CHAPTER XVIII. I SPEAK WITH AURELIA
The next thing which I remember was coming out of the mob with
the waggons just behind me, going at a smart pace to a position
on the army's right. The road was pretty full of all sorts of
people; but as we shouted for them to clear the way, they made a
lane for us. I saw the Duke's little clump of staff-officers on a
pitch of rising ground, but there was no firing; only a noise of
many voices singing. Just as we were about to turn off the road
into the fields behind our right wing, I saw the little old lame
puppet-man sitting on a donkey by the ditch at the side of the
road. I shouted to the drivers to pass on, which they did, at
full tilt, while I drew rein by the old man's side. "Aurelia," I
said, "this is no place for you. Do get away from here before
they find you out."
"Why," she said, very calmly, in the broad burring man's voice
which she imitated so exactly. "I be come 'ere to find you out.
You'm going to your death, boy. You get out of this 'ere army
afore you're took. I tell ee thy Duke be a doomed man. Look at
en's face. Why, boy, there be eleven thousand soldiers a-marching
to put er down. You've only a got a quarter of that lot. Come out
of en, boy. Do-an't ee be led wrong." I was touched by her kind
thought for me; she was risking her life for me for the second
time, but in the hurry of the moment I could not put words
together to thank her.
"Aurelia," I said, "I can't talk to you now. Only get out of
this. Don't stay here. I'm all right."
"No, Martin," she said, in her ordinary voice, "you're not all
right. Come out of this. Slip away tonight to Newenham Abbey. It
be over there, not more than a couple of miles. Oh, come, come. I
can't bear to see you going away to certain death. I KNOW that
this force cannot win."
"Yes, Aurelia," I answered. "But I'm not going to be a hang-back
for all that. I'm not going to be a coward. You risk a horrible
death, only to tell me not to do the same. You wouldn't give up a
cause you believed in, merely because it was dangerous. I'll
stick by my master, Aurelia. Don't try to tempt me."
She would have said more; she would perhaps have persuaded me
from my heroics, had not the guns begun firing. That broke the
spell with a vengeance; nothing could be done after that. I shook
up my horse, hardly pausing to say "God bless you." In another
minute she was out of sight, while I was cantering off to the
extreme right wing with the Duke's orders to his officers to cut
in on the road to Chard. As I rode along, behind the scattered
line of our men, I could see the rolls of smoke from the firing
on the left. The men on the right were not firing, but being raw
troops they were edging little by little towards the firing, in
which I do not doubt they longed to be, for the sake of the
noise. They say now that the Duke threw away this battle at
Axminster. He could have cut Albemarle's troops to pieces had he
chosen to do so. They made a pretty bold front till we were
within gunfire of them, when they all scattered off to the town
pell-mell. While they were in the town, we could have cut them
off from the Chard road, which would have penned them in while we
worked round to seize the bridges. After that, one brisk assault
would have made the whole batch of them surrender. Some of our
officers galloped from our right wing (where I was) to see how
the land lay, before leading off their men as I had brought them
word. A few of them fired their pistols, when they came to the
road, which was enough to make the right wing double forward to
support them without orders. In a minute about a thousand of us
were running fast after our officers, while the Duke's aides
charged down to stop us. He had decided not to fight, probably
thinking that it would do his cause no good by killing a lot of
his subjects so early in his reign. We know now that had he made
one bold attack that morning, the whole of Albemarle's force,
with the exception of a few officers, would have declared for
him. In other words we should have added to our army about a
thousand drilled armed men who knew the country through which we
were to pass. By not fighting, we discouraged our own army, who
grumbled bitterly when they found their second battle as
ineffectual as the fight at Bridport.
I remember next that I saw the whole of Albemarle's troops flying
for their lives along the Chard road, flinging away their weapons
as they ran. They had the start of us; but a resolute captain
could have brought them to a stand, by pushing forward his
cavalry. However "a bridge of gold to a flying foe" is a good
saying. We let them go. When our cavalry advanced (to keep them
on the move, not to fight with them) they passed the time in
collecting what the militia had flung away; about four thousand
pounds' worth of soldiers' stores, chiefly uniforms. I went
forward with the horse on that occasion. I picked up altogether
about a dozen muskets, which I gave to some of our men who were
armed only with clubs. Then I rode back to report myself ready
for service to my master, who was getting ready for camp,
thinking that his men had done enough for one day.
It was a sad waste of time. A rough camp was formed. We went no
further for that time. About half a precious day was wasted,
which might have brought us nearly to Taunton under a resolute
man, sworn to conquer. Some of our men went out to forage, which
they did pretty roughly. It was theft with violence, coloured
over by some little touch of law. The farmers who were unpopular
thereabouts had their cattle driven off; their ricks carted off;
their horses stolen; their hen-roosts destroyed. We were like an
army of locusts, eating up everything as we passed. Our promises
to pay, when the King came to his own, were really additional
insult; for the people robbed knew only too well how Stuart kings
kept their promises. One strange thing I saw that night. The men
who were cooking their newly stolen beef at the camp-fires kept
crying out for camp-kettles in which to boil the joints. We had
no camp-kettles; but an old man came forward to the Duke's
quarters to ask if he might show the men how to cook their meat
without kettles. The Duke at once commanded him to show us how
this might be done. Like most useful inventions, it was very
simple. It was one of those things which are forgotten as life
becomes civilised, but for want of which one may perish when one
returns to barbarity, as in war. The old man began by placing
stout poles in tripods over the camp-fires, lashing them firmly
at the top with faggot-binders. Then he took the hide of one of
the slaughtered cattle, gathering it up at the corners, so as to
form a sort of bag. He cut some long narrow strips from the hide
of the legs, with which to tie the four corners together. Then he
lashed the four corners to the tripod, so that the bag hung over
the fire.
"There," he said. "There is your kettle. Now put water into en.
Boil thy victuals in er. That be a soldier's camp-kettle. You can
carry your kettle on your beef till you be ready for en."
Indeed, it proved to be a very good kind of a kettle after one
got used to the nastiness of it, though the smell of burning hair
from the kettles was disgusting. To this day, I have only to
singe a few hairs in a candle to bring back to my mind's eye that
first day in camp at Axminster, the hill, the valley ringed in by
combes, the noise of the horses, the sputtering of the fires of
green wood, the many men passing about aimlessly, wondering at
the ease of a soldier's life after the labour of spring
ploughing. It was a wonderful sight, that first camp of ours; but
the men for the most part grumbled at not fighting; they wanted
to be pushing on, to seize the city of Bristol, instead of
camping there. How did they know, they said, that the weather
would keep fine? How were we to march with all our ten baggage
waggons if the weather turned wet, so that the roads became
muddy? The roads in those parts became deep quagmires in rainy
weather. A light farmer's market cart might go in up to the axles
after a day's steady rain. To march through such roads would
break the men's hearts quicker than any quantity of fighting,
however disastrous. Thus they grumbled about the camp-fires,
while I bustled over the Duke's dinner, in the intervals of
running errands for the colonel.
That evening, after the summer dusk had come, but before the army
had settled to sleep, I heard an old man, one of our cavalrymen,
talking to another trooper. "Ah," he said, "I was fighting in the
old wars under Oliver. I've seen wars enough. You mark my words,
boy, this army won't do much. We've not got enough men, for one
thing. We could have had fourteen thousand or more if he'd
thought to bring muskets for en. We've not got cavalry, that's
another thing. When us do come face to face with all the King's
men us shall be sore put to it for want of a few trusty horses.
Horsemen be the very backbones of armies in the field. Then, boy,
we not got any captains, that's worst of all. The Duke's no
captain. If he'd been a captain her'd have fought this morning.
Them others aren't captains neither, none of them. Besides, what
are they doing sitting down in camp like this when we ought to be
marching? Us ought to be marching. Marching all night, never
setting down once, marching in two armies, one to Exeter, one to
Bristol. Us'd 'ave the two towns by late tomorrow night if us was
under old Oliver. It'll take us a week to get to Bristol at this
rate. By that time it will be full of troops, as well as secured
by ships. As for us, by that time we shall have troops all round
us, not to speak of club-men."
"Ah," said the younger man. "What be club-men, gaffer?"
"You'll know soon enough what club-men are," the old man
answered, "if there's any more of this drunken dirty robbery I
saw this afternoon. Those thieves who stole the farmer's cattle
would have been shot in Oliver's time. They'd have cast lots on a
drum in sight of all on us, drawn up. The men who got the low
numbers would have been shot. The captains would have pistolled
them where they stood. If this robbing goes on, all the farmers
will club together to defend themselves, making a sort of second
army for us to fight against. That is what club-men means. It's
not a nice thing to fight in a country where there are club-men
all round you. No, boy. So what with all this, boy, I be going to
creep out of this 'ere army. I do-an't like the look of things,
nor I do-an't like the way things are done. If you take a old
man's advice you'll come too."
"Noa," said the honest oaf, "I be agoin' to vight. I be a-goin'
to London town to be a girt sol-dier."
"Ah," said the old man, shortly, "you be a vule, Tummas. Wish ee
good day, maister." Then the old man turned sharply on his heel
to leave the camp, which he did easily enough, for he knew
several of the sentries. Even if he had not known them, it would
have made little difference, because our sentries were so lax
that the camp was always swarming with strangers. Women came to
see their husbands or sweethearts. Boys came out of love of
mischief. Men came out of curiosity, or out of some wish to see
things before they decided which side to take. Our captains were
never sure at night how many of their men would turn up at muster
the next morning.
After the old man had deserted, I sat down on the high ground
above the camp, in the earthen battery where our four little guns
were mounted. I was oppressed with a sad feeling that we were all
marching to death. The old man's words, "we shall have troops all
round us," rang in my head, till I could have cried. My mind was
full of terrible imaginings. I saw our army penned up in a little
narrow valley where the roads were quagmires, so that our guns
were stuck in the mud, our horses up to their knees, our men
floundering. On the hills all round us I saw the King's armies,
fifty thousand strong, marching to music under the colours,
firing, then wheeling, forming with a glint of pikes, bringing up
guns at a gallop, shooting us down, while we in the mud tried to
form. I knew that the end of it all would be a little clump of
men round the Duke, gathered together on a hillock, holding out
to the last. The men would be dropping as the shot struck them.
The wounded would waver, letting their pike-points drop. Then'
there would come a whirling of cavalry, horses' eyes in the
smoke, bright iron horse-shoes gleaming, swords crashing down on
us, an eddy of battle which would end in a hush as the last of us
died. I saw all these pictures in my brain, as clearly as one
sees in a dream. You must not wonder that I looked over the misty
fields towards Newenham Abbey with a sort of longing to be there,
well out of all the war. It was only a mile from me. I could slip
away so easily. I was not bound to stay where I was, to share in
the misery caused by my leader's want of skill. Then I remembered
how my father had believed in the right of the Duke's cause. He
would have counselled me to stay, I thought. It seemed to me, in
the dusk of the night, that my father was by me, urging me to
stay. The thought was very blessed; it cleared away all my
troubles as though they had not been. I decided to look no more
towards Newenham; but to go on by the Duke's side to whatever
fortune the wars might bring us. Somehow, the feeling that my
father was by me, made me sure that we were marching to victory.
I went to my quarters comforted, sure of sleeping contentedly.
Like the rest of us, I had to sleep in the open, without any more
shelter than a horse-cloth. Even the Duke was without a tent that
night. He slept in camp with us, to set an example to his men,
though he might well have gone to some house in the town. I liked
the notion of sleeping out in the open. In fine warm summer
weather, when the dew is not too heavy, it is pleasant, until a
little before the dawn, when one feels uneasy, for some reason,
as though an enemy were coming. Perhaps our savage ancestors, the
earliest ancient Britons, who lived in hill-camps, high up, with
their cattle round them, expected the attacks of their enemies
always at a little before the dawn; so that, in time, the entire
race learned to be wakeful then, lest the enemy should catch the
slumberers, with flint-axe heads in the skull. It may be that to
this day we feel the fear felt by so many generations of our
ancestors. On this first night in camp, I found that many of the
men were sleeping uneasily, for they did not know the secret of
sleeping in the open. They did not know that to sleep comfortably
in the open one must dig a little hole in the ground, about as
big as a porridge bowl, to receive one's hipbone. If you do this,
you sleep at ease, feeling nothing of the hardness of the bed. If
you fail to do it, you wake all bruised, after a wretched night's
tumbling; you ache all the next day.
After grubbing up a hollow with my knife, I swathed myself in my
blanket with a saddle for pillow. I watched the stars for a
while, as they drifted slowly over me. The horses stamped,
shaking their picket-ropes. The sentries walked their rounds, or
came to the camp-fires to call their reliefs. The night was full
of strange noises. The presence of so many sleeping men was
strange. It was very beautiful, very solemn. It gave one a kind
of awe to think that thus so many famous armies had slept before
the battles of the world, before Pharsalia, before Chalons,
before Hstings. Presently the murmuring became so slight that I
fell asleep, forgetting everything, only turning uneasily from
time to time, to keep the cool night wind from blowing on my
cheeks so as to wake me.
It must have been two in the morning when I was wakened by some
armed men, evidently our sentries, who rolled me over without
ceremony.
"Wake up, young master," they said, grinning. "You'm wanted. You
be to get up to go a errand. You be a soldier now. You does your
sleeping in peace-times when you be a soldier," I sat up blinking
my eyes, in the early light, thinking how nice t'other forty
winks would be.
"Heigho," I yawned. "All right. I'm awake. What is it? What's the
matter?"
"Lord Grey be a wanting you, young master," said one of the men.
"Down there, where them horses be in the road." I picked myself
up at that, wishing for a basin of water into which I might shove
my head.
"Yes, yes," I said. "Thank you. I'll go down." I left my blanket
where it was, as I expected to be back in a few minutes. I walked
down hill out of the camp to the road where the horses stood;
there were four horses, two of them mounted. The mounted men were
regular country bumpkins, with green sprays in their hats, like
the rest of our men; but their horses were pretty good, much
better than most of those we had. One of them was a stocky old
cob, which was no doubt to be mine. The other was a beast with
handsome harness for Lord Grey. "Alas," I thought. "No more sleep
for me. I've got to ride. I wonder where we are going." The men
touched their hats to me; for as I was in the Duke's retinue I
was much respected. Some of them no doubt thought I was a
princeling or little lord.
"Where are we going?" I asked the troopers.
"Going scouting out towards Colyton yonder, sir," said one of
them. "Us be to pick up his Lordship in the town."
