Red Man

by Andrew Wareham

  “The armies are marching, Red Man. The King has shifted from Nottingham and the Earl of Essex in command of Parliament’s army seeks to oppose him. Both have marched west towards the Severn, though why I know not.”

  Rumour came to them that the King was seeking a road towards London, hoping to avoid open conflict and simply take the capital of England by presence of arms. Then came report of a battle, the first of the war, taking place in the Midlands at Edgehill, and won by neither party.

  “All I am told is that the King is still marching towards London, Red Man, and we must muster the Trained Bands.”

  The news came that the King’s dragoons had reached as close to London as the town of Brentford.

  “They put the town to the sack, Red Man. A hard sack, at that. Murder, rape and theft followed by arson of the buildings, so the word insists. They will do the same to every town and village as they approach London Town itself. The Trained Bands are to march.”

  The Earl of Essex had managed to bring the army back to London on a roundabout northerly route while the King dithered his way along the Thames, taking all of the towns on his way and then diverting off to Windsor – the castle being a major royal residence. The week the King had wasted discovering that Parliament had placed a strong, unassailable garrison in Windsor had given London a lifeline.

  Parliament called the Trained Bands together to back the Army. Between them, they mustered perhaps twenty-five thousand armed men, backed by at least as many of unarmed volunteers, boys and womenfolk and old men. The extra bodies carried mattocks and shovels, come to fortify against the wicked King.

  Micah donned his breast-and-back and arrayed himself with sword and all of his pistols. Captain Carew produced a helmet for him.

  “The new style, Red Man. Less ornate and without the crest of the old morion but with a pair of bars horizontal across the face that will protect against a sword slash at high. You will lead your men on horseback – you must be seen. We have our full company of shot of the Blue Band; we shall split them half and half and Charles will ride at your shoulder on this occasion while he discovers what a fight feels like.”

  “A good enough lad, but green, Daniel.”

  “The lad is older than you by three or four years, Red Man. But you are right, he is no more than a boy by comparison. Look after him – he might make a good officer after he has been splashed with other men’s blood.”

  The company assembled on its parade ground and Micah and Daniel walked the ranks, a hundred men in all, and inspected their readiness.

  Each man had a matchlock and charges of powder and ball and two yards of match. At his waist hung a long knife or a sword, depending on what he had been able to pick up. All carried a small knapsack, hopefully containing two days worth of food. A few had water bottles.

  Behind the four ranks were the followers, men and women of all ages, some little more than children, mostly families of the Trained Band soldiers. Micah saw the pastrycook Bayliss carrying a mattock and his two daughters, Catherine and Jane, with shovels on their shoulders. They exchanged smiles, said nothing while on parade.

  The call had gone out for ordinary folk to come to dig trenches and build earth walls to protect themselves from the wicked horsemen who had savaged Brentford. The response amazed Micah – the foolishness of the King had brought literally thousands of uncommitted people to fight against him as well as they could.

  “He has recruited for us, Daniel. Men and women who care little for religion and would not fight willingly now see themselves as having no choice other than to take to arms, or to support those who will fight for them. Truly a man of blood, unable to see beyond his own greed to retain his kingship. The people of London will not forgive him for Brentford, or not for many years.”

  Captain Carew had seen and heard of far worse in the wars in the Germanies, where the sack of towns was a commonplace. He had not expected so strong a reaction from the townspeople.

  “Much of the King’s problem rests with Prince Rupert, who is stronger in the mind than the King. I have met him, know of him as a clever man but uncaring of anything other than his own rights. He will see two sorts of people in this country – those who fight for the King and all of the rest, who are the enemy. If you do not have a musket in your hand to support the King, then you are a traitor and may die, the more quickly the better. Rupert is a competent general of horse – no more than that because he will not stay back in battle. He prefers to be another sabre rather than the commander who directs the battle from the rear. He will loose the first charge at a well-chosen time and place, but there will be no second charge because he is up in the front ranks, no longer able to command his men. No doubt he permitted the sack of Brentford because he was in no place to stop it.”

  Micah could see that a general must be apart from the battle if he was to control it.

  “An officer must be more than a strong sword arm, Red Man.”

  “Yet he must display prowess or his men will not follow him, Daniel.”

  “Exactly! When your troops are volunteers, they must be persuaded to follow – they must be led. We have that difficulty, Red Man. Our people obey our orders because they believe they should. They do not march for fear of being flogged or hanged if they refuse, and we must act in such a fashion that they will continue to follow us. It is difficult to achieve a balance. We must be seen at the forefront and yet we must stay back sufficiently to watch the field of battle and know what must come next. I think that when open, marching war comes we will be forced to bring them to a hard discipline, but for the while we must persuade them to fight.”

  They set out and came to a small town on the road west. Word came that the King’s army was none too far distant, advancing on London as expected. The volunteers were set to digging and the Trained Bands were brought together and given their places to stand on the stretch of common land that gave Turnham Green its name. Essex’s Army was placed on either flank, the Trained Bands squarely behind a low earth wall, in the hope that they would feel protected.

  Micah understood that now was the time to act as the officer in command. He must tell his half company and its volunteers what was expected of them.

  Micah inflated his lungs, spoke loudly to be heard by all.

  “This little town is called Turnham Green. It is on the road to be followed by the Man of Blood if he is to enter London. You all know what he ordered his cruel followers to do at Brentford and you may be sure he will do the same to every other town on his route, and then to much of London as well. We are to stop him and then to turn him around, to send him back to winter quarters at a safe distance from us. The Trained Bands are to hold a line across his road. Should his bloody-handed dragoons approach, we will shoot them down and drive them off. Our families lie behind us and depend on us for their protection.”

  Micah could hear a few cries of ‘amen’ coming from the ranks.

  “Look to your left and to your right – you will see the good people of London cutting a trench and building this wall for you to stand and rest your firelocks on. The deeper the trench, the stronger the wall - the safer our kinsfolk will be. Two of the corporals’ platoons will stand watch with lit match for each hour while the other two help the digging, turn and turn about. We shall start now.”

  Fifteen minutes saw the men labouring next to the women and youngsters who had come to their aid. A few sang hymns as they worked. Micah walked the line, encouraging the men, thanking the volunteers, watching the wall grow in width, wondering if it could hold against a charge.

  Daniel Carew came to his shoulder for a few minutes, showing himself to the men.

  “Not a great obstacle, Red Man, but sufficient to slow a charge. Just too great to be jumped, it will force the dragoons to dismount and scramble across on foot, if they can. There will be ten thousand of the Trained Bands in sight here on the common land, a good half of us musketeers, under discipline and able to fire a shot apiece each minute. Not an easy task to advance on foo
t into such fire, especially knowing that the Army is to either flank and ready to press into the attack.”

  A troop of horsemen appeared on the road to the west, walking their tired mounts and approaching cautiously.

  “King’s men, do you see, and have been on the road for weeks now. Their horses have seen more grass than grain and have been worked for long days. A full battle would leave horse and riders both exhausted. On top of that, they had been told that the Parliamentary army is behind them, that there is no great force to bar their way – and now they see a mass of men, some thousands more than them. If they are led by experienced men – officers who have seen war – they will want to know what is happening, who and what we are.”

  “And if they are green boys, Daniel?”

  “They may even decide we are no more than raw levies, militia who have no knowledge of war, and take the chance of attacking so as to drive us into panic-stricken flight. They believe that all Parliamentarians are no more than foolish hinds and gutter-rats, criminals rather than patriots, and weak and easily overawed for knowing that they stand against their true King. They will not expect us to hold our ground. If the Trained Bands do hold against the first onslaught, then the Army will be able to attack either flank of the King’s forces. But, holding will be no easy task for such green troops.”

  Micah was inclined to agree but felt the task was not impossible. The Trained Bands were not professional soldiers; instead, they were driven by belief in the righteousness of their cause, and by anger after the sack at Brentford. Add to that, there was a leavening of men who had seen blood in the Germanies – at least a thousand, judging by his own company – who had fought a season or two and come back with a little of loot and a lot of knowledge. The old hands would do much to prevent the green men from panicking.

  “Has the King any great artillery train, do we know, Daniel?”

  That was more than Captain Carew could say for a certainty, but he was inclined to doubt it.

  “A marching field army, hurrying to take London town in the absence, so it is thought, of its own troops. The King will have believed it more important to make speed than to bring a mass of slow cannon with him. I would be surprised if he had anything more than a few of light field guns, nothing greater than a falcon. If he had a siege train, or even two or three batteries of culverins, then he could destroy our little earth wall in an hour and charge over us. We have few of horse ourselves to stand against his dragoons. But I much suspect he has a light force. If he is to take our wall then he must throw his foot against it, pike and sword against our muskets set in cover where they can reload and fire their volleys. Not an easy task.”

  The first troop of dragoons came to a halt a furlong distant, stared at the growing obstacle and took a rough count of the men behind it and observed all of the colours of the Trained Bands and pointed to the flags of the Army to either flank. They quietly about faced and took their intelligence back to the main body of their army.

  Nothing happened for nearly an hour and then a group of horsemen appeared, escorting a clump of senior officers, all dressed in bright colours rather than the sober hues of the ordinary soldier.

  The wall had grown substantially.

  “What now, Daniel?”

  “Either they march their foot forward and set them for the assault, or they debate what they can do instead. They have few practical choices, you see, Red Man. We are in town and with roads to march on, can parallel them if they try to cut across country to find another way into London. They would have to make camp in the fields while we have the comfort of the towns and the year is growing older, the weather turning against them – November is no time to be camping out in the wet and cold mud. Truly, their choice is simple – to come forward in a great assault upon us or to turn and head to winter quarters in Reading or Oxford or some lesser town.”

  “What would you do, Daniel?”

  “Given a choice between attacking a wall manned by more than ten thousand muskets and pikes, without artillery, or retiring to a safe haven for the winter? Knowing that there are regiments of dragoons to the flanks, waiting their moment? I would be on the march home, Red Man. If the King was to take this wall and drive us back, for all he knows there is another wall being built at this moment, out of sight a mile down the road, and another after that, perhaps. He could not take the wall for less than two thousand men, perhaps more, and might well face the same again tomorrow. He has fifteen thousand at a guess and cannot afford great losses. Any wise man would be turning his army around just now – but the King has repeatedly shown himself a fool, and what his generals will say, I can only guess. Be ready to fight, Red Man, even though sense says we should not today.”

  The King’s officers held back out of gunshot and peered at the wall, seeing it grow in front of them as they delayed. The colours of all six Trained Bands defied them, to their anger. They eased a few paces forward and saw the firelocks of the companies manning the wall held level and pointed towards them while smoke rose from men puffing at their match to make the fuses grow hot. They heard voices shouting commands, calling men to wait, to hold fire until they had come closer. To the sides they saw banners that had flown at Edgehill, troops who had fought once and would stand their ground again.

  They turned their horses and rode slowly back to hold a full furlong from the wall while they debated their best course. A few guns, two small batteries, came up from their rear and dropped their trails and fired their rounds of two pound ball, making no great impression on the earth wall.

  They waited till mid-afternoon before they moved away, off the field, returning to the King with the unpalatable message that they must not continue in their march.

  Before evening the whole of the King’s army was on the road, heading west, the march on London given up for the year.

  “The best sort of battle, Red Man!”

  Micah agreed – no musket shots fired, few men killed and a plain victor. They could ask for no more.

  Charles Tixover was inclined to be scornful of the King’s generals for their tame acceptance of defeat. He was bolstered in his decision to stand with Parliament – the King’s men lacked honour, he thought. Neither Micah nor Daniel agreed with him, but perhaps they had a different understanding of the concept.

  They made their way to the campfires at the back of the common land where the volunteers were making their meals and supplying hot drinks to the soldiery.

  Micah found himself next to Catherine Bayliss and quietly talking over all they had seen during the day.

  “The men said those were but small cannon, Mr Slater, yet I saw a ball from one to hit a soldier a few yards away and to rip the poor man’s arm off at the shoulder! Blood in a great gush, his life spent in seconds!”

  “Barely two score of such unfortunates, Mistress Catherine. A few guns and small – the sort we call falcons. Had the Man of Blood possessed a full train, then we would have experienced a different sort of day, but he had no more than field guns. A pity that we had none at all, having marched fast to be here in time to block the road. There will be other days, however.”

  She feared there would be too many of them.

  “Be careful, Red Man! Do not you go dying like that sad fellow we saw this afternoon. I must go – my father has begged a ride on a cart returning this night. We must be tending the ovens before morning. What do you do, sir?”

  “Captain Carew is seeking our orders just now. I much suspect we shall remain here overnight to hold the ground. The men will wish to be home quickly – they have work to do, unlike idle soldiers such as myself who rely on other men to make their living.”

  “It is not idleness to protect the weak and the vulnerable, Red Man – if I may be forgiven for calling thee such, Mr Slater.”

  “You may call me by any name you wish, Catherine. I am Micah by baptism, but Red Man seems to be the name I am fated to carry. I do not doubt that I shall be back to break my fast at your ovens within a few days.”

>   “You will be welcome, Micah.”

  Captain Carew called him to join the company and he left, saying no more. Her father, silent in the background, gave a solemn approval of her doings.

  “A fine man, Kate. You may do much worse than attract the Red Man’s eye, daughter.”

  She smiled and hurried to join him and her sister to mount the wagon waiting for them.

  “A good day’s work, father – though not at our ovens.”

  “We have done the Lord’s work this day, daughter, and may be proud of our labours.”

  “I still hold Miss Jane to be the prettier of the two, Red Man.”

  “So she may be, Daniel, but her sister has far more than prettiness about her. She has a strength of mind and principle that I suspect the younger lacks. I might well wish to see Miss Catherine ensconced in my house as mistress of my family, Daniel.”

  “She would make a fine wife, Red Man – but not for a mere lieutenant of foot. You must rise in the world if you are to keep a wife.”

  Micah raised an eyebrow, showed interested but a little puzzled. Daniel explained.

  “My lord of Essex is recruiting. He has lost many men to sickness and some few to battle and must bolster his ranks before campaigning in the spring. He will remain in London over the winter. As experienced officers, we are welcome. Even more so if we seek volunteers from our ranks and take them into the Army with us, Red Man. Now is the time to beg single young men to enlist – at the end of a day in which we have forced the King to retreat. We remain here tonight. Speak to your men around their fires, Red Man – call them to arms, to follow you.”

  The Earl of Essex was wise in some ways. He ordered his own soldiers to the tedious work of sentry-go that night, left the Trained Bands to make themselves as comfortable as they could in barns and stable yards about the small town. They had food and to spare that evening, having brought their own provender, and the inns and taverns, of which there were several, being on the Great West Road, were generous with barrels of beer. The volunteers were in a good mood when Micah spoke to them, open to suggestions that they might enjoy more of the soldier’s way of life.