by Smith, Skye
THE PISTOLEER
Brentford
(Book Five of the Series)
By Skye Smith
Copyright (C) 2013-2014 Skye Smith
All rights reserved including all rights of authorship.
Cover Illustration is a part of "Magdeburg Women"
by Eduard Steinbrück (1866)
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Revision 0 . . . . . ISBN: 978-1-927699-16-4
Cover Flap
After the Civil War Battle of Edgehill in late 1642, the rebel army marched north towards Warwick in parallel to the king's army. From high on the edge, Captain Daniel Vanderus watched the king's army through his spyglass, and saw them turn, turn south again towards Banbury. With the rebel army now going the wrong way, Banbury garrison was the only force standing between the king's army and London.
So much for his plan of going home. He had to choose between warning Warwick and warning Banbury. He turned his sure footed mare towards Banbury and urged her to run. It was a decision that would eventually make him witness to the slaughter of Brentford.
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
About The Author
Skye Smith is my pen name. In 1630 one side of my Manchester ancestors fled to Massachusetts on one of the Earl of Warwick’s ships. The Pistoleer is a series of historical adventure novels set in Britain in the 1640's. I was encouraged to write them by fans of my Hoodsman series.
This is the fifth of the series, and you should read at least the first novel 'HellBurner' before you read 'Brentford' because it sets the characters and scene for the entire series. The sequence of the books follows the timeline of the Republic of Great Britain. The chapter headings identify the dates and places.
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Prologue
This adventure is as historically accurate as I could make it, however I have not included my endless references because the main character, Daniel Vanderus, is fictional. I have kept the descriptions and actions of the non-fictional characters as close to historical accounts as possible. In situations where there is no historical record of a non-fictional character's location or actions, I have attributed actions to them that would have been logical and in keeping with their character.
As a rule of thumb, if the character is a parliamentarian, or has a title, or has a military rank of captain or above, then they and their families are non-fictional. Otherwise the character is fictional.
To save the readers the confusion of this period being lived and written about under the old Julian calendar, I have used the same dates for battles as are used by popular Civil War timelines. They use old fashioned Julian dates, rather than the modern (add 10 days) Gregorian dates. I do, however, use January 1 as the start of a new year, rather than using the last week of March as would have been done under the Julian calendar. Thus January is the first month of the new year rather than the tenth month of the old year.
Note that at the end of this book there is an Appendix which is organized like an FAQ. There you will find answers to questions such as:
- Where can I find out more about the historical characters and events?
- What was the significance of Brentford?
- Why is Prince Rupert, a royal hero, portrayed as being evil?
However, the next few paragraphs will set the scene enough to begin reading the novel.
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In 1642, Parliament's reformers were being split three ways between the "peace" party, the "war" party, and the "middle" party. The money men behind the reformers were some of the richest lords in the kingdom including the Earl of Essex (Robert Devereaux), the Earl of Warwick (Robert Rich) and the lordly partners in Rich's powerful Providence Island Company.
The Stuart Regime's natural allies were the English lords with Scottish blood, the Catholic lords, and the second sons of all of the nobility. In this era the first sons inherited everything while the second sons often became soldiers in hopes of winning the favours of kings and generals.
Parliament's natural allies were the English lords who had been deposed by the Scottish Stuart regime, the lords who hated the Papist Spanish Empire, the businessmen who wished to profit from the recent misfortunes of Spain and Portugal at the hands of the Dutch, and any businessman who thought that their taxes were being wasted on lavish palaces and courtiers.
This novel begins the day after the inconclusive Battle of Edgehill in November 1642. Edgehill was the first mega-battle of the English Civil War in which the full armies of both sides were lined up to fight. King Charles Stuart and his nephew, the German Prince Rupert, had claimed the high ground of the hill and had formed their battle lines at the base of the hill. Parliament's general, the Earl of Essex, formed his lines facing them.
The king had the advantage in cavalry strength which included Rupert's fearsome flying army. Parliament's forces were mostly infantry or mounted infantry. The king had the advantage in artillery, however he knew that he would lose that advantage as Essex's cannons caught up with his army. The king chose to attack using his temporary offensive advantage, rather than wait and use the defensive advantage of the hill. Just before the battle began Sir Faithful Fortescue led one of Parliament's few cavalry companies across the field and changed sides.
The king's unbeatable cavalry were massed at each end of his line, but he had none in the center of the field. Essex placed his mounted infantry at both ends to counter them, but kept what was left of his cavalry in reserve in the center. When the king's cavalry charged, the mounted infantry retreated away from the field and away from their own lines of infantry, with the king's cavalry after them in hot pursuit.
Essex's reserve cavalry took the sudden absence of opposing cavalry as an opportunity to charge and break the king's infantry line. Meanwhile the king's cavalry broke off their chase to loot Essex's baggage train and slaughter unarmed carters and porters. This left the king's infantry unprotected, and they fought a loosing battle against overwhelming numbers while retreating up the hill.
For questionable reasons, both sides decided to stop fighting just before the king and his headquarters would have been captured. Essex eventually marched his army north to Warwick, while the king marched his army south along the highway to London. A race of armies towards London had begun and the first step for the king was to take Banbury which controlled the roads south. Meanwhile Essex was well out of position to the north.
Fortunately for London, King Charles Stuart ignored the advice of Rupert and took a roundabout route via Oxford and Reading to approach London along the Thames Valley from the West. This delay allowed Essex's army to reach London first, though they arrived exhausted.
Knowing that the king was in Reading, Essex sent some of his regiments, bolstered by the London militia, to garrison the western suburbs of London as far as Windsor. The king sent his devil prince with his flying army to order the garrison at Windsor to surrender the fortress. Windsor was impregnable so the garrison refused, and in a temper Rupert attacked other towns along the Thames. These attacks included the Magdeburg style massacre of Brentford.
The two full armies once again met to do battle at Turnham Green which is clos
er to Westminster than it is to Brentford. In terms of numbers it was the second largest battle of the Civil War. In terms of casualties it was one of the smaller ones. The king retreated, not out of fear of the rebel army, but because a huge, angry mob streamed out of London in hopes of taking vengeance for the Brentford massacre.
While in retreat to Oxford, the king sent out regiments to ride towards the South Coast. His Catholic queen was the sister of the King of France, and she was on the continent raising an army to help him. If he could capture and hold a South Coast port, then his queen's invasion force could land. England was being set up for a Thirty Year's War style conflagration, and all because the king refused to share power with the elected parliaments.
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Table of Contents
Title Page
Cover Flap
About the Author
Prologue
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - The devil's scouts on Edgehill in November 1642
Chapter 2 - A warning for Broughton in November 1642
Chapter 3 - A warning for Banbury in November 1642
Chapter 4 - Treachery at Banbury in November 1642
Chapter 5 - Home to Wellenhay in November 1642
Chapter 6 - The Seers of the Fens in November 1642
Chapter 7 - A Pact with Fishtoft in November 1642
Chapter 8 - Reclaiming the Lindsey Level in November 1642
Chapter 9 - London's woes in November 1642
Chapter 10 - A Hero's return to London in November 1642
Chapter 11 - Warning Hampden in London in November 1642
Chapter 12 - To Kingston for cannons in November 1642
Chapter 13 - Tugs and barges at Kingston in November 1642
Chapter 14 - Barges of cannons at Brentford in November 1642
Chapter 15 - The Devil Prince at Brentford in November 1642
Chapter 16 - Sightseers on the Great West Road in November 1642
Chapter 17 - Feeding the Lads at Turnham Green in November 1642
Chapter 18 - The Battle of Turnham Green in November 1642
Chapter 19 - The Ignoble retreat through Brentford in November 1642
Chapter 20 - The Admiral arrives in Fullham in November 1642
Chapter 21 - At Windsor Palace in November 1642
Chapter 22 - The Bloody Queen's Bed in November 1642
Chapter 23 - Securing the Thames Valley in November 1642
Chapter 24 - Essex claims Windsor in November 1642
Chapter 25 - Appendix FAQ
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Chapter 1 - The devil's scouts on Edgehill in November 1642
The sheep pastures on the crest of Edgehill were still smoking and smouldering in patches as Daniel urged his step-daughter's trick mare Femke along a likely looking sheep trail. It meandered almost eastward, but he hoped that further down the slope it would join a path that would take him towards Banbury. The pasture was still smouldering from this mornings wild grass fire that had swept along the top of the ridge. A grass fire that Daniel himself had lit, to thwart Prince Rupert and his flying army from making camp on this long and strategically important ridge. At the thought of the vicious 'Devil Prince' he looked nervously around to make sure that he was still alone on this slope.
Visibility was good now that the smoke was dying down, and with the dense thickets of broom now just blackened fingers pointing accusingly at him. The all around visibility was good for him, but also bad. Good because he could see if there were others about. Bad because he could be seen. He kept on the move through the blackened grazing land to reach the eastern side of the ridge which was to the windward and therefores still green. Once out of the black land, he nudged Femke to walk down into the first gulley with tufts of green grass. The poor girl needed water and something to munch on. While Femke nosed about in the bottom of the gulley and pawed at some dried mud in hopes of finding a trickle of a spring, he took his Dutch kijker, his looker made from a tube and two spectacle lenses, up to the brow of the gully to keep watch.
The small, solid mare did not find any water under the caked mud. It had been a long dry fall and the cold wind coming from the continent was keeping the wet southwest winds away, and with them the November rains. Femke needed water. She needed a long drink, and soon, for she had worked hard today. Twice she had carried him up and down Edgehill ridge, and one of those times they had been chased at the run by the devil's scouts. He took off his steel helmet and poured some of his own drinking water into it, so at least the mare could clear her mouth of the black dust from the scorched land they had just crossed.
Femke's need for water decided his route to Banbury. He would keep to the bottom of this gulley in hopes of finding a place with wet mud. It was as good a choice as any, for it ran down the slope in almost the direction of Banbury, and as it dropped, it got wider and not as steep. If he remembered rightly, there was a shepherd’s village near hear. Perhaps that is where this gulley was leading him. "Horton," he said aloud as the village name came to him. There must be a year round source of water at the village else why would it be there. It was likely a place where a spring surfaced, perhaps the spring that ran under the dry mud of this gulley. He pointed the looker down the slope in hopes of spying out the village. His view was blocked by a bend in the gulley further down the slope.
Femke had finished the water in his helmet and nudged it for more. "Not yet lass," he whispered to her. "We'll stop again when we reach that bend."
Following the gulley was good for him, but also bad. Good because he could not be seen from a distance, but bad because he could see no distance at all. As Femke, with her strong legs and sure hoofs, picked her way down an increasingly wide dry stream bed, Daniel yet again checked the prime of his pistols and his carbine. A village may mean villagers. Not likely, but maybe. Though if the villagers were smart, they would have moved their sheep and everything of value down into Banbury where the castle's garrison could protect them.
There was also another other worry ... that army scouts may be using the village for shelter, and that thought begged another question, "Which army?" he whispered to her.
During the battle for Kineton fough to the north of here at the western foot of the Edgehill ridge, parliament's “rebel” army had worn orange sashes ... the color of the Earl of Essex, who commanded it. The king's army had worn red sashes. Daniel had a sash of each color stuffed into his saddle bag. He twisted around and poked through the saddlebag to find them both and then pulled on them so they hung a bit outside the bag so that he could grab either one, even on short notice.
The color of the sash would be the only thing that would distinguish him as being from one side or the other. His weapons and armour certainly wouldn’t. They were all foreign made, ... prizes from his time riding as a pistoleer with the Dutch militia. Both armies included men who had fought in the Dutch and the German wars, so foreign weapons and armour was common enough. His own armour was particularly filthy and caked with reddish mud. The mud made from battlefield dust wetted by battlefield blood.
In truth, everything about him was filthy … stinking and filthy. If he found a spring in the village, he would stop to have a wash. A thorough wash would make him look more like a messenger and less like a warrior ... for a messenger he now was. He carried a message from Colonel John Hampden to the castellan of Banbury Castle. Once that message was delivered he would be quickly away eastward to Cambridge, and then home to his fens village of Wellenhay on the Great River Ouse.
How did he ever get talked into serving as a messenger? It would just slow him down, and he couldn't really afford to be slowed down. Even now the king's army was but ten miles north Banbury. He needed to be well east of Banbury before the king's army got much further south, and certainly before that army reached Banbury. This w
as simple logic. If the king took Banbury, then he could garrison it. That garrison could protect his flank and rear as he moved the rest of his army south along the London highway.
"Blast Essex and his timidity," he hissed out loud. "The ass, hmm, Assex. If he had kept the battle going for just one more hour, the king would have been captured, or at least be fleeing for his life. Instead bloody Charlie has an open road all the way to London, and bloody Assex will have to play catch-up." Femke thought he was talking to her and came to a stop just shy of the bend in the gulley. There was still no damp mud in the stream bed. Since she was stopped anyway, he slid out of the saddle.
While Femke licked up another dribble of water from his helmet, Daniel walked forward to the bend and carefully took a look around it. There was a village further down the gulley, where the gulley widened into a valley. There were also horses. "Three, four," he counted under his breath. "Four horses." They were good riding horses and still saddled. Hung from the saddles were holstered carbines and empty sabre scabbards ... and red sashes. "Fuck," he cursed and then repeated it, but more softly. They were the king's men ... likely forward scouts of the devil prince and his flying army of vultures.
He kept scanning the village with his looker, hoping to see one of the men. He needed to know what kind of armour the men wore, before he could make plans of how to get around them. That they carried carbines and sabres told him little about the men, for after a big battle like the one at Kineton where thousands had died, anyone could be carrying any kind of weapon. Not so with armour. The armour would tell him who these men were, or rather, what they were capable of.
He focused the looker on some movement. There they were. They must have just arrived in the village because they seemed to be making a hovel to hovel search of it. Only one of them wore metal armour. The same kind of molded steel cuirassier chest armour that Daniel wore. The other three wore boiled leather chest armour ... cheap, light, and good enough to stop wayward balls and blades, but not good enough to stop aimed ones. So one man was an officer, likely the son of some lord, and he had three of his father's retainers with him. As they were being used as scouts, then they probably hailed from some estate within ten miles of here and therefore they would well know the terrain and the villages. They all carried a pistol, though the officer carried two. Each of them was walking through the village with a pistol in one hand and a sabre in the other.
