5 A Very Murdering Battle

by Edward Marston

  ‘Not if he can remember when and where it happened,’ said Daniel. ‘If Nick can recall the name of the tavern and the day when he talked about his work, the landlord may be able to remember who else was there on that occasion. Winter’s been bad for business. If he had few customers when Nick Geel was there, the landlord should be able to give us their names.’

  Amalia was rueful. ‘I should’ve paid more attention to Beatrix.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She said that someone was watching the house. I didn’t believe her.’

  ‘It proves that nobody here was in league with the thieves,’ decided Daniel. ‘If they had been, there’d have been no need to take stock of the place and to find out where the workshop actually was. A real accomplice would simply have told them.’

  ‘That’s a point,’ said Amalia, relieved that the assistants were absolved of any suspicion of being directly involved. ‘What will you do, Daniel?’

  ‘I’ll speak to each of them in turn – Nick first and then Aelbert.’

  ‘They’re both as upset as Father. And so is Kees, of course. He was the one who discovered what had happened. It almost made him sick on the spot.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’

  Since the crime had come to light, there’d been no activity in the workshop. Janssen had sent two of his assistants back home. The other one, Dopff, was moping in his room, blaming himself for not coming downstairs earlier on the fateful night. Yet nothing had ever been stolen from the workshop before and there’d been no cause to believe that the tapestry was in any danger.

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Amalia. ‘Do we report the theft to a magistrate?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Daniel said, firmly. ‘We don’t want the authorities involved. I’ll continue to lead my own investigation. One thing is certain – the tapestry is still in Amsterdam.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I rode here from The Hague, remember. It was difficult enough on horseback. You’d never get a cart along some of those roads. It’s here, Amalia. Someone has hidden it away and I mean to find it.’

  ‘Amsterdam is a big city. You can’t search every house.’

  ‘I can eliminate large numbers of them, Amalia. The crime was the work of practised thieves. They got in and out without disturbing anyone except Kees. The vast majority of citizens here are decent and law-abiding. I need to search the haunts of criminals.’

  ‘They could be dangerous, Daniel,’ she said, worriedly. ‘You’re one man against at least three. Are you sure you should be doing this entirely on your own?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘I’m not sure. That’s why I’ve sent for help. I’ve asked Henry Welbeck to come here. He’ll jump at the chance to escape the privations of winter quarters. That will make it two against three or four,’ he went on with a grin, ‘so the odds have tilted very much in our favour.’

  They were in the parlour of the Janssen house. So absorbed were they in their discussion that they didn’t see a figure walk past the window. Nor did they hear anything being slipped under the front door. It was minutes later when Janssen came in, holding a letter and looking perplexed.

  ‘Beatrix has just given me this,’ he said. ‘It was put under the front door by someone who obviously didn’t want to be seen.’

  ‘Why do you say that, Father?’ asked Amalia.

  ‘I think it’s from them.’ He held the letter out so that they could see the names on it. ‘It’s addressed to me and to the Duke of Marlborough. I think you’d better open it on His Grace’s behalf, Daniel,’ he added, passing the missive over. ‘I daren’t.’

  He watched with trepidation as Daniel opened the letter and read it.

  ‘Your instinct is sound,’ said Daniel. ‘This is from the thieves. They’re offering you the chance to buy back the tapestry for what looks like a king’s ransom.’

  Janssen gulped. ‘What if we refuse?’

  ‘Then they’ll destroy it completely.’

  Letting out a cry of pain, Janssen clutched his chest and collapsed to the floor.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Duke of Marlborough was known for his iron self-control and his calm under fire. In the heat of battle, nothing could upset his equanimity. Other commanders could be driven into a panic or forced to make hasty and ill-considered decisions. Marlborough remained aloof from them. With a mingled spite and envy, his enemies accused him of having ice in his veins. Yet there was no sign of that ice now. As he paced up and down like a caged animal, his blood was boiling. Seated at the table, Cardonnel tried to soothe him.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do except wait,’ he said, reasonably.

  ‘Yes, there is, Adam,’ insisted Marlborough, rounding on him. ‘We can head for Amsterdam this instant and take charge of proceedings.’

  ‘What purpose would that serve, Your Grace?’

  ‘It would rid me of this debilitating sense of impotence.’

  ‘You’re needed here.’

  ‘Not when my tapestry has been stolen.’

  ‘We’re dining with our host this evening and you have an appointment with Grand Pensionary Heinsius tomorrow. It could be a significant meeting.’

  ‘Have it postponed.’

  ‘I’d strongly advise against it.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake!’ snapped Marlborough. ‘Do as you’re told, man.’

  Cardonnel inclined his head. ‘Of course, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough repented immediately. He never raised his voice in anger at his secretary and had no call to do so now. Cardonnel was irreplaceable. He was the son of Huguenot refugees driven out of France, so he was deeply committed to the war against Louis XIV and all that the French king represented. The secretary had given such invaluable service that Marlborough hoped one day to reward him with high political office when his own influence back in England was strong enough. To berate Cardonnel for offering sensible advice was grossly unfair.

  ‘A thousand pardons, Adam,’ said Marlborough with a placatory hand on his secretary’s shoulder. ‘You are, as ever, quite correct. I have responsibilities here in the Dutch capital. Please forgive my unwarranted outburst.’

  ‘I understand and share your frustration.’

  ‘I know and I’m ashamed I spoke so harshly. But this business is like a dagger in my breast. It gives me no respite.’

  ‘Would charging off to Amsterdam ease the pain?’ asked Cardonnel.

  ‘It might.’

  ‘I think not, Your Grace. What could you actually do? This is a not a military situation. Leadership of the kind you offer is not required. I venture to suggest – and I do so with all humility – that you might actually hinder the process of retrieving the tapestry.’

  Marlborough flopped into a chair. ‘You could be right,’ he agreed, taking off his periwig and dropping it on the table, where it lay like a dead spaniel. ‘It’s just so infuriating to think that someone has stolen my property in order to exact a vast amount of money out of me.’

  ‘We don’t know that for certain yet.’

  ‘It’s a logical possibility and you were the one to point it out.’

  ‘Thieves seek profit. How else would they achieve it?’

  ‘Quite so, quite so …’ Marlborough scratched his head. ‘I’m terrified at the thought of having to communicate all this to my wife. She has an obsession with money. This predicament will bring her untold grief.’

  ‘Then it’s best that Her Grace remains unaware of it.’

  ‘I cannot, in all conscience, hide the truth from her for ever.’

  ‘No,’ said Cardonnel, ‘I accept that. But it’s surely better to send her good news to soften the bad. Who knows? That good news may even now be on its way from Amsterdam. Captain Rawson will not have been sitting on his hands. He’s a man of action.’

  ‘That’s true. He won’t rest until the matter is resolved. Poor Daniel!’ he sighed. ‘He went there in order to spend time with his beloved. Instead of that, he has to search for a missing tape
stry and catch the thieves who stole it. Trouble does seem to have a habit of finding work for him.’

  ‘I think he relishes that, Your Grace.’

  ‘Then the best thing to do is to leave him to it. I’d only get under his feet if I went haring up there. On the other hand,’ he said, voice hardening, ‘I wish to make one thing clear. In no circumstances will I be prepared to buy back a tapestry from these villains. Draft a letter to that effect. Daniel Rawson must do all he can to retrieve it – but at no financial cost to me.’

  Nicholaes Geel was slightly alarmed when Daniel called on him, wondering what his visitor could possibly want. The assistant lived with his parents in a pleasant, narrow-fronted house in the suburbs. He conducted Daniel to the parlour and waved him to a seat. Offered refreshment, Daniel declined it. He told Geel about the demand from the thieves and of its effect on Janssen.

  Geel was concerned. ‘The master is ill in bed?’

  ‘It’s just a precaution, Nick. His nerves are frayed.’

  ‘May I see him?’

  ‘Leave it for a few days. He needs rest. Let me tell you why I’m here,’ Daniel went on. ‘I’m trying to establish how the thieves knew that the tapestry existed and when it was likely to be completed. Somebody must have told them.’

  ‘You’re not accusing me, are you?’ asked Geel, face reddening. ‘I swear to you that I’d never associate with criminals, least of all if they had designs on our tapestry. I’d die rather than do that, Captain Rawson.’

  ‘I’m sure that you would. But there’s a difference between acting as an accomplice and inadvertently giving away information. Did you, for instance, ever mention to your friends what you were working on?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘What about someone you may have met in a tavern?’

  ‘I’d never divulge secrets to a stranger.’

  ‘Drink can dull our brains sometimes, Nick. When we’ve had too much of it, we don’t always know what we say. Think back. Has there been any occasion recently when you had more than usual?’

  ‘Well,’ admitted Geel, ‘I did help to celebrate a friend’s birthday two weeks ago and I suppose that we did stay drinking until very late.’

  ‘There’s no disgrace in that,’ said Daniel. ‘We’ve all done it.’

  ‘I had such a headache the following day.’

  ‘Where did you celebrate?’

  ‘It was at the White Swan.’

  ‘And were any strangers there at the time?’

  ‘Yes, I think that there were.’

  ‘So you could – just could – have made some incautious remarks about your work on the tapestry and about your illustrious client.’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose. I don’t remember.’

  ‘What about your parents? You’ve told them, I assume.’

  ‘The master forbade it,’ said Geel. ‘He doesn’t like anyone to know details of what we do in the workshop. My parents accept that. They never ask.’

  Daniel appraised him. Geel was patently telling the truth. He would never deliberately betray secrets and was horrified to think that he might have done so when he was inebriated. The idea that he might actually have been, to some extent, a culprit made him shudder. Daniel felt sorry for him. Geel was young and impetuous but would have had no cause to boast about his work when he was celebrating the birthday of a friend. It was the friend who would’ve been the centre of attention that evening.

  Daniel changed tack. ‘Tell me a little about Aelbert Pienaar.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Geel, defensively.

  ‘I have the feeling that you don’t altogether like him.’

  ‘Aelbert is an expert at what he does. I admire him greatly.’

  ‘That’s not the same thing as liking him, Nick. I could be wrong, of course. Over the years, I’ve not seen much of either of you. Whenever I have been here, however, I’ve sensed that there’s some animosity between you.’

  ‘Well, it’s not on my side, Captain Rawson.’

  ‘Has Aelbert been unkind to you or crossed you in some way?’

  ‘No, no – he’s too wrapped up in himself.’

  ‘Do you resent that?’ pressed Daniel. ‘Does it annoy you that he’s preoccupied with his own concerns? Do you feel shut out?’

  Geel pondered. ‘Yes,’ he said, eventually, ‘I think I do.’

  ‘And how do you respond to that?’

  ‘I taunt him sometimes.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of Aelbert, I don’t imagine he’d like that.’

  ‘No, Captain Rawson,’ said Geel, shamefacedly. ‘He doesn’t. It hurts him.’ He forced a smile. ‘But I’m doing my best to be more considerate to him now.’

  Daniel waited a few moments before asking his final question.

  ‘Do you think that Aelbert Pienaar could have accidentally given away details of the tapestry on which you were working?’

  Geel was positive. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Aelbert is too secretive by nature.’

  Unhappy at being off work and wondering if there’d been any developments, Pienaar called at the Janssen house and was disturbed to learn that his employer was in bed. He was permitted to spend a little time with him and was upset to see the state that he was in. Gaunt and hollow-eyed, Janssen looked as if he was seriously ill and not simply recovering from a bad shock. Pienaar was interested to hear that the thieves had made contact and took comfort from the fact that the tapestry had so far been undamaged. At the same time, however, he doubted if Marlborough would bow to their demands. Even though he coveted his tapestry, the captain-general would surely never reward thievery. It would be against his principles. Having come to the house, Pienaar couldn’t resist looking in the workshop. The room seemed so empty and forlorn, its looms silent, its prize possession taken. It was so much more than a place of work to him. It was a second home. Since the loss of his wife, he’d found great solace there. Work was his escape from the brutal realities of life, a tiny world in which he could lose himself and gain a sense of worth. There were irritations, naturally. He wished that Geel was not so talkative and that the workshop was not quite so cold. He also wished that he could stay there for longer hours so that he didn’t have to return so early to a house that held painful memories. But these were minor matters. Nothing could compare with the pleasure of working for Emanuel Janssen and producing exquisite tapestries. It gave his life direction and it made him feel wanted.

  He went across to Janssen’s loom and ran a hand over the smooth timber. It was a paradox that such an ugly and cumbersome machine could create such beauty. A thought popped into his mind and he glanced upwards. If Janssen died – and this latest illness might be a precursor to that – then Pienaar would take charge. His inheritance had been promised in word and confirmed in writing. He loved Janssen far too much to want him to die but the possibility had to be taken into account. What would he do if and when he took over? How could he continue the noble tradition that had been established there? Who could he hire to work on Janssen’s vacant loom? Surmounting all these questions was an even more important one. What would he do with Nicholaes Geel?

  For the first time in years, Pienaar actually smiled.

  Leo Curry didn’t recognise him at first. When Henry Welbeck rode towards him in civilian clothing, the sergeant had to look twice to be certain who it was. Welbeck reined in his horse beside the other man.

  ‘Are you trying to desert us, Henry?’ asked Curry, jocularly.

  ‘I’d never desert you, Leo. You’re the joy of my existence.’

  ‘You’ve called me a lot worse than that in the past.’

  ‘And I’ll probably do so again in the future.’

  ‘Why are you dressed like an undertaker’s bloody assistant and sitting on horseback? I thought you hated riding.’

  ‘I do,’ said Welbeck, ‘but I’ve urgent business to attend to in Amsterdam.’

  ‘Oh? What is it?’

  ‘I won’t know until I get there. Captain Rawson summoned me.’


  ‘Would you like some company on the way?’

  ‘Your place is here, Leo. Someone has to keep the camp in order.’

  Curry beamed. ‘Unlike you, I do the job properly.’

  ‘That’s only because you copy me,’ said Welbeck, accusingly. ‘You’re the laziest sergeant in the whole bleeding regiment. If they gave medals for idling, you’d have rows of them on your chest.’

  ‘I’m never idle!’ bellowed Curry. ‘I work as hard as any man.’

  ‘The only time you exert yourself is when you open your bowels in the latrine. You’d be useless without me to help you.’

  ‘I don’t need your help for anything,’ retorted the other, bristling.

  ‘You couldn’t find your own prick if I didn’t tell you where it was.’

  ‘Get down off that fucking horse and say that again.’

  ‘I don’t have the time.’

  ‘In other words, you’re too scared.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Welbeck, enjoying the exchange, ‘I’d be too scared to do you serious damage. You’re no match for me, Leo. I’d have you flat on your back in seconds then I’d piss all over you for good measure.’

  ‘Get out of that saddle!’ roared Curry.

  ‘Duty calls, I fear. I must obey. It must be something really important. That’s why Dan Rawson sent for me, not for you.’

  ‘He chose you because you’re the one who licks his fucking boots.’

  ‘He wants someone he can rely on and not a buffoon like you.’

  ‘I’m not a buffoon!’

  ‘Try looking in a mirror.’

  ‘For two pennies, I’d drag you off that horse,’ warned Curry.

  Welbeck grinned. ‘Pennies are not legal tender in Holland.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me, Henry.’

  ‘Then stop being so bleeding stupid.’

  Curry brandished a fist. ‘You’re asking for it, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Welbeck, patting him soothingly on the head. ‘I only rode this way to bid you a fond farewell. I may be gone for some time.’