so he thought. The Parliamentarian Horse emerged from the broken ground under a steep embankment and suffered grievously from Royalist musketeers stationed thereupon. Then, a large force of Rupert’s cavalry appeared and utterly routed them. Up ahead, Black Tom had become detached from his command in the confusion, his men becoming misguidedly delirious with their first, albeit minor, triumph over the King’s Horse. Fairfax returned back up the hill alone.
On the other wing, Cromwell led his cavalry forward. His opponent was Lord Byron who responded immediately by counter-charging, he having declined the offer of a meal with Rupert and Newcastle and therefore being more quickly able to react. Rupert himself had now got over his initial dismay at having to fight so late in the day and added his own horsemen to the contest. Within minutes, the reserves of both parties had been committed and a huge cavalry melee ensued as rival troopers hacked and slashed at each other with no readily apparent theme or plan. Foot regiments on both sides were ordered forward in support and to fire into the flanks of the now almost static cavalry of their foes. Yet in doing so, they themselves rendered themselves vulnerable. David Leslie’s Scottish Horse slammed into an exposed Royalist Regiment of Foot stopping it dead in its tracks. He then regrouped, changed direction, and landed like a thunderbolt on the King’s horsemen battling with Cromwell’s Ironsides. Leslie’s actions tipped the scales and, seeing their comrades being savaged on all sides, the Royalist rear ranks turned and fled. Rupert was caught up in the rout, powerless to prevent it, and forced to hide in a field of beans to evade capture.
The fleeing Royalist Horse caused chaos amid their own Regiments of Foot on that flank with many units completely losing their cohesion and formations. Wil Pitkin attempted valiantly to maintain order but rain squalls and pitch black powder smoke made the task impossible. In very short order he realised that he had completely lost his own regiment in the murk. Battered, bloody and soaked, he crammed his sopping hat back on and, disgusted by the turn in events, headed for the nearest apparently intact unit occasionally visible in the gloom. He could only identify them by the colour of their coats: white - Newcastle’s men.
With both sides seemingly victorious on their respective left wings, the battle rotated. On Parliament’s left, Foot and Horse surged successfully forward, but in the centre, things had turned ill. The Royalist Infantry advanced with vigour and broke apart the formations of their enemies allowing cavalry through to savage the now disordered Scots and Roundheads. Yet one brigade, that of Lord Lindsey, stood resolute for Parliament and the Covenant. Order was restored and the holes in the line were plugged.
On the left of the King’s line, his victorious cavalry, having pushed Parliament’s Horse from the field, now made exactly the same error as they had at Edgehill two years previously. They promptly hurtled off in the pursuit of loot and of their apparently fleeing foes and in doing so threw away the chance of a decisive outcome. Only one of the King’s commanders, Sir Charles Lucas, kept his head and a tight rein on his men. He had been the only one to do so at Edgehill and he repeated his feat now at Marston Moor. Seeing Lindsey’s valiant efforts for the Covenant in the centre, he resolved to put an end to the troublesome Scot and led his command forward.
Lindsey was having warm work of it that day. He stood in his stirrups, wiped the sweat from his stinging eyes, and tried to make some sense of what was going on around him. To his front he had Newcastle’s Foot and now fast approaching on his flank, he could see Lucas coming against him. Warm work indeed! His Scots regiments were interlinked with pikes and muskets making them mutually supporting. His men were experienced and they were stalwart, hard men,
On the other wing, Cromwell led his cavalry forward. His opponent was Lord Byron who responded immediately by counter-charging, he having declined the offer of a meal with Rupert and Newcastle and therefore being more quickly able to react. Rupert himself had now got over his initial dismay at having to fight so late in the day and added his own horsemen to the contest. Within minutes, the reserves of both parties had been committed and a huge cavalry melee ensued as rival troopers hacked and slashed at each other with no readily apparent theme or plan. Foot regiments on both sides were ordered forward in support and to fire into the flanks of the now almost static cavalry of their foes. Yet in doing so, they themselves rendered themselves vulnerable. David Leslie’s Scottish Horse slammed into an exposed Royalist Regiment of Foot stopping it dead in its tracks. He then regrouped, changed direction, and landed like a thunderbolt on the King’s horsemen battling with Cromwell’s Ironsides. Leslie’s actions tipped the scales and, seeing their comrades being savaged on all sides, the Royalist rear ranks turned and fled. Rupert was caught up in the rout, powerless to prevent it, and forced to hide in a field of beans to evade capture.
The fleeing Royalist Horse caused chaos amid their own Regiments of Foot on that flank with many units completely losing their cohesion and formations. Wil Pitkin attempted valiantly to maintain order but rain squalls and pitch black powder smoke made the task impossible. In very short order he realised that he had completely lost his own regiment in the murk. Battered, bloody and soaked, he crammed his sopping hat back on and, disgusted by the turn in events, headed for the nearest apparently intact unit occasionally visible in the gloom. He could only identify them by the colour of their coats: white - Newcastle’s men.
With both sides seemingly victorious on their respective left wings, the battle rotated. On Parliament’s left, Foot and Horse surged successfully forward, but in the centre, things had turned ill. The Royalist Infantry advanced with vigour and broke apart the formations of their enemies allowing cavalry through to savage the now disordered Scots and Roundheads. Yet one brigade, that of Lord Lindsey, stood resolute for Parliament and the Covenant. Order was restored and the holes in the line were plugged.
On the left of the King’s line, his victorious cavalry, having pushed Parliament’s Horse from the field, now made exactly the same error as they had at Edgehill two years previously. They promptly hurtled off in the pursuit of loot and of their apparently fleeing foes and in doing so threw away the chance of a decisive outcome. Only one of the King’s commanders, Sir Charles Lucas, kept his head and a tight rein on his men. He had been the only one to do so at Edgehill and he repeated his feat now at Marston Moor. Seeing Lindsey’s valiant efforts for the Covenant in the centre, he resolved to put an end to the troublesome Scot and led his command forward.
Lindsey was having warm work of it that day. He stood in his stirrups, wiped the sweat from his stinging eyes, and tried to make some sense of what was going on around him. To his front he had Newcastle’s Foot and now fast approaching on his flank, he could see Lucas coming against him. Warm work indeed! His Scots regiments were interlinked with pikes and muskets making them mutually supporting. His men were experienced and they were stalwart, hard men,
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