John Lambert thought for a moment. ‘It was mostly how we used the infantry,’ he said. ‘Cromwell has them trained in such a way that they change formation very fast, and they can hold their ground even against a charge. And once the king dismissed Rupert then the morale among his commanders was very low. That’s one of the keys, especially in a war inside a country. Everyone’s got to trust each other. That’s what Cromwell got right, when he got the Members of Parliament out of the army. We made the army a family which prays together and thinks together and fights together.’

Johnnie nodded, listening avidly. ‘It wasn’t Prince Rupert’s fault that he lost Bristol!’ he exclaimed.

‘Indeed it was not,’ John Lambert agreed. ‘It was mostly the weather. It rained and their gunpowder was soaked. They were going to mine the city walls, rather than let us take a fortified town. They had the mines dug and the gunpowder in place – but then it was wet and didn’t fire. No commander could have done anything about that. But there was another thing –’

‘What, sir?’

‘It’s about belief,’ Lambert said slowly. ‘There are very few like you, Johnnie, who have such certainty about the king. But there are very many, most of my army in fact, who truly believe that if they can win the war that we can make a better country here, better for everyone. They think they are doing God’s work and man’s work. They think that they will make a world of greater justice and fairness – we think that.’

‘Are you a Leveller, sir?’ Johnnie asked. Hester would have interrupted but Lambert was unruffled.

‘I think we all are in a way,’ he said. ‘Some of us would go further than others, but all the honest men I know think that we should be governed by our consent, and not by the king’s whim. We think we should have a parliament elected by everyone in the country and that it should sit all the time and return to the country for election every three years. We don’t think that the king and only the king should decide when and where it sits, and whether or not he will listen to it.’

‘I’m still a royalist,’ Johnnie said stubbornly.

Lambert laughed. ‘Perhaps we can find a way to persuade you royalists that it is for the good of us all – king to beggar – that we live in some order and harmony. And now I must go.’

‘Good luck,’ Hester called, her hand on Johnnie’s shoulder. ‘Come again.’

‘I’ll come next spring and bring my Violetten!’ he called, and with a swirl of his cape he was gone.

Spring 1647