"The Bloody Man"
- Thread starter EdT
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Nope; although he's born significantly after the PoD, butterflies won't have reached rural Lincolnshire by Christmas 1642 so he's still around. He's actualy another prominent participant in the epilogue, so watch this space...
Optimistic, but possible; the sticking point will be Ireland, as there's no way that either the English or the Scots will let the Catholics remain in charge there. Which isn't to say that the inevitable invasion will succeed, of course!
If the English Commonwealth survives, that sounds like the natural governing coalition.
I assume not! Nicholas, I guess...
Posted a bit earlier than I intended, but why not? I'll be going to weekly updates from here, or at least that's the plan.
Chapter 35
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(Taken from “The British Revolution” by Richard Moore, Miskatonic University Press 1937)
“On March 20th 1648, the fledgling Commonwealth’s Council of State met to discuss a disturbing report. An agent of John Thurloe, the Postmaster-General and the Commonwealth’s Spymaster had written from Jersey, where the late King’s son James had just arrived. The letter related that instead of proclaiming himself King in the Channel Islands, as the Council had expected, James had actually boarded a ship to Scotland and intended to raise his banner there before assembling an army and invading England. Thurloe’s agent was premature; James actually proclaimed himself King a few days later and remained in Jersey while he considered his next move. But the innaccurate nature of the report did little to allay concerns in London, where the news of the Scottish Parliament’s declaration of James as King of Great Britain was taken as the inevitable prelude to a rapprochement between King and Kirk. In these circumstances, the Council of State reached for its most powerful, and reliable weapon; the New Model Army. Writing to John Lambert, the Council told him that war was “unavoidable”; “we were engaged in a war with the King for the defence of our religion and liberties; now having removed that threat, here is the same threat reoccurring, so the Commonwealth must engage in war once more.”[1]
On April 13th, the New Model Army finally broke camp at Berwick and crossed the border into Scotland. The invasion had ostensibly been put off for a week in order to allow the troops to celebrate Easter, but it is likely that the Army Council had other motives; a few days earlier almost a thousand copies of the newly-printed propaganda tract “A Declaration of the Army of the Commonwealth upon their March into Scotland” had been burned, and time was needed for a new draft to be hurriedly rushed into production[2]. The contents of the burned draft remain unknown, but the final version of the tract struck a strongly conciliatory note that went over the heads of the Kirk to the common people; written to “satisfie our Scottish brethren of the grounds of our present engagement”, it begged Scots not to “suffer through their own mistakes, or our disability to distinguish in a common calamity.”[3] In short, it positioned the New Model Army as God’s chosen instrument for imposing His will on Scotland; it warned those who would associate with the King that the Royalists had “associations with Malignants and Papists”, and most damning of all, claimed that the Kirk had made an idol of the Covenant; “When Scotland chose new gods, and would have a King out of a family that God had rejected, then was war in the Gates”[4].
The care taken over the tract’s composition betrays the Army Council’s nervousness about their advance northwards; while on paper the English were in a highly advantageous position, any excursion into Scotland held massive risks. It had only been a few months since the New Model Army had fought its way north from London, and the men were still tired; they were also hungry, as the retreating Scots had taken almost everything of value, including food. While man for man the grizzled English veterans outclassed their Scottish opponents, Lord Leven’s army, their most likely foe, remained larger and well supplied. As Thomas Harrison admitted in a letter to Lilburne, if the Scots chose to avoid a pitched battle and “make a desert” of the Borders, the New Model Army would have the stark choice between withdrawal and starvation[5].
Harrison’s worries were well founded; as the New Model Army advanced into the Borders they found only limited opportunities for foraging and confiscation, a sullenly hostile local population, and no sign of the enemy[6]. The men consoled themselves in piety; as Miles Sindercombe put it;
“Although in Scotland I have been without many things of delight and superfluity which the southern parts of England afford, nor ever was I in want of anything that was necessary to preserve life, for a good conscience is a continual feast. I have found as much content in a piece of rye bread, or a hard biscuit as ever I did in the more dainty cakes or fine wines. God hath indeed prepared a table in the wilderness, for the comforts of his spirit and a sweet communion with him surpasses all other enjoyments altogether.“[7]
Even taking the spartan tastes of the troops into account, the Army Council could not support operations north of the border without a secure supply route; accordingly, the New Model Army’s first objective was the port of Dunbar, the capture of which would allow the Council of State in London to engage merchant vessels to bring materiel and provisions directly to the invaders, giving them the resources to establish siege lines around Edinburgh Castle, one of the strongest fortifications in Northern Europe…”
(Taken from “Scotland and the Revolution” by Ernest Gomshall, Picador 1946)
“The intrusion of the New Model Army into the Borders made surprisingly little impact to a Scotland that was already descending into complete chaos. While Remonstrants and Resolutioneers alike were hostile to the interlopers, both hoped that English intervention would benefit them. In Edinburgh, the Remonstrant ‘Rump Parliament’ was acutely aware of their military weakness and hoped that the New Model Army would wipe out the Earl of Leven’s force, doing their dirty work for them; for their part, the Resolutioneers saw the invasion as an opportunity to render their rivals irrelevant and unite Scotland behind them.
Decisive action one way or the other could have entirely changed the situation, but instead of marching on Edinburgh to quell Lord Warriston’s regime or marching eastwards to face the English, Leven set his troops on a slow march westwards to Peebles, from where he presumably hoped to lurk south of the capital and equally menace both of his opponents. The influx of Commissioners and clergy fleeing the Remonstrant purge added to the general confusion, as everyone had a different opinion as to what should be done. The result was paralysis[8]. As the Lord General of Scotland, Leven could have asserted his authority, but either chose not to or was incapable; on April 18th, as the New Model Army entered an undefended Dunbar, the Earl abruptly relinquished his command of the Scots Army, pleading ill health and an inability to campaign. Whether Leven was genuinely ill or whether his incapacity had a political motive remains uncertain; while he was approaching seventy and had given his country years of loyal service in hugely difficult circumstances, he could also hardly be blamed for throwing up his hands in despair at the thankless task given to him[9]. It might have been expected that Leven’s cousin David Leslie would have been made the Earl’s successor, but he was passed over. Instead, the Commissioners present instead appointed a more pliable candidate; the Earl of Eglinton, a leading proponent of engagement with the King, who had commanded a regiment before but never an army[10].
With their appointee in place, the Resolutioneer Commissioners had asserted control over war strategy. Their priorities were political, not military; they wanted revenge on Wasrriston and his Remonstrants, but more practically, they also realised that whichever Scottish faction controlled Edinburgh upon the King’s imminent arrival would be well placed to make terms with the monarch and so render the other party irrelevant. This necessitated a quick march on the capital, so on April 25th, the Scots broke camp and moved northwards. The advance guard arrived in Edinburgh two days later; they found that hardly any attempt had been made to fortify the city[11], which was in a state of some chaos; rather than flee, the leading Remonstrant divines had simply shut themselves up in the Castle, where they had stockpiled food and water and could hold out for months, if necessary[12]. The two sides had hardly begun to settle down for a long siege when refugees began pouring in; the English had just taken the port of Musselburgh, six miles to the east…”
****
Jock’s Lodge
Near Edinburgh, April 1648
John Lambert shook his head in disbelief, and turned to Henry Ireton. “This is dismal, Henry. What have they been doing?”
He gestured to the half-built dike that stretched across the countryside before them; at one end lay the port of Leith, while at the other lay the crumbling walls that more or less enclosed Edinburgh. A few camp fires burned along the fortification, but it looked more or less abandoned; the west wind carried the sounds of desultory gunfire from the Castle, which still seemed to occupy the attention of the Scottish army. A few hundred yards away, a small ground of Scottish cavalrymen watched them, but made no move to drive them off.
Like the rest of the Army, Lambert was cold and hungry. The march from Dunbar had been a hard one; driving rain had left everyone damp and miserable, and soldiers were beginning to fall ill from the conditions. Their hope had been Musselburgh, possession of which should have allowed ships from Newcastle to land food; but having taken the place, it had quickly become apparent that the harbour was too small to be useable. The inhabitants had hidden in some nearby coal-pits on their arrival, but had crept back to their homes the moment the English had left and had crudely fortified the town; now if the English wished to return, they would have to fight. This needs to end soon, Lambert thought, otherwise we could starve here.
Ireton pursed his lips. “Thank the Good Lord, John; this could have been made impregnable if they’d had half the wit. They should have at least strengthened the existing walls before attempting earthworks.” His eyes continued past the castle to the imposing bulk of Arthur’s Seat looming to the left, and he nodded to himself. “They have placed a detachment on the summit,” he conceded; “they cannot be entirely blind to reason.”
Lambert grunted. “I cannot understand why they have not withdrawn. Leven would never have been so foolish as to remain here without fortifying the approaches; I thought better of Eglinton too. I heard he fought well at Trimdon.” He brightened. “Still, such providence makes our work easier. How would you proceed?”
Ireton thought for a second. “Simple. We take the seat, drag cannon to the top and bombard the city. This hopefully draws the Scots out to fight, at which point we engage them in battle. If not, we attack the city directly; they will not be able to hold it.”
Lambert grinned. “I had the same inclination.” He wheeled his horse around towards the Army’s encampment on Figgate Muir. “Shall we get started?”
****
(Taken from “The British Revolution” by Richard Moore, Miskatonic University Press 1937)
“Success in warfare is often reliant upon taking advantage of the enemy’s mistakes, and so it proved on outside Edinburgh. The situation looked distinctively ominous for the English; they were deep into enemy territory with a large Scottish army ahead of them and miles from their supply port of Dunbar. Quite aside from their hunger pangs, disease was beginning to spread; advancing was risky, but any withdrawal had the potential to turn into a rout. Had the Scots been united, this ominous situation could have been turned into a fatal one. The key was Edinburgh, for it had the potential to block the New Model Army’s progress entirely. While some work had been done to fortify the city, its walls were in considerable disrepair and supporting earthworks had been started, but never finished. This in itself would have made it very challenging for the Earl of Eglinton to mount a coherent defence of the Scottish capital, but the occupation of Edinburgh Castle by Lord Warriston’s Remonstrant holdouts made such a task impossible[13]. Denied the opportunity to bleed the English dry in a futile siege of the capital, Eglinton’s next option should have been to avoid battle, withdraw to the west and let his enemy attempt to reduce Edinburgh Castle while growing increasingly cold and hungry. Unfortunately, what made military sense was also politically impossible. Having occupied Edinburgh, the worthies of Parliament and Kirk had no intention of abandoning it again; so the Scots army found itself in the dangerous position of being both the besiegers and the besieged, defending Edinburgh while simultaneously attempting to take its strongest point of defence. Despite this, overconfidence was clearly present in the Scots camp; after hearing reports that sickness was sweeping the enemy force, there was a furious debate amongst the Commissioners the day before the battle about what terms of surrender the English should be offered[14].
John Lambert exploited this opportunity ruthlessly. At first light on April 29th, after a miserable night of wind and rain, the Scottish detachment shivering atop Arthur’s Seat was ejected by an English force, which brought up several guns and began bombarding the Scottish positions on the eastern edge of the city. This provoked a furious response from Eglinton, who ordered his troops to leave their trenches and breastworks and launch a counterattack across the King’s Park[15]. The moment the Scots exposed themselves in this way, a great cry went up from Richard Overton’s regiment; “Now let God arise and His enemies be scattered! ” and four regiments of the New Model Army charged directly into the Scottish flank. “I never beheld a more terrible charge of foot than was given by our army”, Henry Ireton wrote back to London, “and the Scots horse threw down their arms, and fled”.
The charge destroyed the cohesion of the Scottish force. Their cavalry panicked and broke, blundering into their own foot in the confusion. This spelt the doom of the Scots infantry, which was now entirely exposed to the English horse. Two regiments, both comprised of Highlanders, stood and were cut down to a man. Soon thousands of desperate Scots were fleeing in all directions, some westwards into the Pentland Hills, but mostly towards the perceived safety of Leith, a few miles north. The English cavalry, which had been screening the northern side of Edinburgh, ruthlessly rode them down. Eglinton’s army was utterly destroyed. Around 3,000 died on the field, but more than twice that were taken prisoner, half of them wounded in some fashion. No more than a few thousand demoralised and terrified survivors escaped, and fewer than half of them rallied to David Leslie in Linlithgow in the coming weeks. All the Scots’ guns and colours were taken, and prisoners included sixteen Commissioners of Parliament, the Lords Provost of Glasgow and Dundee, a number of the General Assembly of the Kirk, and the Earls of Leven and Eglinton[16]…”
(Taken from “The Wars of the Five Kingdoms” by James Price, Miskatonic University Press 1947)
“At a stroke, Holyrood saw the Scottish army wiped out, Edinburgh taken and most of the Scottish leadership, whether Remonstrant or Resolutioneer, either captured, scattered or bottled up in Edinburgh Castle. It was an astonishing victory for the New Model Army that masked quite how risky their endeavour had been, and how close disaster had loomed. But victory in the battle was not victory in the war. Their army might have been defeated, but the Scots as a nation had not yet admitted defeat. David Leslie had scraped together what troops he could find and fled, with what remained of the Resolutioneer leadership, to Stirling, which the Earl of Lanark had fortified under the Royal Standard. There were also Remonstrant forces still active in the field; Archibald Strachan had been gathering zealous men from Dumfries, Paisley and Glasgow[17], while in the northeast Aberdeen was held by Sir John Chiesly. Everyone still expected the King to make an imminent appearance on Scotland’s shores, and his presence could only spur on the recruitment of a new army of Scottish Royalists.
In the shorter term, the New Model Army had major problems of its own. The English barely had enough food for their own force, let alone their thousands of prisoners and the people of Edinburgh; as long as the city’s castle held out then their grip on the Scottish capital was not secure, and as long as Leith was held by the enemy they were cut off from all naval reinforcement and supply. Both would have to be taken before any further advance into Scotland could take place, but the longer this took, the more time the Scots would have to reconcile their differences and recover from the defeat inflicted on them. As Fleetwood wrote back to London in the first week of May, this was “not every-day’s work”; the victory at Holyrood bought the New Model Army time, but nothing more. Then, on a “drakie night full of wing and weit” a few days after the battle, a messenger galloped into Lambert’s headquarters at Holyroodhouse, having ridden all night from Carlisle. The news he brought changed everything…”
****
Elizabeth Castle, St Helier
Jersey, April 1648
“Welcome, my friends. You are the most faithful and trusty men in the Kingdom.”
Winston Churchill tried to smile at the King’s compliment, but managed only a pained grimace. Everyone would understand his apparent lack of enthusiasm; too much facial movement aggravated the slowly-healing wound on his cheek where a musket ball had grazed him during the rout at Penryn three months earlier. But that was just an excuse. In fact, every time he looked at the young monarch his mind went back to when the King’s father had raised the Royal Standard at Wellington, what seemed like a lifetime ago but was in fact only six years; the newly crowned James II hardly looked different from the shy child he had been back then. There was something new in his expression though; a hardness that Churchill did not remember. He recognised the look, however, and remembered that the King had seen something of the fighting in Holland. Battle ages a man, and so does responsibility. He is old before his time.
As are we all. He looked around the room at the gathered men. What a motley collection of the faithful we have here, and how we have suffered for our faith. Patched Montrose, his eye taken at Druimindarroch, Arthur Aston with his wooden leg, Lord Byron, who at dinner a few evenings before had broken down and sobbed of what he had seen and done at the sack of Gloucester… The image of the Prince of Wales at Longdon, headless and gushing blood, came unbidden and Churchill fought off the familiar nausea. He woke retching and tearful having dreamt of that day more often than he would care to admit. What will remain of us when this is done? He thought. We are already so few.
With difficulty, Churchill shook off the gloomy thoughts that occupied him and tried to focus his attention on the discussion. He immediately wished that he hadn’t. Sir George Carteret was calmly outlining how the common folk of Jersey were increasingly inclined to Parliament and rebellion; the guns he had under his command in Elizabeth Castle were the only thing ensuring the island’s loyalty to the Crown.
As his report concluded, the King nodded crisply, and stood. “Thank you, Sir George. Your words convince me still further that only decisive action will improve our situation. It is time for us to leave Jersey, and begin the work of reclaiming my Kingdoms.”
Montrose beamed. “The situation could hardly be better, Sire. The pieces are all set; our agents in Edinburgh report…”
The King held up his hand.
“Enough, James. I will not be going to Scotland. Yesterday, I received a letter from the Earl of Ormonde. He tells me…” he broke off, his voice cracking- “…he tells me that my mother has made a dreadful mistake. Even now the Duke of Lorraine is sailing for Ireland at the head of an army, and that although he acts in my name, when he arrives, the Irish will almost certainly crown him King.”
There was an appalled silence in the room. Churchill took a deep breath, and spoke. “Your Majesty is right, of course. We must support our allies in Ireland. But we must be very cautious in trafficking with Papists…”
The King cut him off with a look. “I will not let that man steal my Kingdom from under my nose.”
Montrose cleared his throat. “But the Scots…”
The King was on his feet again, his face drained of all colour. “I will hear no more of the Scots.” he said, quietly, his hands clutching the table as if for support. “It always comes back to the Scots. If the Scots had not resisted my father, do you think that the traitors Hampden and Pym would have whipped up Parliament against him? If they had not joined their forces to Parliament’s, do you not think we would have prevailed in the field and my brother would still be alive? If they had not imprisoned their own King, that he might also live?”
His voice dropped to a hiss; Churchill noticed tears in his eyes. “No. The Scots are the authors of every trouble in my Kingdoms. Every trouble! I hate them, and I would sooner treat with the Devil himself then have any more to do with them. When I am done, their heads will line the walls of Edinburgh Castle. That is my Covenant to you, gentlemen.”
Montrose, who had signed the Covenant himself in the distant days before the war, flinched as if he had been slapped. The other men gave sidelong glances at each other, but knew there was little point in speaking up. The King turned to leave, and the other men stood in respect as he did so. So we are Ireland-bound then, Churchill thought. God help us.
_____________________________________________
[1] This was the reaction IOTL to the likely prospect of Charles I’s engagement with the Scots.
[2] Something similar happened IOTL when Cromwell invaded in 1650.
[3] The OTL tract said much the same.
[4] This is considerably more forceful than the OTL tract, and shows the highly radical mood of the New Model Army ITTL.
[5] This was the strategy adopted by David Leslie against Cromwelll’s 1650 invasion IOTL; while it didn’t work, it came very close to succeeding.
[6] Things were far worse IOTL, as the greater period of time the Scots had to prepare for the invasion meant that the entire region was more or less abandoned, with all food brought northwards and all men of military age required to muster in Edinburgh. However, the Borders aren’t the most hospitable place even at the best of times, especially in spring.
[7] One of the invading veterans of the New Model Army said the same IOTL.
[8] Civilian meddling in Scottish military affairs was a problem IOTL too, and ITTL already caused the Covenanters a major defeat at Dunsinane in 1644; nobody seems to have learned their lesson, however.
[9] Given that IOTL in 1650 Leven was genuinely too infirm to command the Scottish forces arrayed against Cromwell’s invasion, ITTL it’s genuinely likely that ITTL Leven is indeed ill.
[10] IOTL, the 6th Earl of Eglinton is best known for his heroic service at Marston Moor; while an experienced solider, he had never commanded anything more than a brigade and ITTL is very much a political appointee.
[11] This is a major change from the campaign of 1650 IOTL, where the united Scots force constructed major earthworks on the eastern side of Edinburgh that Cromwell found completely impregnable.
[12] Edinburgh Castle was an extremely strong fortification in the mid-17th century, and IOTL while it was taken three times between 1639 and 1650, this was always through lack of supplies, rather than being stormed by force.
[13] This is completely different to OTL’s 1650 campaign, where Edinburgh was well defended and essentially impregnable.
[14] Scots overconfidence was a major, persistent problem IOTL too, perhaps because of the moral certainty that the Covenant provided.
[15] This is the modern Holyrood Park; the Scottish trenches are on the site of the modern Parliament building and the battle is effectively taking place in the area around Holyroodhouse and the ruins of the abbey.
[16] This is about as bad as the Battle of Dunbar IOTL; the campaign has been quite different however, with the English following the same strategy as OTL (John Lambert devised it then too) but the Scots unable to fortify Edinburgh in such a way to repel the New Model Army.
[17] The southwest of Scotland was the most zealously pro-Kirk part of the country in this period, and provided the bulk of the resistance to Cromwell IOTL after the main Scottish Army was destroyed at Dunbar.
Chapter 35
Associate yourselves, O ye people, and ye shall be broken in pieces; and give ear, all ye of far countries: gird yourselves, and ye shall be broken in pieces; gird yourselves, and ye shall be broken in pieces. Take counsel together, and it shall come to nought; speak the word, and it shall not stand: for God is with us.
Isaiah 8: 7-10.
Isaiah 8: 7-10.
_____________________________________________
(Taken from “The British Revolution” by Richard Moore, Miskatonic University Press 1937)
“On March 20th 1648, the fledgling Commonwealth’s Council of State met to discuss a disturbing report. An agent of John Thurloe, the Postmaster-General and the Commonwealth’s Spymaster had written from Jersey, where the late King’s son James had just arrived. The letter related that instead of proclaiming himself King in the Channel Islands, as the Council had expected, James had actually boarded a ship to Scotland and intended to raise his banner there before assembling an army and invading England. Thurloe’s agent was premature; James actually proclaimed himself King a few days later and remained in Jersey while he considered his next move. But the innaccurate nature of the report did little to allay concerns in London, where the news of the Scottish Parliament’s declaration of James as King of Great Britain was taken as the inevitable prelude to a rapprochement between King and Kirk. In these circumstances, the Council of State reached for its most powerful, and reliable weapon; the New Model Army. Writing to John Lambert, the Council told him that war was “unavoidable”; “we were engaged in a war with the King for the defence of our religion and liberties; now having removed that threat, here is the same threat reoccurring, so the Commonwealth must engage in war once more.”[1]
On April 13th, the New Model Army finally broke camp at Berwick and crossed the border into Scotland. The invasion had ostensibly been put off for a week in order to allow the troops to celebrate Easter, but it is likely that the Army Council had other motives; a few days earlier almost a thousand copies of the newly-printed propaganda tract “A Declaration of the Army of the Commonwealth upon their March into Scotland” had been burned, and time was needed for a new draft to be hurriedly rushed into production[2]. The contents of the burned draft remain unknown, but the final version of the tract struck a strongly conciliatory note that went over the heads of the Kirk to the common people; written to “satisfie our Scottish brethren of the grounds of our present engagement”, it begged Scots not to “suffer through their own mistakes, or our disability to distinguish in a common calamity.”[3] In short, it positioned the New Model Army as God’s chosen instrument for imposing His will on Scotland; it warned those who would associate with the King that the Royalists had “associations with Malignants and Papists”, and most damning of all, claimed that the Kirk had made an idol of the Covenant; “When Scotland chose new gods, and would have a King out of a family that God had rejected, then was war in the Gates”[4].
The care taken over the tract’s composition betrays the Army Council’s nervousness about their advance northwards; while on paper the English were in a highly advantageous position, any excursion into Scotland held massive risks. It had only been a few months since the New Model Army had fought its way north from London, and the men were still tired; they were also hungry, as the retreating Scots had taken almost everything of value, including food. While man for man the grizzled English veterans outclassed their Scottish opponents, Lord Leven’s army, their most likely foe, remained larger and well supplied. As Thomas Harrison admitted in a letter to Lilburne, if the Scots chose to avoid a pitched battle and “make a desert” of the Borders, the New Model Army would have the stark choice between withdrawal and starvation[5].
Harrison’s worries were well founded; as the New Model Army advanced into the Borders they found only limited opportunities for foraging and confiscation, a sullenly hostile local population, and no sign of the enemy[6]. The men consoled themselves in piety; as Miles Sindercombe put it;
“Although in Scotland I have been without many things of delight and superfluity which the southern parts of England afford, nor ever was I in want of anything that was necessary to preserve life, for a good conscience is a continual feast. I have found as much content in a piece of rye bread, or a hard biscuit as ever I did in the more dainty cakes or fine wines. God hath indeed prepared a table in the wilderness, for the comforts of his spirit and a sweet communion with him surpasses all other enjoyments altogether.“[7]
Even taking the spartan tastes of the troops into account, the Army Council could not support operations north of the border without a secure supply route; accordingly, the New Model Army’s first objective was the port of Dunbar, the capture of which would allow the Council of State in London to engage merchant vessels to bring materiel and provisions directly to the invaders, giving them the resources to establish siege lines around Edinburgh Castle, one of the strongest fortifications in Northern Europe…”
(Taken from “Scotland and the Revolution” by Ernest Gomshall, Picador 1946)
“The intrusion of the New Model Army into the Borders made surprisingly little impact to a Scotland that was already descending into complete chaos. While Remonstrants and Resolutioneers alike were hostile to the interlopers, both hoped that English intervention would benefit them. In Edinburgh, the Remonstrant ‘Rump Parliament’ was acutely aware of their military weakness and hoped that the New Model Army would wipe out the Earl of Leven’s force, doing their dirty work for them; for their part, the Resolutioneers saw the invasion as an opportunity to render their rivals irrelevant and unite Scotland behind them.
Decisive action one way or the other could have entirely changed the situation, but instead of marching on Edinburgh to quell Lord Warriston’s regime or marching eastwards to face the English, Leven set his troops on a slow march westwards to Peebles, from where he presumably hoped to lurk south of the capital and equally menace both of his opponents. The influx of Commissioners and clergy fleeing the Remonstrant purge added to the general confusion, as everyone had a different opinion as to what should be done. The result was paralysis[8]. As the Lord General of Scotland, Leven could have asserted his authority, but either chose not to or was incapable; on April 18th, as the New Model Army entered an undefended Dunbar, the Earl abruptly relinquished his command of the Scots Army, pleading ill health and an inability to campaign. Whether Leven was genuinely ill or whether his incapacity had a political motive remains uncertain; while he was approaching seventy and had given his country years of loyal service in hugely difficult circumstances, he could also hardly be blamed for throwing up his hands in despair at the thankless task given to him[9]. It might have been expected that Leven’s cousin David Leslie would have been made the Earl’s successor, but he was passed over. Instead, the Commissioners present instead appointed a more pliable candidate; the Earl of Eglinton, a leading proponent of engagement with the King, who had commanded a regiment before but never an army[10].
With their appointee in place, the Resolutioneer Commissioners had asserted control over war strategy. Their priorities were political, not military; they wanted revenge on Wasrriston and his Remonstrants, but more practically, they also realised that whichever Scottish faction controlled Edinburgh upon the King’s imminent arrival would be well placed to make terms with the monarch and so render the other party irrelevant. This necessitated a quick march on the capital, so on April 25th, the Scots broke camp and moved northwards. The advance guard arrived in Edinburgh two days later; they found that hardly any attempt had been made to fortify the city[11], which was in a state of some chaos; rather than flee, the leading Remonstrant divines had simply shut themselves up in the Castle, where they had stockpiled food and water and could hold out for months, if necessary[12]. The two sides had hardly begun to settle down for a long siege when refugees began pouring in; the English had just taken the port of Musselburgh, six miles to the east…”
****
Jock’s Lodge
Near Edinburgh, April 1648
John Lambert shook his head in disbelief, and turned to Henry Ireton. “This is dismal, Henry. What have they been doing?”
He gestured to the half-built dike that stretched across the countryside before them; at one end lay the port of Leith, while at the other lay the crumbling walls that more or less enclosed Edinburgh. A few camp fires burned along the fortification, but it looked more or less abandoned; the west wind carried the sounds of desultory gunfire from the Castle, which still seemed to occupy the attention of the Scottish army. A few hundred yards away, a small ground of Scottish cavalrymen watched them, but made no move to drive them off.
Like the rest of the Army, Lambert was cold and hungry. The march from Dunbar had been a hard one; driving rain had left everyone damp and miserable, and soldiers were beginning to fall ill from the conditions. Their hope had been Musselburgh, possession of which should have allowed ships from Newcastle to land food; but having taken the place, it had quickly become apparent that the harbour was too small to be useable. The inhabitants had hidden in some nearby coal-pits on their arrival, but had crept back to their homes the moment the English had left and had crudely fortified the town; now if the English wished to return, they would have to fight. This needs to end soon, Lambert thought, otherwise we could starve here.
Ireton pursed his lips. “Thank the Good Lord, John; this could have been made impregnable if they’d had half the wit. They should have at least strengthened the existing walls before attempting earthworks.” His eyes continued past the castle to the imposing bulk of Arthur’s Seat looming to the left, and he nodded to himself. “They have placed a detachment on the summit,” he conceded; “they cannot be entirely blind to reason.”
Lambert grunted. “I cannot understand why they have not withdrawn. Leven would never have been so foolish as to remain here without fortifying the approaches; I thought better of Eglinton too. I heard he fought well at Trimdon.” He brightened. “Still, such providence makes our work easier. How would you proceed?”
Ireton thought for a second. “Simple. We take the seat, drag cannon to the top and bombard the city. This hopefully draws the Scots out to fight, at which point we engage them in battle. If not, we attack the city directly; they will not be able to hold it.”
Lambert grinned. “I had the same inclination.” He wheeled his horse around towards the Army’s encampment on Figgate Muir. “Shall we get started?”
****
(Taken from “The British Revolution” by Richard Moore, Miskatonic University Press 1937)
“Success in warfare is often reliant upon taking advantage of the enemy’s mistakes, and so it proved on outside Edinburgh. The situation looked distinctively ominous for the English; they were deep into enemy territory with a large Scottish army ahead of them and miles from their supply port of Dunbar. Quite aside from their hunger pangs, disease was beginning to spread; advancing was risky, but any withdrawal had the potential to turn into a rout. Had the Scots been united, this ominous situation could have been turned into a fatal one. The key was Edinburgh, for it had the potential to block the New Model Army’s progress entirely. While some work had been done to fortify the city, its walls were in considerable disrepair and supporting earthworks had been started, but never finished. This in itself would have made it very challenging for the Earl of Eglinton to mount a coherent defence of the Scottish capital, but the occupation of Edinburgh Castle by Lord Warriston’s Remonstrant holdouts made such a task impossible[13]. Denied the opportunity to bleed the English dry in a futile siege of the capital, Eglinton’s next option should have been to avoid battle, withdraw to the west and let his enemy attempt to reduce Edinburgh Castle while growing increasingly cold and hungry. Unfortunately, what made military sense was also politically impossible. Having occupied Edinburgh, the worthies of Parliament and Kirk had no intention of abandoning it again; so the Scots army found itself in the dangerous position of being both the besiegers and the besieged, defending Edinburgh while simultaneously attempting to take its strongest point of defence. Despite this, overconfidence was clearly present in the Scots camp; after hearing reports that sickness was sweeping the enemy force, there was a furious debate amongst the Commissioners the day before the battle about what terms of surrender the English should be offered[14].
John Lambert exploited this opportunity ruthlessly. At first light on April 29th, after a miserable night of wind and rain, the Scottish detachment shivering atop Arthur’s Seat was ejected by an English force, which brought up several guns and began bombarding the Scottish positions on the eastern edge of the city. This provoked a furious response from Eglinton, who ordered his troops to leave their trenches and breastworks and launch a counterattack across the King’s Park[15]. The moment the Scots exposed themselves in this way, a great cry went up from Richard Overton’s regiment; “Now let God arise and His enemies be scattered! ” and four regiments of the New Model Army charged directly into the Scottish flank. “I never beheld a more terrible charge of foot than was given by our army”, Henry Ireton wrote back to London, “and the Scots horse threw down their arms, and fled”.
The charge destroyed the cohesion of the Scottish force. Their cavalry panicked and broke, blundering into their own foot in the confusion. This spelt the doom of the Scots infantry, which was now entirely exposed to the English horse. Two regiments, both comprised of Highlanders, stood and were cut down to a man. Soon thousands of desperate Scots were fleeing in all directions, some westwards into the Pentland Hills, but mostly towards the perceived safety of Leith, a few miles north. The English cavalry, which had been screening the northern side of Edinburgh, ruthlessly rode them down. Eglinton’s army was utterly destroyed. Around 3,000 died on the field, but more than twice that were taken prisoner, half of them wounded in some fashion. No more than a few thousand demoralised and terrified survivors escaped, and fewer than half of them rallied to David Leslie in Linlithgow in the coming weeks. All the Scots’ guns and colours were taken, and prisoners included sixteen Commissioners of Parliament, the Lords Provost of Glasgow and Dundee, a number of the General Assembly of the Kirk, and the Earls of Leven and Eglinton[16]…”
(Taken from “The Wars of the Five Kingdoms” by James Price, Miskatonic University Press 1947)
“At a stroke, Holyrood saw the Scottish army wiped out, Edinburgh taken and most of the Scottish leadership, whether Remonstrant or Resolutioneer, either captured, scattered or bottled up in Edinburgh Castle. It was an astonishing victory for the New Model Army that masked quite how risky their endeavour had been, and how close disaster had loomed. But victory in the battle was not victory in the war. Their army might have been defeated, but the Scots as a nation had not yet admitted defeat. David Leslie had scraped together what troops he could find and fled, with what remained of the Resolutioneer leadership, to Stirling, which the Earl of Lanark had fortified under the Royal Standard. There were also Remonstrant forces still active in the field; Archibald Strachan had been gathering zealous men from Dumfries, Paisley and Glasgow[17], while in the northeast Aberdeen was held by Sir John Chiesly. Everyone still expected the King to make an imminent appearance on Scotland’s shores, and his presence could only spur on the recruitment of a new army of Scottish Royalists.
In the shorter term, the New Model Army had major problems of its own. The English barely had enough food for their own force, let alone their thousands of prisoners and the people of Edinburgh; as long as the city’s castle held out then their grip on the Scottish capital was not secure, and as long as Leith was held by the enemy they were cut off from all naval reinforcement and supply. Both would have to be taken before any further advance into Scotland could take place, but the longer this took, the more time the Scots would have to reconcile their differences and recover from the defeat inflicted on them. As Fleetwood wrote back to London in the first week of May, this was “not every-day’s work”; the victory at Holyrood bought the New Model Army time, but nothing more. Then, on a “drakie night full of wing and weit” a few days after the battle, a messenger galloped into Lambert’s headquarters at Holyroodhouse, having ridden all night from Carlisle. The news he brought changed everything…”
****
Elizabeth Castle, St Helier
Jersey, April 1648
“Welcome, my friends. You are the most faithful and trusty men in the Kingdom.”
Winston Churchill tried to smile at the King’s compliment, but managed only a pained grimace. Everyone would understand his apparent lack of enthusiasm; too much facial movement aggravated the slowly-healing wound on his cheek where a musket ball had grazed him during the rout at Penryn three months earlier. But that was just an excuse. In fact, every time he looked at the young monarch his mind went back to when the King’s father had raised the Royal Standard at Wellington, what seemed like a lifetime ago but was in fact only six years; the newly crowned James II hardly looked different from the shy child he had been back then. There was something new in his expression though; a hardness that Churchill did not remember. He recognised the look, however, and remembered that the King had seen something of the fighting in Holland. Battle ages a man, and so does responsibility. He is old before his time.
As are we all. He looked around the room at the gathered men. What a motley collection of the faithful we have here, and how we have suffered for our faith. Patched Montrose, his eye taken at Druimindarroch, Arthur Aston with his wooden leg, Lord Byron, who at dinner a few evenings before had broken down and sobbed of what he had seen and done at the sack of Gloucester… The image of the Prince of Wales at Longdon, headless and gushing blood, came unbidden and Churchill fought off the familiar nausea. He woke retching and tearful having dreamt of that day more often than he would care to admit. What will remain of us when this is done? He thought. We are already so few.
With difficulty, Churchill shook off the gloomy thoughts that occupied him and tried to focus his attention on the discussion. He immediately wished that he hadn’t. Sir George Carteret was calmly outlining how the common folk of Jersey were increasingly inclined to Parliament and rebellion; the guns he had under his command in Elizabeth Castle were the only thing ensuring the island’s loyalty to the Crown.
As his report concluded, the King nodded crisply, and stood. “Thank you, Sir George. Your words convince me still further that only decisive action will improve our situation. It is time for us to leave Jersey, and begin the work of reclaiming my Kingdoms.”
Montrose beamed. “The situation could hardly be better, Sire. The pieces are all set; our agents in Edinburgh report…”
The King held up his hand.
“Enough, James. I will not be going to Scotland. Yesterday, I received a letter from the Earl of Ormonde. He tells me…” he broke off, his voice cracking- “…he tells me that my mother has made a dreadful mistake. Even now the Duke of Lorraine is sailing for Ireland at the head of an army, and that although he acts in my name, when he arrives, the Irish will almost certainly crown him King.”
There was an appalled silence in the room. Churchill took a deep breath, and spoke. “Your Majesty is right, of course. We must support our allies in Ireland. But we must be very cautious in trafficking with Papists…”
The King cut him off with a look. “I will not let that man steal my Kingdom from under my nose.”
Montrose cleared his throat. “But the Scots…”
The King was on his feet again, his face drained of all colour. “I will hear no more of the Scots.” he said, quietly, his hands clutching the table as if for support. “It always comes back to the Scots. If the Scots had not resisted my father, do you think that the traitors Hampden and Pym would have whipped up Parliament against him? If they had not joined their forces to Parliament’s, do you not think we would have prevailed in the field and my brother would still be alive? If they had not imprisoned their own King, that he might also live?”
His voice dropped to a hiss; Churchill noticed tears in his eyes. “No. The Scots are the authors of every trouble in my Kingdoms. Every trouble! I hate them, and I would sooner treat with the Devil himself then have any more to do with them. When I am done, their heads will line the walls of Edinburgh Castle. That is my Covenant to you, gentlemen.”
Montrose, who had signed the Covenant himself in the distant days before the war, flinched as if he had been slapped. The other men gave sidelong glances at each other, but knew there was little point in speaking up. The King turned to leave, and the other men stood in respect as he did so. So we are Ireland-bound then, Churchill thought. God help us.
_____________________________________________
[1] This was the reaction IOTL to the likely prospect of Charles I’s engagement with the Scots.
[2] Something similar happened IOTL when Cromwell invaded in 1650.
[3] The OTL tract said much the same.
[4] This is considerably more forceful than the OTL tract, and shows the highly radical mood of the New Model Army ITTL.
[5] This was the strategy adopted by David Leslie against Cromwelll’s 1650 invasion IOTL; while it didn’t work, it came very close to succeeding.
[6] Things were far worse IOTL, as the greater period of time the Scots had to prepare for the invasion meant that the entire region was more or less abandoned, with all food brought northwards and all men of military age required to muster in Edinburgh. However, the Borders aren’t the most hospitable place even at the best of times, especially in spring.
[7] One of the invading veterans of the New Model Army said the same IOTL.
[8] Civilian meddling in Scottish military affairs was a problem IOTL too, and ITTL already caused the Covenanters a major defeat at Dunsinane in 1644; nobody seems to have learned their lesson, however.
[9] Given that IOTL in 1650 Leven was genuinely too infirm to command the Scottish forces arrayed against Cromwell’s invasion, ITTL it’s genuinely likely that ITTL Leven is indeed ill.
[10] IOTL, the 6th Earl of Eglinton is best known for his heroic service at Marston Moor; while an experienced solider, he had never commanded anything more than a brigade and ITTL is very much a political appointee.
[11] This is a major change from the campaign of 1650 IOTL, where the united Scots force constructed major earthworks on the eastern side of Edinburgh that Cromwell found completely impregnable.
[12] Edinburgh Castle was an extremely strong fortification in the mid-17th century, and IOTL while it was taken three times between 1639 and 1650, this was always through lack of supplies, rather than being stormed by force.
[13] This is completely different to OTL’s 1650 campaign, where Edinburgh was well defended and essentially impregnable.
[14] Scots overconfidence was a major, persistent problem IOTL too, perhaps because of the moral certainty that the Covenant provided.
[15] This is the modern Holyrood Park; the Scottish trenches are on the site of the modern Parliament building and the battle is effectively taking place in the area around Holyroodhouse and the ruins of the abbey.
[16] This is about as bad as the Battle of Dunbar IOTL; the campaign has been quite different however, with the English following the same strategy as OTL (John Lambert devised it then too) but the Scots unable to fortify Edinburgh in such a way to repel the New Model Army.
[17] The southwest of Scotland was the most zealously pro-Kirk part of the country in this period, and provided the bulk of the resistance to Cromwell IOTL after the main Scottish Army was destroyed at Dunbar.
I'd say James is letting his emotions get the better of him, but considering everything he's dealt with at his age, it'd be hard to find that many who'd keep a level head in similar circumstances at age fifteen.
The situation in Scotland is going to be shaken. A shared sense of betrayal by the King may unite the factions, or it could lead to the Remonstrants using the loss of the Resolutioneer's hope of a King to purge them and (ideally) make some sort of deal with the Commonwealth to solidify their control. The British Revolution may only refer to a series of revolts in the British Isles, rather than a united British entity being formed from the conflict, as an argument for this outcome, but I get the feeling that all this will do is lengthen the conflict and see Scotland turn into a blood quagmire.
Ireland will likely see two sides emerge in the anti-English faction, one being the Loyalist crowd who favour James on the throne and are opposed to the idea of a Catholic Ireland run by the Duke of Lorraine, and the Cardinal/Duke faction who probably see James are an upstart child who doesn't get that his family's time has passed and that things are going to change in Ireland. Again, the hope would be that James manages to create some form of control, but is unable to launch a campaign on England, but I can only see both sides tearing one another apart, and the victor drawing the ire of the Commonwealth and it's New Model Army working to smash them down.
One pet-theory of mine is that James' actions end up creating a truce between the Commonwealth and Scots who work to prevent Ireland from becoming a Royalist/Papist blade to their backs. I'm not sure how likely it is, at this point, but it's simply a theory I have.
The situation in Scotland is going to be shaken. A shared sense of betrayal by the King may unite the factions, or it could lead to the Remonstrants using the loss of the Resolutioneer's hope of a King to purge them and (ideally) make some sort of deal with the Commonwealth to solidify their control. The British Revolution may only refer to a series of revolts in the British Isles, rather than a united British entity being formed from the conflict, as an argument for this outcome, but I get the feeling that all this will do is lengthen the conflict and see Scotland turn into a blood quagmire.
Ireland will likely see two sides emerge in the anti-English faction, one being the Loyalist crowd who favour James on the throne and are opposed to the idea of a Catholic Ireland run by the Duke of Lorraine, and the Cardinal/Duke faction who probably see James are an upstart child who doesn't get that his family's time has passed and that things are going to change in Ireland. Again, the hope would be that James manages to create some form of control, but is unable to launch a campaign on England, but I can only see both sides tearing one another apart, and the victor drawing the ire of the Commonwealth and it's New Model Army working to smash them down.
One pet-theory of mine is that James' actions end up creating a truce between the Commonwealth and Scots who work to prevent Ireland from becoming a Royalist/Papist blade to their backs. I'm not sure how likely it is, at this point, but it's simply a theory I have.
Sulemain
Banned
So no Stuart Scotland then? Interesting?
Winston Churchill really needs to be fighting for the other side. All he is doing by fighting for James is ensuring more misery and bloodshed.
Maybe the Scottish end up up as a theocracy governed by the Kirk. As I recall, they were pretty close to that in OTL.
Winston Churchill really needs to be fighting for the other side. All he is doing by fighting for James is ensuring more misery and bloodshed.
Maybe the Scottish end up up as a theocracy governed by the Kirk. As I recall, they were pretty close to that in OTL.
Things are not looking good for the Scots; King James is resolutely against them, and while they have Edinburgh Castle, they are barely holding together as-is. And Ireland gets to deal with the Stuart factions fighting the Duke of Lorraine...
A lot of things are coming up good for England, eh? Their enemies riven by conflict makes their unity (in starvation, but still unity) look very good by comparison...
A lot of things are coming up good for England, eh? Their enemies riven by conflict makes their unity (in starvation, but still unity) look very good by comparison...
So... I was just going over my copy of the TL and I realized...
There never was a chapter 33.
There never was a chapter 33.
It's great to see this TL starting up again.
Since this is James II, I'm sure that he'll find a way to alienate both the Scots and the Irish.
It's a very minor point, but I never would have expected the phrase "the fag end of the Creation" to be in use before the Nineteenth Century. I guess that it's one of those phrases that were in use earlier than they (or at least I) think.
Cheers,
Nigel.
Since this is James II, I'm sure that he'll find a way to alienate both the Scots and the Irish.
It's a very minor point, but I never would have expected the phrase "the fag end of the Creation" to be in use before the Nineteenth Century. I guess that it's one of those phrases that were in use earlier than they (or at least I) think.
Cheers,
Nigel.
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Derek Pullem
Donor
Unsurprisingly EdT is correct - "fag end" or more accurately "fagge end" is dated that to 1605-1615 in its use.
Oh dang.
The period, in previous updates, had TTL books refer to it as such, as well as the War of the Four Kingdoms. ITTL the series of civil wars on the British Isles with different objectives were probably easily be lumped together as a event with a common theme i.e. Charles I's intransigence, and ascribed a common purpose, especially if the intervention in Scotland and Ireland end with a single British government under the Commonwealth, even as Westminster all but groans at the prospect. I imagine that, if James, Lorraine, and the other factions in Ireland damage each other enough for Lambert to move in, and Scotland ends up under English rule, later Commonwealth figures ITTL will create the myth of a joint purpose resulting in Great Britain.
I never doubted it. Presumably, the phrase originally referred to unburnt pieces of firewood (faggots) rather than cigarettes.
Cheers,
Nigel.
I wonder how things are going in France, while England is all blood and smoke...
Two in three days! Glad to see this TL resume.
Any additional trouble within France can only be good news for Spain. With unrest in Paris, and the Dutch in the midst of a civil war, the Army of Flanders must be having a better time than OTL. Not that Philip IV is in an enviable position, but IOTL his kingdom is in better shape, or at least in less danger of imminent collapse.
With a few lucky breaks, Spain might be able to hold on to Dunkirk and Roussillon. Even retaining Portugal might not be out of the question.
On the subject of Spain, have butterflies affected this man? Unlike his brothers Prospero and Charles he was not a misshapen spawn of incest, and his survival would markedly improve the prospects his country, and family.
Any additional trouble within France can only be good news for Spain. With unrest in Paris, and the Dutch in the midst of a civil war, the Army of Flanders must be having a better time than OTL. Not that Philip IV is in an enviable position, but IOTL his kingdom is in better shape, or at least in less danger of imminent collapse.
With a few lucky breaks, Spain might be able to hold on to Dunkirk and Roussillon. Even retaining Portugal might not be out of the question.
On the subject of Spain, have butterflies affected this man? Unlike his brothers Prospero and Charles he was not a misshapen spawn of incest, and his survival would markedly improve the prospects his country, and family.
In the other hand, Spain has troubles in Naples to be solved first. How is going the Neapolitan revolt, BTW?
Ah, the awkward feeling when you realize you invaded somewhere because of bad intel 
Would it be somewhat reasonable to assume that Sexby's "M" is John Thurloe or a subordinate thereof?
Anyways, it will be interesting to see if TTL's Commonwealth will actually succeed where OTL's failed and actually elect a new parliament (Preferably one that doesn't try to put a crown on the nearest plausible head).
Would it be somewhat reasonable to assume that Sexby's "M" is John Thurloe or a subordinate thereof?
Anyways, it will be interesting to see if TTL's Commonwealth will actually succeed where OTL's failed and actually elect a new parliament (Preferably one that doesn't try to put a crown on the nearest plausible head).
Well quite; frankly I can completely understand James’ detestation of the Scots by this point, but it isn’t very politick to make it that blatantly obvious. There are actually a whole load of highly sensible reasons for him to pick Ireland too; the danger he has is that by acting out of spite he’s burning his bridges and making the Irish/Scottish choice a zero-sum game when he doesn’t have to.
We’ll see some of this in the next post but one, but the King’s decision really knocks the wind out of the Scots, particularly the Kirk. On the upside, it neatly removes the reason for the Scottish factional struggle; if the King won’t deal with you, why fight amongst yourselves over how much to concede to him? On the downside, James’ decision to choose Irish Papists over the God’s Chosen People blows a massive gaping hole in the very foundations of the Covenanting movement. The Scots have traded a political and military crisis for a spiritual one of existential proportions; the latter is probably even more destructive than civil war and foreign invasion.
This all seems plausible; I’ll repost the chapter dealing with Ireland between 1640 and 1648 soon, but the Confederacy was already split between the Clerical faction under Rinnucini and the Old English aristocracy, and the last thing we saw happening was the Earl of Ormonde convincing many of the latter to rally for the King. Civil War in Ireland is quite possible, and in some ways suits the King; it proves to his subjects elsewhere that he’s not consorting with Papists. However, war isn’t in the interests of the Duke of Lorraine; he certainly likes the idea of being King of Ireland, but he’d rather accept the crown ‘reluctantly’ because of James’ inability to protect his former subjects, rather than deposing the rightful monarch himself. Not that Rinnucini will necessarily see it that way, of course…
This is certainly possible; a lot will depend on how the political situation in Scotland pans out, as the New Model Army can barely occupy the Scottish lowlands, let alone subdue the rest of the country and invade Ireland at the same time.
Well, no Stuart Scotland yet; you could say the same of 1651-2 IOTL, and look how that turned out! As for Churchill, I think he’s beginning to realise that the game is up, but he did swear an oath; plus if he gives up now, he’ll never go home again. Finally, Scotland was a theocracy IOTL at this point; the Covenanters and the Taliban bear more than a little comparison. As I’ve said before, when people think of the miserable fun-hating Puritans, they’ve got the wrong target; Scottish Presbyterians of the period made the Puritans look like flower children.
The two of these comments are related! Chapter 33 covers France between 1647 and 1648 and will turn up when I’ve got my head around the Fronde again; not an easy feat.
Funnily enough, the phrase “British Revolution” was mentioned as early as Chapter 3! Why the term is used ITTL is left at this point as an exercise for the reader, although personally I think it’s a phrase that would work just as well IOTL.
Spain is broke and desperate, as OTL; however things might be even worse for them. They’re still technically at war with the Dutch, Naples has been lost and will need to be retaken if possible, and they’ve just lost their best general in Flanders to an adventure in Ireland which, if successful, will make one of their best sources of troops a French client. On the upside, Spain’s opponents are in a worse state too, so it’s swings and roundabouts really! Whatever happens, I think that any *Treaty of the Pyrenees will look rather different ITTL.
As for Asturias, I hadn’t really given much thought to him before, but I suspect he’s dead as OTL; most of the European butterflies ITTL start coming in from 1647 onwards.
Same as we last saw it, as it happens; as the post involving the revolt finishes in August 1648, and the rest of the narrative is currently in the spring of that year, the rest of the TL needs to catch up first!
Ah, the awkward feeling when you realize you invaded somewhere because of bad intel
To be fair, it was a sensible pre-emption; even IOTL Charles II only arrived in Scotland the day after Edinburgh fell, and the Scots probably had it coming.
“M” isn’t Thurloe- he’s too practical to mess around with silly code-names- but they are certainly part of the same (invisible) circle.
The pressures to do this are increasing, and are greater than OTL because of the influence of Lilburne et al; when I get back to London politics we’ll see some this.
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