by Smith, Skye
As soon as he heard the news gleaned from the king's foragers he was rolling out his maps and gathering his lieutenants around him. Messages were sent out not just to Essex in Worcester, but to his close friend and strategist John Hampden in London, and then to every militia town around him to send him their mounted infantry. The couriers bound for Cambridge carried an extra message, that Daniel was alive and well and still on the trail of the Freiston men.
The only town that was not to send him men was Banbury, and he explained why by pointing to the map. "Banbury controls this road that leads to Oxford, and that road that leads to London. Banbury must remain strong and ours. Meanwhile we must slow the king's army down. His regiments of horse are still on the River Severn, so that allows us to make lightning forays with flying squads against his camp and his supply trains. Not to do battle, you understand, but to cause confusion and sleepless nights.
We must do anything possible to slow them down. Essex's entire strategy has been to keep his army between the king and London. Essex has been caught napping. Look at how far he is out of position... sixty miles. If the king is smart he will bypass Warwick and Banbury and quick march his army to get well south before Essex can move his forces. We must not allow that to happen."
Greville first set his infantry the task of marshalling the town for a siege, and then began organizing the mounted infantry. They were to be split up into small flying squads of thirty men. Their mission was to ride out and strike at any of the king's foragers, scouts, or ammunition carts. He told them over and over not to take foolish chances for even a feigned attack would slow the king's men down. It was more important that every man of them stayed healthy so they could continue to nip at the armies heels.
Greville took a break from giving orders so that the great hall could clear of those who already had theirs, and during the break he came to find Valentine and Daniel. "Valentine, do you ride with us, or do you press on to Worcester?" It was a jest for there was no reason on earth to go to Worcester. "And you Daniel? Will you continue to patiently shadow the king's army in hopes of freeing your men? Myself, I have always found patience a great waste of time."
Daniel eagerly volunteered to lead thirty of Valentine's Huntingdon fensmen. It was his best chance in a week to find his Freiston lads, and his best chance ever to set them free. "I have visited countless villages where the king's men have been foraging, and everywhere they have been pressing men into his service,” he told Greville. "Does he really expect pressed men to fight for him on a battlefield? It's not like pressing men to crew a ship. There is no escape from a ship. What is to stop the pressed men from just walking off a battlefield?"
Greville put his fine intellect to work and then explained, "The pressed men will be allowed no other weapon than a pike. They will form the front line, like a moveable hedge. In front of them will be our army, so there is no escape there. Behind them will be the king's volunteers with guns, so there is no escape there. Their only hope of survival is to wait for the full battle to begin and then form a pike square and try to move off the battlefield. Their worst enemy will be the grape from the cannons."
* * * * *
Greville's strategy of harrying the king's army had worked, sort of. His flying squads had certainly slowed down the march of the army. Unfortunately the king's generals had been too wise to halt the army to lay siege to Warwick. Instead the army had circled around Warwick and then had turned due south on the Coventry-Banbury road.
Daniel willed Femke up the last few steep steps to the top of the ridge that ran along the west side of the hills they had been patrolling. By the time the rest of his flying squad joined him at the top he already had his looker out and was scanning the land below looking for their next victims. From the northern point of this ridge he could see all around.
To the southeast of him was the rolling countryside between him and the towers of Banbury castle. To the southwest was the flattish land of the Vale of the Red Horse that led to the larger Vale of Evesham. To the northwest in the far distance were the towers of Warwick castle and between here and there he could see the village of Kineton. To the north east was the great brown smudge of raised dust that marked the king's marching army.
That king's army had quickly learned to keep their supply carts to the center of the column and to keep mounted skirmishers patrolling along either side. It was now almost impossible for the flying squads from Warwick castle to surprise the column, so nothing seemed to be slowing the king's army down any more. Since the generals had been wise enough to skirt Warwick, then they would likely be wise enough to skirt Banbury and take the Buckingham fork in the road that led to London. There would be no force great enough to stop or even slow their march down until they came within reach of the London trained bands.
He concentrated on his gaze through the spectacle lenses, searching for scouts and foragers. Someone nudged his arm.
"What's that cloud of dust to the west of us?" the man beside him asked.
Daniel swung his looker around and focused it on the cloud of dust. "Scouts maybe," he replied. "No, there are too many of them. It's a force of cavalry It's a long column of cavalry."
"Whose?"
"I have no idea except that they aren't scouts from the king's army. They could be the leading regiment of Essex's army. Worcester is over that way. Or they could be Prince Rupert's cavalry rejoining the king."
"Prince Rupert,” the man cursed and spat. "While we is ridin' about in flyin' squads, that bugger is riding about in a flyin' friggin' army."
"When they get nearer we'll wave them nearer as if we are friends and then we will find out."
"But what if they are the Prince's men. They'll try to kill us."
"They'll have to reach us first,” Daniel told him encouragingly. "Take a look at the escarpment between us and them. By the time they get up it we will be long gone along the ridge, south towards Banbury."
"Is this ridge marked on your map?"
Daniel unrolled the map that Greville had given to every flying squad. "Aye, these highlands are marked, and the word 'edge' is written, and below it is the word 'hills' but there is no name to the edge."
"So maybe it's called Edgehill. Good enough. That's what we'll call it. It fits. Shit, there's more dust to the south of that first lot."
Daniel put his looker back up to his eye. "More cavalry coming fast from the south. Well if they are further south, then they may be Essex's cavalry, which means that first lot may be Rupert's. Or it may be two companies on the same side. I wonder if they mean to join together."
"Nah, we can see both companies only because we are so high. They are so far apart that from down there neither company will know of the other. Oye, do they make stronger lookers than that in Holland? It would be good to be able to see their colors from this distance."
"There are better ones, stronger ones, but even slightly better lenses are a whole lot more costly. In Holland they have really big ones for looking at the moon." The men all laughed at his jest.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Edgehill by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 24 - Rupert sighted in Warwickshire, November 1642
"I said don't stop here. Continue on a mile and secure those hills and their edge!" Daniel yelled for the third time. He was almost foaming at the mouth in his exasperation with the general of Essex's cavalry.
The first dust cloud had been Prince Rupert, and as soon as Daniel's flying squad had realized it they had run their horses south along the ridge. Rupert hadn't bothered to chase them up the steep edge, and his column kept riding north east to join the king's main column.
The second dust cloud had been the parliamentarian cavalry under the Earl of Bedford. As soon as Daniel recognized them his flying squad had raced on an intercept course towards the village of Kineton to warn Bedford's column that Rupert's column was just ahead of them. As soon as the Earl heard this he had called a halt. That was when Daniel lost hi
s temper.
Everyone was still mounted. Daniel's flying squad were calming their horses after the run down the edge and across the vale to get here. The cavalry officers had gathered to listen to these scouts from Warwick Castle. Daniel was already regretting that he had yelled at the Earl. It was always a mistake for a peasant to yell at a noble. It just puts their back up.
"Colonel, arrest this man for insubordination,” Bedford told the Colonel beside him.
Colonel Balfour gave the captain of the flying squad from Warwick 'the' look that shouted 'shut up'. This captain had been telling the Earl nothing but good sense, but his contempt for the Earl was obvious with every new word. The captain's face was comely and familiar, and then it came to him. This was The Pistoleer who had reported his son's heroic death on Babylon Hill outside of Yeovil. Grouped behind the captain were the rest of his flying squad and each of them now had their right hands on the butts of their dragons. He was quite sure they were not doing that in order to arrest their own captain.
What Balfour took to be loyalty on the part of these men towards their captain was actually a long standing hatred of the Earls of Bedford. Daniel's men were actually Valentine’s men from the fen villages around Huntingdon. For two decades these men and their villages had suffered under the drainage schemes that the Earls of Bedford had used to steal their common land. Their hands had reached for their dragons as soon as they had heard the Bedford name.
"Your grace, you know this captain,” Balfour told the Earl. "He is Robert Blake's Dutch pistoleer. One of the men who chased Colonel Hopton from Babylon Hill. I ask you to forgive his rudeness for it is a product of the urgency of the news he carries to us, rather than insolence."
"Oh all right,” Bedford waved a hand as if to make the unruly captain disappear from his sight. "He is forgiven but I will listen to no more from him. The Earl of Essex asked us to secure an area for his army to camp, and this village will do nicely. I will be at the manor house if you have need of me." With that he turned his horse and led most of the officers along the one street of Kineton.
Balfour stayed behind to speak with Blake's pistoleer. He was searching his mind for the man's name. It was only then that he noticed that the captain had his own dragon half pulled out of its saddle holster. And what a dragon it was, for it was inlaid with silver scrollwork. A gun fit for a king. "I have seen your dragon before ... um ... what was your first name again?"
"Daniel. Did you ever march with the Swedish army under Field Marshall Alexander Leslie?"
"I did. A good general is Alex. Would that we had him commanding us rather than Essex."
Unlike most Scottish mercenaries, this man's English was quite good so Daniel did not feel the need to switch to Dutch. "This was King Adophus's gun. When he was killed on the battlefield his lifeguard gave it to Alex so the Swedish army would realize that he was now in charge of the battle. It's likely you saw it in Leslie's holster. He gave it to me as a thank you for helping him out of a tight spot."
"So you are not Blake's pistoleer after all, but Leslie's. May I hold it?" Balfour asked. It was drawn free of the holster, spun in a hand and handed to him butt first. It didn't escape his notice that as he raised it to his eyes so he could have a good look at the workings, five of the flying squad had drawn their own dragons and lain them over their saddles pointing towards him. "Double barreled and with both flint hammers on the same side. How ingenious." He gingerly looked at the muzzles. "The upper barrel is a dragon and the lower a pistol. Fantastisch!" He changed hands so that he could return it to its owner butt first. The rest of the flying squad relaxed and put their dragons away.
"Is Blake with you?" Daniel asked hopefully.
"Nay, I think he will still be in Devon. When the Earl of Hertford's army quit Sherborne we chased him all the way across Somerset towards Devon. Once they were beyond Bridgwater they tricked us. A company broke away and led us into Devon, while the main force continued along the coast to Minehead. By the time we realized we had been tricked, Hertford was at the port arranging for ships to take his army across the Severn Estuary to Wales. Blake kept after the decoy company. We thought it was led by Ralph Hopton and I asked Blake to take the bastard down."
"We all want to take that bastard down,” Daniel agreed. Balfour nodded. It had been a dirty trick by Hopton that had cost him a son. Daniel looked at his dragon before putting it back into its holster. "So why don't I go and find Bedford and shoot the bugger so you can get on with running this regiment?" he asked, only half jesting.
Balfour ignored the suggestion. "Your rudeness to him has put me in a most difficult position. Now I cannot send my cuirassiers to hold that ridge without the Earl loosing face. I don't know these valleys. Why is the ridge is so important other than being the local high ground?"
"It is like a giant wedge that points north and splits this flat farm land into two. From it you have an unobstructed view all around. The valley on this side is nothing, but on the other side are Banbury and the roads to Oxford and London. If you hold the ridge with your cavalry then you will be able to do lightning strikes against the full column of the king's army.
The road from here to Banbury winds through the southern end of the ridge. For today, the main reason to hold the ridge is to secure that road so that Essex's army can hurry to Banbury. That would put Essex south of the king and will block the king's army from marching on to London or Oxford. Bedford is a fool to make a camp here at Kineton when in another hour he could be protected by the walls of Banbury castle."
Balfour's face went visibly red. "You mean that the king's army is not camped in a siege of Warwick?"
"Of course not. They are marching to get south of Banbury as soon as possible. Didn't you know?"
"We didn't even know that Rupert's cavalry were in front of us until you told us. That was the reason why Bedford was so eager to stop. He didn't want to risk catching up to Rupert. I must go and speak with him immediately. Go, take your flying squad and get back up on that ridge. Keep the king's scouts off it until I arrive with my cuirassiers to relieve you."
* * * * *
By nightfall Daniel and his men were back in Kineton. Balfour's cuirassiers had never arrived and eventually the had been chased off the ridge by Rupert's scouting parties. Balfour was livid at Bedford for refusing him permission to camp his cuirassiers up on the ridge. The refusal had cost Essex the route to Banbury, and Essex would be furious when he found this out. Now the army had no choice but to camp at Kineton, on the wrong side of the ridge for controlling the highways south.
That night it was bloody cold sleeping out at Kineton. Daniel's flying squad had been riding fast and light because up until tonight they had be spending their nights either in Warwick Castle or in Banbury Castle, whichever was nearest when the sun got low. The full extent of their camping equipment was their woolen cloaks and some dried and salted horsemeat.
None of them were getting more than snatches of sleep because Essex's army continued to arrive in dribs and drabs until almost midnight. Each time another company arrived, Daniel's squad would move themselves and their horses further and further from Kineton towards the ridge. Not that they were forced to move by the camp adjutants, but because of the rising noise and smell of thousands of men and thousands of horses. The only way of getting any sleep at all was to stay upwind of them, and the cold weather was coming over the ridge from the east.
Daniel had forgotten how much he hated large army camps. The only thing worse was taking a cheap bed in one of London's quayside sailors hostels. There was always someone coughing, some horse neighing, someone snoring, someone barking orders. Worse than the continuous noise was the rising funk and stench. Someone was always farting, some horse was always shitting, and someone was always too lazy to walk to the latrines for a piss. In rainy weather an army camp was quickly trampled into a foul shitty bog, and in dry weather it was quickly trampled into foul dust that got sucked up your nose.
One of the reasons he had chosen to becom
e a pistoleer in Holland was because pistoleers were skirmishers, which meant they usually camped in squads away from the main army camp. Tonight his squad had agreed that their only chance of getting any sleep was to move closer to the ridge, despite the risk that the ridge was now in enemy hands.
They woke to the sight of the king's cavalry officers silhouetted against the eastern dawn on top of the ridge. The same ridge that Balfour's cavalry should have taken and held yesterday. It would have been colder camping on the ridge but at least the air would have been fresh to breathe.
"Why do I fell like a field mouse being spied on by a flock of owls,” one of the squad half jested. "Danny, lets quit this camp. They refuse us tents. They refuse us stew. They ignore our best advice. Let's hoof it back to Warwick and tell Lord Brooke what is going on. He needs to know."
"You go, and take the rest of the squad with you,” Daniel replied. "I have other obligations here." He didn't explain and didn't need to. They all knew he was hoping to rescue his clansmen and therefore needed to stay close to the king's army.
An hour later the squad of Huntingdon fensmen were saddled up and ready to ride. As they waved so long one of them called out, "Hey Danny, don't get dragged into this army. Not with the likes of Essex and Bedford running things. They'll get you killed for sure." And then they were away in a swirl of dust..
Daniel lay down again and leaned back against his saddle and pulled his cloak under his chin and tried to get some more sleep. It was not possible. Companies of marching men were again arriving at the camp from the Worcester road, so the camp was waking up and the noise level was continuously rising. Only when the weak autumn sunlight came over the ridge did he actually feel warm enough to relax without shivering. Finally he dozed.
