The Last of the Barons — Complete

  CHAPTER IV. THE BATTLE.

  Raw, cold, and dismal dawned the morning of the fourteenth of April. Theheavy mist still covered both armies, but their hum and stir was alreadyheard through the gloaming,--the neighing of steeds, and the clangourof mail. Occasionally a movement of either force made dim forms, seeminggigantic through the vapour, indistinctly visible to the antagonisticarmy; and there was something ghastly and unearthlike in these ominousshapes, suddenly seen, and suddenly vanishing, amidst the sullenatmosphere. By this time, Warwick had discovered the mistake of hisgunners; for, to the right of the earl, the silence of the Yorkists wasstill unbroken, while abruptly, from the thick gloom to the left, brokethe hoarse mutter and low growl of the awakening war. Not a moment waslost by the earl in repairing the error of the night: his artillerywheeled rapidly from the right wing, and, sudden as a storm oflightning, the fire from the cannon flashed through the dun and heavyvapour, and, not far from the very spot where Hastings was marshallingthe wing intrusted to his command, made a deep chasm in the serriedranks. Death had begun his feast!

  At that moment, however, from the centre of the Yorkist army, arose,scarcely drowned by the explosion, that deep-toned shout of enthusiasm,which he who has once heard it, coming, as it were, from the oneheart of an armed multitude, will ever recall as the most kindlingand glorious sound which ever quickened the pulse and thrilled theblood,--for along that part of the army now rode King Edward. His mailwas polished as a mirror, but otherwise unadorned, resembling that whichnow invests his effigies at the Tower, [The suit of armour, however,which the visitor to the Royal Armoury is expected to believe KingEdward could have worn, is infinitely too small for such credulity.Edward's height was six feet two inches.] and the housings of his steedwere spangled with silver suns, for the silver sun was the cognizance onall his banners. His head was bare, and through the hazy atmosphere thegold of his rich locks seemed literally to shine. Followed by his bodysquire, with his helm and lance, and the lords in his immediate staff,his truncheon in his hand, he passed slowly along the steady line, till,halting where he deemed his voice could be farthest heard, he reinedin, and lifting his hand, the shout of the soldiery was hushed; thoughstill, while he spoke, from Warwick's archers came the arrowy shower,and still the gloom was pierced and the hush interrupted by the flashand the roar of the bombards.

  "Englishmen and friends," said the martial chief, "to bold deeds gobut few words. Before you is the foe! From Ravenspur to London I havemarched, treason flying from my sword, loyalty gathering to my standard.With but two thousand men, on the fourteenth of March, I enteredEngland; on the fourteenth of April, fifty thousand is my muster roll.Who shall say, then, that I am not king, when one month mans a monarch'sarmy from his subjects' love? And well know ye, now, that my cause isyours and England's! Those against us are men who would rule in despiteof law,--barons whom I gorged with favours, and who would reduce thisfair realm of King, Lords, and Commons to be the appanage and propertyof one man's measureless ambition,--the park, forsooth, the homestead toLord Warwick's private house! Ye gentlemen and knights of England, letthem and their rabble prosper, and your properties will be despoiled,your lives insecure, all law struck dead. What differs Richard ofWarwick from Jack Cade, save that if his name is nobler, so is histreason greater? Commoners and soldiers of England, freemen, howeverhumble, what do these rebel lords (who would rule in the name ofLancaster) desire? To reduce you to villeins and to bondsmen, as yourforefathers were to them. Ye owe freedom from the barons to the justlaws of my sires, your kings. Gentlemen and knights, commoners andsoldiers, Edward IV. upon his throne will not profit by a victory morethan you. This is no war of dainty chivalry,--it is a war of true menagainst false. No quarter! Spare not either knight or hilding. Warwick,forsooth, will not smite the Commons. Truly not,--the rabble are hisfriends! I say to you--" and Edward, pausing in the excitement andsanguinary fury of his tiger nature,--the soldiers, heated like himselfto the thirst of blood, saw his eyes sparkle, and his teeth gnash, as headded in a deeper and lower, but not less audible voice, "I say to you,SLAY ALL! [Hall.] What heel spares the viper's brood?"

  "We will! we will!" was the horrid answer, which came hissing andmuttered forth from morion and cap of steel.

  "Hark! to their bombards!" resumed Edward. "The enemy would fight fromafar, for they excel us in their archers and gunners. Upon them, then,hand to hand, and man to man! Advance banners, sound trumpets! SirOliver, my bassinet! Soldiers, if my standard falls, look for the plumeupon your king's helmet! Charge!"

  Then, with a shout wilder and louder than before, on through the hailof the arrows, on through the glare of the bombards, rather with a rushthan in a march, advanced Edward's centre against the array of Somerset;but from a part of the encampment where the circumvallation seemedstrongest, a small body of men moved not with the general body.

  To the left of the churchyard of Hadley, at this day, the visitor maynotice a low wall; on the other side of that wall is a garden, then buta rude eminence on Gladsmoor Heath. On that spot a troop in completearmour, upon destriers pawing impatiently, surrounded a man upon a sorrypalfrey, and in a gown of blue,--the colour of royalty and of servitude;that man was Henry the Sixth. In the same space stood Friar Bungey,his foot on the Eureka, muttering incantations, that the mists he hadforetold, [Lest the reader should suppose that the importance of FriarBungey upon this bloody day has been exaggerated by the narrator, wemust cite the testimony of sober Allerman Fabyan: "Of the mists andother impediments which fell upon the lords' party, by reason of theincantations wrought by Friar Bungey, as the fame went, me list not towrite."] and which had protected the Yorkists from the midnight guns,might yet last, to the confusion of the foe. And near him, under agaunt, leafless tree, a rope round his neck, was Adam Warner, Sibylstill faithful to his side, nor shuddering at the arrows and the guns,her whole fear concentrated upon the sole life for which her own wasprized. Upon this eminence, then, these lookers-on stood aloof. Andthe meek ears of Henry heard through the fog the inexplicable, sullen,jarring clash,--steel had met steel.

  "Holy Father!" exclaimed the kingly saint, "and this is the EasterSabbath, Thy most solemn day of peace!"

  "Be silent," thundered the friar; "thou disturbest my spells.Barabbarara, Santhinoa, Foggibus increscebo, confusio inimicis,Garabbora, vapor et mistes!"

  We must now rapidly survey the dispositions of the army under Warwick.In the right wing, the command was entrusted to the Earl of Oxfordand the Marquis of Montagu. The former, who led the cavalry of thatdivision, was stationed in the van; the latter, according to his usualhabit--surrounded by a strong body-guard of knights and a prodigiousnumber of squires as aides-de-camp--remained at the rear, and directedthence by his orders the general movement. In this wing the greaternumber were Lancastrian, jealous of Warwick, and only consenting to thegeneralship of Montagu because shared by their favourite hero, Oxford.In the mid-space lay the chief strength of the bowmen, with a goodlynumber of pikes and bills, under the Duke of Somerset; and this divisionalso was principally Lancastrian, and shared the jealousy of Oxford'ssoldiery. The left wing, composed for the most part of Warwick'syeomanry and retainers, was commanded by the Duke of Exeter, conjointlywith the earl himself. Both armies kept a considerable body in reserve,and Warwick, besides this resource, had selected from his own retainersa band of picked archers, whom he had skilfully placed in the outskirtsof a wood that then stretched from Wrotham Park to the column that nowcommemorates the battle of Barnet, on the high northern road. He hadguarded these last-mentioned archers (where exposed in front to Edward'shorsemen) by strong tall barricades, leaving only such an openingas would allow one horseman at a time to pass, and defending by aformidable line of pikes this narrow opening left for communication, andto admit to a place of refuge in case of need. These dispositions made,and ere yet Edward had advanced on Somerset, the earl rode to the frontof the wing under his special command, and, agreeably to the custom ofthe time, observed by his royal foe, harangued the troops. Here werepl
aced those who loved him as a father, and venerated him as somethingsuperior to mortal man; here the retainers who had grown up with himfrom his childhood, who had followed him to his first fields of war, whohad lived under the shelter of his many castles, and fed, in that rudeequality of a more primeval age which he loved still to maintain, at hislavish board. And now Lord Warwick's coal-black steed halted, motionlessin the van. His squire behind bore his helmet, overshadowed by the eagleof Monthermer, the outstretched wings of which spread wide into sableplumes; and as the earl's noble face turned full and calm upon thebristling lines, there arose not the vulgar uproar that greeted theaspect of the young Edward. By one of those strange sympathies whichpass through multitudes, and seize them with a common feeling, the wholebody of those adoring vassals became suddenly aware of the change whicha year had made in the face of their chief and father. They saw thegray flakes in his Jove-like curls, the furrows in that lofty brow, thehollows in that bronzed and manly visage, which had seemed to their rudeadmiration to wear the stamp of the twofold Divinity,--Beneficence andValour. A thrill of tenderness and awe shot through the veins of everyone, tears of devotion rushed into many a hardy eye. No! there was notthe ruthless captain addressing his hireling butchers; it was the chiefand father rallying gratitude and love and reverence to the crisis ofhis stormy fate.

  "My friends, my followers, and my children," said the earl, "the fieldwe have entered is one from which there is no retreat; here must yourleader conquer or here die. It is not a parchment pedigree, it is not aname derived from the ashes of dead men, that make the only charter of aking. We Englishmen were but slaves, if, in giving crown and sceptreto a mortal like ourselves, we asked not in return the kingly virtues.Beset of old by evil counsellors, the reign of Henry VI. was obscured,and the weal of the realm endangered. Mine own wrongs seemed to megreat, but the disasters of my country not less. I deemed that in therace of York, England would know a wiser and happier rule. What was, inthis, mine error, ye partly know. A prince dissolved in luxurious vices,a nobility degraded by minions and blood-suckers, a people plundered bypurveyors, and a land disturbed by brawl and riot. But ye know not all:God makes man's hearth man's altar: our hearths were polluted, our wivesand daughters were viewed as harlots, and lechery ruled the realm. Aking's word should be fast as the pillars of the world. What man evertrusted Edward and was not deceived? Even now the unknightly liar standsin arms with the weight of perjury on his soul. In his father's townof York, ye know that he took, three short weeks since, solemn oathof fealty to King Henry. And now King Henry is his captive, and KingHenry's holy crown upon his traitor's head. 'Traitors' calls he Us? Whatname, then, rank enough for him? Edward gave the promise of a brave man,and I served him. He proved a base, a false, a licentious, and a cruelking, and I forsook him; may all free hearts in all free lands so servekings when they become tyrants! Ye fight against a cruel and atrocioususurper, whose bold hand cannot sanctify a black heart; ye fight notonly for King Henry, the meek and the godly,--ye fight not for himalone, but for his young and princely son, the grandchild of Henry ofAgincourt, who, old men tell me, has that hero's face, and who, I know,has that hero's frank and royal and noble soul; ye fight for the freedomof your land, for the honour of your women, for what is better than anyking's cause,--for justice and mercy, for truth and manhood's virtuesagainst corruption in the laws, slaughter by the scaffold, falsehoodin a ruler's lips, and shameless harlotry in the councils of ruthlesspower. The order I have ever given in war I give now; we war againstthe leaders of evil, not against the hapless tools; we war against ouroppressors, not against our misguided brethren. Strike down every plumedcrest, but when the strife is over, spare every common man! Hark! whileI speak, I hear the march of your foe! Up standards!--blow trumpets! Andnow, as I brace my bassinet, may God grant us all a glorious victory,or a glorious grave! On, my merry men! show these London loons the stouthearts of Warwickshire and Yorkshire. On, my merry men! A Warwick! AWarwick!"

  As he ended, he swung lightly over his head the terrible battle-axewhich had smitten down, as the grass before the reaper, the chivalry ofmany a field; and ere the last blast of the trumpets died, the troops ofWarwick and of Gloucester met, and mingled hand to hand.

  Although the earl had, on discovering the position of the enemy, movedsome of his artillery from his right wing, yet there still lay the greatnumber and strength of his force. And there, therefore, Montagu, rollingtroop on troop to the aid of Oxford, pressed so overpoweringly uponthe soldiers under Hastings, that the battle very soon wore a mostunfavourable aspect for the Yorkists. It seemed, indeed, that thesuccess which had always hitherto attended the military movements ofMontagu was destined for a crowning triumph. Stationed, as we have said,in the rear, with his light-armed squires, upon fleet steeds, aroundhim, he moved the springs of the battle with the calm sagacity which atthat moment no chief in either army possessed. Hastings was thoroughlyoutflanked, and though his men fought with great valour, they could notresist the weight of superior numbers.

  In the midst of the carnage in the centre, Edward reined in his steed ashe heard the cry of victory in the gale.

  "By Heaven!" he exclaimed, "our men at the left are cravens! they fly!they fly!--Ride to Lord Hastings, Sir Humphrey Bourchier, bid him defilehither what men are left him; and now, ere our fellows are wellaware what hath chanced yonder, charge we, knights and gentlemen, on,on!--break Somerset's line; on, on, to the heart of the rebel earl!"

  Then, visor closed, lance in rest, Edward and his cavalry dashed throughthe archers and billmen of Somerset; clad in complete mail, imperviousto the weapons of the infantry, they slaughtered as they rode, and theirway was marked by corpses and streams of blood. Fiercest and fellest ofall was Edward himself; when his lance shivered, and he drew his knottymace from its sling by his saddlebow, woe to all who attempted to stophis path. Vain alike steel helmet or leathern cap, jerkin or coat ofmail. In vain Somerset threw himself into the melee. The instant Edwardand his cavalry had made a path through the lines for his foot-soldiery,the fortunes of the day were half retrieved. It was no rapid passage,pierced and reclosed, that he desired to effect,--it was the wedge inthe oak of war. There, rooted in the very midst of Somerset's troops,doubling on each side, passing on but to return again, where helm couldbe crashed and man overthrown, the mighty strength of Edward widened thebreach more and more, till faster and faster poured in his bands,and the centre of Warwick's army seemed to reel and whirl round thebroadening gap through its ranks, as the waves round some chasm in amaelstrom.

  But in the interval, the hard-pressed troops commanded by Hastings werescattered and dispersed; driven from the field, they fled in numbersthrough the town of Barnet; many halted not till they reached London,where they spread the news of the earl's victory and Edward's ruin.[Sharon Turner.]

  Through the mist, Friar Bungey discerned the fugitive Yorkists underHastings, and heard their cries of despair; through the mist, Sibyllsaw, close beneath the intrenchments which protected the space on whichthey stood, an armed horseman with the well-known crest of Hastings onhis helmet, and, with lifted visor, calling his men to the return, inthe loud voice of rage and scorn. And then she herself sprang forwards,and forgetting his past cruelty in his present danger, cried hisname,--weak cry, lost in the roar of war! But the friar, now fearing hehad taken the wrong side, began to turn from his spells, to address themost abject apologies to Adam, to assure him that he would have beenslaughtered at the Tower but for the friar's interruption; and thatthe rope round his neck was but an insignificant ceremony due to theprejudices of the soldiers. "Alas, Great Man," he concluded, "I seestill that thou art mightier than I am; thy charms, though silent, aremore potent than mine, though my lungs crack beneath them! ConfusioInimicis Taralorolu, I mean no harm to the earl. Garrabora, mistes etnubes!--Lord, what will become of me!"

  Meanwhile, Hastings--with a small body of horse, who being composed ofknights and squires, specially singled out for the sword, foughtwith the pride of disdainful gentlemen, and t
he fury of desperatesoldiers--finding it impossible to lure back the fugitives, hewed theirown way through Oxford's ranks to the centre, where they brought freshaid to the terrible arm of Edward.