Authors: Michael Arnold
To any observer, it must have looked as though there was no way back for the Army of Both Kingdoms, and certainly this perception was held by the trio of lords who shared its command. Fairfax, Manchester and Leven all fled the field on the assumption that the day was lost. The Earl of Manchester did, as I have described, return a little later, so that he was the only one of the three generals to be present at the conclusion of the battle, but, though his arrival must have helped to stabilise matters, this victory, more than any other, was to be won by the lieutenant-generals.
I have already mentioned the impact of the Eastern Association forces at Marston Moor. Their cavalry, as we shall see, had the greatest part to play, and their infantry did an admirable job along the ditch-line, even as Fairfax’s brigade collapsed to their right, but one must not overlook the part played by the isolated Covenanter regiments of Maitland and Lindsay. It was their courage, exposed to thick musket-fire and repeated cavalry charges, that prevented the complete rout of the Allied army. If they had collapsed under Lucas’s attacks, then surely the rest of the infantry units would have capitulated behind, but they stood their ground, winning priceless time for the reserve lines to move up in support. Though the stand of a certain Royalist brigade is by far the most famous moment of the battle, the stand of Lindsay’s brigade is certainly the most pivotal.
Over on the left flank, Cromwell had returned to lead the second charge. This time he used David Leslie’s Scots horse to devastating effect. I have taken a slight liberty by giving Leslie a troop of lancers, though there is nothing to suggest that there were definitely no lancers amongst his complement. Whatever the composition of his force, we know that he struck Molyneux’s flank as Cromwell attacked head-on. The result was a complete rout, the Royalist right wing utterly shattered.
At this point it is worth considering the whereabouts of Prince Rupert. He had left the field to take refreshment, assuming that there would be no battle until dawn, and it evidently took him a good while to realise what had happened. Returning at the gallop, he ran headlong into the flight of his broken second line, which had comprised his very best troops, his own famed regiment of horse among them. Indeed, he was so shocked at seeing his supposedly invincible cavalry in retreat that he personally intercepted them, shouting ‘
S’wounds, do you run? Follow me!’
However many he managed to regroup, they were never going to be enough. Rupert was caught up in the general rout, swept away with the rest, and eventually found himself separated from his men. The rumour was that he concealed himself in a beanfield to avoid capture. His dog, Boye, was not so lucky, and the death of the unfortunate poodle became a powerful propaganda tool for the Roundheads in the following months.
It was now, with the Royalist left-wing horse completely broken, and its right wing either off seeking plunder or embroiled in a messy scrap with Lindsay’s tough Scots, that Cromwell made a decision that would prove crucial. He did not release the bulk of his own horsemen in pursuit of Rupert’s. This seems an obvious thing to do, with a battle still very much in the balance, but the chase was such an integral part of cavalry actions during this period that to keep his force disciplined in the moment of such crushing victory must have taken a will of iron.
What happened next is still a matter of disagreement amongst historians. Many believe Cromwell – having linked up with Sir Thomas Fairfax to learn the news of the defeat on the far side – led his cavalry right the way across the field to destroy the returning members of Goring’s original front line. This seems unlikely, given the furious nature of the infantry firefight that was playing out immediately adjacent to Cromwell’s position, and I, therefore, have chosen to describe the course of events based around the supposition that Cromwell and Leslie made straight for the infantry engagement.
Cromwell took his well-ordered force into the exposed flank of Royalist foot, overrunning them almost immediately. With the Allied foot pressing from the south and the unchallenged might of their horse rolling in waves from the west, the Royalist brigades ruptured and began to collapse; with one famous exception.
The Marquis of Newcastle’s regiment of whitecoats made a last-ditch rearguard action, perhaps because they were simply stranded in open ground, or perhaps in a deliberate move to cover the retreat of their comrades. The area in which this final display of heroism took place has been the subject of much debate over the years, though the traditional site is often named as White Syke Close. It is worth noting that the Close actually postdates the battle by more than a century, and a number of alternative locations have been put forward, but wherever it took place, the final stand of the whitecoats is one of the most famous episodes of the entire British Civil Wars.
Refusing to surrender, they formed a ‘hedgehog’ behind their pikes (the predecessor of the square formation made famous by later wars) and resisted repeated charges by Cromwell’s horsemen, all the while taking musket fire from the Parliamentarian and Covenanter infantry. Eventually, they broke, the cavalry getting in amongst them and offering no quarter. Several accounts of the final stand have come down to us, and we know that only around thirty whitecoats survived out of a likely two thousand.
Incidentally, one account, written by William Lilly, who was not present but supposedly heard the testimony of a Captain Camby, one of Cromwell’s men, states that Camby ‘saved two or three against their will.’ Captain Camby really was an actor, so it seems highly likely that he would befriend a man like Lancelot Forrester!
The battle of Marston Moor had lasted two hours, featuring around forty-six thousand men and five armies. Almost five thousand men were killed, and many thousands wounded.
The Royalists lost their ordnance, gunpowder and baggage, a hundred regimental colours, and, two weeks later, the city of York surrendered. Thus ended Royalist power in the north of England.
Prince Rupert rallied the survivors and went to Chester in order to raise a new army. It is perhaps no surprise that he kept the king’s letter about his person for the rest of his life. The Marquis of Newcastle, accompanied by Lord Eythin, fled to the Netherlands, apparently unwilling to ‘endure the laughter of the Court’.
Of the Allied commanders, neither Lord Fairfax nor the Earl of Leven came out of the battle with a great deal of credit, both having fled the field. The lion’s share of glory went instead to Oliver Cromwell, whose actions had effectively both started and finished the battle. It was after the battle that he began his startling ascent to the top of the Parliamentarian tree. As an aside, for those wondering why I have not mentioned his famed ‘Ironsides’ in the novel, it may be of interest that the nickname ‘Old Ironsides’ was supposedly given to him by Prince Rupert as a result of Marston Moor.
During the course of my research, I have read, scribbled over and spilt coffee on a great many excellent histories of the period; too many to name here. But it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge two.
The Siege of York, 1644
, by Peter Wenham (Sessions Book Trust) was absolutely invaluable to me, as was
The Road to Marston Moor
, by David Cooke (Pen & Sword Books). My heartfelt thanks to both authors.
Marston Moor was, with the benefit of hindsight, the beginning of the end of the First Civil War. But, despite the huge setback of 2 July, all was not lost for King Charles, and there was plenty more fighting to come. And what of our hero? Now a prisoner of Parliament, things are looking bleak, and the summer of 1644 will doubtless prove one of the most testing times of his life.
Major Stryker will return.