6. VI.
MY PROMISE.
These events took place in the month of July, 1644.
In the autumn of the same year I was back in England,
bearer of a private dispatch from her majesty,
then at the baths of Bourbon, to his majesty the king,
then in the neighborhood of Oxford.
I need not speak in these memoirs of my brief stay
in France at that time, any more than I did of my
sojourn in the Low Countries. This volume strives
to depict incidents occurring on English ground; and
accordingly I pass to the moment when I again trod
the beloved soil of my home-land.
The times I found more than ever “out of joint.”
The struggle between king and parliament had steadily
become more bitter and envenomed. It was now a
conflict of life and death; and during my absence at
Exeter with her majesty, disastrous events had taken
place for the royal cause. Early in July was fought the
great battle of Marston-Moor, where, against the protest
of my lord Newcastle, his highness Prince Rupert
attacked the enemy and was badly beaten. Later in the
same month, York surrendered to the parliament. In
October the king sustained a second defeat on the old
ground of Newbury, and, save that Lord Essex was
defeated in turn with the force he commanded in
Cornwall, no gleam of light came from any quarter
to cheer the adherents of his majesty. Shut up in the
city of Oxford, deprived of the consolation of the
queen's presence, seeing all around him evidences of
failing fortunes, the king had little to cheer him, and,
when I saw him first after my return, seemed plunged
in melancholy.
He received me in private audience, and questioned
me minutely as to the health, spirits, and surroundings
of the queen. I informed him upon all points, and
gave his majesty a detailed account of her strange
adventures at Exeter and on the sea. As I spoke, his
pale cheeks filled with blood, his eyes flashed, and he
exclaimed,—
“'Twas like her! Brave and true! brave and true!”
His majesty was pleased then to express his satisfaction
with the humble part I had borne in the escape of
the queen, to declare his confidence in me, and to dismiss
me with expressions of his royal regard.
As I issued from the royal presence, Harry met me,
arm in arm with the gay young Frank Villiers, whose
blue eyes gave me friendly welcome. We all went to
the quarters of the Guards, now on duty at Oxford. My
old friends received me with an ovation, and during
the winter I remained at Oxford, dreaming of Frances
Villiers and wondering where she then was. The victim
still of my old passion, I could not banish her from
my mind. But I never spoke of her to Harry, fearing
to arouse old memories. He was equally reticent:
her name was never uttered by either of us. I knew
not whether he still pined for her, and could only resolve
to adhere to my resolution not further to prosecute
my suit.
Spring came, and both sides assembled all their
forces. Fairfax was appointed general-in-chief of the
parliamentary troops. Under General Fairfax nominally,
but in reality over him, was the cold, resolute,
ardent, explosive General Cromwell. He it was who
now came to put the coup de grâce to his majesty's
fortunes. Intellect governs the world; and 'twas the
brain of that single man that shaped the history of
England. Of the loose and disjointed armies of parliament
he made one great engine: the troops became
inspired with his own indomitable will to conquer:
his pikemen marched to battle chanting uncouth
psalms, despising death and wounds, raised by that
afflatus above care for life. In the person of the
plain countryman whom I had met at Mr. Hampden's
in Buckinghamshire, now become the supreme
ruler of the minds and hearts of his men, the troops
had found their master and the name that led them
to victory.
'Twas a strange fanaticism, that of the puritan soldiery
then,—those “Independents” advancing remorselessly
over church and king. I will not laugh at
it: 'twas grotesque, but terrible too. I pass on to events.
June of the dark year 1645 arrived, and the flags of
king and parliament fronted each other on the soon-to-be-famous
ground of Naseby.
Harry and I were lying in our tent on the night
before the battle, and, as the long hours went on, we
remained awake, talking of a thousand things. At last
our talk came to concern one subject alone,—Frances
Villiers and the love we bore her. Harry laughed
rather than replied to me, and I loved him more than
ever for that. Convinced that his passion was unchanged,
and penetrated to the heart by that great
wealth of brotherly love which thus surrendered the
dear object to his rival, I saw in his laughter but a
new evidence of his noble delicacy, but proof of the
fact that he wished to make light of his great sacrifice.
The thought brought tears to my eyes.
“You shall not find me less magnanimous than
yourself, brother,” I said.
“Pooh, Ned!” was his gay reply, “ go on and court
the fair one. Why not?”
I rose on my elbow from the camp-couch, and, with
flushed cheeks, said, in a low tone.—
“I will not! Never will I utter word of love whilst
I am my brother's rival!”
Harry laughed aloud thereat, and said,—
“Suppose I go under to-morrow, old fellow?”
“No matter!” I cried: “I have promised! Whether
you pass unharmed or fall, my word is given: until I
obtain my Harry's permission I swear I will never utter
love-word to Frances Villiers!”
As I spoke, the sudden sound of a trumpet was heard
without, and footsteps hastening to and fro, mingled
with the neighing of horses. A sergeant put in his
head.
“To horse, gentlemen!” he cried; for it was the
fashion in the aristocratic corps of the Guards to observe
this courtly and very unmilitary mode of address.
Harry sprang up. “What's the matter?” he cried.
“The enemy's horse threaten the train,” was the
reply.
The trumpet sounded more shrilly the call “Boots
and saddles!”
In ten minutes we were mounted, and, commanded
by Prince Rupert in person, were moving rapidly to
the point of danger.
The parliament horse had indeed advanced to attack
the king's trains, but at our appearance they gave up
the design, and retreated, skirmishing, to their main
body again.
The day dawned as we fell back; and soon the sound
of martial music indicated that the camps were astir.
The king was forming his line of battle. As the sun
rose he was ready.
The disastrous day of Naseby had come.
