“Is it some disaster?” I asked.
Lipton cackled. “You cannot ask too much of horsemen,” he said. “It is too easy for them to run away. Not like we gunners who must stand by our pieces though hell and hailshot come at us.”
I looked at him. “Do you really do that?” I asked.
“Nay,” he said. “We run. But not as fast as the cavalry.”
“I’ll go down and speak to the horse,” I said.
I rode down to the field while Lipton trotted off to bring up his guns. Passing by the soldiers, who were still deploying, I rode to discover a group of Frere’s dragoons wearily riding along, their bell-mouthed firelocks lying across their saddles. They told me that they had been skirmishing with the advance guard, and were being chased away by cavalry, when Utterback’s horse had arrived, and driven the enemy cavalry back. Captain Frere had then arrived and told them to withdraw and re-form behind the infantry.
The last they had seen of the fight, things were going well for Utterback.
The next groups of horsemen were also dragoons, with much the same story. It was another few minutes before I met demilances of Utterback’s Troop, and these were weary men, some wounded, some with hacked swords and dented armor. Their horses were worn, and walked along with their heads drooping. These said they were driving the enemy, but were then assaulted by fresh forces and forced to fly. None of them knew what had become of Lord Utterback, Lord Barkin, or Captain Snype.
A few more interviews and I understood what had happened. Utterback’s Troop had come upon the dragoons being pursued by enemy horse, who had while chasing split into small bands. Utterback ordered a charge, and faced by the formed troopers, the enemy were driven back until they came up to the first bodies of foot, who formed pike-hedges and held off the attackers while firing hackbuts and calivers into them; and as the Troop milled about in confusion, another enemy unit of horse formed and charged; and this time it was Utterback’s disorganized demilances who were driven back. They fell back upon Lord Barkin’s Troop—and Barkin, because he had kept his men in order, was able to countercharge successfully and knock the enemy back, and that enabled our people to withdraw without pursuit.
I was relieved at this, for it seemed the greater part of our horse had survived, but still I felt an anxious gnawing because I saw not a single officer, not Lord Barkin, or Frere, or Snype, or any of their lieutenants, nor our Captain General Lord Utterback. None of the standards had returned, and the horse were leaderless. Some had lost their horses and were on foot. I told them all to go to the pond and water their animals, and then rally behind the infantry; but I knew not what to do with them after, as they seemed exhausted and beaten.
I was wondering how we would fare without a commander, and whether I should pretend that I was in charge, and whether more experienced soldiers like Ruthven would accept my leadership. It is not without precedent for me to assume an authority that I do not possess, but there was so much at stake, hundreds and perhaps thousands of lives, that command seemed less a pleasure than a dark, approaching pall of cloud swollen with the promise of death and slaughter.
I returned to the lines to view our foot and speak with the coronels. Pikes and pollaxes lined the west side of the hedge four deep, with calivers and hackbuts in the interstices. The standards waved bravely overhead. Behind the line, a few reserve companies loitered on the grass.
In battle, the soldiers with hackbuts and calivers would descend into the sunken road, splash across, and fire through the hedge into the enemy as they approached, then fall back as the rebels came near. Any attackers would have to fight their way through the hedge, then jump down into the sunken road only to fight their way up through the hedge on the other side, with our pikes stabbing down at them.
The only exception to this was on the far right. Most of the foot were lined up behind the road to Exton, but this road ran only to the juncture with the Peckside road, which left fifty yards of clean smooth turf between the Peckside road and the ravine falling away on the south. It was such a narrow front that an advance along it couldn’t be decisive, but Coronel Ruthven had put a company of pikes there, just to discourage any attempt.
I was viewing this area with Coronel Ruthven when a group of straggling dragoons was walking past, and I turned to him and said, “The enemy will attack along our main front, I assume?”
Ruthven was amused. “They can scarce attack anywhere else.”
“Let’s put dismounted dragoons here, ahead of the main body. When the rebels advance, the dragoons will be able to fire into their flank. And if the enemy attacks them, the dragoons can find safety behind the pikes.”
Ruthven considered this. “Ay,” he said. “For what else can we do with dragoons on such a field as this?”
“Or any field,” said I. “For I know not what dragoons are for.”
“Today,” Ruthven said, “we may find out.”
I rode up the scales to find the dragoons where they were rallying by the pond, and sent them down to the field. Then, from my higher position on the pasture, I could look down over the hedge, and I saw a body of horsemen approaching from the east, riding under three standards. My heart gave a leap as I recognized Lord Utterback’s blue standard among them, and I urged my horse down the gentle slope to join them.
Lord Utterback rode abreast with Lord Barkin and Captain Frere, each beneath his own banner, and followed by fifty or so horsemen drawn from the three units. Utterback rode perfectly straight in the saddle, his eyes fixed to the front, lower lids drooping to show a lot of white below the pupils. He still held his straight sword in his right fist, and the steel cage that protected his face was lowered. His plume had been clipped short, and I saw fresh dimples on his breastplate where bullets had rebounded.
“You should congratulate your armorer, my lord,” I said as I reined up and joined the party. “Proofs you bear now that his steel is proof indeed.”
Utterback gave me a strange white-eyed look, as if he did not comprehend my words. His right hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. Perhaps, I thought, he was not in the humor for such badinage. I essayed again.
“I am heartily glad to see you, my lord,” I told him. “I have tried to put the soldiers in order, and I hope my dispositions will meet with your approval.”
Utterback said nothing, and Lord Barkin spoke up instead.
“We have been trying to sweep up as many of our men as we can,” he said. “Have many come ahead of us?”
“Indeed,” I said. “I’ve told them to water their horses at the pond, then rally behind the foot. The dragoons I have put on the far right, to harass the enemy as they advance. But they have had no horse-officers till now.”
“We shall set them in order,” said Barkin.
Coronel Ruthven met us as we rode into our lines, and saluted Lord Utterback with a cheerful smile. “Would you come and inspect us, my lord?”
For the first time, Utterback spoke. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I shall do that.” He reined up. “Let me see your brave fellows, coronel.”
Lord Barkin and the others streamed up the slope as Ruthven and I guided Lord Utterback over the field. He returned the soldiers’ salutes with a brandish of his sword, and spoke little, but approvingly, of everything he saw.
We ended on the far left, just under the rise where Lipton had drawn up his guns. We turned our horses toward the guns, and Lord Utterback leaned toward me.
“I know not what happened when we met the enemy,” he said.
“My lord?”
“I know not what happened. I could not see.” His helmet rattled as he gave a shake of his head. “The enemy were not there, and then they were all about us. I tried to give orders, but there were precious few to hear. I fought—I struck at them. Then I seemed to be all alone, with troops of enemy horse charging, and I had to fly. I clashed with some of them, then Lord Barkin found me and took me back.” He shook his head again. “I know not what happened.”