There would appear to have been good hope on the Royalist side of a successful issue to the impending battle. The advantage of position certainly lay with Charles’ troops. The King, after reconnoitring the enemy through a telescope from Knowle End, where now stands a crown–shaped mound planted with trees, rode along the lines of his army clad in steel, wearing a star and garter, and a black velvet mantle over his suit of armour. He afterwards addressed the officers, gathered in his tent for last instructions, in these words, “Come life or death, your King will bear you company.” It was the Earl of Lindsey, the King’s Lieutenant–General, who acted as impromptu chaplain and offered up a quaint and brief prayer in these words: “O Lord, Thou knowest how busy I must be to–day! If I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me. March on, boys!” [Illustration: SOUTHAM.] Through that long Sunday morning, on October 23, 1642 (November 2, new style), the forces of Lord Essex lay and watched the enemy on the heights above them, and distant from them scarcely more than a couple of miles; showing no disposition to risk an attack upon a position which was undoubtedly so advantageous as to be worth several thousand men. At about one o’clock it was decided by the King and his officers to descend the steep face of the cliff, and make a frontal attack upon the Parliamentarians disposed in a long line passing through Battle and Thistle Farms. In Essex’s own regiment commanding a troop was Oliver Cromwell, then forty–one, who was destined to ultimately crush the Royal cause on the fields of Marston Moor and Naseby. Prince Rupert, who, earlier in the day, had caused embarrassment by his refusal to serve under orders save those of King Charles himself, led the cavalry on the right, Lord Wilmot on the left, whilst the command of the centre was vested in Sir Jacob Astley and General Ruthven, with the King and reserves of pensioners in the rear. Although the day was fine overhead the ground was wet and miry, and proved heavy “going” for troops already fatigued by several days of rapid marching. Close upon two o’clock the muffled boom of two cannon fired by the Parliamentarians rolled across the plain and reverberated amid the cliffs of the Edge Hills. The momentous opening of the great Civil War had come. The Royalists’ cavalry on the left swept round, and charged upon the body of Parliamentarian troops located at what is now known as Battle Farm, where Essex had placed some of his artillery. They were repulsed with considerable loss. Prince Rupert’s charge along the right wing met with more success as it drove back Sir James Ramsay and the force under his command. But unhappily for the King the Prince rushed onwards towards Kineton with characteristic heedlessness to plunder the Parliamentarian baggage train, unmindful of the fact that his help was needed, as the Royalists were losing ground on other parts of the field.