A Lady of Wales. 'A Story of the Siege of Chester.'

Front matter

A LADY OF WALES. "A STORY OF THE SIEGE OF CHESTER." BY THE REV. VINCENT J. LEATHERDALE, M.A. NIL MORTALS SONANS.— Virgil. LONDON HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM'S BUILDINGS, E.C. LONDON : PRINTED BY HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAMS BUILDINGS, E.C. TO THE MEMORY OF A FATHER, WHO LIVED FOR EVERYONE BUT HIMSELF. 'Time shall come when the moderate men shall be honoured as God's doves, though now they he hooted at as owls in the desart." — Thomas Fuller. (A STORY OF THE SIEGE OF CHESTER.)

Chapter I. It

was a warm September afternoon and the Year of Grace 1645. The City of Chester, as seen by a party on horseback about to debouch from a wooded eminence on the South East, appeared to stand in the glowing estuary beyond it, an illusion helped by the silver line of the Dee, which wound about its Southern walls. The foremost of the little party — armed retainers of some age, yet with sufficient alertness in their broad, cheerful countenances — were talking earnestly to a dark-featured cavalier, who had asked in a petulant tone the cause of their sudden halt. It seemed more welcome to a young lady and her maid in their escort. The maid seemed much fatigued with her ride, while her mistress, who sat her horse perfectly, gazed entranced upon the scene before them. " Look, Bridget," she cried, " how finely the cathedral standeth, the lead roof shining like solver and the tower so firm and squarely faced to heaven _ B Those gleaming spots must be the armour of soldiers on the city walls."

" Well-a-day, Mistress Wynne," sighed the serving woman, " I'm weary o' riding, and care more to know we shall soon sleep within yon walls than to wait here admiring 'em." "We're not there yet," chimed in a man called James, who with another trooper completed the escort. "I'm loth to alarm your ladyship, but old •Gaseoigne beckons me to move you back into the •shade. Like enough those rascally Roundheads are skulking in the lanes and may catch sight of us." The cavalier now rode back to them and explained that they must make a detour to keep within shelter of the trees. He spoke with considerable foreign accent, having but lately arrived from France, his mother's country, to avenge, as he boasted, the death of his father, Sir John GamuU, who had fallen in a skirmish with the Parliamentarians.

He had entrusted the guidance of his party to the two retainers in front, who knew their way, and would more readily discern any signs of danger if left alone. No doubt, too, his experience of the desolating German wars made it difficult of belief that an enemy could be near them. They had passed through West Staffordshire, a well-wooded, smiling country, with most of the farm houses intact; sheep and cattle indeed were rare A STORY OF THE SIEGE OF CHESTER. corn-ricks and haystacks never seen, but the orchards abounded iD fruit ; there were no signs of wanton devastation, and the labourers went peacefully about their usual employments, some driving teams of ponderous horses at the plough, others burning scutch and brambles, the rubbish of field and forest. Rain having lately fallen, these gave forth volumes of slowly ascending smoke, the scent of which appeared to move the lady mightily.

Ever and anon she would check her horse a moment at some gate or dip in the hedgerow, while she gazed with unutterable yearning on the peaceful scene. The cavalier, whom she addressed as Cousin Louis, rode at her side the most part of their journey from her aunt's home in Warwickshire, while he related stories of his battles abroad, or listened carelessly to her explanations of the troubles which had dis tracted England so long and which still seemed far from solution. He did not appear much concerned at King Charles' misfortunes, and hinted that if once he got an opportunity of doing him a service and winning a knighthood as his father had done, he would settle down to a life of hunting and shooting, till the King and Parliament had finished their dis putes and the Court assembled again at Whitehall.

He failed to notice the smile of disdain on the lady's face at so naive a confession of his limited patriotism, and quite mistook the little laugh, which rippled from her charming hps when he hinted that he might some day afford her a closer protection than that of a mere B __ escort, even though she would bring him only some two thousand acres in the barbarous wilds of Snowdon. Latterly, she had grown silent, except for an occa sional remark to Bridget, and when they topped the hill which brought them within sight of Chester, she seemed to forget her cousin's existence. He on his part was inflated with the news that an attack might be expected. Drawing his sword with a foreign flourish, he bade his charges have no fear, and seemed much nettled when neither took any notice of his protestations.

The face of the maid-servant wore a merely tired expression, while there was a far-off look in the lady's eyes as she gazed over the city at the Dee and the shores of sweet Wales beyond. The party now rode on, the two troopers as before in front, but holding their reins in one hand, with sword unsheathed in the right and pointed downwards, a precaution which stood them in good stead, for scarcely had they reached the plain, when half-a dozen well-mounted Parliamentary men rushed on them out of a coppice on their left. Two were struck down at once by the ready swords of the leaders of the escort, and the cavalier dashing forward with a trooper on either side of him, the remaining four were worsted, and turned rein. One tall fellow dealt a parting blow at old Gaseoigne, which made him reel in his saddle ; he would have fallen, had not the young lady ridden swiftly up and supported him.

She bade her cousin lower him to the ground ; A STOBY OF THE SIEGE OF CHESTER. 5 then leaping from her palfrey unaided, she staunched the old man's wounds like one not unused to such work. He had partially warded off the sword-cut, deflecting it on to his shoulder, and his mistress, over joyed to find but a flesh-wound, cried : " Good cheer, my Gaseoigne ; 'tis not so dangerous a hurt as I feared I" Even so, what with the concussion of his own sword driven back upon his head, and the flow of blood from his wound, he waxed very feeble, and only opening his eyes for a grateful look at her, whispered : " Never mind me, my lady. Do thou — ride on." ' ' And leave thee to the enemy ? Hath a Wynne e'er done that by his people these three hundred years? Nay, an thou'lt not rouse thee, I must bide here."

Her decisive manner had its effect. The brave fellow staggered to his feet, assisted by two com rades, and presently eyeing the fourth in the act of spoiling a slain Parliamentarian, he shouted lustily enough — " Share and share alike, James ; and leave yon, when thou hast ta'en their purses. We must away, or those crop-eared knaves'll bring a troop upon us." Mistress Wynne shuddered as she perceived the dead man's clutch of the sword that he had broken in his fall. Then seeing the other stir under the rough handling of the plunderer, she called out, and hastening to the wounded man, who seemed a well-to-do yeoman, knelt down beside him. His face was a terrible sight from a scalp wound, which caused the blood to flow copiously. Without flinching, she bound it up and wiped the eyes clear. Then snatching a flask of strong waters, which the man James had taken from the holster of a captive horse and held stupidly, she made the yeoman drink from it.

Being much younger than Gaseoigne he revived at once and sat up, thanking her in well-mannered fashion. Owing to the danger of delay, the troopers wished to leave him and take his horse ; but Louis Gamull, with an eye to the honour of bringing in a prisoner, bade him mount his horse and accompany them ; he then demanded his word of honour not to attempt an escape, and was considerably astonished at the sturdy answer : "For twenty-four hours, sir. After which, by thy leave, I will renew it for the same period, and no longer. " "St. Denis!" ejaculated the other, "'tis not a prisoner's part to choose his own parole." "As thou wilt, young sir. Thou hast thy ideas, and I have mine. Unless they fit, thou canst bind me to my horse, and," he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "one of thy men may lead me."

As this would have hampered their advance, the cavalier was nonplussed, but his men waxing visibly impatient, he merely shrugged his shoulders and granted the short-lived parole without more ado. It was then decided to ride boldly into the open, Gaseoigne shrewdly observing that as the noise of the skirmish had not attracted others of the enemy, there were probably no more in the immediate neighbour hood. This was his last sign of animation, as he presently found it necessary to let a comrade lock his reins within his and partly support him, while another did the same for their prisoner, who, despite his brave talk, had subsided into silence, and several times nearly lurched out of his saddle. The twilight was thickening. More than once they had to slacken pace while threading their way between hedges overgrown with Old Man's Beard and other creeping plants.

At last, in a dark lane, which they had entered by a decline, they were suddenly hailed. It was impossible to stop, and, fearing that they were about to be fired upon, the man James shouted out that they were escorting a lady to Chester. However, nothing worse than a volley of cavalier oaths assailed them. The leader of the patrol (for such it was) listened carefully to their story, and when he had detached a horseman to guide them to the city, the whole troop turned rein — doffing their plumed hats to the lady — and galloped at a great pace in the direction whither the Parliamentarians had appeared to retreat. The horseman left behind was an Irish Catholic, and as such liable to be refused quarter in conflict with the enemy. He returned, therefore, Httle loth, and talked with great animation to Mistress Wynne, her cousin riding on the other side of her in a sullen silence, quite unheeded by the lively gentleman.

He apologised for the outrageous oaths of his com panions, due to their disappointment in not effecting a capture, yet confessed that there were in Chester Royalist fugitives who had grown out of hand of late. Many of the older gentry had fallen in the war, and their heirs, hardened by its vicissitudes, were without that influence of manners and of piety, which King Charles had formerly exercised, even far away from London, through the example of those who had been to court. The Northern CavaHers had not attained the evil reputation of Goring's Hcen tious troopers, but they were fast earning the title which Rupert's had won — viz., plunderers. It was not whoUy their fault. A cruel necessity sent them foraging far and wide for provisions, taken with only the promise of payment and brought off at great risk, since the ParHamentarians in Cheshire over matched the Royalists in infantry, and were nearly their equal in cavalry.

As to the patrol which had just passed, they were mainly young Cavaliers put on such service to employ their energies, and if, as on this occasion, one or two seniors came out who had learned the German swagger of Rupert, their ebuUition of spirits rivaUed Pandemonium. He was careful to observe that this did not apply to good Catholics, who would have to confess such conduct to their priests. The offenders were not even sound AngHcans ; they fought for the king rather than for the bishops, about whom they did not care twopence ; they despaired, too, of the royal cause, and only lived for the day, and the night of carousal that foUowed — when they had anything to drink. So saying, the merry Irish Cavalier brought the party to the outworks at the entrance of Foregate Street, and with a cheery good-night cantered off to rejoin his comrades, if, indeed, as he muttered to himseU, Sir WilHam Brereton had not done the city a service by capturing them with a superior force.

Meanwhile, Louis Gamull harangued the officer of the watch on the importance of his prisoner, and the need of exercising careful surveillance over one who had the audacity to demand a Umited parole. The officer, a Captain Laurenton, afterwards noted in the siege, Ustened with an impatient air, which turned to a look of deference when Mistress Wynne, in her sweet voice, observed that the poor fellow was grievously cut about the head, and that if he were aUowed to accompany her wounded retainer, he should be tended by a chirurgeon at the house of her uncle, Sir Francis GamuU. Captain Laurenton repUed with a quiet poUteness very different from the exaggerated manner of Louis : "The prisoner, madam, is fortunate in possessing your kindly interest. To-morrow, I doubt not, he wiU take his parole in the usual manner, rather than make acquaintance with our prisons, which are not the most comfortable in the land "—a remark at which the soldiers present grinned and nodded to each other.

"As to reaching your uncle's house, I fear the way thither is longer than you suppose. Sir Francis Hes half a furlong from Bridge Gate. The river hinders you on that side, for it flows up to the waUs. Nor can you pass in by East Gate, which has been built in for our greater security. You must e'en go up Cow Lane, and so in by North Gate, and down the whole length of the city — a weary round this time o' night. If I may venture to advise, you had best lodge at the Blue Bear in Foregate Street, on the right hand side. The taverner is an honest man, and his wife a motherly woman. " Thanking him prettily for his advice, the lady turned her rein, and her cousin, not finding words to demur, the whole party proceeded along Fore gate. None were sorry to turn from the Ul-Ughted street and dismount in a roomy courtyard, where the open door of the kitchen spoke of warmth and cheer within, and threw a glow of brightness on the travel stained horses.

Even the wounded men held up their heads at sight of the homely log-fire, and in response to the landlord's hearty welcome. The latter himself went out in quest of a chirurgeon, while his wife, with many expressions of sympathy for both wounded men, had them carefully laid side by side on a wicker settee, and tearing up some fine linen for bandages, assisted Mistress Wynne in applying then. Nor did she overlook the needs of the rest. Her maids were set flying about under her voluble orders. In a recess at one side was a smaU table, at which the lady constrained her tired attendant Bridget to sit down with her and the cavalier, while a longer table in the centre, formed of boards on trestles, was soon loaded with good cheer for the men. The appetising odour drew the latter from the stable, when they had hurriedly but sufficiently groomed and littered their horses.

Presently the chirurgeon arrived. He ex pressed much astonishment at the neat bandaging of the wounded men, and vowed that Gaseoigne would have succumbed without it. The prisoner's hurt he made light of, at which the latter looked disconcerted, Mistress Wynne thought — an impression rather strengthened when later on he became curiously light-headed and rambling in his talk. His behaviour, whether assumed or not, quite affected the tender hostess, who insisted that both men should be conveyed out of the bustle and noise of the kitchen to a room on the second floor, where she set out some snow-white linen on two truck-beds. At sight of them in their freshness and faint sweet smell of lavender, the yeoman, strong man as he was, broke into tears. Mistress Wynne's suspicions began to fade. There could be no doubting his sincerity as he blurted out that they minded of what no EngUsh man in those days forgot — his home.

Two years before he had returned from his first campaign under Cromwell, to find the farmstead which had belonged to 'Lhim and his for generations a charred ruin, and his widowed mother dying of grief beside a peat-fire in a miserable out-house. This and more he revealed to Mistress Wynne on the morrow, but she could already guess some such story through her own knowledge of the war, waged as it had been with varying fortunes for three long years. Sad were her thoughts as she lay awake far into the middle of the night, dimly wondering at the divine permission of these continued troubles, when so many were earnestly seeking peace for Church and State. Her maid Bridget, on the contrary, from sheer fatigue and want of imagination, slept as soundly as if they were once more ruHng it in the old Welsh Hall, and were not (as indeed they soon discovered) belated traveUers in a leaguered city.

CHAPTER IL NEXT

day old Gaseoigne feU into a fever such as often follows a flesh-wound, and babbled ■with allusions infinitely pathetic to his mistress — of his boyhood near her ancestral home, of ramblings with her father in the wild mountain glens, of a visit with him to London and conver sations there with sailors who had fought the Armada, or who could teU strange stories of enter prise off the Spanish Main. The prisoner outrivaUed Gaseoigne 's incoherent speech in a manner which did not seem unnatural while he referred to events which he felt deeply, such as the iU-treatment accorded by Archbishop Laud to the Puritans ; but when he had exhausted this and other grievances, his expressions appeared forced, at least to Mistress Wynne. She thought with a smile that he evidently hoped to avoid renewing his parole by pretending to be iU.

At first it only struck her as amusing, and she debated within herself whether she might not conceal her suspicions and let the poor man escape if he could ; but the perils of the time had made her sensitive to aU possible dangers, and the conviction suddenly dawned upon her that his calculated behaviour imported some design greater than that of personal escape. What if the chirurgeon were right, and the man so slightly hurt that he would be able, directly his parole was over, to slip out of the house and make a plot with some dis affected citizens to betray the city ! She resolved to stay at the hostel and beg her uncle to come to her immediately. Gascoigne's critical condition formed a sufficient excuse. Accordingly she hurried off her cousin, as soon as he could be got to finish his morning meal, and entrusted him with a note in forming Sir Francis of her arrival and of her de tention on Gascoigne's account.

Louis pooh-poohed her anxiety on behalf of a mere servant. As to the prisoner, he vowed that his illness should not prevent his being hailed that very evening into the presence of their uncle. Determined to make the journey with eclat, he ordered out his cousin's three retainers to follow in his wake, while Nat, the ostler of the Blue Bear, strode at his horse's head. Leaving the yard, they turned westwards and proceeded along the main street, called Foregate or " Before the Gate." This was the East Gate of the city. It stood in Gothic grandeur, worthy of its proud position as the final goal of Watling Street, that famous Roman high way which stiU preserved its unbroken course o'er hiU and dale, by forest, mere and fen from distant London. The pointed arches of the Gate, however, were now buflt in, and its octagonal towers had a strange look as though they guarded nothing.

While yet at some distance from it, Nat led the party to the right along a narrow street, named Cow Lane. Debouching from this, when on a level with the North East Corner of the city walls, Louis beheld to right and left of him a vast scene of desolation. Many a fair tenement had been razed to the ground, with walls and outbuildings, by order of the city council. On the left, just beyond the North Gate, wras a mass of rubble, at which the ostler pointed ruefully, observing with pious horror that it was aU which remained of a hospital for thirteen poor men, one of whom was his father, who had died of grief at being turned out into the world again. To his indignation, the foreign - looking cavalier nodded his head with evident approval, and vowed 'twas a goodly sight for one who knew the danger of letting even a waU remain near a city which was like to be besieged.

Then, having cantered on to the North Gate, he dismissed his guide with a silver piece, and bade two of the troopers ride in before him, while James brought up the rear at a respectful distance. The venerable city, which he was about to enter, was guarded by impregnable walls, two miles in cir cumference, and of such thickness that three men could walk abreast upon them within the outer rampart. The space which they enclosed might be described as an oblong, whose length north and south was about a third more than its width from east to west. OriginaUy it might have been a perfect square, as the Castle on the river bank stood without the city tiU Ethelfleda, daughter of Alfred the Great, among other deeds of wisdom, extended the walls to include the Castle. There stiU existed a striking memento of the Roman occupation in the passage of two main thoroughfares, which cut each other at right angles near the centre of the city.

These streets possessed a unique feature. On either side, some twelve feet above their level, a kind of huge balcony appeared to be let into the houses, forming a covered way for foot-passengers. These balconies, being continuous, were called Rows. Their origin was uncertain. The sunken roadway possibly dated back to the early Romans, who, when their camp became a city, cut the two great cross-roads deeper and deeper into the soft sandstone rock. Later history suggests further explanations. When the Romans withdrew, and Saxon invaders took theh place, Chester became the scene of frequent conflicts, and even in more settled times was subject to sudden forays of the irre pressible Britons from Wales. Whenever the latter effected an entrance into the city, they ruthlessly set its wooden houses on fire, and rode away before the shire-reeve could bring up his forces to attack them.

After some particularly disastrous conflagration so caused, necessity may have inspired the duU Saxon mind with the expedience of cutting the great thoroughfares stiU deeper into the sandstone ; then, in re-erecting their timbered houses. on either hand, it possibly occurred to some one to pitch them a little way back from the road-side, with pillars at intervals along the edge, to support a projecting upper storey. Thus, when the Welsh next succeeded in forcing a city gate and rushed tumultuously along the street, they became aware that the rock bank on either side was deeper ; the inhabitants hurled their javelins from the new-formed gallery or Row on either side, while the raiders could neither reach them nor fire the houses, unless they left their restless ponies out of sight in the street below.

Under the Norman rule the gates were better guarded, and as there was little fear of the city being successfully stormed, it is probable that the citizens, who would long since have made ceUars beneath the rear part of their houses, extended their excavations to the road. This would bring in enough Ught and air to make the rooms habitable, as they certainly were at the time of the Civil War, those in front being used as shops, and even as dwelling places, when the tenants had let the best portion of their houses to gentlefolk from the country. The unusual appearance of these little chambers, with the row or balcony that ran above them, struck Captain Gamull's attention as he proceeded down Northgate Street. About a furlong onwards, he caught a glimpse of the Cathedral through a narrow alley to the left, and presently arrived at an open space in the heart of the city, where the road from Eastgate passed transversely to Watergate — the Western entrance, which the river washed at full tide.

The troopers in front of Captain Gamull now deflected their course somewhat towards the right of the open space, and passing a high cross, which stood at the head of Bridge Street (as the rest of the main road was called), they eventually stopped at a street on their right leading to the Castle. Facing them at the corner with a front towards Bridge Street, stool the stately house of Sir Francis GamuU. Long before this, Louis's imperious air, together with the richly dight cloak which he wore as captain of French carabineers, had created an impression that he heralded the much-talked-of regiments from Lorraine, an intrusion of the foreigner resented by patriotic Royalists, however welcome to soldiers of fortune Uke Lord Byron, who then commanded the city. Some of the crowd about Louis boldly asked if his honour brought news of the approach of such a force.

This gave him a cue, and recognising that his late service abroad would enable him to pose as the bringer of valuable information, he determined to improve the opportunity. The mob got nothing from him but cool indifference, which increased their respect. On arriving at the house of Sir Francis he was ushered into the library, where two CavaUers stood at a table by an oriel window at the other end of the room, anxiously scan ning a map of the district. The one furthest from him looked up curiously as Louis entered, but did not speak. His silence made the latter put him down as a very unimportant person — in which he was completely mistaken. Any 'prentice lad in Chester could have told him that Master Orlando Bridgman was the mainstay of the city. His resolutei wiU and sound judgment made itself felt in the Council chamber ; his ample wealth enabled him to insist on such schemes as the des truction of outlying suburbs likely to be occupied by an enemy, and whose inhabitants he pacified with an instalment of compensation money.

His father, the Bishop of Chester, had retired with most of his clergy from a place certain to be rigorously besieged and defended to the last extremity, as the only port besides Bristol where troops from Ireland could be landed for the king. The other gentleman whom Louis saw on entering was Sir Francis Gamull, who discharged the duties of mayor during the siege. He was a plain, honest EngUshman, kindly, shrewd, and as self-opinionated as most of his countrymen. He had been attempting to convince Master Bridg man that the king must accept their pressing invitation to pass through Chester ; and was pointing out the route with his fat fingers on the map, when an over-eager servant broke in and breathlessly repeated the rumour that troops from Lorraine had landed in Yorkshire, and that one of their colonels was coming to announce them. c Rumours were then too common and this too un pleasing to be for a moment credited.

Besides, the knight never Uked to entertain two ideas at once ; he bade the servant begone for a credulous knave, and entreated Master Bridgman to give his attention to the map before them. Thus, when Louis was announced, Sir Francis, without moving his hands from the map, looked over his shoulder and said abruptly : "You bring news from the king?" Louis could not claim to do this, but he answered with a look of importance : " I am more acquainted with foreign affairs, having but lately crossed the seas." "What!" said the knight, coming forward, and noting as he did so the stranger's French cloak. "Is it true that these rascally Lorrainers have landed on English soil?" Louis, to evade an immediate reply, presented the note from his cousin, observing with affected gaUantry that a lady should ever be heard first, even though she spoke from a distance.

The knight hastily broke the seal, and, when haU through its contents, held out his hand with a laugh. "So you are my brother's son. I had sooner 'twere you than five regiments of the Elector's unpaid troops. You fought for him? No? What against him? WeU, I'm hardly son-y. We've helped him with too much good English money as it is. Ah, that cloak of yours is French — see, Orlando, pardon — let me introduce my nephew. If he be like his dead father there's no braver man in Chester.'' Then, without stating who Master Bridgman was, he resumed his task of deciphering the letter. Louis, thus highly commended by implication, began some condescending remark to the other, but meeting his eyes with their slow firm gaze, he felt strangely disconcerted, stammered, and finaUy asked in an almost apologetical tone if he did not think that the king's cause was weU-nigh desperate.