Newark was in the last straits. To the reiterated summons of the Puritan forces, the valiant garrison replied only that they could starve, and they could die, but one thing they could not do, and that was open their gates to rebels. Rupert would delay no longer, and, in accordance with Trevor's advice, he set forth, on March 13th, with a small force, borrowed from the garrisons he passed on the march. Essex at once despatched a force of cavalry in pursuit, of which Ashburnham advertised the Prince in the following concise note: "The strength that followeth your Highness is nine hundred dragoons, and one regiment of horse, which I hope they will all be damned."[24] By March 20th Rupert was at Bingham, twelve miles from Newark. The besiegers, who numbered some 2,500 horse and 5,000 foot, heard the news of his approach with light-hearted incredulity, being unable to believe that he could have the temerity to attack them; and in an intercepted letter the Prince found mention of "an incredible rumour" of his advance.[25] When within six miles of Newark he contrived to let the garrison know of his vicinity. Fearing that his cipher had fallen into the hands of the enemy, he dared not write, but sent only an ambiguous message, the meaning of which he did not even explain to the messenger: "Let the old drum be beaten, early on the morrow morning." Happily the Governor, Sir John Henderson, was quick to grasp the meaning--namely, {137} that he was to sally out on Meldrum at day-break.[26] By two o'clock in the morning, Rupert was in the saddle, and ere it was light, he charged down upon the besieging army. Surprised and confused, the besiegers broke their ranks, and at the same moment the garrison sallied. The fight was hot, and once at least Rupert was in imminent danger. He found himself assaulted by "three sturdy Roundheads" all at once; one he slew with his own sword; Mortaigne, a French follower of the Prince, shot another, and the third, who had laid hold of Rupert's collar, had his hand cut off by O'Neil. The Prince was thus "disengaged, with only a shot in his gauntlet."[27] The engagement lasted nearly all day, but at dusk, Charles Gerard, who had been wounded and captured, came limping forth from the enemy's trenches, with offers of treaty. Rupert agreed to terms, and, on the following morning, Meldrum and his colleagues were permitted to raise the siege and march off with the honours of war.