by Smith, Skye
The column was much longer than he had estimated back at Clifton Gate. There were a lot more men out there than just the thousand he had counted on. Perhaps half again as many. Fiennes had been right to be cautious. In a pitch battle against so many, a lot of men would have been slaughtered on both sides, and the prince may actually have won the day.
"There he is," Rob yelled out to Sam and handed him the looker. "About two hundred yards back from the lead. The rider next to him is flying the princes standard. Scan for the rider who is a head taller than the rest."
"I see him," Sam said. Immediately he was surrounded by the gunners, all wanting a turn at seeing the infamous devil prince.
Rob pushed his way through the ring of gunners, and walked along the line of culverins that were pointing out towards the column. They would all be loaded, but the question was, were they loaded with grape shot for short range slaughter, or with chain for medium range butchery, or with balls for long range terror. "Oy Sam," he called out. "Give a turn on the looker to the first man who tells me which of these guns is loaded with a ball.” Almost at once, five men yelled out "just the number four gun".
Counting, he stepped along the guns. While the others were old guns salvaged from some navy ship, and therefore were risky to load with enough powder to fire a ball over distance, the fourth gun must have been from a shore battery, and was in far better shape. He stopped beside it, and noticed that there was a cover over the touch vent, which meant that the vent was already primed. There was nothing as modern as a flint ignition or even a match chord ignition on this old thing. It was fired by touching a torch to the flash pan.
He had been keeping his eye on the flying standard as it moved along the valley beyond the fort. The standard would pass in front of this guns aim in a half a moment. At this range the chance of hitting a small target moving across the range, without first have fired test rounds to mark elevation, and to mark the time of the flight so you could lead the target ... Well let it be said that the chances of hitting a moving target were somewhere between none and nowt. Still, after all of the work and worry and danger, he felt he deserved at least one shot at the Devil Prince.
While trying to imagine the timing of the lead, he glanced around for a lit torch. There were none. Of course not. Not with all this powder around. He pulled his dragon from his belt, his empty dragon. Another frustration. No, wait. He didn't need the dragon to fire, just to spark. He reached forward, flipped the cover off the cannon's vent, put the dragon's strike plate close to the vent, cocked the dog, waited a few seconds, and then pulled the trigger.
Click, snap, spark, fizzle, hiss, BOOM. The recoil of the big gun spun the dragon out of his hand and knocked him to the ground. The smoke of the explosion made his eyes sting and burned his nostrils, and made him cough. All he could see from the ground was the looming bulk of the gun half hidden in choking smoke. By rolling and crawling he got clear of the smoke and then stood up to see what had happened. By that time the ball had already finished its flight, and though a part of the column was now in disarray, the prince's standard was still flying high.
The gunners standing around Sam were laughing, and thinking they were laughing at him, he got angry and walked over to them to shame them by telling them that it should have been them bombarding the Devil Prince. His anger disappeared when he heard the words of the closest gunner.
"Did you see that bounce. The bloody aim was too low, but the damn thing skipped along like a flat rock across a pond."
The gunner holding the looker passed it on to his friend and then said, "It musta' been a'whistlin' like a banshee, cause they heard it comin' and all ducked. And then it hit that rock face and bounced back and came at them again. Tonight the orderlies of those fine nobs will be washin' the shit out of their drawers. Yahoo what a shot. Too bad it didn't hit anythin' ceptin' grass and rock. Not even a horse."
The gunnery officer had a lot more to say than that. "Who fired that shot. I'll have the man flogged. How dare you fire without my order!" His gunners stood to attention facing him but said nothing in their own defense.
"I fired it," Rob admitted. "So I was the only one amongst us who did not see the fun."
The officer charged towards him in a vile temper, but then recognized his face, and slowed and asked, "You are Captain Blake are you not?"
"I am," Rob replied and readied himself for any angry scolding, rather than a flogging. Officers and gentlemen were never flogged.
The officer actually saluted. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. I have been told that you have accepted the command of this fort."
"That is not official, not yet," Rob replied, with a smile. "But it is most likely.” In truth he would now be forced to accept the command in order to justify what he had just done.
* * * * *
"That Blake is trouble, mark my words," Governor Fiennes told Colonel Popham as they toasted their great victory with brandy in the governor's office.
"Aye, that he is, but he has won an important day for you Robert," Popham replied. "Today will be a feather in both our caps. We have not only proven our defensive plan, but have put tail to the most feared general in the kingdom."
"But given the chance Blake would have killed the prince. Killed a royal. How can I be expected to put my trust in such a man."
"I think Blake's answer to that would be," Popham replied, "how can you trust a man who would not finish off a man, any man, who has slaughtered innocents?"
"But a royal?"
"Even a royal should not be above the laws that govern us all, whether those be the laws of men or the greater laws of Christ Almighty. After all, they eat and they shit just like everyone else, despite being born to palace bred parents."
Fiennes put down his glass of brandy. He would not drink to such a vulgar thought. He was putting together a witty way of chastising Popham for speaking it, when he was interrupted by a knock at the grand door, so he turned to face it.
After a polite moment his clerk entered and announced, "There is a trumpeter arrived at the Clifton Gate to claim the two corpses of the prince's scouts."
"Well give them to him," Fiennes replied with a wave of his hand. "Why bother me with such trifles?"
"Ah, well, the trumpeter insists that the captain who killed them must pay to have the bodies sent home to their mothers. He suggests that the killer send a pound of tobacco with the bodies to cover the costs."
Again Fiennes waved the clerk away with his hand. "Then see to it."
"We have tried, sir," the clerk replied. "The trouble is that Captain Blake has refused to send a gift to the prince. He claims that it was the prince's treachery that cost those men their lives."
"I will ride to Clifton gate and speak with the trumpeter," Popham said and took his leave.
Fiennes was left alone with the clerk, and he told him, "Send my respects to the captain, and my request that he send the tobacco." As the clerk turned to go, he called him back. "Belay that. Instead send a pound of my own tobacco to the trumpeter."
Outside the building, as Popham took his horse from the stable lad he asked him, "Where is the closest place where I can purchase a pound of tobacco?"
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Roundway Down by Skye Smith Copyright 2014-15
Chapter 10 - The March to Malmesbury in March 1643
General William Waller stormed about Nathaniel Fiennes office with his hands clamped behind his back. Though technically, while in Bristol, Fiennes as governor outranked Waller, that was of no account with well connected men like Waller. Waller was a Member of Parliament's Committee of Public Safety to which all military officers reported.
More importantly he was not only one of the Nathaniel's father's business partners, but also partner to John Pym and Robert Rich in their many ventures such as the Providence Island Company. John Pym was the leader of Parliament's Reform Party, and Robert Rich was not only the Earl of Warwick but also the Lord Admiral of the Navy.
Fiennes tried to calm him down. "We did our best to keep Prince Rupert's flying army camped in Durdham Downs, hoping that your own flying army would reach here in time to trap him, but it was not to be. One of our captains spooked the prince by firing a cannon ball at him, and he and his force retired to the northeast. I have sent for that captain, in case you want to place him on report."
Fiennes' second in command, Colonel Alex Popham, began to speak, for the captain in question had done more than anyone to keep the prince here and engaged. Colonel Arthur Haselrig, Waller's second in command, stopped him from interrupting with a hand on his shoulder, and a whisper in his ear. "Let Waller fume. His temper cools faster that way."
There was a knock on the door, a pause, and then a short, well armed man walked into the room. "Ah, here is the captain I was speaking of," Fiennes said as he pointed to Robert Blake, his scapegoat. Any thought of using Blake as a scapegoat evaporated immediately, for Haselrig on seeing the man, raced to meet him and almost shook his arm off.
"Rob, I haven't seen you since," Haselrig said and then paused in thought, "since that day two Januarys ago when the king tried to arrest us at the House of Commons, and set us all onto the road with armies. It has been too long."
Even worse for Fiennes, Waller was now also striding over to Blake to shake his hand. "I thought we had lost you to that infected leg of yours," Waller called out almost in joy, "and yet I see that we still have you, and you still have your leg. Now what is all of this about you being on report?"
Rob looked first to Popham, who looked down, and then to Fiennes, who stared back defiantly, before saying, "The governor did not agree with my plan to turn Rupert's treachery into a trap for him. I cannot argue with his point that to capture Rupert incurred the risk that Bristol's half finished defenses would not yet stand against his flying army."
"Which risked the city itself," Fiennes pointed out. Perhaps he had a scapegoat after all. "And this is not the first time that this man's plans have turned into disaster. I have heard all about how his idea for supply ships in Cornwall cost us dearly when Ralph Hopton captured them."
"Not all about it, obviously," Waller interrupted. "We now know that the ship's masters changed sides and used the excuse of a storm to deliver those supplies into royalist hands in Falmouth. Except for those turncoats, Rob's plan would have given us Cornwall." He looked at the relief written on Blake's face and told him, "Oh, of course, you would not yet have heard that the ships masters were turncoats and so you were blameless in the defeat at Braddock Down."
Waller moved towards the large map of Gloucestershire spread out on a table and motioned to the rest to join him there. Once they were all looking he pointed out Bristol and Gloucester on the map. "We still hold the two main cities, but we lost Malmesbury and Cirencester in January. That loss opened the roads from Oxford to Bristol to the king's armies, especially to Prince Rupert's flying army.
The king seems to be set on laying siege to Gloucester next, and his infantry are already moving into position. We can only assume that Rupert was to join with them there, but that the chance to sneak into Bristol was too opportune to ignore so Rupert came here instead. To keep the king from taking Gloucester we must keep Rupert away from the place."
"Impossible," Fiennes said. "Rupert can move his army from Bristol to Gloucester and back on any given day. That is why it is called the flying army."
"Which is why it is such a great shame that Blake's trap did not work." Waller replied. "But then I know something else that you do not yet know. I know the reason that Rupert did not stay to test your defenses once his plot had been foiled.” The room went quiet to better hear. "The king's general of the midlands, the Earl of Northampton, has been killed. It is the king's wish that Rupert take his place, at least for now."
"I must admit that I do not grieve for Northampton’s loss," Fiennes said. "It was likely he who ordered the sniper to shoot Lord Brooke through the eye at Lichfield. Lord Brooke was the better man and a greater loss."
"Please continue, colonel," Rob said to shorten Fiennes' show of grieving.
"I am no longer a colonel," Waller corrected, "but you have been away so you would not have heard that I am now the Major General of the Western Association of Trainbands. Where was I? I believe that Lord Brooke's pikemen must agree with you about the sniper. It was they who captured the earl in battle, and to a man they are telling the story that the earl bravely refused to lay down his weapons so they were forced to put a halberd through his head, er, three or four times."
"So if Rupert is to command the midland armies," Rob said while again looking at the map, "then that will draw him away from Gloucestershire and the West country. But that is fabulous news, er, for us I mean, not for the midlands."
"It's even better than that," Waller replied. "It means that Rupert's flying army will be spread thin across double the territory, for the king will expect him to keep his presence in the west as well as the midlands. All winter, Rupert has been acting and I have been reacting. My men are exhausted from constantly being in react mode, chasing after Rupert and restoring order to the places he has sacked. That is all about to change. From now on, I will act and it will be Rupert who will be run ragged re-acting."
"Excellent, excellent," Fiennes praised. He was all for any plan that would keep the royalist armies far away from Bristol.
"So we need you to keep up the good work on the defensive works," Waller told Fiennes. "Deepen those ditches and have your militias practice holding them. The better the dyke, the smaller the Bristol garrison need be.” These words did not please the governor. "The latest threat to Gloucester is the new Welsh army that the king has raised. As we speak they are gathering at Highnam on the other side of the Severn River, just a few miles to the west of Gloucester."
Rob looked down at the map again. An idea was forming in his mind, his tactical mind. He looked towards Waller and began, "What if you ..."
"Not now Rob," Waller told him. "Please keep it for later, when we are alone.” He turned to Fiennes and asked, "Would you assign Captain Blake to my regiment, temporarily?"
"He is not an officer in my company. He only arrived a few days ago, and with just five men. Colonel Popham has been eager to recruit him, so it is he you must ask."
Rob broke in, "This morning my men left for home to gather my company of dragoons together again, but that could take some weeks."
Popham spoke up, "I have asked the captain to command the most northern of our redoubts, but in truth, he came to Bristol looking for you sir."
* * * * *
It had been a long day spent with colonels and governors but finally Waller had time alone with Blake, and both of them were sipping Bushmills whisky. "You were about to explain some strategy to me in the governors office," Waller said between sips. "I stopped you then because there were too many ears in the room. Please tell it to me now."
"It just seems to me that you need to defeat and scatter this new Welsh army before they can be armed and trained and used to bring grief to Gloucester. Now is the time, with the Devil Prince called to the midlands."
"Of course, but the king has other regiments laying siege to Gloucester, and between they and the Welsh they outnumber me. I have but 2000 mounted men, and I daren't take men from the Bristol garrison until the defenses are more formidable. That will take at least another month."
"Then you need to draw the king's regiments," Rob explained, "away from Gloucester and therefore away from the Welsh camp. Which has the strongest royalist garrison, Cirencester or Malmesbury?"
"Cirencester, by twice, but that is because Malmesbury is easier to defend due to the way the River Avon snakes around it. The loop in the river almost makes an island."
"You have already studied Malmesbury?" Rob said with shrug. "So you have already thought of the same plan."
"Not quite the same plan, but the same use of Malmesbury as a ruse to pull royalist regiments away from other battles. Battles nearer to Oxford," Walle
r suddenly stopped speaking, but then began again, "but I have said too much. Tell me more of your plan."
"You march in force and lay siege to Malmesbury. It is not important that you capture it.. What is important is that you draw royalist companies away from the siege at Gloucester. Once you have word that the royalists are moving towards Malmesbury, you quit the place in the dark and ride straight through the Cotswold Hills to the River Severn, keeping well south Cirencester. Use the local boats to cross the Severn, and then attack the Welsh from the west."
"Brilliant, and so yet so simple. The Welsh will not be prepared for an attack from the direction of Wales, and they will be caught between us and our garrison in Gloucester. I will discuss it with my senior officers immediately."
"Nay, there are too many loose tongues and too many spies in Bristol. Discuss only the siege of Malmesbury. Leave the rest of it unsaid until you are ready to leave Malmesbury."
"Point take," Waller replied grimly. The great number of willing spies and informants was always a major risk during a civil war, and here in Bristol a good portion of the folk had royalist sympathies.
* * * * *
When Rob had ridden with the Dutch militia, their name for companies of pistol wielding mounted infantry had been Pistoolers. At some time in the past year, it had become fashionable with English generals to rename their Pistoleers as Dragoons after their weapon of choice, the pistol version of a blunderbuss, the dragon. General Waller had both a regiment of regular cavalry and a regiment of dragoons, and he put Rob in command of a company of his dragoons. That said, Rob was spending more time at Waller's side than with his new company.
