Boscobel: or, the royal oak

Soon afterwards, several small parties of Royalists overtook them – no other route being open to the fugitives. Charles, therefore, had no lack of attendants.

On reaching Barbourne Bridge, to his great surprise, he found Lesley and his regiment of horse.

"Soh! you are here," he cried, furiously. "I sought for you in vain in the city. Your men must be fresh since they have taken no part in the fight. Come back with me at once and help me to retrieve the fortune of the day."

"Sire," replied Lesley, calmly, "the contest from the first has been hopeless, and your troops are now annihilated. It would be madness to return. I have been waiting for you here."

"Waiting for me?" exclaimed Charles.

"Ay, waiting for you, sire. I knew you would come this way, since none other is open to you. I am ready to conduct you to Scotland."

"But I will not return thither to be the slave I have been," cried Charles. "I will rather die in England."

"Humour him, my liege – humour him. He may be of use now," observed Buckingham, in a low tone.

"Your majesty has now no option," remarked Lesley, coldly. "You must go back to Scotland. I will insure you a safe retreat. 'Tis for that purpose I have reserved my troops."

"Say you so?" cried Charles. "Then I must needs go with you. But I must wait here for my friends."

"Your majesty will have to wait long ere some of them join you," said Lesley.

"At least they have not deserted me," rejoined the king.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE LAST STAND MADE BY THE ROYALISTS

Once more we must enter the ill-fated city, which was now completely in the power of the enemy, though many a conflict was still going on within it. So inflamed with fury were the Cavaliers, that they fell upon the foot soldiers who had been plundering the houses, and were so much encumbered with booty that they could not defend themselves, and slew such numbers of them that Friars'-street was quite choked up with dead bodies. On neither side was quarter given.

"The hour of vengeance is come," shouted the fierce Cromwellians. "Slay the Amalekites. Destroy them utterly – so that they may never more rise against us."

"Down with the rebellious sectaries!" cried the Cavaliers. "Spare them not. Kill them as you would wild beasts."

Savage shouts like these were heard on all sides, proclaiming the deadly animosity of the combatants which could be satisfied with nothing but slaughter.

The last stand made by the Royalists was at the Guildhall, and a more gallant stand was never made, because success seemed out of the question.

A tolerably strong party of Cavaliers had been rallied by Careless, Sir Rowland Berkeley, Colonel Legge, Colonel Lane, and Captain Hornyold. They assembled, as we have said, in front of the Guildhall. With them were the Earl of Cleveland, Sir James Hamilton, Colonel Wogan, and some others. They were attacked on the left by Fleetwood, and on the right by Lambert, with whom was Cromwell in person. In the fierce conflict that ensued, many were slain, and many more taken prisoners, but all the leaders escaped, except Sir James Hamilton, who was severely wounded.

Finding the contest hopeless, and that they should soon be shut up within the city, without the possibility of escape, Careless and the others dashed down Pump-street, and made their way to St. Martin's-gate. Having thus got out of the city, they rode as quickly as they could to Barbourne Bridge, where they found the king.

Deprived of all its defenders, its bravest inhabitants slain, or made captive, the city was then delivered over to the rapacious and fanatical soldiery, who had obtained possession of it. On the frightful atrocities perpetrated during that night upon the wretched inhabitants by the barbarous hordes let loose upon them, we shall not dwell. Suffice it to say that the sack of Rome under the Constable de Bourbon scarcely exceeded the sack of Worcester in horror.

Imagination cannot conceive scenes more dreadful than actually occurred. No soldiers were ever more savage, more ruffianly, more merciless than the Parliamentary troops. Cromwell himself had left the city before the direst deeds were enacted, but he well knew what would happen. He did not expressly sanction pillage and rapine and all other atrocious acts, but he did not forbid them, and, at all events, did not punish the offenders.

On that night, at the very time when the diabolical atrocities we have hinted at, but cannot describe – when outrages the most frightful were being committed by his soldiery, without the slightest interference from his officers, the Lord General wrote in these terms to the Parliament:

"This hath been a very glorious mercy, and as stiff a contest for four or five hours as ever I have seen. Both your old forces and those new raised have behaved themselves with very great courage, and He that made them come out, made them willing to fight for you. The Lord God Almighty frame our hearts to real thankfulness for this, which is alone His doing."

The darkest part of the picture was carefully kept out of sight, and nothing dwelt upon but the "glorious mercy" vouchsafed him and his forces. Yet no mercy was shown by the conquerors, on that dreadful night – the worst they ever had to endure – to the miserable inhabitants of faithful Worcester.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE CONSULTATION AT BARBOURNE BRIDGE, AND THE KING'S FLIGHT

We left the king at Barbourne Bridge. By this time he had been joined by the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Lauderdale, the Lords Talbot and Wilmot, Colonel Roscarrock, Colonel Blague, Charles Giffard, and many other Cavaliers, and a consultation was held as to what course should be pursued. All were of opinion that the day was irretrievably lost, and this opinion was confirmed by the arrival of Careless and the others, who told how they had been worsted in the last desperate struggle at the Guildhall.

"More than half of this brave battalion are gone," exclaimed Careless. "The rest are dispersed, and will never be got together again. Such frightful havoc has been made among the citizens, who have been slain by hundreds by these ferocious Roundheads, that no more fighting men can be got together. All is lost! Your majesty's standard has been torn down everywhere, and replaced by the flag of the Commonwealth. From this spot you may see their hateful standard floating on the cathedral tower."

Overpowered by this ill news, Charles could make no reply.

"All we can now do for your majesty is to save you from these ravening wolves and regicides," cried the Earl of Derby, "and that, with Heaven's grace, we will do!"

"We will defend your majesty to the last," cried the Lords Talbot and Wilmot, and several others.

"Alas! how many are gone!" exclaimed Charles. "Brave Sir John Douglas dead – the Duke of Hamilton mortally wounded. Where is Lord Sinclair? – where are others of my Scottish peers? – where is Sir James Hamilton? – where is Sir Alexander Forbes?"

"Sir James Hamilton is killed, my liege," replied Careless. "Sir Alexander Forbes is badly hurt – perhaps dead. Several of the Scottish nobles have been taken prisoners in the city. But think not of them – think of your own safety. What will you do?"

"Make all haste to London," replied the king. "By riding hard I shall arrive there before tidings of the battle can be received."

"A good plan," cried Lord Wilmot. "Your majesty has many staunch adherents in London."

"I like not the plan," cried the Duke of Buckingham. "If adopted, it will end in your majesty's destruction. The moment your defeat is known, your adherents will fall from you, and you will be at the mercy of your enemies."

Almost all the others concurred with the duke in opinion, and were strenuously opposed to the king's plan.

"Nay, then," he exclaimed, "there is nothing for it but Scotland. I will go thither."

"Your majesty has decided right," observed Lesley.

"His approval is enough to make me change my mind," observed Charles, withdrawing to a short distance with the Earl of Derby.

"Go not to London, my liege, I entreat you," said the earl. "'Tis the most perilous and rash scheme you could adopt. You will have dangers enough to encounter in whatever direction you proceed, but London is most dangerous of all. That you will be quickly pursued, and a heavy price set on your head, is certain, for Cromwell's victory will be shorn of half its splendour if you escape him. In England your chance is lost. It grieves me to say so, but I cannot hide the truth. You cannot get another army together. To Scotland, I see, you like not to return. The sole alternative, therefore, is an escape to France."

"That is what I desire," replied Charles. "But where can I embark?"

"At Bristol, my liege, it may be – but that must be for after consideration. Conceal yourself for a time, and no safer hiding-place can be found than Boscobel, where I myself took refuge."

At this moment Colonel Roscarrock came up.

"How say you, Roscarrock?" asked the king. "Think you I should be safe at Boscobel?"

"I am sure of it, my liege," replied the other. "Strange your majesty should put the question to me, seeing I was just about to counsel you to take refuge there."

"You have already described the house to me," observed Charles. "But can the occupants be trusted?"

"Perfectly," said the Earl of Derby. "Your majesty has no more faithful subjects than the Penderels of Boscobel. Charles Giffard is here. Will your majesty speak with him?"