The gallant turncoat - or how a Covenanter became a Royalist

by Anna Belfrage

James Graham, Marquis of Montrose

Chances are that if the subject of gallant soldiers during the English – British – Civil War comes up, Prince Rupert of the Rhine gets all the votes. Personally, I am not all that fond of Rupert, however brave and committed he was to Charles I’s cause. I dare say it may be a contrary streak in me – or, alternatively, it is because my heart fixed at a very early age on another of the royalist heroes, namely James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, who is often referred to as The Great Montrose.

Little James was the last – and only son – of the six children born to his parents. He lost his mother when he was still a small child, and in 1626 his father, John Graham, also died, leaving fourteen-year-old James as Earl of Montrose.

James was the chief of the Clan Graham, and he was destined to be an influential man in Scotland. By the mid-1630s, James was looking forward to an ordered life, enlivened by the odd heated debate in Scottish parliament. Plenty of time for his growing family and for his more romantic hobbies, such as writing poetry. Not to be – and all because of the mounting tension between Charles I, King of England, Ireland and Scotland, and his subjects.

There were various reasons for the strained relationship between Charles I and his people. First and foremost, Charles was a firm believer in Divine Right, as per which he ruled by the will of God, and was only accountable to God – definitely not to Parliament. Secondly, Charles perceived himself entrusted with the spiritual well-being of his subjects – which included a major say in how his people worshipped. Thirdly, Charles was a firm believer in hierarchical power constructions – at least within the church – so he advocated a church ruled by bishops (and himself, seeing as Charles was the Head of the Anglican Church).

In Scotland, none of this went down well. Specifically, the powerful Presbyterian Scottish Kirk growled in warning. In Scotland, the Kirk was ruled by the General Assembly, had no time for such fripperies as bishops, and as to the ridiculous notion of having the king as some sort of head of church…No: absolutely not.

Things might never have come to a head had not Charles I been advised by William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury and deeply distrustful of Calvinism in all its forms – which included the Scottish Kirk. Laud recommended that Charles play hardball, insisting the Anglican Church had to take precedence.

Charles was no fool – far from it – and recognised that imposing the Anglican Church in one fell swoop on the Scots would not go down well. Instead, he aimed for a compromise, an attempt to create a cohesive approach to religion, which is why he presented his subjects with a Common Book of Prayer, a little writ based on Anglican rites and prayers.

To the Scots belonging to the Kirk, Anglicans were borderline papists. To the Scottish Highlanders who clung to the Catholic faith, the Anglicans were as horribly Protestant as the Lowland Presbyterians – with the added disadvantage of being English. In brief, no one in Scotland wanted the Common Book of Prayer, and when Charles tried to enforce its use, hell broke loose.

(c) City of Edinburgh Council; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation.
The Signing of the National Covenant

This, very briefly, is the background to the National Covenant, a document drawn up in 1638 by the Scots which subtly told Charles I to back off when it came to matters of religion – or face the consequences. (For more detail, see this post)  Charles was not good at compromising – comes with the territory when you believe you rule by God’s decree – and soon enough he had a war on his hands, as more or less every adult male in Lowland Scotland signed their name to the Covenant, including the majority of the Scottish nobility.

One of the signatories was Montrose, not because he was a fervent Presbyterian, but because he disliked the fact that Charles had decided to promote politically powerful bishops in Scotland. As far as Montrose was concerned, temporal power was best left in the hands of the Scottish Parliament and the king.

Another of the signatories was a certain Archibald Campbell, future Earl of Argyll. Just like Montrose, Argyll was far from being a rabid Presbyterian – but like Montrose he was a firm believer in Scotland being separate from England in all matters, including religion. Very little other than this conviction united these two men. Where Montrose was tall, dashing and charming, Argyll was neither dashing nor tall – or much inclined to ooze charm. But Argyll was rich – very rich – and as the chief of the Clan Campbell he was a force to be reckoned with – far more powerful than Montrose.

Archibald Campbell, 8th Earl of Argyll

Argyll had not had an easy start in life. His mother died young, his father remarried a Catholic lady and decided this new love of his life was far more important than his son and heir, so he converted to the papist faith and departed for Spain and the 17th century version of the Costa del Sol. (Not really: Archibald Campbell senior took service with Felipe III of Spain) Little Archie was left quite abandoned in Scotland, albeit with a guardian to keep an eye on him. His father made over the estates and titles to his son, but granted himself a hefty annual income, which caused considerable strain on the Argyll finances. Once little Archie came into his own (Papa died in 1638) he had his work cut out for him in repairing the damage done to his wealth – and to his family name, what with his father defecting to the papists.

Anyway: the whole debacle surrounding the Common Book of Prayer resulted in war, with Montrose capably leading the Covenanter armies against Charles I. At the time, things were pretty straightforward for Montrose: he was defending his country and its unassailable rights against a king who tried to impose foreign practices.

While Montrose was off fighting, Argyll was busy constructing a Presbyterian powerbase. Soon enough, the previously so united Covenanters were divided into a faction that demanded Scotland be ruled by the Kirk and the estates, and a more moderate faction who sought some sort of compromise with the king. As the Bishops’ War progressed, Montrose moved towards the Royalist party, torn between loyalty to his country and to his king. Truth be told, he was having second thoughts about the whole Covenanter thing, concerned that too much power was ending up in the hands of the Kirk and men of a most Puritanical bend. Men like Argyll. By now, the temperamental differences between the two men had hardened into personal dislike.

By Divine Right - Charles I

The First Bishops’ War was concluded by the Treaty of Berwick in 1639, at which Charles was obliged to grant major concessions to the Covenanters. Charles, however, had no intention to bide by the terms, and instead planned an invasion of Scotland. Montrose was caught between a rock and a hard place: betray his country or his king? In the event, his loyalty to Scotland won out, and accordingly he was instrumental in leading the troops that yet again defeated Charles.

In 1641, Charles decided to visit Scotland –  a belated attempt to smooth things over, perhaps? Montrose decided to take the opportunity of ridding Scotland of Argyll, whom he considered dangerously radical and far too powerful. Montrose planned to accuse Argyll of treason before Parliament, but Argyll found out and disarmed the plot by arresting Montrose. Obviously, the two men detested each other, and things weren’t exactly improved when Montrose was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Scotland by Charles in 1644.

By this point, England had for some years been embroiled in the Civil War, which spilled over into Scotland. Montrose led the Royalist forces, David Leslie and Argyll headed the Covenanters, now allied with the Parliamentarian and Puritan factions in England.  Montrose called out the Highlanders who had little love for the Covenanters and augmented his forces with 2 000 well-trained Irish infantrymen. Over the coming year, he led his men to one victory after the other.

Mind you, not everything Montrose did was brilliant and honourable, as demonstrated by the atrocities unleashed on Aberdeen in the autumn of 1644. The little town had refused to yield when Montrose asked them to, and when one of the drummer boys accompanying the heralds was shot by a member of the Covenanter garrison, Montrose swore revenge. So when Aberdeen fell, Montrose allowed his soldiers to go on a murderous spree through the town, doing nothing to contain his men as they ravaged and raped, pillaged and killed.

Montrose

At Inverlochy, Montrose destroyed Argyll’s beloved Campbell clansmen and went on to defeat the Covenanter army on several occasions before crowning his efforts by the victory at Kilsyth in August of 1645. Montrose was now effectively in control of all of Scotland, Argyll and his companions forced to flee before his victorious army. It was time, in Montrose’s opinion, to proclaim Charles I as the true ruler of Scotland.

Unfortunately for Montrose, the Royalist faction in England suffered a decisive defeat at the Battle of Naseby earlier in 1645. So instead of basking in the glory of his victories, Montrose was obliged to hasten to Charles’ aid, with David Leslie and the Covenanter Army in hot pursuit. The Highlanders deserted en masse, so it was with a substantially reduced force that Montrose faced Leslie at the battle of Philiphaug in September of 1645. What followed was a rout and a massacre, with the grim Covenanters exacting revenge on the defeated Irishmen for Aberdeen. A distraught Montrose escaped, riding for the protective wilderness of the Highlands.

In 1646, Montrose was ordered to lay down arms by the captured Charles I. He did so reluctantly and went into exile, but being a restless sort, he could not stay away – especially not after hearing Charles I had been executed. He offered his services to the young Charles II, was restored to the post of Lord Lieutenant of Scotland, and began to plan his return. In 1650 Montrose landed in Scotland to raise an army on behalf of Charles II, but the clans did not rally, and at the battle of Carbisdale Montrose was yet again defeated and forced to flee. He sought protection from a certain Neal MacLeod, who happily turned him over to the Covenanter regime and claimed the promised reward, which was why Montrose found himself transported towards Edinburgh as a prisoner.

Charles II was quick to wash his hands of Montrose, eager to comply with the terms dictated by Argyll to recognise him as king, and so a gleeful Argyll was in a position to accuse the valiant and loyal Montrose of treason. The sentence, of course, was a foregone conclusion. It is said that as Montrose was paraded through the streets of Edinburgh, the crowds stood in respectful silence. Likewise, it is said that at some point the cart on which Montrose was seated passed beneath Argyll’s window. For an instant, their eyes met, after which Montrose went on to pass his last night on earth at the Tolbooth.

On 21 May of 1650, Montrose met his end with style. Dressed in scarlet and lace, with beribboned shoes, white gloves and stockings, he was taken to the thirty-foot high gallows. He had been forbidden the right to address the crowd, and instead he was bundled up the ladder, had the noose placed round his neck and was shoved off by the weeping hangman.  Once hanged, he was quartered, his head affixed on a spike and his torso buried in unconsecrated ground.

Montrose's tomb (photo Kim Traynor)

Over a decade later, a restored Charles II attempted to make amends for his betrayal by arranging for a magnificent state burial, at which Montrose’s various body parts were brought together and interred in St Giles. Too little, too late, in my opinion, but today, Montrose’s remains rest in the northern aisle of the cathedral. Ironically, more or less opposite, along the southern aisle, is a monument to Montrose’s nemesis, Argyll, who was to follow Montrose onto the gallows a decade or so later. Fittingly, Montrose himself has written the verse that adorns his grave:

Scatter my ashes, strow them in the air
Lord, since thou knowest where all these atoms are,
I’m hopeful Thou’lt recover once my dust
And confident Thou’lt raise me with the just

(All images from Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain unless otherwise indicated)

This is an Editor's Choice from the #EHFA archives, originally published June 23, 2016.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests: history and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England. She has recently released A Flame through Eternity, the third in a new series, The Wanderer, a fast-paced contemporary romantic suspense with paranormal and time-slip ingredients.

At present, Anna is working on a new medieval series in which Edward I features prominently as well as a book set in 1715 where magic lockets and Jacobite rebels add quite the twist.

Find Anna:

Website www.annabelfrage.com
Amazon Author.to/ABG
FB www.facebook.com/annabelfrageauthor/
Twitter twitter.com/abelfrageauthor

BUYLINK A Rip in the Veil: myBook.to/ARIV1

The Problem of How to Kill Cromwell

by Alison Stuart

My latest release, The King's Man, is set in the year 1654 – bang in the middle of the Interregnum. Charles I has been dead five years and his son is drifting around in exile on the Continent.

Oliver Cromwell

For the loyal supporters of the King, it is quite possibly the blackest time of all. What is left of their estates has been confiscated or subjected to crippling fines, Cromwell is at the height of his power, and there is no likelihood of a restoration of the monarchy by peaceful means any time soon. It is no surprise that at this time little nests of royalists began to foment plots to overthrow Cromwell and restore the King.

John Thurloe

None were successful as John Thurloe, Cromwell’s Secretary of State, had a highly efficient and organised spy ring within the royalist circles, and no one sneezed without Thurloe knowing about it.

Charles II himself appeared to be ambivalent to much of the plotting. He did not believe that the assassination of Cromwell would necessarily result in his return to the throne, and in that he was probably correct. At that time Cromwell had able and loyal Lieutenants who would have stepped into his place.

Richard Willys

The most significant grouping of Royalists was formed toward the end of 1653 comprising Lords Bellasis and Loughborough, Sir William Compton, Colonels Russell and Villiers and Sir Richard Willys. This group would later form the basis of The Sealed Knot and be the only group to have the King’s official commission to operate. But the fate of The Sealed Knot is a post for another day.

In February of 1654, a small group of disaffected royalists were meeting regularly in the Ship Tavern in the Old Bailey, hatching a plot to seize Whitehall, St. James and the Tower and the guards about the city. A Captain Dutton was dispatched to garner support from known Royalists in the country, and it was decided Colonel Whiteley should go to France to get the support of the King in exile. An argument about payment of his expenses ensued with none of his co-conspirators willing to pay a farthing! Inevitably the plot was betrayed to Thurloe (by a Roger Cotes) and the conspirators were arrested at the Ship Inn. None of those concerned were ever brought to trial.

However it was during the course of examining these conspirators that the existence of The Sealed Knot came to light, and Thurloe’s interest was piqued.

In May of 1654 another plot headed by John Gerard was hatched. The plan was to seize Cromwell as he travelled between Whitehall and Hampton Court. Fortunately for Cromwell, Thurloe once again foiled the plot (it is believed in this case Thurloe’s agents may have been Thomas Henshaw and John Wildman). On the day planned for the execution of the plot (13 May), Cromwell took the water route. The annoyed conspirators set the 21 May for a surprise attack on the Whitehall chapel, but by then they had been betrayed and were in the Tower.

The plot was notable for its audacity. The conspirators planned to seize all horses in and around London, assassinate Cromwell and seize the guards at the Mews, St. James and Whitehall. Cromwell’s second in Command, John Lambert and Thurloe himself were possibly also on the assassination list.

Implicated in "Gerard's Plot" (as it came to be known) was an absurd character, a French emissary sent by Cardinal Mazarin to aid the French Ambassador, Bordeaux, in diplomatic negotiations with the English. De Baas was a Gascon whose brother Charles adopted his mother's name D'Artagnan and was the prototype of Dumas' hero (yes really!). De Baas was brash and overconfident and, with little understanding of the English, decided that Cromwell's regime was of no importance and could easily be overthrown. His arrogance was manifest in his refusal to uncover his head in the presence of the Lord Protector and his assertion that the soldiers who supported the regime were "feeble and dissipated". His grounds for this assertion? The sentinels on duty wore "nightcaps under their hats".

On the discovery of the plot the arrogant Frenchman was given three days to leave the country.

Gerard and a school teacher named Vowells were executed on 10 July; three other conspirators were sent to Barbados. Oddly, Wildman and Henshaw escaped.

There was a further scare toward the end of 1654, and The Sealed Knot was behind the failed uprisings in 1655, but it was these two idiotic plots (‘The Ship Inn’ Plot and ‘Gerard’s Plot’) that form the basis of The King’s Man. As an author I could not have made up a more inept and useless bunch of plotters and I had great fun writing the real life characters such as Thurloe, Willys, Gerard, Wildman and Henshaw, DeBaas, Bordeaux (and his English mistress) and the rest into the story.

Principal Sources: Antonia Fraser Cromwell Our Chief of Men, Philip Aubrey Mr. Secretary Thurloe and S.R. Gardiner History of the Commonwealth and Protectorate Vol 3.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About The King's Man

The second in a tantalising trilogy from award-winning author Alison Stuart, about warriors, the wounds they carry, and the women that help them heal.

London 1654: Kit Lovell is one of the King’s men, a disillusioned Royalist who passes his time cheating at cards, living off his wealthy and attractive mistress, and plotting the death of Oliver Cromwell.
Penniless and friendless, Thamsine Granville has lost everything. Terrified, in pain, and alone, she hurls a piece of brick at the coach of Oliver Cromwell and earns herself an immediate death sentence. Only the quick thinking of a stranger saves her.
Far from the bored, benevolent rescuer that he seems, Kit plunges Thamsine into his world of espionage and betrayal – a world that has no room for falling in love.
Torn between Thamsine and loyalty to his master and King, Kit’s carefully constructed web of lies begins to unravel. He must make one last desperate gamble – the cost of which might be his life.

Buy The King's Man: Amazon, iBooks, and where all good eBooks are sold (see Escape Publishing for the full list)


To celebrate the launch of The King's Man, Alison is giving away a Kindle ereader to a lucky reader. Click HERE to enter the Rafflecopter contest.

Award winning Australian author, Alison Stuart learned her passion from history from her father. She has been writing stories since her teenage years, but it was not until 2007 that her first full length novel was published. Alison has now published 6 full length historical romances and a collection of her short stories. Her disposition for writing about soldier heroes may come from her varied career as a lawyer in the military and fire services. These days when she is not writing she is travelling and routinely drags her long suffering husband around battlefields and castles.

Connect with Alison at her website, Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Edward Hyde, 1st Earl of Clarendon: from Commoner to Chief Minister

By Cryssa Bazos

Few commoners experienced the meteoric rise in power and influence that Edward Hyde saw. In his career, he had been named Chancellor and advisor to King Charles II, elevated to the peerage as Earl of Clarendon and grandfather to not one but two reigning monarchs, Queen Mary II (1689 to 1694) and Queen Anne (1702 to 1707). He was at heart a historian and a prolific writer; his writings formed a foundation for our understanding of the English Civil War. His most notable history was the History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England. But with any unprecedented rise, one must be mindful of the sudden drop.

Edward Hyde, 1st Earl of Clarendon
by Adriaen Hanneman;
National Portrait Gallery; NPG 773

Edward Hyde was born in 1609 to a respectable middle-class family of politicians and lawyers from Wiltshire. He continued the family calling and studied law at Oxford, where upon the completion of his studies, he was admitted into the Middle Temple. In the years leading up to the civil war, he was elected to Parliament and spoke up for moderate reform. When the lines were finally drawn, his loyalty aligned him with King Charles I.

During the first Civil War, Hyde was named to the King’s Privy Counsel and given the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer. In 1645, with episodes of plague and an encroaching enemy threatening them, the King appointed Hyde as the Prince of Wales’ guardian (the future Charles II), to see his son and heir safely to the west. This was the beginning of a trusted and close advisory relationship between Hyde and Charles II. Together with Richard Fanshawe, the Prince’s secretary, the party fled to Cornwall, and Hyde continued on to Jersey with the Prince. Following the execution of Charles I, Hyde fled to the Continent with his wife and children.

Charles II (de Champaigne)
by Philippe de Champaigne; Licensed under
Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

Hyde was a staunch Royalist and Anglican, firm in his opposition to the Crown’s enemies. When Charles II sought an alliance with the Presbyterian Scots to win back his throne, Hyde did not support the young King’s choice of bedfellows, nor did he accompany him to Scotland. His reservations proved to be astute. Charles had been little more than a royal prisoner, and by the time he had seized some measure of control over his campaign, it was too late to stop the Cromwellian tide. With the King’s defeat at Worcester, on September 3, 1651, and the Prince of Wales' subsequent narrow escape to the Continent, the Royalist cause was left in shambles.

Over the next eight years, Hyde became a trusted advisor to the King in exile. In much the same way that Cromwell’s spymaster, John Thurloe, groomed a network of spies and intelligence that spread beyond England, Hyde performed a similar service for Charles, though to a lesser extent. To be fair, Thurloe retained complete control of his operation, whereas Hyde had to manoeuvre around rival Royalist factions who resented a commoner’s proximity to the King and who were desperate to deliver the crown to Charles. Hyde was caught between the Queen mother’s people (Henrietta was a great meddler in her son’s affairs) and the faction led by Prince Rupert, with both rival groups actively trying to discredit him. This would become routine even during the Restoration.

In November 1653, responding to an increasingly dysfunctional Parliament back in England, Hyde encouraged the formation of the Sealed Knot, which became the official Royalist organization to restore Charles to the throne. Its founding members were John Belasyse, Richard Willis, William Compton, Henry Hastings, John Russell and Edward Villiers. Reports and instructions were passed through Hyde. The group’s mandate was very much a reflection of Hyde’s moderate policies and at odds with the more action orientated Royalist factions. In the end, the Protectorate proved unsustainable. Following the death of Oliver Cromwell and the disposition of his heir, Richard, the monarchy was restored.

A few months after the Restoration, the Hyde family were at the centre of a royal scandal. Hyde’s eldest daughter, Anne, had entered into a secret liaison with the King’s brother, James, the Duke of York, and had become pregnant. Anne Hyde claimed that James had promised her marriage, though he initially denied it. The couple secretly married on September 3, 1660, causing a major scandal when it was finally discovered. Hyde was horrified. Though Anne was his favourite daughter, a father’s affection did not blind Hyde to the loss of opportunity for England. James was as an asset to England and should have been an instrument to solidify foreign alliances. The scandal gave Hyde’s critics the opportunity to accuse him of orchestrating the affair.

Peter Lely [Public Domain] via Wikimedia Commons

Initially, Hyde profited from his daughter’s marriage. Within a year, he became the 1st Earl of Clarendon. Over the next few years, Anne would give birth to daughters Mary and Anne, who would one-day reign as Queens of England. But in the meanwhile, his enemies were looking for ways to remove him from Royal favour.

On July 10, 1663, Hyde was impeached of high treason in the House of Lords. The articles ranged from the political—profiting from policies to the disadvantage of the nation; to the absurd: promoting Charles’s marriage to a barren Queen; to the ridiculous: encouraging Popery (oddly enough, he has been incorrectly credited with the religiously intolerant Clarendon Code which did not favour Catholics). After four days of deliberation, the impeachment was dismissed.

Rather than this eliminating his political problems, it galvanized his detractors and made them more determined to oust him from his position. Concerted rumours of his impending retirement together with his attempt to curtail Charles’s merry court succeeded in eroding his position. In August 1667, the privy seals were taken from him, and the King’s favourite mistress, Barbara Villiers, jeered at him as he left.

Plans to once again impeach Hyde over the second Dutch War reached him in time and he fled to France before they could arrest him. After his departure, an Act of Banishment was passed against him in November 1667. Sadly, he was never allowed to return to see his children and died in France on December 9, 1674.

From commoner to Chancellor to Chief Minister and finally to banished exile, Edward Hyde worked relentlessly to represent the Crown until the rival factions succeeded in bringing him low. In the end, history would remember him as a scholar, historian and grandfather of Queens.

References:

Historical Inquiries Respecting the Character of Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, Lord Chancellor of England, by George Agar Ellis

Diary of Samuel Pepys

Royalist Agents, Conspirators and Spies: Their Role in the British Civil Wars, 1640-1660, by Geoffrey Smith.

Royalist Conspiracy, by David Underdown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cryssa Bazos is a historical fiction writer and 17th Century enthusiast with a particular interest in the English Civil War. For more stories about that period, visit her blog.

Brilliana Harley and the Siege of Brampton Bryan

by Alison Stuart

In a quiet corner of Herefordshire are the remains of Brampton Bryan Castle. There is little to be seen except the great gatehouse and part of a wall. Having withstood the ravages of time, the castle was not to outlast the English Civil War.

Although mentioned in the Domesday book, the present structure was probably constructed in the late 13th or early 14th century by Robert Harley who had inherited the castle through marriage to the daughter of Bryan de Brampton. The Harleys held Brampton Bryan in an unbroken line through to the seventeenth century.

As England lurched towards Civil War, Herefordshire showed itself solidly and staunchly Royalist in sympathy. The Harleys, Puritans and supporters of Parliament, rapidly found themselves themselves the butt of unpleasant taunts and rumours, long before the first shot had been fired. When the war finally broke out, Sir Robert Harley, a member of Parliament, remained in London, leaving his wife, Brilliana to hold the castle.

Brilliana was the third wife of Sir Robert Harley and it can be seen from the letters (some of which were written in a clever secret code) that passed between Brilliana and her husband that it was a strong and affectionate partnership. They had three sons and four daughters, all of whom survived into adulthood.

Brilliana and her daughters found themselves living as an island of Parliamentary sympathy in a sea of Royalists. Being a practical woman, she turned her mind to what she would need in the event of hostilities and added powder, match and flintlocks to her housewifely shopping list.

The early months of the war did not go well for the Parliamentarians but it was not until July 1643 that Brampton Bryan found itself the centre of Royalist attention. Her former neighbours, friends and relatives suddenly found themselves ordered to “reduce” Brampton Bryan. An awkward correspondence between besieger and besieged ensued, but Brilliana politely but firmly refused to surrender Brampton saying “…my dear husband hath entrusted me with his house but according to his pleasure, therefore I cannot dispose of his house but according to his pleasure….”

Hostilities commenced, the village of Brampton Bryan was razed and artillery brought to bear on the castle. Despite heavy bombardment casualties within the castle were surprisingly light. A personal offer of terms from the King did not move the lady who played for time in the knowledge that the Earl of Essex was going to the relief of the siege of Gloucester, which would divert the Royalist forces. 

After seven weeks the siege was lifted and Lady Harley set about replenishing stores within the castle. Encouraged by the news that the siege of Gloucester had been lifted, she went on the offensive, sending out foraging parties and an attack force to the town of Knighton. By early October the Royalists were again poised to renew the siege.

Brilliana wrote to her son, Ned, on 9 October 1643: “…I have taken a very great cold, which has made me very ill these 2 or 3 days, but I hope that the Lord will be merciful to me, in giving me health, for it is an ill time to be sick in. My dear Ned, I pray God bless you and give me the comfort of seeing you again…”

Sadly she was never to see her husband or sons again as she died of pneumonia on 31 October, leaving “the saddest garrison in the three kingdoms”.

In the spring of 1644, Brampton Bryan Castle was besieged a second time and finally fell to the Royalists. The castle was “reduced” (a term meaning, destroyed so as not to be capable of defence again) but the lives of the defenders were spared and the fame of Brilliana Harley spread, earning her the “admiration and applause even of her enemies”.

Despite this apparent victory, the Royalist cause was lost. Sir Robert Harley was compensated for his loyal support of the Parliamentary cause and was paid the sum of 13,000 pounds (worth now well over a 1,000,000 pounds) for the loss of his home.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alison Stuart is an award winning Australian writer of historicals with heart. Whether duelling with dashing cavaliers or wayward ghosts, her books provide a reader with a meaty plot and characters who have to strive against adversity, always with the promise of happiness together. Alison is a lapsed lawyer who has worked in the military and fire service, which may explain a predisposition to soldier heroes. She lives with her own personal hero and two needy cats and likes nothing more than a stiff gin and tonic and a walk along the sea front of her home town. She loves to hear from her readers and can be found at her website, facebook, twitter and Goodreads.

Alison has a passion for the English Civil War and has written three books set in this period, By the Sword, The King's Man and Secrets in Time. A story based on the siege of Brampton Bryan is waiting in the wings for a friendly publisher!