Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [473]
For there had been so many demands for a settlement with, or rather a surrender to the king that the leader of the opposition had even begun a new negotiation with the Scots, who were now demanding that their own Presbyterian rule should be made compulsory in England – to Obadiah Shockley’s delight.
But Nathaniel shook his head.
“No. Parliament will court the Scots but never agree with them.” He grinned. “Poor Obadiah. Our Parliament has grown used to ruling the church. In Scotland, it’s the Presbyterian church which rules. The English Parliament can pretend what it pleases, but it will never submit to that. No,” he explained, “the king and Parliament will not agree, nor will Parliament submit and see her leaders hanged. But as time passes, only Parliament can win.”
“Why?”
“Firstly, our strategy is flawed. The king means to advance from the north and west upon London. But always in his rear he will have the ports and the cloth towns – Hull in the north, Plymouth and Gloucester in the west. He cannot advance safely, nor will London easily submit.”
“But his army is better trained.”
“So far, yes. But the Eastern Association is growing, and there is a new commander there, a cousin of Hampden’s, a squire like ourselves called Cromwell. ‘Ironsides’ they call him. He is training a new force that will make Lord Essex’s cohorts look like rabble. Fairfax in the north, too, is a skilful commander. Wait until these men take the field.”
It was true that, up to date, the Parliamentary forces had, like the Royalists, been led almost entirely by aristocrats and gentlemen, some of them dedicated, some cynical, but very few trained in warfare. So far this had given the king an advantage.
“Perhaps the king will find larger forces to oppose them.”
“He can’t. No money.” Nathaniel sighed. “A long war is always won by wealth, sister – and the trouble is, Parliament has the purse strings.” He kicked a stone irritably. “Do you not know, every time the king’s men buy provisions, even arms for their men, they pay duties on them. And the duties go to London where they are held by Parliament. All our taxes go to Parliament. We Royalists actually pay our own opponents, who besides, being merchants, have always more ready money than we have. ’Tis a phantasm, a ghostly thing, this victory of the king. Whatever appears today, will vanish tomorrow.”
It was a dark insight. She looked at him thoughtfully.
He was silent for a little time. He seemed to be brooding about something else.
Finally he said:
“I had a dream.” He paused. “About Edmund.”
“You fought?”
He frowned.
“We met. Somewhere. Perhaps in battle, I cannot tell.”
“What happened?”
“I cannot remember. I know only that we met. I suppose it must have been in battle. And then . . . I woke, unhappy.”
She said nothing for a few moments.
“If you met in battle, what would you do?” She asked slowly.
He stopped and stared at the ground.
“I do not know.” He sighed. “Each day I have prayed it may not happen.”
“But you fear it will?”
He nodded. “I feel we shall meet.”
They walked a little further. How melancholy he looked.
“But you still believe, don’t you, in your cause?”
He stared at the ground moodily.
“Oh yes. Of course.”
Then he kicked another stone.
1644: OCTOBER
All that year in England, the balance of advantage swung from side to side.
At Sarum, the Royalists seemed to have triumphed. Local Parliamentary commanders – Hungerford, Baynton, Evelyn – either deserted, intrigued with the king, or were disgraced. Fifteen miles to the west, the gallant young Edmund Ludlow had finally had to give up the Arundels’ Catholic stronghold of Wardour Castle and yield it back to the Royalists. The strongholds were nearly all held for Charles.
But away in the north of England, where the Royalists had been so strong, the fearsome new army of Cromwell and Fairfax, using Prince Rupert’s cavalry methods but with their own iron discipline, together with the Presbyterian Scots had utterly crushed the Royalists at Marston Moor.
“We ran like rabbits in the end,” Nathaniel