‘Work seems to be proceeding apace,’ observed Janssen.
‘That’s only because I’m here. In fact, we’re months behind and everyone is trying to charge too much for their services.’ She fixed Janssen with a stare. ‘I hope that you don’t mean to exploit us, sir. We’ll pay a reasonable price for the tapestry, not an exorbitant one.’
‘As a matter of fact, Your Grace…’
‘Not now,’ she said, rudely interrupting him. ‘I’m far too busy here. I suggest that you drive to your accommodation in Woodstock while I go off and bang a few heads together. I’ll be in touch in due course. Good day to you both.’
Before they could open their mouths, she swept off. Amalia was deeply disappointed and her father was frankly insulted. Having come all that way to show his design to the Duchess of Marlborough, he was treated almost with disdain and made to feel like a fraudulent tradesman bent on making an undeserved profit from his work.
It was a bad omen.
Heavy rain on two successive nights forced Daniel to postpone his attempt. On the third night, it was completely dry and there was enough moonlight to aid him in what was going to be a hazardous undertaking. Having borrowed a rope from the Coq d’Or, he pressed Raymond Lizier into service. They padded through the town in the small hours.
Raymond was sceptical. ‘You’ll never climb up onto the roof of the town hall,’ he said. ‘It’s far too high.’
‘We shall see,’ said Daniel, confidently.
‘What am I to do, Monsieur?’
‘You’ll act as my lookout.’
‘There should be nobody abroad at this time of night.’
‘Just in case there is,’ said Daniel, ‘we must devise a signal. If you see someone coming, you must whistle three times.’
‘Will you hear me all the way up there?’
‘Oh, I think so. Sound carries.’
On their way to the town hall, they saw nobody at all, though they disturbed a cat that was sleeping in a doorway. After a screech of protest, it went off in search of another billet.
‘Why did you need such a long rope?’ asked Raymond.
‘It must span the distance I estimated.’
‘Are you going to toss it up to the roof?’
‘My arm is not strong enough for that,’ said Daniel, ‘so I’m going to need some help from the Almighty.’
‘Do you mean that you’re going to pray for a miracle?’
‘No, Raymond, I simply intend to go to church.’
The town hall was a looming silhouette against the sky. Guards were posted outside its main door. Daniel therefore led his accomplice to the rear of the building which was adjacent to a church. Raymond was still perplexed.
‘How will you get in?’ he said. ‘It’s locked at night.’
‘That’s why I took the precaution of acquiring a key,’ explained Daniel, taking it from his pocket. ‘Your mother was good enough to provide me with some wax so I slipped in here yesterday, made an impression of the key and had a duplicate made by a locksmith. It opens the door at the side.’
‘Do I come in there with you?’
‘No, Raymond. Stay here and keep watch.’
‘What about my signal?’
‘I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.’
Rope over his shoulder, Daniel went off round the side of the church, leaving Raymond mystified as to how entry to the town hall could be gained. Reaching the small side door, Daniel let himself in with the key and left the door unlocked. A dank smell greeted him. As a further precaution, he’d taken the trouble on his earlier visit to memorise the disposition of the seating in the nave so that he could move about in the dark without blundering into anything. He made his way to the bell tower and felt his way up the circular staircase. It was an odd sensation, groping the cold stone as he climbed upwards for minute after minute. It was like stumbling blindfold through a labyrinth. He eventually reached the bells themselves and collided heavily with one of them, embracing it immediately to stop it from moving, highly aware that there was no surer way to advertise his presence than by making a church bell ring out.
Taking out one of the candles he’d brought with him, Daniel used a tinder box to light it, then held the candle up so that he could carry out an inspection. There were five bells in all, each a different size and weight. Spiders and other insects had made the place their home and Daniel had to brush away cobwebs as he moved to the narrow door in the corner. It opened onto a wooden staircase that was almost vertical. Daniel shifted the rope to the other shoulder and began the ascent. At the very top of the staircase was a door bolted from the inside. Releasing the bolt, he went through the door and out onto the stone balcony at the base of the spire.
A sudden rush of air blew out the candle but he no longer needed it. He could see well enough in the moonlight to pick out his target with ease. His estimate had been sound. He was virtually level with the roof beams of the town hall. That meant the dormer windows were above him. Selecting the one directly opposite, he began to uncoil the rope. During his years as a boy on the farm, he’d often had to use a rope to catch a wayward animal and was proficient at making a noose. On this occasion, he had an advantage. His target was no elusive horse or recalcitrant bullock. It was a stationary object. All that he had to do was to throw the noose over it and pull the rope tight. It should be a fairly easy task.
Yet his first attempt failed miserably, falling well short. The second was only marginally better. What he hadn’t allowed for was the weight of the rope. It was much thicker and heavier than anything he’d used on the farm. As he reeled it in again, he resolved to throw it higher and harder. No matter how long it took him, he was determined to hit his target, a stone finial near a dormer window.
After his long wait in the gloom, Raymond Lizier was alerted by the sound of a noise high above his head. He looked up to see a rope slithering off the roof of the town hall before being hauled up to balcony at the base of the church spire. He couldn’t believe his eyes. When he realised what Daniel was trying to do, he thought it an act of madness that was doomed to fail. How could anyone secure a rope between church and town hall then climb across it? His fear now was not that anyone would come along to disturb them but that his friend would fall to a grotesque death. He tried to raise the alarm in order to stop Daniel from going ahead but his lips were too dry to produce a whistle. In any case, after a succession of failures, the rope finally looped itself around the finial and was pulled tight.
There was now a bridge between the two buildings, albeit a perilous one. Raymond’s stomach heaved. Having no head for heights, he wouldn’t have dared to go out on the balcony, let alone consider climbing across several yards of open space on a rope. Yet that was exactly what Daniel was proposing to do. Raymond wanted to call out and beg him not to take the risk but he was too late. To his utter amazement, a figure suddenly appeared above him.
The trick, Daniel knew, was not to look down. Since the rope was secured around solid stone at both ends, he was confident that it would bear his weight. He just wished that it had remained as tight as he’d tried to make it. Legs around the rope, he used both hands to move slowly backwards across the chasm. Because of the strain put on it, the tension of the rope eased slightly. Feeling it give at one point, Daniel had to stop and simply cling on for a moment. When he continued his snail’s pace climb, he reflected on what he was doing. Was it a case of bravery or lunacy? Why was he risking his life to get to something that might not even be there? What would Amalia think if he plunged to his death on a forlorn mission? Who could explain to her the irresistible urge that made him attempt such a dangerous exercise? And even if he did get safely to the other side, how would he return? Because of the angle of the rope, he was climbing upwards towards the dormer. Did he really want to put himself into such jeopardy for a second time?
The rope slackened again and his feet were almost dislodged. Clinging on desperately, he put in a last, urgent, muscle-aching effort and, to his relie
f, felt his hand touch a roof tile. Daniel was there. As he pulled himself to safety, he understood how a drowning man must feel when hauled out of the water just in time. He lay on the roof for some while in order to get his breath back and to let his legs and arms lose their stabbing pain. Then he used the rope once more to clamber up to the dormer window. The shutters were locked but he was able to force the latch by inserting the end of his dagger. Turning the weapon around, he smashed the window with the handle, then reached inside to undo the catch. Within seconds, he was inside the attic room.
There was no time for self-congratulation. He still had far too much to do. Lighting another candle, he held it up to discover that he was in a cluttered storeroom. A scampering noise told him that some mice had also taken up residence. It had a musty atmosphere and, from the number of cobwebs, he could see that it hadn’t been visited for some time. Fortunately, the door was unlocked. Letting himself out and holding the candle up, he stepped into a narrow passageway that ran the length of the building. There was a nightwatchman on duty but Daniel doubted if the man bothered to come up to the attic rooms. The visitor could move about with impunity. On the next floor down, Daniel was more cautious, shielding the candle with a hand as he went from room to room.
It was on the floor below that he eventually found the place he was after. A sign on the door told him that the municipal archives were kept there. There was only one problem. The door was securely locked. He first tried to unlock it with the point of his dagger but to no avail. Since the weapon was a treasured gift, he didn’t want to risk damaging it by using it as a lever to prise open the door so he fell back on brute force. Taking a few steps back, he flung himself hard at the door. His right shoulder hit the timber with such impetus that the lock snapped open and the door was flung back on its hinges. In the cavernous emptiness of the town hall, the noise was amplified ten-fold. It reverberated for seconds.
From somewhere far below, an angry yell arose.
‘Who’s up there?’
Daniel had company.
CHAPTER SEVEN
There was no apparent escape. Daniel couldn’t risk leaving by means of the rope and, in any case, he refused to run away without even trying to find Vauban’s plan. Since the nightwatchman would have to conduct a systematic search of a large building, Daniel would at least have some time on his side. What he needed to do, he decided, was to create some kind of diversion. Candle in hand, he went along the corridor and tried all the doors until he found one that was unlocked. He darted inside, pulled out a wastepaper basket and swept all the letters and documents on the desk into it. Then he set the paper alight with his candle and put it where the flames would catch the edge of a chair. He rushed out and closed the door behind him.
As he ran back to the other room, he heard worrying sounds from below. The nightwatchman had opened the main door and was asking for help from the guards outside. Daniel counted three pairs of footsteps pounding up the stairs. He moved like lightning. Entering the room with the archives, he closed the door and propped a chair against it. Then he began as thorough a search as he could manage by the light of the candle, opening drawers in sequence and taking out armfuls of charters, muniments and other documents. What he was given was a fleeting history of Lille and, under other circumstances, would have found it quite fascinating. Now, however, everything was hastily discarded onto the floor as he scrambled to find the details of the fortifications.
There was no sign of them and he began to wonder if the plan had been commandeered by someone in charge of extending the defences at present. It was conceivable that it wasn’t in Lille at all but was being kept in Versailles as an example of how best to fortify a town. It might even be in the possession of Vauban’s nephew, an engineer in the French army travelling with Marshal Boufflers. Daniel searched on with growing desperation, ever more conscious of the heavy footsteps working their way along the corridor outside. Each door was unlocked so that the guards and the nightwatchman could look inside. Their voices were getting closer and closer. Evidently, one of the men was losing patience.
‘Are you sure you heard a noise?’ he demanded.
‘I heard it loud and clear,’ said the nightwatchman.
‘It could have been a dream. We know you sleep in here most of the night.’
‘That’s unfair. I never close my eyes. I patrol the building with great care. What I heard was the sound of a door bursting open.’
‘I think you farted in your sleep and that woke you up.’
They opened another door and Daniel could hear them clearly, stamping around inside. It was only a question of time before they reached him. Opening the last drawer, he scooped up everything in it and dropped it on the desk before going through it. There was no shortage of plans but they all related to buildings or churches. There was an edge of desperation in his search now. A glance was all he bestowed on each document before tossing it away. Daniel felt cheated. After risking death and capture, he’d hoped for more than details about the architecture of the town and the wills of some of its richest inhabitants. He was just about to give up when he flicked another document onto the floor and glanced at the next one. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. Then he saw a name that set his blood racing – Sébastien Vauban, Marshal of France. It was there after all.
Without even bothering to scrutinise the plan, he folded it up and stuffed it inside his shirt, blowing out his candle as he did so. Moving the chair from behind the door, he put his back to the timber and listened. The voices seemed to be directly outside.
‘We’re wasting our time,’ said one of the guards.
‘No,’ said the nightwatchman. ‘We must check every room.’
‘How could anyone have possibly got in?’
‘I don’t know but someone did. Perhaps he came in during the day and hid in here. Perhaps he climbed in through a window.’
The guard was contemptuous. ‘There are bars on all the windows except those in the attic. Only an imbecile would try to clamber up onto the roof. I think you made a mistake.’
Daniel heard a key being put in the lock and saw a glimmer of light from a lantern peeping under the door. He braced himself for action, taking out his dagger in readiness and hoping that the element of surprise would aid his escape. His body was tense, his nerves tingling. A second away from discovery, he crouched in the darkness and steeled himself. Now that he’d found it, he wasn’t going to yield up Vauban’s plan without a fight.
But nobody came in. Instead the three men were distracted.
‘I can smell something,’ said the nightwatchman.
‘You must have farted again,’ said one of the guards, laughing.
‘It’s smoke, I tell you. Take a deep sniff.’
‘He’s right,’ said the other guard. ‘Something’s on fire.’
‘It must be coming from further down the corridor,’ decided the nightwatchman. ‘Hold up that lantern. We don’t want the place to burn down around our ears.’
They rushed off until they came to the room where the fire had been started. When they saw smoke issuing from under the door, they flung it open and went in. The chair was alight now and the fire was spreading. They cried out in panic. Daniel didn’t wait to see how they’d cope with the emergency. As soon as he heard them dash off, he opened the door, waited until the coast was clear, then fled down the stairs, holding the banister all the way to make sure he didn’t miss his footing in the dark. Candles were alight in the entrance hall so he was able to sprint across it and let himself out into the night. The guards who would have stopped him were too busy trying to put out the fire upstairs. Daniel went round to the rear of the building and saw Raymond craning his neck to look upwards. Creeping up behind him, Daniel tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Time to leave,’ he said. ‘I came back the easy way.’
Raymond gulped. ‘You made me jump,’ he admitted, hand on his heart. He pointed to a window in the town hall. Flames were dancing in it. ‘Di
d you know that there’s a fire up there, Monsieur?’
‘Is there?’ said Daniel, feigning surprise. ‘People should be more careful with their candles.’
The man with the close-set eyes had been there day after day without success. Everyone in the regiment knew who Captain Daniel Rawson was but nobody could tell him where he could be found. When he saw another officer strolling near the edge of the camp, he sidled over to him and spoke with a guttural accent.
‘Good afternoon, Lieutenant,’ he said, politely.
‘How did you recognise my rank?’ asked Jonathan Ainley. ‘Most civilians can’t tell the difference between one uniform and another.’
‘I once served in the Hessian army, sir.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘If I wasn’t so old, I’d still be bearing arms now.’
‘We all have to retire some day. Even our esteemed captain-general will leave the army in due course, though I suspect that he has a few years left in him yet.’
‘Soldiers mature with age,’ said the man with an ingratiating smile. ‘Look at Marshal Boufflers. He must be in his sixties yet the French still think he’s the best man to send to Lille.’
‘You seem well-informed, my friend.’
‘I like to know what’s going on.’
As they chatted casually, Ainley was weighing the man up and was careful to give no information about the role that his regiment was playing. Though the fellow had an unprepossessing appearance, he had an engaging manner and slowly won Ainley’s confidence. The man chose his moment to broach the topic that had brought him there.
‘You belong to a fine regiment, Lieutenant,’ he said.
‘I like to think so.’
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