The Second Battle of Saint Alban's

     

I can see by thy parchments and pens thou art a scrivener, and a chronicler thou say.  Now what beings thee, lad, to the finest alehouse in York?  Thou art writing a chronicle of the civil wars and are searching for an old soldier to tell his tale?  Well, thou did come to the right place for tis true old soldiers are right fond of ale and telling tales. I will tell thee mine for a pint, for I was a soldier myself and a gunner at that, which thou might have guessed since we gunners talk louder than most.  I fought for his grace, the Duke of York (God rest his soul), his good son King Edward the IV (God rest him), and eventually for his other son, King Richard III (I don't much care whether God rests his soul or not).  Now then, I imagine thou’ll be wanting to hear about the diverse battles and combats of the civil wars, so I'll begin with my very first battle.  It was the second battle of Saint Alban’s.  I remember it like it were yesterday. 

It was a midwinter day, bitter cold and damp. We English gunners and a number of Burgundians (fine fellows once one got past the fact that they were French) were pitched in a field just outside the town gate to the north while archers kept watch from the houses. We lay in wait for Queen Margaret’s army to arrive from the north to be caught in a storm of pellets and arrows. I was gazing across Barnet Heath to the north, straining to see any sign of the Queen’s approach when, lo, sounds of fighting erupted behind us.  The Queen’s forces had entered the town by another way and were in fierce combat with the archers. The archers, poor souls, were soon overcome and it was soon our turn to fight the Lancastrians. No sooner had we begun to fire upon them than our gun and cannon began to misfire. The cursed damp had gotten into our powder! Upon seeing this, Lord Warwick, who at this time was still a friend of King Edward IV, had us withdraw with haste to Chipping Norton. In such a way my first battle was very nearly my last!