoubled fury. Under this tremendous fire a strong storming party was detached to take the fort, with orders from the Lord General to put all the troops within it to the sword unless they surrendered. The barbarous order was executed. The fort being carried by storm after an obstinate resistance, no quarter was given to its brave defenders. The guns of the fort were then turned upon the city, and being so close to it, caused terrible havoc, and drove all the artillerymen from the walls.

But we must now return to the king. So long as a chance was left him, Charles fought valiantly, and during the retreat, though he failed to rally his disordered troops, he turned several times to face the enemy.

While thus braving the foe for the last time he was left alone, none of his attendants being aware that he had stopped. From the richness of his accoutrements he was at once recognised, and fierce cries were raised:

"'Tis Charles Stuart! – 'tis Jeroboam! The Lord has delivered him into our hands! Slay him – slay him!"

Several pistols were discharged at him, but though the bullets struck his armour, no injury was done him. Most luckily his horse was not hurt, but bore him swiftly and safely to the Sidbury-gate. He was hotly pursued by the Roundhead troopers, who would assuredly have cut him down, according to Cromwell's order, if they had come up with him.

On reaching the Sidbury-gate he found, to his dismay, that it was blocked up by an ammunition waggon, which had been overturned there either by accident or design. One of the oxen that had drawn the waggon was killed on the spot.

Without a moment's hesitation, the king threw himself from his horse, and contrived to creep past the waggon. As he entered Sidbury-street, Mr. William Bagnal, a staunch loyalist, who dwelt in that quarter, rode towards him, and, instantly dismounting, offered him his horse. The steed, thus opportunely provided for his majesty, was of infinite service to him in the day, as will be shown.

Once more on horseback, Charles rode up to the High-street, and found it full of soldiers, most of them belonging to the Scottish infantry. They had all a most dejected look, and on seeing him, many of them threw down their arms, to intimate their refusal to fight any longer. In vain he rode up and down their ranks, with his feathered hat in his hand, addressing them with a passionate eloquence that ought to have roused them.

"Stand to your arms!" he cried. "Fight like men, and we shall yet conquer. Follow me, and I will lead you to victory. Ours is the right cause, and truth and justice must prevail in the end. Follow your king!"

Finding, however, that they would not stir, he called out in accents of bitter reproach, "Recreants that you are to desert me thus. If you will not fight, turn your arms against me. I had rather you would shoot me than let me live to see the consequences of this fatal day."

He then rode slowly off towards the College Green, still hoping some might follow him, but none stirred.