Monday, June 21, 1685, broke very dark and windy, with dull clouds moving heavily across the sky and a constant sputter¹ of rain. Yet a little after daybreak Monmouth’s bugles² were blowing in every quarter of the town, from Tone Bridge to Shuttern, and by the hour appointed the regiments⁴ had mustered⁶, the roll had been called, and the vanguard was marching briskly out through the eastern gate. It went forth⁷ in the same order as it entered, our own regiment⁵ and the Taunton burghers bringing up the rear. Mayor Timewell and Saxon had the ordering of this part of the army between them, and being men who had seen much service, they drew the ordnance⁸ into a less hazardous⁹ position, and placed a strong guard of horse, a cannon’s shot in the rear, to meet any attempt of the Royal dragoons.

It was remarked on all sides that the army had improved in order and discipline during the three days’ halt, owing perchance to the example of our own unceasing drill and soldierly bearing. In numbers it had increased to nigh eight thousand, and the men were well fed and light of heart. With sturdy close-locked ranks they splashed their way through mud and puddle¹¹, with many a rough country joke and many a lusty stave from song or hymn¹². Sir Gervas rode at the head of his musqueteers, whose befloured tails hung limp and lank¹³ with the water dripping from them. Lockarby’s pikemen and my own company of scythesmen were mostly labourers from the country, who were hardened against all weathers, and

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