The Enchantress (Book 1 of The Enchantress Saga) (34 page)

‘Your dinner is ready, my lord,’ a servant bowed and the Marquess, with a wave, took his cousin’s arm and left the room followed by George, For some moments Susan Delamain sat gazing
after them until she was joined by Emma and Stewart
.

‘So that is the Marquess of Falconer. I have heard much about him. He is a very famous, very fierce soldier, known as the Falcon after his family’s emblem which is the bird of prey. See, his beaked nose? They say he swoops on his enemies, and once he has his claws on them will not let them go. He is much feared, and hated by some. I think he will have no truck with our Prince and his army ...’

‘Not even the Falcon will rout them,’ Stewart said bitterly. ‘I too have heard how his lordship is called; but I believe there is more substance in the name than his deeds.’

Susan Delamain shook her head and her hand plucked worriedly at the silk of her dress, ‘That is not what I hear. He has spent many years abroad fighting the French. ‘Tis where he got his nickname, and earned it too by all accounts.’

Emma shivered.

‘He is certainly very awe-inspiring. Why, I think he is vaster than any of the men in our family and they are all good broad, hulking fellows. What a pity he favours the Hanoverians and not our side. I hear he is a disinterested politician; more keen on his soldierly duties, but, yes, a convinced Hanoverian.’

‘Enough of the Falcon. I must be gone before dawn,’ Stewart said, ‘for I am to proceed as soon as I can to Carlisle. It is true Aunt, Emma ...’ Stewart paused, and his voice dropped to a whisper, ‘that the Prince marches towards England and I go to join him.’

Carlisle surrendered to Prince Charles Edward on 14 November after some days of siege. The inhabitants of the town had thought themselves surrounded by a large army instead of a few thousand men, and also they were in mortal terror of the Highlanders whose reputation for savagery had preceded them. But once inside, the Highlanders surprised everyone by the mildness of their manners and the Prince, as usual, charmed the masses with his fair-mindedness and sense of justice.

On arrival at Carlisle Stewart Allonby had noticed the siege at the Penrith Gate and watched it in the fog and damp along with the rest. But, on hearing that the Prince was at Brampton seven miles away awaiting an encounter with General Wade’s army, he rode there and at once encountered his cousin Tom in the throng surrounding the Prince.

Tom looked gaunt and tired, there were deep shadows under his eyes and his cheeks were cavernous. He immediately asked for news of Brent.

‘He is to join us here, as I understand it, as soon as he has made rendezvous with Lord Derwentwater who is bringing arms from France. The enemy is already entrenched in Whitehaven with big cannon pointing over the sea.’

‘Aye. I wonder if Brent would be better off where he is – the supplies are vital.’

‘I think Brent would not stay. He yearns to fight with the Prince.’

‘Then he will meet us when we have taken Carlisle. Let me take you to his Highness.’

Stewart could see the crowd in the distance gathered around the Prince who was preparing to dine, but at that point a commotion began in front of the Prince’s tent and it was announced that a deputation had arrived from Carlisle to treat with his Highness for surrender. Stewart’s interview was postponed and the following day Charles Edward Stuart entered Carlisle and immediately set to making plans with his commanders for the occupation of England.

From the very first Stewart was aware of discord in the Prince’s ranks. There were so many Highland companies swearing different allegiances that their rivalry seemed more important than the Cause. Many of the Highlanders had been reluctant to cross the border and had returned to their homes, and those who had forded the River Esk had turned as a man and pointed their swords towards their homeland when they reached the English side. But, more important and damaging, was the fact that the Prince was quarrelling with the commander of half of his Army, Lord George Murray, who was reported to have offered his resignation which the Prince had accepted.

The Duke of Perth was now in sole command of the Army, but the restlessness continued down the ranks to the foot soldiers, many of whom still wanted to go home. Tom told how many commanders were putting pressure on the Prince to reinstate Lord George and eventually this was done, but permanent rancour remained between the Prince and his commander and sustained the unease among the men.

Thus instead of being elated Stewart was depressed and it was not until Brent arrived the following day that he began to take heart again.

For Brent this was the culmination of his life, the purpose for which he felt he had been born. He had ridden hard from Cockermouth where he had left Mary in the care of her sister and now here he was, the bustle and excitement of the Jacobite Army about him at last. As soon as he’d heard that the Prince had crossed the border he reminded Ambrose Rigg of their bargain and had put away his sailor’s clothes. The very sight of Brent’s rapturous face cheered Stewart and the two cousins embraced.

‘Where is Tom?’

‘He is with the Duke of Perth. The Prince I learn is not too happy to be attended by a Catholic clergyman; he has to maintain the image of religious indifference because of the possibility he may come to the throne.’

‘But the Prince
is
a Catholic!’

‘Aye, but ‘tis not political to mention religion until King James is established in London. How goes it with Mary, Brent, and Sarah?’

Stewart avoided looking at Brent as he asked him and turned to the window of his lodgings overlooking market street. Their host was a friend of the Allonbys and his house had been the place appointed for Stewart and Brent to meet.

‘They do well enough, anxious for the Cause.’

‘And Mary is ... happy?’

‘I think so, why should she not be?’

Stewart did not reply for, at that moment the door burst open and Tom wrapped his arms round his younger brother.

‘Oh, Brent ‘tis good to see you. I thought it would never happen. All the months we plotted and planned. How is the leg?’

‘It troubles me hardly at all. I have had many months at sea and this has toughened my sinews.’

‘And your wife? A married man, Brent!’

‘Aye.’

Tom looked searchingly at Brent, aware of the way he avoided his eyes. He glanced at Stewart, who, too, was looking away. All was not well there. The marriage had surprised Tom who knew the unstable romantic nature of his brother. Well, to all appearances, it had not altered him.

‘Come, I will take you to the Prince. He is to have you as part of his very own company.’

The Prince had just finished a council of war and looked preoccupied as Brent and Stewart were led into his presence.

‘Your Royal Highness may I present my brother, Brent Delamain and my cousin, Stewart Allonby – a family well known to your Royal Highness.’ The three men bowed and a smile appeared on the Prince’s tired face.

‘Indeed it is. The name Delamain is well known to me and you, sir, are well called after my own, Stewart.’

‘Your Royal Highness.’

Stewart bowed low, too overcome to speak. There was indeed a magic about the Prince; to be in his presence was to be aware of something awesome and mysterious. The Prince, he noted, was tall and slim, his face round and brown from his exposure to all kinds of weather. He had a small but full mouth and lively eyes. Altogether he was very well proportioned and his appeal to the ladies was easy to discern. But he also inspired fierce loyalty in his men, and this was because of his regal manner combined with an easygoing informality that seemed to get the best out of them. The Prince lived as his men, did as they did and he was always cheerful and courteous and imbued with an optimistic and resolute air that it was impossible not to be carried away by.

‘You are to serve in my company, as your brother may have told you, both as lieutenants. I am grateful to you, Mr Delamain, for the service you have rendered providing arms for us. Your work is appreciated by me.’

‘My honour, your Royal Highness.’

‘Thank you gentlemen, and God remain with us.’

The Prince looked preoccupied again and, turning from them, was immediately surrounded by his commanders.

‘They are discussing what to do next,’ Tom whispered as they left the audience chamber. ‘The enemy are approaching on all sides.’

‘God grant I get my sword at them,’ Stewart growled, his patriotism kindled anew by the encounter with his Prince. ‘Let us harry them ahead of us to London.’

                                      ***

But although the Army began its march south almost at once there was no harrying to be done, no encounter with the enemy who were always to one side or the other, or ahead. The Duke of Cumberland himself blocked their path to London, and the Prince eventually halted at Derby.

There he had to take the hard and, to him, indefensible decision to retreat. There were three Hanoverian armies poised to attack his small numbers. There was no sign of the massive rising he had expected in England nor of the French landing promised by his brother Henry. The Prince had done everything in his power to persuade his commanders to go on, but all had voted against him. They thought to continue would mean annihilation of the Jacobite Army and, with it, the Jacobite Cause. Better to retreat and try again. Yet only Charles, possibly, knew the full importance of what they had decided as on 6 December 1745 the Army started to go back the way it had come so triumphantly and with such hope.

For Brent and Stewart it was a bitter moment when they were told, with their fellow officers, in advance of the men, that they were going backwards rather than forwards. Orders to move had been given at first light and it was not until they were some miles north of Derby that the rest of the army realized what had happened. The officers were hard put to explain to the men, so near to London, the reason for the retreat and the day was spent in recriminations and expressions of discontent.

But the worst thing was the way the whole complexion of the operation changed, even the character of the Prince. From being so cheerful and always in the vanguard he now sulked and kept behind. The mood of the population in the countryside through which they had marched victoriously only a few days before changed quickly to hostility, and the Highlanders who had held themselves hitherto in commendable restraint now set to pillaging, looting and despoiling everything in their path.

To the English officers like Brent and Stewart and others who had joined them – Manchester had provided a complete regiment – it was a horrible sight to see these men, half savages some of them, reverting to their former reputation. And the Prince, although he knew what was afoot, did nothing to try and stop them. Lord George Murray did all he could to keep the Army together but his fellow commander, the Duke of Perth, was now a sick man and the officers discontented and dispirited.

Stewart and Brent who had not once been engaged in battle or even a skirmish, who had not been part of the force that so triumphantly conquered Scotland, felt this disillusion as much if not more than most. Having spent such a large part of their lives preparing for this event it was now unbearable to see it all founder without exchanging a single blow against the enemy. It was galling; it was humiliating.

‘They say we will regroup in Scotland,’ Brent said one night as they tried to sleep, having been pursued out of Manchester by a hostile crowd. What was more they knew that General Oglethorpe’s army, sent ahead by the Duke of Cumberland to harry them, was not far behind.

‘Nay, we are done for,’ Stewart sighed. He felt ill and coughed frequently. The weather was terrible; it was cold and it never stopped raining. There was not enough to eat and, now that the local people had turned against them, nowhere warm to lay their heads at night.

‘Will you leave the Army when we reach Carlisle?’

‘No. I’ll stay to the bitter end. But we are done for Brent. The Stuarts are finished.’

‘Hush,’ Brent looked anxiously around though it was dark, ‘people will hear you. You will be split in half by a claymore as you sleep.’

‘They know. Everyone knows. The Prince knows. It was ill planned this expedition. Five thousand men in all and they say in
each of
the Hanoverian armies awaiting us there were 30,000 men. In each. The country has not risen to the Stuarts.’

‘Aye, that is the reason,’ Tom said. ‘That is the real reason. People are too content as they are. They do not want change; they do not want the Stuarts and the Catholic Church back again.’

They had hardly seen Tom. He spent time tending the sick or cheering the faint-hearted. But now as he sat with them, trying like them to keep warm against the bitter night, he nodded.

‘That is the truth. The English people will not tolerate Catholicism. It is too foreign to them; it smacks of the French and the arbitrary rule of James I and Charles I. They hate the Pope and that is that. The Stuarts have become alien to them and we did not realize it. We were too distant and our spies did not rightly detect the mood of the people.’

‘What will you do Tom?’

‘Oh, stay to the bitter end, like you; but we are done for, I agree.’

From Preston on 11 December Charles despatched the Duke of Perth to try and rally forces in Scotland. The Duke was mortally sick and had to travel by coach. Charles announced that he would stay in Preston and await reinforcements from Scotland; but the hooves of General Oglethorpe’s soldiers could almost be heard outside the walls, and the dispirited Jacobite army took refuge in Lancaster.

Charles vainly tried to make a stand there to assure people he was merely retiring and not fleeing, but the Duke of Cumberland was said to have arrived in Wigan with 1000 cavalry. Charles set off for Kendal and then more trouble began as the men had difficulty negotiating the heavy ammunition carts on the steep hills in the terrible relentless weather. Charles and Lord George were at loggerheads again. The Prince had gone ahead and peremptorily ordered Lord George not to leave anything behind, not even a cannon-ball. His lordship, who brought up the rear, was said to be angered by this command being aware of the temper of his men and the state of their health. Disease was rampant. In the end he gave his soldiers sixpence a head to carry the cannon-balls over Shap. It was at this point that Brent and Stewart were split up, Stewart going ahead to join the Prince in Penrith and Brent staying behind with Lord George Murray and the rearguard. And it was here that the first chance of action came, unexpectedly, at Clifton near Penrith.