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_Pemberton:_ Is there any word of him?
_Fairfax:_ None.
_Staines:_ They do not consider us at Westminster.
_Ireton:_ It is disastrous of them to hesitate so. They do not understand.
_Fairfax:_ No. I have told them that to-day is to be made the fiercest trial of all, but they do not listen.
_Pemberton:_ Where is General Cromwell?
_Fairfax:_ None knows. These months he has been up and down the land, exhorting, stirring up opinion, watching the discipline of our new armies, lending his personal authority in bringing men's minds to the cause. But to-day we need him here. He should have been sent. We need him.
_Ireton:_ Urgently. Charles and Rupert are staking all on this.
_Staines:_ They were never in better tune. It is as though every man were picked.
_Fairfax:_ I said this to Westminster.
_Ireton:_ We carry too many callow soldiers against them. Example will be everything. General Cromwell and his chosen troops have that, and experience; none like them.
_Pemberton:_ Does the General himself know of our necessity, do you think, sir?
_Fairfax:_ There is no tracing him. He almost certainly does not know, or he would have insisted. There are rumours of him from the eastern counties, of some activities with his men, but no more.
_Ireton:_ And the hope of England here in grave peril. Westminster is disgraceful.
_Staines:_ Your appeal was plain, sir--weighty enough?
_Fairfax_ (taking a paper from the table): You may hear for yourself.
(Reading the end of a letter copy.) "The general esteem and affection which he hath with the officers and soldiers of this whole army, his own personal worth and ability for employment, his great care, diligence, courage, and faithfulness in the services you have already employed him in, with the constant presence and blessing of G.o.d that have accompanied him, make us look upon it as the duty we owe to you and the public, to make it our suit."
_Pemberton:_ It is shameful of them.
_Ireton:_ It is. But that hope is gone. Do I take the left, sir?
_Fairfax:_ You must choose. The horse entirely are your command now.
_Ireton:_ Whalley on the right, and you, Pemberton.
_Fairfax:_ What's the hour?
_Staines:_ Six o'clock, sir.
_Fairfax:_ They have had three hours. Let the army sleep till ten if it may be.
_Staines:_ Yes, sir.
_Ireton:_ Are you satisfied about those footmen on the left, sir?
_Fairfax:_ No, not satisfied. But we cannot better it.
_Pemberton:_ Rupert is almost certain to see the weakness there.
_Fairfax:_ Yes, but there it is. Skippon must cover it as he can. We have spoken of it very exactly.
_Ireton:_ If either wing of our horse breaks, it means certain disaster there, even though Skippon could hold in the centre.
_Fairfax:_ That's Cromwell again. And all to satisfy the pride of a few useless members that his self-denying ordinance keeps out of command.
_Staines:_ Do you think it's that, sir?
_Fairfax:_ What else? They are more jealous that he should come to no more honour than that we should succeed. And after all that has been given.
_Ireton:_ The blood.
_Pemberton:_ It is abominable.
_Fairfax:_ But there--we must not distress ourselves. We have our own loyalty. Keep in touch with Skippon, Staines. If you can push their right foot up towards Sibbertoft there, spare nothing in the doing. Have you all slept, gentlemen?
_Ireton and the others:_ Yes, sir.
_Fairfax:_ Since we lack General Cromwell, more depends on you, Ireton, than on any man, perhaps. You will not be wanting, I know.
_Ireton:_ In endeavour at least--and we can die.
(A scout comes in.)
_Fairfax:_ Yes?
_The Scout:_ Something moves across from the east, sir. It is very faint. It may be haze, or it may be dust.
_Fairfax:_ Watch. Come again at once.
(The scout goes. FAIRFAX and the others go to the tent opening, and look out.)
_Fairfax:_ Yes--there. It is moving, isn't it?
_Ireton:_ I think not.
_Staines:_ Surely.
_Pemberton:_ Could it be?
_Fairfax:_ No. We should have heard.
_Ireton:_ And yet it seems to be moving.