‘But I prefer you clean-shaven.’
‘You have no choice in the matter,’ he said. ‘I have to look very different. Captain Daniel Rawson is not exactly unknown to the French. There’s always a faint chance that someone will recognise me. The less I look like him, therefore, the better.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much for doing this, Rachel. You could be performing a very valuable service for us.’
‘I’m always at your beck and call, Alain.’
‘I’ll hold you to that, Madame Borell. Now then, when it’s time to go, where will I find you?’
She chortled again. ‘I’ll be waiting for my husband.’
It was Amalia Janssen who began to have cold feet about the voyage. When she reached the harbour with her father and her maidservant, she was taken aback by the tumult. The quays and the vessels were swarming with people, making as much noise as they possibly could, the hullabaloo intensified by the unrelenting cries of the gulls as they floated on the wind or swooped low over the water. Every dog in Amsterdam also seemed to have turned up to swell the cacophony. Emanuel Janssen was one of Europe’s leading tapestry-makers but he was just another passenger now. His status had vanished completely. Amalia was shocked by the lack of respect he got as they were herded onto the ship by a rough-looking member of the crew. Even while moored, they were bobbing up and down. The stiffening breeze was blowing the curls that peeped out from under Amalia’s bonnet and a sharp tang invaded her nostrils.
Ironically, Beatrix seemed to be unperturbed by it all.
‘Oh, I’m so glad that I decided to come,’ she said.
Amalia winced. ‘I thought it would be more romantic than this.’
‘There’s no romance in sailing over the sea,’ said Janssen with a grin. ‘Wait until we are hit by a squall.’
‘I thought the weather would be fine at this time of year, Father.’
‘Summer storms can come when least expected.’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Amalia,’ said Beatrix. ‘I’ll take care of you.’
It was a complete reversal of their positions. Amalia had anticipated looking after Beatrix, giving her affection and reassurance throughout a voyage that would unnerve her from start to finish. Yet the many things upsetting Amalia seemed to have no effect on the maidservant. Unlike her mistress, she was not worried by the tilting deck, continual din, or the lecherous grins and knowing nudges of the crew. To be surrounded by so many crudely inquisitive sailors unsettled Amalia. She felt as if she were being stripped naked by their burning eyes. It brought a blush to her cheeks.
When the ship finally set sail, however, everything changed. The sun blazed down, the prow cut cleanly through the water and the crew were too busy hoisting the sails to notice any of the passengers. While Beatrix and her father began to feel a trifle queasy, Amalia had no discomfort. As the three of them watched Amsterdam receding slowly behind them, she adjusted quickly to the motion of the deck. Timbers creaked, the sea swished by and a flock of gulls bade them farewell. She was embarking on an adventure and was determined to relish every second of it. They were well clear of land before her companions felt ready for conversation.
‘How are you, Amalia?’ asked Janssen.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘What about you, Father?’
‘My stomach is rather unsettled at the moment.’
‘So is mine,’ complained Beatrix. ‘I feel sick.’
She was not the only one. Two other passengers had already vomited into the sea and a third was about to do so. As the waves splashed against the hull, spray came up to drench their faces. Beatrix decided to go below deck, working her way carefully along the bulwark before descending the steps. Janssen turned to his daughter.
‘What are you most looking forward to, Amalia?’
‘The sheer excitement of being in England,’ she said. ‘Daniel has told me so much about it.’
‘We’ll make sure we visit Somerset while we’re there.’
‘I know how to find the farm where he grew up and I’d like to lay some flowers on his father’s grave. It’s what Daniel always does whenever he returns to England.’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘What about you, Father? What do you intend to do?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘first and foremost, we must call on the Duchess of Marlborough so that I can show her the design for the tapestry, then get some idea of where it will hang. It’s not the first commission I’ve had from England. Some of my work is already on show there and I’d like to visit one or two of the houses where it is. We’ll have a carriage at our disposal so must make best use of it.’
‘Beatrix wants to see London.’
Janssen laughed. ‘With respect to Beatrix, this trip has not been arranged primarily for her benefit. On the other hand, we couldn’t possible go to England without visiting its capital city, so her wish will be granted.’
‘I’m longing to write to Daniel about our exploits. There’ll be so much to tell him.’
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, my dear. We haven’t even crossed the North Sea yet.’ He put a hand to his stomach. ‘I can’t say that I’m enjoying this stage of the journey so far.’
‘Hopefully, the discomfort will soon wear off,’ she said. ‘I think you’re better off on deck in the fresh air. It’s very bracing.’
He pulled a face. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Janssen turned to gaze at the tiny sails of a ship that had just appeared on the horizon, leaving Amalia alone with her thoughts. It was not long before Daniel came into her mind and she felt sad that her first visit to England could not be with him beside her to act as a guide. She wondered where he was at that moment, what he was doing and how much danger he was courting. Looking back at her, Janssen saw her faraway expression.
‘Daniel is a good soldier,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about him.’
‘There are lots of good soldiers and many of them get killed.’
‘He has something very special to live for, Amalia.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Thank you, Father.’
‘Would you rather he was a tapestry-maker?’
‘Oh, no,’ she cried. ‘It’s a worthy occupation, as you know better than anyone, but it’s not as thrilling as being a soldier. I wouldn’t change Daniel in any particular. I love him just the way that he is.’
It was unlikely that Amalia Janssen would even have recognised him at that point in time, still less have approved of his face besmirched with grime, his prickly stubble, his crumpled hat and his tattered clothing. Had she seen him hobbling along with the aid of a walking stick, she’d have taken him for someone much older. The disguise fooled Henry Welbeck as well. When he spotted the two figures coming slowly towards him in the camp, he spared the man only a cursory glance. It was the portly woman beside him who caught the sergeant’s attention and ignited his ire. He held up a decisive hand to stop her.
‘Come no further,’ he ordered. ‘You don’t belong here.’
‘I only came to bid you adieu,’ she said, amiably. ‘You can spare me a moment, can’t you, Sergeant?’
‘No, I can’t. Now take yourself off.’
‘I thought that you and I were friends.’
‘Then you thought wrong,’ he said, sticking out his jaw. ‘I have no female friends. I’ve told you why.’
‘But I had the feeling that you liked me.’
‘I abhor all women, especially your kind.’
‘And what exactly is my kind, Henry Welbeck?’ she said, hands on hips. ‘Go on. Swear, if you must. My two husbands were soldiers, remember. There are no curses I haven’t heard before.’
‘Disappear!’ he yelled, pointing a finger. ‘And take this miserable vagrant with you.’
‘That’s a very unkind thing to say of Captain Rawson.’
Welbeck was bewildered. ‘Is that you, Dan?’ he asked, peering at him. ‘What on earth are you dressed like that for?’
‘I wanted
to put you to the test,’ said Daniel. ‘If I can deceive my best friend, I can deceive anyone.’
‘I just can’t believe that it’s you.’
Rachel beamed. ‘Yet you recognised me.’
‘Only too well,’ said Welbeck. ‘Why did you have to bring her, Dan? You know my opinion of women.’
‘This is no ordinary woman, Henry. You’re speaking of my wife.’
‘That’s me,’ said Rachel with a curtsey. ‘Madame Borrel.’
Knowing that he could trust Welbeck implicitly, Daniel told him of his assignment and explained the purpose of the disguises. It made the sergeant regard Rachel with a measure of respect. If she was willing to enter an enemy stronghold, he could see that she must have courage. He just wished that she wouldn’t keep smiling at him in such a warm and familiar way.
‘How long will you be away, Dan?’ he asked.
‘For as long as it takes,’ replied Daniel.
‘What if they find out who you really are?’
‘I’ll make sure that never happens.’
‘But even if it does, you’ll have an advantage. Being an officer, you’ll fetch a tidy sum.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Rachel.
‘That’s because you’ve never seen a cartel for the exchange of prisoners of war,’ said Welbeck. ‘It lists the amount of money each rank is worth. As a captain, Dan would need a sizeable ransom. For lower orders like me,’ he added with asperity, ‘the enemy will probably pay to get rid of us.’
‘I won’t rely on any exchange of prisoners,’ said Daniel. ‘In the unlikely event that I’m captured, I’ll expect you to come and rescue me, Henry.’
Welbeck snorted. ‘You’re out of luck, Dan!’
‘You saved me once before from French hands.’
‘That was much easier because you were travelling along a road in a waggon. How, in the name of all that’s holy, could I get inside Lille to bring you out?’
‘I’m sure you’d think of something, Henry.’
‘Don’t forget me,’ said Rachel. ‘I’d want to be rescued as well, Sergeant, or do you object to saving women in distress?’ Welbeck was temporarily lost for words and it made her cackle. ‘There you are,’ she continued, ‘you don’t hate us as much after all, or you’d have told me you’d leave me there to rot.’
‘I daren’t put into words what I really think,’ he said, crisply.
‘We’ll have to make sure that the situation doesn’t arise,’ decided Daniel. ‘My aim is to get in and out of the town as quickly as we can. These clothes are starting to stink. I’ll want to get back in uniform immediately.’
‘Let me know how you get on, Dan.’
‘We will,’ said Rachel, chirpily.
‘I wasn’t talking to you.’
‘I heard you all the same, Henry.’
‘And you’ve no right to call me by my first name.’
‘As a friend, I think I have every right.’
‘That’s a fair point,’ noted Daniel.
‘But this woman is no friend of mine.’
‘You’re only saying that,’ she purred, patting him on the arm. ‘Will Baggott said exactly the same words to me except that he added a few nastier ones as well. Yet, in the end, he came to see me for what I was and we had a very happy marriage. You ought to try being happily married, Henry. It’s the greatest pleasure known to man.’
‘Then it’s one that Henry will have to forego,’ said Daniel, seeing the glint in his friend’s eye and wishing to prevent an argument from developing. ‘We must be on our way, Madame Borrel. I want to be out of Lille well before the bombardment begins. Goodbye, Henry.’
‘Good luck, Dan!’ said Welbeck.
‘I hope that goes for me as well,’ said Rachel but she got no answer. ‘No? That’s a pity because I fancy I’ll need all the luck I can get. Goodbye, Henry. Enjoy your pipe.’
She and Daniel turned round and headed off together. Rachel bustled along in her usual purposeful manner while Daniel limped beside her on his walking stick. Welbeck watched them go before returning to his tent and absentmindedly reaching for his pipe. He was about to open the tobacco pouch when he heard once again the last words that Rachel had said to him. He recoiled slightly as if from a blow. The pouch suddenly felt hot in his hands. Tossing it onto the camp bed, he lurched out of the tent in a state of confusion.
The Duke of Marlborough had removed his periwig so that he could put both hands close to his pounding head. He always suffered from migraines after a battle but they seemed to be coming with more regularity now. It was worrying. He was ill, hurt and dejected. Only his secretary and his physician were ever allowed to see him in such a state. For everyone else, the mask of capability was kept firmly in place. Nobody saw even a glimpse of his weakness, his doubts and his periods of despair. Marlborough was resting in his quarters while Adam Cardonnel worked quietly at the table, reading and answering correspondence and doing his best to take the weight off the captain-general’s shoulders. Marlborough looked across at him.
‘You work too hard, Adam,’ he said.
‘I got that habit from you, Your Grace.’
‘Then it’s a bad one. Look where it’s got me. I’ve still two years to go before I reach sixty yet I already have one foot in the grave. I should have become a gentleman farmer and lived a life of ease.’
‘You won’t find many farmers calling it a life of ease,’ said Cardonnel. ‘They’re at the mercy of the weather and that can be a cruel master. The French have had a dreadful harvest this year – on and off the battlefield. You made the right decision, Your Grace.’
‘Did I?’
‘You were born to be a soldier.’
‘I actually thought that was a blessing at one time,’ confided Marlborough, ‘but I’m beginning to view it in its true light as a curse. My life has been a series of manoeuvres, counter-manoeuvres, councils of war, sudden offensives, sieges, skirmishes, battles, advances, retreats and betrayals by conniving politicians back home in England. What do I have to show for all those years in combat? It’s insufferable. I am under siege just as surely as Lille is, surrounded by generals who resent my being in command or who are too timid to accept any of the daring strategies I put forward. There’s no respite. Fresh responsibilities are loaded onto me every day and enemy forces threaten at every turn. It’s no wonder my head is splitting as if it’s been struck by a cannonball.’
‘The pain will ease off in time, Your Grace.’
‘That only means I have to climb back on the treadmill.’
‘As a rule, you leap willingly onto it.’
‘What clearer sign of madness could there be?’
A voice called from outside, making Cardonnel rise to his feet.
‘Wait a moment,’ he said, giving Marlborough ample time to replace his wig and adjust his clothing. ‘Very well – you may come in.’
A courier entered, took a despatch from a leather pouch and handed it over to the secretary. A nod sent him out again. Opening the despatch, Cardonnel read its contents.
‘What does it say?’ asked Marlborough.
‘Wait until you are ready for the treadmill again.’
‘If it’s important news, I want to hear it this minute. Does it concern the convoy?’
‘It does, Your Grace.’
‘Where is it?’
Cardonnel passed the despatch to him. ‘It’s reached Menin without the least annoyance.’
‘God be praised!’
‘How is your headache now, Your Grace?’
‘It’s starting to fade already, Adam.’ He read the despatch and slapped his thigh. ‘William Cadogan is a genius. I knew that he’d get that siege train through.’
‘There’s still some way to go,’ Cardonnel reminded him, ‘and it’s moving slowly. You can’t transport artillery of that size at speed.’
It was the first of two convoys coming from Brussels and hoping to travel the seventy miles to Lille without being intercepted. Vast and cumb
ersome, it required the services of a multitude of horses and mules. It stretched over such a long distance that, even with its protective army, it was vulnerable to attack. Somehow the French had failed to seize the initiative. Marlborough sought to explain the fact.
‘Vendôme is too lazy and Burgundy too slow. They spend so much time bickering that they cannot reach a prompt decision. As for my nephew,’ he went on, ‘Marshal Berwick must be still trying to find his way around Flanders. We’ve been very fortunate, Adam.’
‘I think it appropriate that they should pause in Menin, another town that was fortified by Vauban.’
‘And fortified extremely well,’ complimented Marlborough, ‘until we invested it two years ago. The garrison fought bravely but their task was hopeless. We prevailed in the end. I spent some time in the trenches myself and it was so gratifying to see a white flag planted on the breach. This augurs well, Adam. It lifts my spirits.’
‘There’s plenty of room on the treadmill, Your Grace.’
‘Then move aside while I step back on.’ He waved the despatch. ‘These are glad tidings indeed. We can now rely on having at least part of our siege train. All we require now are precise details of what we are up against and we must trust that Captain Rawson will acquire them.’
‘I have every confidence in him,’ said Cardonnel. ‘You could not have chosen an abler man for the assignment. My guess is that Daniel is already inside the town, taking stock of its defences.’
It had been more difficult to get into Lille than Daniel had anticipated. Security at the gates had been tightened and he was interrogated for several minutes before he and Rachel were admitted. The soldiers on duty had been sceptical about his claims to having served in the army until he gave them detailed accounts of some of the battles in which he’d fought. What Daniel did not tell them, of course, was that he was wearing a British uniform at the time. Once inside the town, they made their way through a maze of streets and alleys until they reached the Coq d’Or, a tavern near the heart of Lille. Judging by the sounds of merriment coming from inside, it was a popular place. Riding a horse apiece, they’d pulled the donkey behind them. Daniel tethered the animals and went into the tavern, leaving Rachel outside to guard her wares.
4 Under Siege Page 6
