human
The battle is ours, General, and I’ve my Lord Fairfax’s orders for you.
gpt
The battle is ours? demanded Cromwell gruffly.
human
I do not understand.
gpt
None of us understand. Fairfax was three miles away, sleeping in a farmstead bed-chamber, when we roused him with the news. It was Leslie’s men who broke their centre and drove round Rupert’s flank. The thunder was in all our brains, I fancy.
human
Then it’s for the siege of York again?
gpt
Fairfax says the risk is too great. The Moor is full of our dead, and we’re not strong enough. He bids you get your men together and hold Ripley, going wide of Knaresborough—which is a hornet’s nest—until further orders reach you. That is my message, General.
human
Good, said Cromwell, tightening the bandage round his throat.
gpt
Where are my men?