Chapter XVIII –The Lion’s Fall
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A Civil War Brought to an End
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The Republic of England did not last long. From the smoking ruins of the Tower to the northernmost part of rugged Wales, the armies of absolutism marched grimly towards the rebel strongholds in Cornwall and Glamorgan. And if the surviving members of Parliament had hoped for clemency, they were wrong. In two great battles King James’ captains completely obliterated the “Army of the Free English” and proceeded to occupy all of the tiny nation’s towns and castles. Proudly the English monarch could announce to his ally Henri that “the medicine had worked fabulous wonders on the body of both sovereign and state.” Or in other words, the bond between king and parliament had been cut over by cold steel and the latter of the two had perished.
As the southern flank had been secured when King James defeated the rebellious dissenters the allies now turned their full attention towards Scotland. Here the noble opposition had entrenched within the western lowlands of Ayrshire and was awaiting the onslaught of the combined might of English and French absolutism.
The Scottish campaign, spring 1610
The French Expeditionary Force under Henri numbered some 16,000 infantry, 8,000 horse and 2,000 artillery when it arrived outside Ayr with spirits high. The large host immediately began to conduct its cordon of the rebel town. Trenches were dug, tents raised and the obligatory canon bravado fired. It was here far to the north that Henri IV, the king of all France, saviour of the French Reformation and head of the Gallic church gave the order to advance. As it was in the king’s personality to rouse his men before battle he positioned himself on a barrel of wine, grabbed a banner and shouted to his signeurs, commanders and soldiers:
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source: King Henri IV outside Ayr: Battles of the French Reformation, Oxford Press 1999]
“..Friends and Frenchmen! I say this not to bring you distress or sorrow, but to keep your hearts and minds gallant and valiant as always: This wall, this very wall [the king directed at Ayr’s defences] is what is keeping us from peace and prosperity within true Christendom. It is one wall! One wall meant not to keep us out, but to keep them in! One Wall! Together we have faced much worse, we have overcome much worse! Remember Pirineo! Remember Flanders! Remember the Gallic Church and holy France! [the assembled shouted their applause] This is the day which the lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad in it [1]! Remember this, my friends and Frenchmen; it is only one single wall! …”
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The Wall
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As the king now had readied his men and himself for battle he dressed in his own battle armour and mounted his steed. He was accompanied by a great host of cavaliers and mounted scouts carrying the insignias of the French kingdom and the house of Bourbon. While the king rode for the front the artillery began its bombardment and the infantry lined up for advance. The pieces of the French Corps de Artellerie wrought havoc amongst the Scottish defenders, towers crumbled under the hammering of French canons. But as the men on the ramparts hid behind their wall, the high pitched sound of the flutes under the fleur-de-lis was to them like a lightning storm breaking anew and the pounding of the drums was as a thunder had crept down into the rolling lowlands, and when all the horrible music of Huguenot war broke through the fog of gunpowder smoke it sent a quiver down many a Scotsman’s spine. Ladders were produced in the French formations and when the Scots peeled up from their hiding they were met with a forest of pikes and ladders.
The French infantry broke into a run a good 100 metres from the walls and raised their war ladders with a great cry “...One Wall for France! One Wall for Henri!” and began their ascension with empowered strength. They were however met with fierce resistance and the first wave was repulsed with heavy casualties. The next attempt fared little better and for a while it seemed that the Huguenot storm had only been a fresh breeze. Unfortunately for the Scots, the French king now appeared with his household infantry. The king took to the ladders alongside his fellow Frenchmen and within a quarter of an hour the first French banner fluttered from the ramparts, then a second came then a third until a dozen flags proudly waved in the recharged Huguenot storm. Yet the Scots held their ground and even though Henri did his best his men were tired and their courage was dwindling. In a last attempt the king stormed the breached defences around the, almost demolished by French artillery, gatehouse.
Here Scottish soldiers had held strong and denounced attack upon attack. Henri brought his dismounted cavaliers and lifeguard along and they managed to almost break the wall’s defences. When the Scots were about to give, a shot rang out, a terrible loud crack and the French king, the sovereign of Huguenot France and protector of Protestantism collapsed into the arms of his nearest signeurs with a wound to the chest. A cheer went up from the defenders, but had they in turn hoped to find their foes any the less fierce over the loss of their commander, they were wrong. All they met was rage and wrath, a terrible wrath followed by imminent death. The Huguenot companies roared in defiance and broke the Scots’ back like an angry peasant crushing a cockroach. Now the storm reached its peak and the sword arms of the Huguenot troopers ached from overuse. The noble commander of the Gatehouse was cornered threw down his sword and cried in panic: “My ransom is a hundred thousand francs!”[2] To which the approaching captain loathingly answered “You aren’t worth the lead” where after the Scot was shot through the temple and thrown down into the city’s gutter. With the gatehouse taken the city fell and as the Huguenot armies entered Ayr they slew any man carrying arms and often even those carrying none. When the city finally was in Huguenot hands and the storm had calmed down no living Scot was left within Ayr and huge black banners fluttered over the remnants of the battered wall.
END OF PART II
~ To be Continued
[1]Actually a real Huguenot battle cry, also used at Coutras in OT
[2]What Catholic commander actually said this in OT? and where?
