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Montrose,
rather to his further surprise, found the Cumbrians and
Westmorlanders, whom he had tended to dismiss as craven, far
from it. On their own ground, fighting for something they approved
of, they were both keen and valiant Recruiting for the Scots venture
had been grim; now it went with a swing. Soon the King's Lieutenant
for Scotland under his new hat as royalist general in the North-West
had an army of nearly 6000 under his command, mainly foot
admittedly, and untrained, raw. But then, so were most of those who
would be opposed to them, in civil warfare. With these he was able,
not only to force Callander to keep well back on his own side of the
Border, but to harry Leslie's right by making repeated brief sorties
through the Pennine passes. He also formed something of a barrier
diagonally across die country, to deter the parliamentary army based
on Chester from moving north-east to link up with Leslie. If this
was not what James Graham had left Kincardine Castle to do, at least
it had the effect of salvaging his reputation as a commander -
indeed enhancing it - and of giving his bevy of young Scots
aristocrats, now willy-nilly officering North Country English
levies, valuable experience in mobile warfare.

The
strategic situation, that spring of
1644,
was
complex, with the centre of gravity moving distinctly into the North
of England. Or at least, into Yorkshire, for the Scots were steadily
pressing Newcastle southwards on that city, after being held up by
the snows of a phenomenally hard winter. England was now a
bewildering patchwork of loyalties, with basically, the parliament
strong in London, the South and East, the King in the North and
West, and the Midlands a chaos. With the Scots wholly altering the
balance in the North, the Midlands and Eastern parliamentarians
decided to try to join up with Leslie and take the Earl of Newcastle
from the rear. To this end the two Fairfaxes moved up their central
army into South Yorkshire and the Earl of Manchester commanding
the Eastern Association, headed northwest. Newcastle called
urgently for help.

The
King ordered Rupert, building a new army at Shrewsbury and the
Welsh marches, to hasten to Newcastle's aid with all speed. And he
sent the hot-tempered Earl of Crawford to Montrose at Carlisle.

'You
arc to assail Leslie's rear,' that fiery-headed, red-bearded
nobleman declared. 'Forget Scotland and Callander, meantime.
Newcastle and the North must be saved at all costs.'

James
Graham frowned at this chief of the Lindsays, sixteenth Earl,
who had spent much of his life at the Court in England and had
latterly been colonel of a regiment of royalist horse. 'Does His
Majesty realise what he asks?' he demanded. 'I have here a motley
crew of Westmorland

squires,
Cumbrian farmers and Scots gentry. Take most of them twenty miles
from their homes and they mutiny! With these, the King asks me to
assail the rear of an army five times as large, the best led and
best trained and disciplined in three kingdoms. With another at my
back, led by a man I know to be a most able soldier...'

'His
Majesty does not ask - he commands!' Crawford said brusquely. 'But,
look not so glum, man. Being cautious is no way to win battles. The
King has sent me to strengthen your hand. We will tickle old
Leslie's backside the way I tickled Waller's at Alton! Never fear!'

Montrose,
with sad experience both of His Majesty's military commands and
judgment of character, considered the dashingly picturesque but
arrogant figure before him — who had lost
600
men
at Alton in a grandiloquent gesture that gained precisely nothing.
He could have done without the Lindsay - especially as he had not
brought his regiment with him. But royal commands or none, he was
the general here, not Crawford; and he was not going to make the
same mistake twice. He had no faith in the royalist Northern forces,
or in their leadership - indeed in any of Charles's generals other
than Rupert and Maurice; nor had he any wish to involve himself
seriously in the English civil war, when Scotland was tugging at him
all the time. But he had to do something in the circumstances. He
would interpret the King's orders in his own fashion - and
endeavour, tactfully if possible, to keep the sixteenth Earl in
his place.

On
the
9th
of
May, then, leaving the unreliable and slow infantry behind to offer
some sort of threat both to Callander's army over the Border
and to the Lancastrian parliamentarians, with all the horse he
could raise,
400
of
his own and
600
Cumbrian
yeomanry under Colonel Clavering, a distinctly cynical professional
soldier, Montrose set out eastwards from Carlisle at speed, the
fire-eating Crawford in attendance. Sparing neither men nor horses,
he drove through and across the spinal heights of Cumberland and
Northumberland all day, by the valleys of the Irthing and South
Tyne, by Brampton, Naworth and Haltwhistle, thirty-five miles to
Hexham. There, although already many of his men were complaining, he
turned northwards up North Tyne, and in the long May evening
half-light climbed out of the valley and over the bare empty moors,
by Chollerton and Kirkheaton to the valley of the Wansbeck. Here, at
Hartburn, he relented, and allowed his weary and outraged troopers a
few hours' rest, not for their sake so much as that of the horses.
Crawford, though eloquent on the military art for the first half of
the day, had been silent now for some time; but Clavering at last
was beginning to look less disillusioned. They halted in
woodland, but no cooking fires were to be lit. Seven miles ahead,
down this twisting vale, the main highway from Scotland to the south
ran through the fortified town of Morpeth. A vital point on Leslie's
lines of communication, it was held by a Scots garrison. Montrose
proposed to assault it as soon after daybreak as might be.

Of
a still misty early morning, divided into four squadrons under
Crawford, Clavering, Aboyne and Ogilvy, they trotted on quietly down
Wansbeck towards the sleeping town. Morpeth lay in the
valley-floor, at a wide hairpin bend where the Colling Burn joined
the Wansbeck, with gentle slopes to north, east and south, but steep
banks to the west, on top of one of which perched its castle and
citadel. This was, of course, the key to the place, and though not
exceptionally strong in itself, nor very large, was very strongly
sited. Montrose had been here during his winter with Leslie's
army at Newcastle three years before, and knew the position.

At
this hour of the morning the town gates would all be shut; and any
attempt to storm them would inevitably arouse the castle and
dissipate any advantage of surprise. Leaving his force hidden in the
scrub woodland around the ruins of Newminster Abbey, Montrose went
quietly forward with Clavering, to prospect.

They
were able to get within
300
yards
of the town gates, in cover. Neither gates nor walls looked very
serious barriers, Clavering pointed out.

The
other would have none of it. 'We could get ourselves into the town,
yes. But what will that serve, if the castle is warned? We do not
know the numbers of the garrison. And they had cannon in that
citadel when last I was here. It is a Scots garrison. They might not
hesitate to fire down into the town, an
English
town.
Either we take that castle by surprise, or we do not take it at all,
since we have no cannon. So — we await the opening of these
gates. And pray that it may not be long delayed. It is market-day -
for so I chose. The country-folk will come early with their
produce.'

'And
if they delay?'

'Then
we withdraw. Go elsewhere. The Shields, perhaps. Sunderland. Lesser
prizes, but with no casdes to defend them.'

Back
at the main body, presently scouts watching the highway to the
north reported that a party of folk were approaching, men and
women, even children, with pannier-ponies. Still a mile off.

Montrose
nodded in decision, and issued his orders. Crawford to take his
squadron and circle the town and castle west-about by Morpeth
Common, well hidden amongst its banks and braes, to as near the
south
gates
of the town as possible, remaining secret. When the gates opened, to
move into the lower parts of the town from that side, and to meet up
with Clavering, who would be doing the same from the north. Aboyne
and Ogilvy's squadrons would come with himself, and the moment the
north gates were open, rush through and make a swift dash for the
castle, heeding nothing else. From this side they could do so
without being seen until the last moment Was it understood?

All
his commanders agreed, and Crawford led his party off
south-westwards. The others mounted, and moved quietly forward to
the edge of cover, to wait with what patience they could muster for
the approaching country-folk to gain their admittance, dismounted
scouts out to send information.

It
seemed a long wait, with every minute lessening the chances of
catching the castle garrison asleep. Even with the market people at
the gate, it remained unopened. More people joined these, the scouts
reported. Presently, even round the river's bend, the hiding men
could hear derisive shouts to the porters to waken and open up.
Montrose was in a further fret now lest other early-rising locals
should come down from the village of Mitford and stumble on them in
this woodland - although there seemed no reason why any should leave
the road to enter it. But
750
horsemen
take a deal of hiding. He was at least thankful for the new May
flourish and foliage.

Then,
with a clanking creak they heard the gates open - no need to await
the scouts' announcement. Spurring his mount, Montrose waved them
on.

He
was first through those gates, scattering astonished folk right and
left, his squadrons thundering behind. Sleepy gatekeepers and
burdened market-goers alike stared open-mouthed - and none were
foolish enough to seek to halt such intruders. Down the narrow main
street they clattered.

Without
waiting for any marshalling and splitting of forces behind him,
James Graham swung off right-handed at the Tolbooth, down a
side-street, to splash dramatically across a ford of the river.
Then, slithering and striking sparks from the cobblestones, he drove
on through a huddle of houses, in steps and stairs, and set his
mount to the steep grassy banks beyond, in the most direct route to
the castle. Looking back, half-way up, he could see young Aboyne
leading his squadron across the ford in a shower of spray. The
castle's gatehouse-tower entrance was at the other side, facing
south, which meant a half-circuit of the curtain-walls on a steeply
sloping bank. But at least there was cover here. Concerned not to
show himself before the gatehouse until he had enough men with him
to risk rushing it, he slowed down, in a fever of impatience.

Then,
the noise of his horse's hooves and snorting breath lessening,
suddenly he was aware of disturbance ahead, uproar, though the bulk
of the high castle outer walling blanketed it to some extent.

Cursing,
he kicked his mount onward again, rounding those walls. And as the
bank levelled off southwards to a wide grassy platform, the
situation was revealed. The Earl of Crawford and his squadron were
milling around on the greensward, shouting challenges and hurrahing
for the King, before the square gatehouse-tower with its archway -
an archway in process of being blocked by the rising drawbridge.
Even as Montrose stared, angrily, the bridge clanked into the up
position, and the portcullis went down with a rattle. And at the
same time, a few musket shots began to crack out from the
battlements.