"Humph!" exclaimed Lesley. "I may give them these assurances, but they will not believe me. So critical do I consider the position, that if I dared to offer your majesty a counsel, it would be to return to Scotland without hazarding an engagement."
"Return to Scotland!—never!" exclaimed Charles, indignantly. "How dare you make a proposition so dishonouring to me, Lesley. I have not advanced thus far into my kingdom to go back again without a blow."
"I knew my advice would be distasteful to your majesty, but I deemed it my duty to give it."
"No more!" cried the king. "Quell this mutinous spirit in your men, Lesley—quell it, by whatever means you can. Mark well what I say, and fail not to repeat it. When we have routed the rebels—and we shall rout them—those who have fought best for me shall receive the highest reward."
Before Lesley could make any reply, Pitscottie approached his majesty.
"Where are your Highlanders, colonel?" demanded Charles.
"Drawn up in the college green, sire. I await your orders to march them to the place of Muster."
"Have they heard that Cromwell is at hand?"
"Ay, sire; and they are eager to meet him."
"No discontent among them—ha?"
"Discontent! No, sire. They were never in better spirits. All they desire is to prove their zeal to your majesty, and use their broadswords against the foe."
"Brave fellows!" exclaimed Charles, glancing significantly at Lesley. "They shall serve as my body-guard to-day."
CHAPTER IX.
OF THE GRAND MUSTER AT PITCHCROFT.
Ever since the old city of Worcester was built and encircled by walls, Pitchcroft has afforded its inhabitants a delightful place for exercise and recreation. On this broad, flat plain, bounded on the west by the Severn, and completely overlooked by a natural terrace on the further bank of the river, many a grand tournament has been held in the days of our earlier monarchs. Magnificent pavilions and galleries have been reared upon the wide mead—splendid cavalcades have come forth from the city gates—nobles, knights, squires, jesters, and fair dames—and many a lance has been splintered at the royal jousts of Worcester. In 1225, these displays incurred the displeasure of the Church—a grand tournament being held on Pitchcroft in that year, when all the noble personages concerned in it were excommunicated by Bishop Blois. Sports and pastimes of all kinds have been familiar to the plain from time immemorial—games which, by a pretty figure of speech, have been described as Olympian, and which, we rejoice to say, are not altogether discontinued. Not only has Pitchcroft been the scene of many a knightly encounter and many a festive meeting, but when the loyal city was invested, it witnessed frequent conflicts between Cavaliers and Roundheads, and one well-fought action, in which the fiery Rupert took part.
On the morning appointed for the Muster, Pitchcroft was even more thronged than it had been on the previous Sunday, and presented a far gayer and more animated appearance. A great number of troops was assembled there, while the new levies were continually pouring into the plain through Foregate-street.
Before proceeding to the place of rendezvous, the recruits entered the city, and halted for a time in the area near the Cross, where their numbers were registered by the mayor and the sheriff, who acted as commissioners.
Among the principal names inscribed on the muster-roll were those of Lord Talbot, Sir John Pakington, Sir Walter Blount, Sir Ralph Clare, Sir Rowland Berkley, Sir John Winford, Mr. Ralph Sheldon of Beoley, Mr. John Washburn of Witchinford, and Mr. Thomas Hornyold.
Lord Talbot's troop, which was far more numerous than any other, was composed almost entirely of gentlemen, whose accoutrements and horses were far superior to those of ordinary cavalry. The regiment was commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Mervin Touchet, and subsequently proved exceedingly efficient. Every Cavalier who came singly to Worcester was included in some troop or other.
These arrangements were made by Colonel Lane and Colonel Legge, assisted by Sir Clement Fisher. As quickly as one troop was filled up, it was sent off to the place of Muster. It was calculated that two thousand Worcestershire Cavaliers, including of course retainers and servants, answered the king's summons on that day.
The sight of so many recruits tended materially to dissipate the alarm not unnaturally excited by the rumours of Cromwell's near approach. Having begun to distrust the Scottish soldiers, the citizens were glad to have some defenders on whom they could confidently rely. For this reason, as well as for their gallant bearing and handsome equipments, the recruits were lustily cheered as they appeared on the plain.
A large concourse was collected in Foregate-street, and on the northern walls, to see the new troops come forth. The Scottish regiments of cavalry and infantry excited but little curiosity; the chief objects of interest being the numerous small bodies of horse, extending for a quarter of a mile on the left—each little troop with its officers in front.
The effect of this arrangement was extremely good, and delighted the spectators on the city walls and those on the west bank of the river.
The last troop had just got into its place, when the shrill notes of the pibroch were heard, and the Highlanders, with Colonel Pitscottie at their head, marched forth, and were received with cheers by the crowd assembled in Foregate-street.
Acclamations greeted the king. His majesty looked extremely well, and charmed the beholders, as he always did, by the extreme affability of his demeanour. On this occasion he was only attended by Careless and Colonel Blague. The recruits instantly attracted his attention—their numbers giving him manifest pleasure—and he expressed his satisfaction at beholding them audibly to his attendants.
He had not proceeded far, when the mayor and the sheriff advanced to meet him.
Opening a scroll which he held in his hand, the mayor in a loud voice recited the long list of loyal gentlemen of the county who had responded to his majesty's summons. The king looked highly gratified, and repeated each name as it was given out.
When the mayor had made an end, Charles rode towards Lord Talbot, who was nearest him on the left, and while surveying his splendid troop with admiration, called out, so that all might hear him:
"Why, my good lord, these are all gentlemen. Better mounted, better equipped Cavaliers, I would not desire to see."
"They are all loyal gentlemen," replied Lord Talbot, bowing; "and as such I am proud to present them to your majesty."
"Long live the king! Confusion to his enemies!" shouted the gallant band, brandishing their swords.
The shout was caught up by the next troop, which was commanded by Sir John Pakington, and was echoed far and wide.
After a few complimentary observations to Colonel Touchet, Charles moved on, inspecting in turn all the new-raised troops. Had loyalty been chilled in any breast, his majesty's gracious manner would have kindled it anew—but all were loyal. The king could not help noting that in almost every troop gentlemen had joined, and horses and accoutrements were generally so good that officers could scarcely be distinguished from privates.
Captain Hornyold's troop was stationed near the Scottish cavalry—Sir Clement Fisher acting as second captain. But the real commander, in the king's estimation, was Jane Lane, who was posted in front of her steed.
A glance of triumph lighted up her fine eyes as Charles addressed her:
"You only want arms to become a veritable Amazon."
"I will wear them if your majesty commands."