Free Believe or Die by M.J. Harris

Essex totally disapproved of. He no longer trusted the King’s word, and he suspected that Charles would merely dally until he had more reinforcements with which to take London. With that in mind, he dismissed the peacemaking overtures as an irrelevance and began deploying his forces to cover the approaches to the capital. The bridge across the Thames at Kingston and the little town of Brentford were garrisoned, the high ground around Acton guarded and Windsor Castle made into a forward post. The Royalists immediately interpreted this as an opening gambit in an attempt to entrap them. The day before, Parliament’s ambassador, Sir Peter Killigrew, prepared to set off for the King’s camp, and the Roundhead Foot of Brooke and Denzil Holles, supported by a single troop of Horse, arrived in Brentford. A small town, in reality little more than a village, Brentford sat astride the main road to and from the west. It was divided in two by a small river that ran into the Thames. The Parliamentarian Foot eased their aching limbs and discussed how best to keep the King’s men out of London. Next morning, Killigrew passed through on his mission and, to his horror, found Brentford the scene of a desperate conflict.
    A little after dawn, and under the cover of a thick November mist, Prince Rupert attacked at the head of two thousand Horse and Dragoons. Denzil Holles repelled them holding his ground to allow Brooke’s men time to erect and man some hastily prepared barricades. Rupert renewed his attack, this time with the support of Sir Thomas Salisbury’s pikes and muskets. This latter Regiment, mainly from Wales and the Marches, had behaved poorly at Edgehill and were anxious to regain their honour. This Royalist onslaught pushed Holles back to the other side of the river and eventually out of Brentford altogether.
    Many were killed on both sides. Many also were those who drowned in the icy river desperate to escape Salisbury’s Welshmen who showed little if any inclination to take prisoners. The Royalist attack was irresistible and despite reinforcements from units deployed from Uxbridge, Holles’ Regiment was so badly mauled that it was subsequently disbanded and its surviving soldiers incorporated into other units; Brooke’s command was equally shattered. And so it was that, by the end of the morning, Brentford belonged to King Charles and the road to London lay open before him. The fighting, which dragged on sporadically throughout the rest of the day, was desperate and bloody.
    Rumours of Royalist atrocities began to filter back, some imaginary, some only too real. Prisoners were hanged or branded for refusing to change sides and fight for the King. Numerous wounded souls had their throats cut with huge Welsh knives. With each retelling of a horror, whether fact or invention, the goriness grew as Parliament’s more vocal supporters strived to enrage the citizens of London with dread of what the King’s men would do to them if they did not resist. One occurrence grew mightily in the telling: five Parliamentarian dragoons were caught by Rupert’s victorious riders whilst skirmishing rearwards on the right bank of the river. The fighting had by now all but ceased so the dragoons were somewhat surprised to have their hands bound behind them and tethers put around their necks. Surprise turned to fear as they were then herded back to the river and marched waste deep into the freezing water. The Cavaliers taunted them, mockingly suggesting that they prayed for deliverance, then they became bored or possibly realised they were missing out on booty. They drove the dragoons into deeper water, knocking them down with their mounts, and watched them drown, laughing the while at the struggling forms as the weight of sodden clothes and equipment dragged them under. Then they cantered away greatly amused by the jape. Shortly after, a pair of Parliamentarian despatch riders came upon the bodies. Despite the potential risk, they elected to