monarch

The dusty road from London to East Anglia was crowded with troops advancing in echelons.Pikemen in breastplates huddled with musketeers in caps adorned with bright feathers, while behind the cavalry came huge baggage wagons on which the guns were mounted. among piles of straw.

On the morning of July 32, scouts from both sides spotted each other's trail east of Chelmsford, the capital of Essex, [-] miles from London.By mid-afternoon the Lord Chancellor's vanguard of [-] infantry reached the village of Broomfield, seven miles east of the city.Here, they engaged in a brief firefight with Princess Mary's cavalry who had come to scout and repelled them.

The victorious Chief Minister's party immediately began to sweep the village, and when they occupied the village an hour later, Princess Mary's three thousand infantrymen also appeared on this idyllic battlefield amid the church bells in the village.

At dusk, every house in the village became a battlefield for fighting.Soldiers pierced each other with spears before the chancel of the church, and the blood pooled in the cracks in the marble floor like rivers of red.Before the altar of the church hangs a crucifix, the head of which has been knocked off by bullets from who knows where—the musketeers fired from behind the walls, from attic windows, from cellar transoms. open fire.From every crevice of stone, from every vent, and from every wall stack shot deadly buckshot.

At 05:30 in the afternoon, the army of the chief minister's side was forced to withdraw from the village that was emitting black smoke. Animals, and on the streets of the village, the corpses of both sides are piled up as far as the eye can see. Their faces are pale with death, and the stiff muscles on their faces freeze the terrifying expression on their faces before death forever. down.In just two hours, more than 800 people were killed on the side of the Chief Minister, and more than 600 people were killed on the side of Princess Mary. Since the War of the Roses, such tragic scenes have rarely appeared on the land of England.

On July [-], the main armies of both sides fought fiercely again on this battlefield, and the main purpose of the battle was to capture a wooden bridge erected over the canal outside Chelmsford.Soldiers on both sides shouted in unison, trying to kill every enemy in sight like bloodthirsty beasts.It was an indescribably bloody fight, with screams and gunfire echoing in the air, and unrecognizable corpses floating on the red-stained surface of the once-busy canal.

At the last moment of this savage engagement, Princess Mary's Spanish soldiers braved a rain of bullets, leaped nimbly onto the bridge, and threw into them the large barrels of kerosene and kindling that the Chief Minister's party had piled up on the bridge. in the river.Amidst the cheers of "Long live Queen Mary", the gates of the Essex county capital have been opened for Princess Mary.

During the battle on the 3000th, more than 2000 people were killed on the side of the Chief Minister, and [-] people were killed on the side of Princess Mary.In addition, there are a large number of wounded on both sides, groaning in the crude hospital.Due to the lack of effective treatment, a large proportion of them will die within a few days.

That night, Princess Mary personally visited a barn that had just been converted into a field hospital. When she arrived, it had become a place more terrifying than the hell described by Dante.Hundreds of wounded soldiers huddled together, their filthy clothes smeared with blackened blood.In the high temperature of summer, the stench overwhelmed everything, and countless mosquitoes and flies were flying in the air like tides, greedily landing on the carrion of the wound to feast on.And weary doctors, looking exhausted, are flinging freshly amputated arms and legs toward a corner of the barn.Their aprons and clothes were also stained with blood and sweat, looking more like butchers after a day's work.

After just 10 minutes, Princess Mary ended the visit early.As soon as she walked out of the gate of the barn, she leaned on a low wall and began to vomit violently, startling the pale followers beside her, and quickly helped her into the carriage.

After two consecutive days of defeat, the Chief Minister was forced to surrender the city to Princess Mary, retreated in the direction of the capital, and set up camp not far from the city.The next day, Princess Mary entered Chelmsford, where she was warmly welcomed by local figures in Essex.She accepted the city's allegiance, and generously brought the city and its people under her protection.

At the end of the day, the sun disappeared below the horizon punctually as usual, and as night fell, everything seemed to quiet down, as if the hustle and bustle of the day was nothing but a dream.

Time soon reached midnight, and the silver moon poked its head out from the rolling clouds, casting a soft halo over the camp of the chief minister's army.The silhouettes of the city's roofs and towers not far away are like the looming shadows outlined by the painter on the canvas. Princess Mary's army is now stationed in the city.

The bells of the church in the city came from a distance, and the sad voice echoed in the field, like the cries of countless wives and mothers who lost their husbands and sons in just a few days.

In a huge tent on one side of the camp, the Chief Minister was lying on a camp bed.He did not take off his daytime clothes, only the heavy armor.The helmet with arrow scratches on it and the saber still stained with blood were casually thrown on a table beside the bed, with a half-burned candle beside it.The chief minister didn't sleep well, his forehead was covered with beads of sweat, maybe it came from the hot weather or the great pressure.His thin face was bloodless, and his eyes were swollen from lack of sleep.

A man in black opened the door curtain. Looking at the sleepy chief minister, he couldn't help but sighed deeply.

The chief minister was a light sleeper, so the slight sigh woke him up. He opened his eyes, supported the bed board with his elbows, and sat up straight.

"Ah, it's you, Mr. Wilson." The chief minister recognized the person who came in, it was one of his servants, "What's the matter?"

"Oh, my lord, please forgive me! I have come to bring you some sad news." The Mr. Wilson bowed to the First Minister with a frown.

"Don't be so sad, I'm not the king of Khwarizm, who would send the messenger who brings bad news to behead... Messenger is always welcome here." The chief minister waved his hand and signaled He sits beside him.

"One of my grooms couldn't sleep at night. He was walking around the east side of the camp. He happened to see all the nobles under your command gathered in the tent of the Earl of Newcastle. He felt something was wrong, so he quietly hid behind the tent and listened. ’” said Mr. Wilson. “They’re talking about betraying you, sir.”

"Tell me?" The chief minister repeated, his voice trembling slightly.

"Yes, sir. A man from the city was with them, and the groom seemed to have heard them say that he was a messenger from Princess Mary."

The chief minister sighed weakly, "These damned Judas! I have known for a long time that they are unreliable... As long as their power and property can be preserved, they don't even mind signing Satan's contract with blood!"

He put his head in his hands. "So? What are they going to do?"

"They plan to mutiny tonight, and then arrest you and hand them over to Princess Mary in the city. Princess Mary will pardon them and give them a reward of 20 pounds."

"20 pounds!" The chief minister sneered, "This is a king's ransom! They think highly of me."

He stood up, fastened his belt, picked up the saber on the table, and hung it around his waist.

"Who is involved in this shady conspiracy?" There was a trace of anxiety in his voice.

"Almost all the nobles with names are in that tent."

"Where is all the honor in this world?" said the Chief Minister sadly, shaking his head.

He picked up the helmet and put it on his head.

"If they want to betray me, let them do as they please. But I swear, all they want to hand over to Mary Tudor is a dead body."

"You still have a chance, Your Excellency." Mr. Wilson said hastily. "We will leave now and take those who are still loyal to you back to London. You can write to Princess Elizabeth and exchange the throne for her support—you Support her as queen and she retains your throne...and then you can divorce your son, Lord Guilford, from Jane Grey, and let him marry Queen Elizabeth, or Lord Robert to marry her , she will always need a husband, and then you will still be the winner."

"People who are loyal to me?" The chief minister smiled sadly, "Since all the nobles have betrayed me, now I don't even have a loyal and reliable battalion... I can only believe that there are only a few guards , not more than a dozen people in total.”

"That's enough," said Mr. Wilson. "Ten men surround Your Excellency . . . We're safe as long as we're ten miles away, which is a little over an hour's journey on fast horses . . . if we move fast." If so, I will be able to send you back to the capital tomorrow morning."

"Okay, then do as you say." The chief minister nodded. At this moment, he looks nothing like the prime minister who is under one man and over ten thousand, but just a tired old man, " Please make arrangements accordingly."

"I'll come as I go, Your Excellency." Mr. Wilson nodded and walked out of the tent. After about 10 minutes, he returned to the tent.

"Everything is ready, Your Excellency." He nodded at the chief minister, "Ten guards and your personal servants have mounted their horses and are waiting outside for Your Excellency. Your and my horses have also been saddled."

"A total of thirteen people..." the chief minister murmured, "What an unlucky number."

"It's a matter of human effort, sir," said Mr. Wilson. "I believe that if-"

A loud noise stopped his voice abruptly, the ground shook violently, as if an earthquake had occurred, all the furniture in the tent trembled, and the neighing of horses and panicked screams came from outside the tent.

"God, what's going on here?" The chief minister ran out of the tent, the sky outside was already dyed red by the flames, and the soldiers in the camp were running around like headless chickens.

"It's the gunpowder depot!" Mr. Wilson said loudly, pointing his finger at the place where the baggage and gunpowder used to be stored, which had turned into a big pit smoking green smoke.

However, the Chief Minister didn't look in that direction. His eyes were fixed on the direction of the city. A long thin black line about twice the length of the camp was approaching from that direction like a swimming snake.

"What is that?" asked the Chief Minister.

"Maybe it's the fog?" Mr. Wilson squinted.

"No, that's not it." The Chief Minister said coldly, "That's the enemy who came out of the city. It's obvious that they have colluded with the traitors."

Sure enough, under the reflection of the moonlight and the firelight, there were dots of metal light shining in the queue, which was the reflection of the armor on the soldiers.

"We should go, Your Excellency!" Mr. Wilson quietly tugged at the hem of the chief minister's clothes, "Don't let them have a chance to block our way."

The chief minister whipped his boots angrily, jumped on his horse without saying a word, caught the horse's belly, and galloped towards the southeast.

"Follow your lordship, gentlemen!" Mr. Wilson called to the guards.

In an instant, a group of people had arrived at the exit of the camp, but a group of cavalry was already waiting for them there, and the nobles who had gathered together to plot before were also there.

"My lord." The Earl of Newcastle took a few steps forward on his horse, and bent slightly towards the frowning chief minister.

"It's me." The chief minister replied coldly, "He looked around at the crowd who came up, "I'm here to ask you what happened? "

"What do you mean?" asked the Earl of Newcastle.

"Please don't pretend to be confused, Monsieur Count," said the Chief Minister furiously. "I see the enemy's army has come out of the city, and you have no intention of meeting it. Our powder is burning, and you The soldiers don't look like they're going to put out the fire at all... The truth is, you're a bloody traitor, Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty silver pieces, and you and your friends betrayed me for £20. What a deal Good deal! Please accept my congratulations, sir."

"Your Excellency has obviously misunderstood me." The Earl of Newcastle stammered, "You may have heard some irresponsible rumors. I deeply regret this...."

"Perhaps those are rumours," said the Chief Minister, "but I have seen the enemy come out of the city; I have also seen you not going to meet the enemy, nor to put out the fire, but to intercept me here."

The nobles bowed their heads in shame.

"Your Excellency." The Earl of Newcastle blushed, "Please allow me to explain..."

"There is no need for this." The chief minister said decisively, "I just need a simple proof: Please gather your subordinates with your friends and go to meet the enemy with me."

"I'm afraid this can't be done, Your Excellency..." The Earl of Newcastle said coyly, "The soldiers have been running around all day, and they are already very tired..."

"Then you take your people and go back to London with me."

The Earl of Newcastle bowed his head and said no more.

"It seems that you have finally admitted it." The Chief Minister laughed. "You are either a coward or a traitor. And you, gentlemen, you are the same stuff."

The eyes of the nobles were blazing, obviously irritated by the chief minister's outspokenness-even if the person who committed a crime was disturbed, he usually didn't want to hear his faults blamed by others.

"You're right." The two impatient nobles glanced at each other, and stepped forward to stand in front of the chief minister, "Enough people have died because of your ambition! Everything should be settled... …Half your army is dead, we can't watch you send the other half dead!" They approached the Chief Minister aggressively, "You are under arrest, Your Excellency! Please tell your men to lay down their weapons, Stop needlessly bleeding!"

"Arrest me?" The Chief Minister seemed to have heard some funny joke, "In whose name?"

"In the name of the Queen!" said the two noblemen, about to pull the reins of the chief minister's horse, "in the name of the orthodox Queen Mary I!"

Before their hands could touch the reins, Mr. Wilson drew his pistol and knocked one of them down.And one of the guards also drew out his sword and stabbed the other presumptuous man through.

The nobles seemed shocked by this unexpected scene, and they all backed away in surprise.

The Chief Minister seized this opportunity, and with the spurs on his riding boots he stabbed the belly of the chestnut steed. "Go, gentlemen!" he cried, "draw your swords and follow me. later."

Thirteen swords gleamed in the moonlight, and the chief minister took the lead, stabbing the panicked nobleman in front of him with the sword in his hand.

The nobles who had gathered just now to try to get a share of the Knesset feat scattered in horror, like a group of vultures and hyenas who saw a lion and ran away.

The chief minister laughed excitedly, "Come on, gentlemen, let us send these traitors to hell!"

The encirclement was dispersed, and half of the people around the chief minister had disappeared.They had no time to look back, however, as the narrowly escaped knights pushed their mounts forward and galloped across the fields, leaving the burning camp far behind.