and the negligent
general who commanded them, had indulged largely in wine, and were ready
for any excess of licentiousness and cruelty. One of them seized the
unhappy maiden, refused to listen to her errand, and brutally outraged
her. She fled in agonies of rage and shame, leaving the wicked army to
its doom. [410]

And now the time for the great hazard drew near. The night was not ill
suited for such an enterprise. The moon was indeed at the full, and the
northern streamers were shining brilliantly. But the marsh fog lay
so thick on Sedgemoor that no object could be discerned there at the
distance of fifty paces. [411]

The clock struck eleven; and the Duke with his body guard rode out of
the Castle. He was not in the frame of mind which befits one who is
about to strike a decisive blow. The very children who pressed to see
him pass observed, and long remembered, that his look was sad and full
of evil augury. His army marched by a circuitous path, near six miles in
length, towards the royal encampment on Sedgemoor. Part of the route is
to this day called War Lane. The foot were led by Monmouth himself. The
horse were confided to Grey, in spite of the remonstrances of some who
remembered the mishap at Bridport. Orders were given that strict silence
should be preserved, that no drum should be beaten, and no shot fired.
The word by which the insurgents were to recognise one another in the
darkness was Soho. It had doubtless been selected in allusion to Soho
Fields in London, where their leader's palace stood. [412]

At about one in the morning of Monday the sixth of July, the rebels were
on the open moor. But between them and the enemy lay three broad rhines
filled with water and soft mud. Two of these, called the Black Ditch
and the Langmoor Rhine, Monmouth knew that he must pass. But, strange
to say, the existence of a trench, called the Bussex Rhine, which
immediately covered the royal encampment, had not been mentioned to him
by any of his scouts.

The wains which carried the ammunition remained at the entrance of the
moor. The horse and foot, in a long narrow column, passed the Black
Ditch by a causeway. There was a similar causeway across the Langmoor
Rhine: but the guide, in the fog, missed his way. There was some delay
and some tumult before the error could be rectified. At length the
passage was effected: but, in the confusion, a pistol went off. Some men
of the Horse Guards, who were on watch, heard the rep