The Lion's Whelp

So it was good even to see him, and how much better to hear him say —

"Israel Swaffham is well, and God hath given us a great victory."

"And John?"

"I left him following after the enemy. We have smitten them hip and thigh; we – "

"And Cymlin?"

"He was guarding the prisoners. We have ten thousand of them, and – "

"And Tonbert?"

"Nothing has hurt him. He was in a strait for one five minutes; but I cried to him – 'Set thy teeth, and fight for thy life, Tonbert;' and he came safely away with the colours in his hands, when he had slain two of the rogues who wanted them."

"Now then, we shall have peace, Doctor?"

"No use, Martha, in crying peace! peace! when peace is wickedness. Our Protestant liberty was won by men willing to go to the stake for it; our civil liberty can only be won by men willing to go to the battle-field for it. But here come the beef and bread, and I am a hungry man. Let me eat and drink. And you women, bless the Lord and forget not all His benefits."

It was not long before he took a pipe from his pocket, lit it, and drew his chair to the hearthstone. "Now we will talk," he said. "When did you hear of us last?"

"About the tenth of August. You were then in camp near Edinburgh," said Mrs. Swaffham.

"To be sure – having a paper war with the Kirk and David Leslie. It was little to Cromwell's liking, and no more to David Leslie's; both of them would rather defiance of battle than Declarations from the General Assembly. They came to nothing, and as the weather was bad and our provisions short, and our men falling sick beyond imagination, we retreated to Dunbar to fortify and recruit. Then the cunning Scots got behind us and blocked up our way. We were in a bad case, Martha, between Leslie and the black North Sea – in a trap, and no less. For the first time our good Cromwell faced defeat, yes, annihilation. Did he lose heart? Not a bit of it. He sent word south to get men ready to meet Leslie, whatever became of us; and then he watched and waited and prayed. Such prayer! Martha. I saw him lifting up his sword to heaven – I heard him speaking to God – pressing forward and upward – bent on prevailing – taking heaven by assault. About three o'clock on the morning of the battle I went to him. It was yet dark, but the men were at arms, and Cromwell was going from troop to troop encouraging them. I said to him, 'Brother Oliver, you have got an answer?' And he smiled joyfully and said:

"'It is in my heart, John. When the devil had said all he had to say, then God spoke. Indeed I have great consolations. I know, and am sure, that because of our weakness, because of our strait, the Lord will deliver us. But tell the men that whoever has a heart for prayer, must pray now; and then quit themselves like men – there is ONE watching and helping them.'

"You women would not understand the setting of the battle. It is enough that it began at four in the morning, and that by nine o'clock there was no longer a Scotch army – three thousand of it were slain in the battle, many more killed in pursuit. We had all their baggage and artillery, besides fifteen thousand stand of arms and two hundred colours to hang up in Westminster Hall – and not twenty Englishmen killed. The Scots came forward shouting, 'The Covenant! The Covenant!' and Cromwell thundered back, 'THE LORD OF HOSTS!' His voice seemed to fill the field. It was heard above the clash of the swords, and the shouting of the captains – and it was caught by thousands of other voices – above the bellowing of the cannon. It was an invocation, it was a shout of triumph, and indeed THE LORD OF HOSTS was above The Covenant.'"

"Oh, if I could have seen Cromwell at that onset! just for a moment!" exclaimed Jane.

"At the onset! Yes! It is something never to forget. He leaps to his horse, rides to the head of his troop, and gallops it to the very front of the battle. I saw him at Dunbar, his Ironsides in buff and rusty steel shouting after him – sons of Anak most of them – God's soldiers, not men's; and led by one whose swoop and stroke in battle no one ever saw equaled. All through the fight he was a pillar of fire to us; and just when it was hottest the sun rose upon the sea, and Cromwell took it for a sign of present victory, and shouted to his army, 'Now let God arise, and His enemies shall be scattered.'"

"I can see him! I can hear him!" cried Jane.

"And at that moment, the Scots broke and fled, and the field was ours. Then he called a halt, and to steady his men and fire them afresh for the pursuit, he sang with us the one hundred and seventeenth Psalm. And one troop after another caught the words, and for two miles men leaning upon their swords were singing, 'O praise the Lord all ye nations: praise Him all ye people. For His merciful kindness is great towards us, and the truth of the Lord endureth forever. Praise ye the Lord!' I tell you there was joyful clamour enough on Dunbar's swampy field to make the sky ring about it."

"And what of Israel Swaffham? He did his part? I know that," said Mrs. Swaffham.

"He led his own troop of the solid fen men of Cambridgeshire. I saw their blue banner waving wherever Tonbert carried it."

"And John?"

"Was with Lambert's Yorkshiremen. No one could resist them. Cymlin rode with Cromwell. Cymlin was never behindhand yet."

"I thank God for my men. I give them gladly to His Cause."

Jane's face was radiant, and tears of enthusiasm filled her eyes. She kissed the doctor proudly, and ran to send a messenger to de Wick with the tidings of Dunbar. When she returned she sat down by his side, and leaning her head against his arm, began to question him:

"Dr. John, at Marston Moor Leslie fought with Cromwell, was with him in that glorious charge, where he got the name of Ironside. Why then was he fighting against Cromwell at Dunbar?"

"The Scotch have had many minds in this war, Jane. Just now they are determined to make Presbyterianism dominant in England, and give us the young man, Charles Stuart, for our king. And Englishmen will not have either King or Presbytery. As far as that goes, most of them would rather take the Book of Common Prayer than touch the Scotch Covenant. And as for the young man, Charles Stuart, he is false as hell from his beard to his boots; false to the Scots, false to the English, true to no one."

"And you, Doctor, how do you feel?"

"My little girl, I was born an Independent. I have preached and suffered for liberty of conscience; if I could deny it, I would deny my baptism. I'll do neither – not while my name is John Verity."

Then Jane lifted his big hand and kissed it, and answered, "I thought so!"

"And if England wants a king," he continued, "she can make one; she has good men enough to choose from."

"Some say that Cromwell will make himself king."

"Some people know no more of Cromwell than a mite knows of a cheesemonger. Nevertheless, Cromwell is the Captain of England. He has expressed her heart, he has done her will."

"Yet he is not without faults," said Mrs. Swaffham.

"I don't see his faults, Martha. I see only him. Great men may have greater faults than little men can find room for; and Cromwell is beloved of God, and therefore not always explainable to men."

"He has dared to do many things which even his own party do not approve."

"Jane, they who care will dare, though it call flame upon them. And Cromwell loves to lead on the verge of the impossible, for it is then he can invoke the aid of the Omnipotent."

"I thought the Scotch were a very good, religious people."

"God made them to be good, but He knew they wouldn't be; so He also made Oliver Cromwell."

"Are you going further, Doctor?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.

"No, Martha. I mean to stay here until the General's messenger joins me. He sent a letter to London by the young Lord Cluny Neville, and he took the direct road there, so we parted very early in the day; but he calls here for me on his return, and we shall go back together, if so God wills, to Edinburgh. And now, Jane Swaffham, if thou be a discreet young woman, be careful of the young Lord Cluny Neville."

"Why am I warned, Doctor?"

"Because he is one of those men who take women captive with his beauty – a very gracious youth – a great lover of the General, and much loved by him."

"I never heard you speak of Lord Cluny Neville before."

"Because I did not know him before. He came into our camp at Musselburgh and offered Cromwell his sword. The two men looked at each other steadily for a full minute, and in that minute Cromwell loved the young man. He saw down into his heart, and trusted him. Later, he told me that he reminded him of his own son, Oliver, who, as you know, was killed in battle just before Naseby. He has set his heart on the youth, and shows him great favour. Some are jealous of the boy, and make a grumble that he is so much trusted."

"How can they be so foolish? I wonder the General suffers them. Surely he can have some one to love near him," said Mrs. Swaffham.

"Well, Martha, it was part of the Apostle's wisdom to suffer fools gladly. My brother Oliver can do it; and there is nothing wiser or more difficult. I cannot do it. I would rough them! rough them! till they learnt their folly, and left it."

"If this young Lord is taking a letter to Madame Cromwell, then why did not Israel write to me?"

"Oh, the unreasonableness of women! Can a man write when he is in the saddle pursuing the enemy? Israel and Lambert left immediately with seven regiments for Edinburgh. He sent you words full of love and comfort; so did your sons; what would you have, woman?"

"The General wrote to the Generaless."

"He wrote on the battle-field, the cries of the wounded and dying in his ears, all horror and confusion around him. He was giving orders about the arms and the artillery, and about the movement of the troops as he wrote. But he knew his wife and children were waiting in sore anxiety for news – and not expecting good news – and 'twas a miracle how he did write at all. No one else could have brought heart and hands to a pen."

"I think Israel might have written."

"I'll be bound you do! It's woman-like."

"What do you think of the young Charles Stuart?" asked Jane. "It is said he has taken the Covenant, and is turned pious."

"I think worse of him than of his father. He is an unprincipled malignant – a brazen villain, changing and chopping about without faith in God or man. Englishmen will have none of him – and the Scots can't force him on them."

"Dunbar settled that; eh, Doctor?"

"I should say that Dunbar has done the job for all the Presbyterian tribe."

"But oh, the suffering, Doctor!" said Mrs. Swaffham. "Think of that."

"I do, Martha. But God's will be done. Let them suffer. In spite of Cromwell's entreaties and reasonings, they had taken in the Stuart to force him upon us as king – a king who at this very moment, has a popish army fighting for him in Ireland; who has Prince Rupert – red with the blood of Englishmen – at the head of ships stolen from us on a malignant account; who has French and Irish ships constantly ravaging our coasts, and who is every day issuing commissions to raise armies in the very heart of England to fight Englishmen. Treachery like this concerns all good people. Shall such a matchless, astonishing traitor indeed reign over us? If we were willing for it, we should be worthy of ten thousand deaths – could ten thousand deaths be endured. Now let me go to rest. I am weary and sleepy, and have won the right to sleep. Give me a verse to sleep on."

Mrs. Swaffham answered at once, as if she had been pondering the words, "'He lifted up his face to heaven, and praised the king of heaven. And said, from Thee cometh victory, from Thee cometh wisdom, and Thine is the glory, and I am Thy servant.'"

"Thank you, Martha; you have spoken well for me;" and with a smile he turned his beaming eyes on Jane, and she said confidently —

"'Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for thee.'"

"Amen, Jane! And as you have given me a word of Jesus, the son of Sirach, so will I give you both one, and you may ponder it in your hearts – 'Many kings have sat down upon the ground, and one that was never thought of, hath worn the crown.'"

Then Mrs. Swaffham put her hand on the Doctor's arm to stay him, and she asked, "Do you remember the flag the women of Huntingdon and Ely gave to General Cromwell just before Naseby?"

"I do. It was a great lion – the lion of England guarding the Cross of England. And your Israel made the speech. I am not likely to forget it."

"Then you also remember that as Israel was speaking, the east wind rose, and stretched wide-out the silk folds, so that the big tawny lion watching the red cross was blown straight above the General's bare head. And there was a murmur of wonder, and then a great shout, and Israel pointing to the flag and the man below it, cried out —

"Behold your Captain! Cromwell 'is a lion's whelp – from the prey thou art gone up, my son – and unto Him shall the gathering of the people be.'"

"I was standing with Mrs. Cromwell and the girls," said Jane; "and at the shout he turned to them, and little Frances ran to him and he gave the flagstaff into your hand, Doctor, and then stooped and tied the child's tippet. Then Mary and I went closer, and to us he was just the same Mr. Cromwell that I knew years ago, when I sat on his knee, and put my arms round his neck, and he kissed me as tenderly as if I was one of his own little girls. But for all that, something of power and majesty clothed him like a garment, and the people generally feared to touch the hem of it."

"A lion's whelp!" he said proudly, "and while England's lion has such whelps, she may make and unmake kings as is best for her." Then he lit his candle and went stamping down the flagged passage that led to his room. The men and women of the house were waiting there for a word, and with the open door in one hand and the candle in the other, he bade them good-morning with the notable verse Jane had given him for his own comfort. And as he did so, he suddenly remembered that these words had been written thousands of years ago for his encouragement; and he was filled with wonder at the thought, and he called out, "Men and women, all of you, listen once again to the word of the Lord —

"'Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for you.'"

In the meantime Mrs. Swaffham and Jane were going slowly up-stairs. "We can have two or three hours sleep, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham; and Jane answered, "Yes" like one who either heard not, or cared not. Her mother understood. She said softly, "He was thinking of Cromwell when he said 'one that was never thought of' – about the crown I mean, Jane?"

"Yes, mother —Oliver Rex!"

"It might be."

"It ought to be. He has conquered England, Ireland, Scotland: – William of Normandy had not a third of his right."

"I wish I could forget the man; for I must lose myself for an hour or two, or I shall be good for nothing when daylight comes. You, too, Jane, go and sleep."

She said, "Yes, mother." But sleep was a thousand miles away from Jane Swaffham.