CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
FIENNES SHOWS THE WHITE FEATHER.
Waller's stay in Bristol was of the shortest, only long enough to resthis wearied men and their jaded horses. The "Night Owl" was not thebird to relish being engaged in a beleaguered city, which he anticipatedBristol would soon be. The field, not the fortress, was his congenialsphere of action; and though sadly dispirited, his army all gone, he hadnot yet yielded to despair. He would recruit another, if it cost himhis whole fortune. So "To horse!" and off again without delay--Hesselrig along with him.
London was his destination, and to reach it, with such feeble escort, adangerous enterprise. For it was but continuing his retreat through acountry swarming with the triumphant enemy. With a skill worthy ofCyrus he made it good, however; going round by Gloucester, Warwick, andNewport Pagnell, at length arriving safe in the metropolis.
But what of the citizens of Bristol he left behind? If they had beendespondent on seeing the shattered Cuirassiers re-enter their city notlong after these left, they saw another sight which filled them withdismay. Also a body of horsemen approaching the place; not a skeletonof a regiment in retreat, but the vanguard of a victorious army--thatwhich had won the day at Roundway Down. For as the defeated one hadsuffered utter annihilation, the western shires, now overrun by theRoyalists, were completely at their mercy. The only Parliamentarianforces that remained there were the garrisons of Gloucester and Bristol,and it was but a question as to which should be first assaulted.
The former had already experienced something of a siege, and, thanks toits gallant Governor, successfully resisted it; while its bigger sister,farther down the Severn, only knew what it was to be threatened. Butthe Bristolians also knew their city to be better game--a richer andmore tempting prize--and that they might expect the plunderers at anymoment. So when they beheld the Light Horse of Wilmot and Byronscouring the country outside, and up to their very gates, they hadlittle doubt of their being the precursors of a larger and heavierforce--an army on the march to assail them.
Soon it appeared in formidable array, and leaguer all round. For therewas more than one army left free to enfilade them. First came up theconquering host of Hertford and Maurice, fresh from the field ofLansdown. Then, on the Oxford side, appeared Rupert with hisfreebooters, fire-handed from the burning of Birmingham, and red-wristedfrom the slaughter at Chalgrove; where, by the treachery of the infamousUrrey, they had let out the life-blood of England's purest patriot.
In a very revel of Satanic delight they drew around the doomed city, aseagles preparing to stoop at prey, or rather as vultures on quarryalready killed. For it had neither strength of fortification, nordefending force sufficient to resist them. As already said, Wallergoing west had almost stripped it of its defenders, numbers of whom werenow lying dead on the downs of Wiltshire, as the Royalist leaders wellknew. So there was no question as between siege and assault, Rupert,soon as arrived on the ground, determining to storm.
And storm it was, commenced the next morning at earliest hour.Successful on the Gloucester side, where Rupert himself attacked, andthe traitor Langrish, with the timid Fiennes, defended. After all hisboasting, the lawyer-soldier let the enemy in, almost without striking ablow. Nor did they pass over his dead body either. He survived the sadday, but never more to be trusted with sword in the cause of astruggling people.
Very different was the defence on the southern side, and of differentstuff the defenders. There Sir Richard Walwyn with his Foresters, andBirch with his Bridgemen, held the ramparts against Hertford andMaurice, not only foiling the attack, but beating them off. In thatquarter had been blows enough, with blood flowing in rivers. TheCornish men were cut down by scores, among them some of their bestleaders, as Slanning and Trevannion. Alas! all in vain. Alike to nopurpose proved the gallantry of the soldier knight and the stanchcourage of the merchant-soldier! Unavailable their deeds of valour; forwhile they were fighting the foe in their front--in the act of puttinghim to rout--behind they heard a trumpet sounding signals for parley!And turning, beheld a white flag, waving from a staff, within the city'swalls! Saw and heard all this with amazement. On their side theassailants were repulsed, and Bristol still safe. Why then this show ofsurrender? Could it be treason?
Birch believed it was, though not on the part of Fiennes. He was butvacillating and frightened, Langrish playing the traitor, as the eventsproved, ending in capitulation. But while Sir Richard and his trooperswere still in doubt about the purport of the signals, they saw anaide-de-camp galloping towards them--the same who brought the despatchto Montserrat House at the breaking up of the ball. A verbal message hecarried now--command for them to cease fighting.
"And why?" demanded the astonished knight, other voices asking the same,as much in anger as astonishment. "For what reason should we ceasefighting? We're on the eve of victory!"
"I know not the reason, Colonel Walwyn," responded the aide-de-camp,evidently ashamed of the part he was constrained to play; "only thatthey've beaten us on the Gloucester side, and got into the works. TheGovernor asked for an armistice, which Prince Rupert has granted."
"Oh! you have Rupert round there, have you? I thought as much. This isLangrish's doing. Gentlemen," he observed to the officers now gatheringaround him, "we may guess how 'twill end--in a base, traitoroussurrender. Possibly to be delivered over to the tender mercies of thisprincely freebooter. Are you ready to risk it with me, and cut our wayout?"
"Ready--yes!" responded Eustace Trevor, and the men of the Forestertroop, loudest of all their sergeant.
"We, too!" cried the Bridgemen, Birch giving them the cue; while othershere and there echoed the daring resolve.
But the majority were silent, and shrank back. It was too hopeless, toodesperate, running the gauntlet against countless odds. With the wholegarrison agreeing to it, there might have been a chance. But they knewthis would be divided, in view of the treason hinted at.
While they were still in debate as to what should be done, anothermounted messenger came galloping up with news which quickened theirdeliberation, bringing it almost instantly to a close. The enemy hadoffered honourable terms, and Fiennes had accepted them. It was nolonger a question of surrender, but a _fait accompli_.
"What are the conditions?" every one eagerly asked.
To get answer: "No prisoners to be taken, no plundering. Soldiers, andall who have borne arms against the King, left free to march out andaway. Citizens the same, if they wish it. Three days to be allowed thedisaffected for clearing out of the city, and removal of householdeffects." After that--ay, and before it, as the wise ones believed--itwould be "'ware the pillager!"
On its face the bond was fair and reasonable enough, and many wererather surprised at its leniency. Certainly, to one unacquainted withthe circumstances, such conditions of surrender might seem more thangenerous. But knowing the motives, all idea of generosity is at onceeliminated. Around to Rupert had come the report of repulse on thesouthern side--Slanning killed, Trevannion, too; with slaughter allalong the Cornish line, and a likelihood of utter rout there. Besides,two or three scores of distinguished prisoners inside Bristol had to beconsidered; these no longer on parole, but jailed, and still held ashostages. With, these _guages_ against any attempt at cruel extortion,none could be safely made; and the keys of Bristol were handed over toPrince Rupert by Nathaniel Fiennes in a quiet, consenting, almostamicable way, as might the seals of office from a going-out mayor to hissuccessor.
How the son of the Elector Palatinate honoured the trust, and kept faithwith his word, is matter of history. He did neither one nor the other;instead, disregarded both, basely, infamously. Soon as his followerswere well inside the gates, as had been predicted, there was pillageunrestrained; insult and outrage to every one they encountered on thestreets, women not excepted. This was the way of the Cavaliers--theself-proclaimed _gentlemen_ of England.