Fire and Sword

by Edward Marston

  Screaming, yelling and cursing, the deserters were roused from their beds and came hurtling out half-naked. The first man through the door was Matthew Searle, howling in pain as the fire licked him. Seeing his red hair and beard in the bright glare, Daniel realised who he must be. He showed Searle no mercy. He pounded away at him with a succession of punches then threw him to the ground and stood over him. Searle was cunning. Pretending to be dazed, he suddenly reached out for Daniel’s foot and pulled him to the ground before leaping up and running towards the stables. Expecting to find horses, he was horrified to see that they’d all vanished.

  ‘There’s no escape, Matthew Searle,’ said Daniel, back on his feet and closing in on him.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ roared Searle.

  ‘My name is Captain Daniel Rawson of the 24th Foot.’

  ‘Well, Captain Rawson, here’s a 25th fucking foot for you.’

  Rushing at Daniel, he aimed a kick at him but Daniel caught his foot and pushed hard. Searle fell backwards and struck his head on the hard timber of the stables. This time he really was dazed. Daniel stepped in to administer some more punishment with his fists before throwing him to two men from the patrol. Covered in blood, Searle was almost out on his feet. He was dragged swiftly away.

  The other deserters, meanwhile, had all been captured and were struggling in the arms of the soldiers. Welbeck had waited for Edwin Lock, the last of them to emerge, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and rushing him across the yard to plunge him head first into the water trough. After holding him down for a minute, he brought him up for air, only to thrust him underwater once again. On his second appearance from the trough, Lock was gurgling madly and pleading for release. Welbeck ducked him for a third time before lifting him out of the trough altogether. The sergeant put his whiskery face close.

  ‘Remember me, Edwin?’ he asked, sweetly. ‘I’m Henry Welbeck. We’ve come to take you back to the army.’

  Burgundy made the most of his rare chance to embarrass Vendôme. When they met in the commander-in-chief’s quarters, he was smiling for once and looked down his nose at his visitor.

  ‘Your plan seems to have unravelled, my lord Duke,’ he said with well-mannered glee. ‘You invest immense time and effort in the capture of a single British soldier and you not only fail to catch him, you lose the hostage who was supposed to tempt him here.’

  ‘That was unfortunate,’ grunted Vendôme.

  ‘It might be all for the best.’

  ‘I fail to see how, my lord.’

  ‘You can now attend properly to your duties as a commander.’

  ‘I’ve always done so,’ said Vendôme, stung by the criticism. ‘My duties include the arrest of dangerous enemies, and Captain Rawson, I submit, answers that description. He’s been a thorn in our flesh for years now and needed to be plucked out.’

  ‘Then where is he?’

  ‘I have no answer to that.’

  ‘In other words, your plan was ill-conceived from the start.’

  ‘I dispute that, my lord. To some degree, it worked perfectly in that the hostage I took did bring him to the camp. I’d hoped that Captain Rawson would be exchanged for the young lady and made overtures to that effect. The Duke of Marlborough sent word that the captain was no longer in his camp.’

  ‘No,’ said Burgundy, seizing the opportunity to twist the dagger a little, ‘he was already on his way here. Did it never occur to you that the fellow would attempt to rescue the lady?’

  ‘Of course,’ riposted Vendôme. ‘She was closely guarded.’

  ‘Not closely enough, it seems.’

  ‘Captain Rawson is very resourceful.’

  ‘You should have taken account of that fact.’

  ‘I didn’t expect him to get here so soon.’

  ‘Do you have any idea how he managed to penetrate the camp?’

  ‘Not yet,’ confessed Vendôme, ‘but I have men searching for that information. We’ll soon know what device he employed.’

  ‘You should have anticipated it,’ said Burgundy. ‘What use is wisdom after the event? All that you can do now is to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted. The resourceful captain is unlikely to use the same stratagem again.’

  Vendôme was livid. The rescue of Amalia Janssen had annoyed him intensely but he’d hoped to keep it secret. That was clearly impossible. Burgundy had been watching him, noting his every move and waiting for him to make a slight mistake so that he could enjoy reprimanding him. It was a means of enforcing his authority and it wounded Vendôme to the quick. As a commander, he had infinitely more flair, experience and tactical skill than the younger man yet he had to withstand a rebuke. It was time to hit back.

  ‘May I ask how you come to know of the escape, my lord?’ he asked, politely. ‘It seems such a trivial matter to come to your attention.’

  ‘When I taxed you earlier with its triviality, you swore to me that the capture of Captain Rawson would have some significance. You intended,’ said Burgundy, ‘to send him back to Versailles.’

  ‘That’s true, my lord.’

  ‘Persuaded by your argument, I made it my business to keep abreast of any developments relating to your hostage.’

  ‘And what exactly did you learn?’

  ‘That the young lady was held under armed guard and yet she miraculously disappeared.’

  ‘Is that all you learnt?’

  ‘What else is there?’

  ‘Evidently, your spies missed something.’

  ‘They were not spies, my lord Duke,’ said Burgundy, hotly. ‘They were members of the army that both you and I serve.’

  ‘Then they should be more vigilant,’ argued Vendôme, ‘because they gave you an incomplete report. Our hostage was not alone in that tent. She was accompanied by a young lady named Mademoiselle Prunier. Both of them were rescued by Captain Rawson.’

  ‘That’s a double blow to your reputation, then. You contrive to lose two prisoners at the same time. I scent carelessness here.’

  ‘Your nostrils deceive you, my lord.’

  ‘Pray, tell me how.’

  ‘My plan was never as simple as you believed it to be,’ said Vendôme with a touch of pride. ‘While offering to exchange the hostage for Captain Rawson, I never expected Marlborough to give him up so easily. That left a rescue attempt as the most likely outcome and I felt that we were prepared for that.’

  ‘That was a bad mistake on your part, my lord Duke.’

  ‘I allowed for that eventuality.’

  Burgundy gaped. ‘You expected the rescue to succeed?’

  ‘I accepted it as a possibility.’

  ‘Then your plan was doomed from the start.’

  ‘Not so,’ said Vendôme, savouring his moment. ‘You forget Mademoiselle Prunier. When she was thrown into the tent with our hostage, she was posing as the victim of a cruel trick. The two ladies were drawn closely together – I know that for certain.’

  Burgundy was perplexed. ‘What are you telling me?’

  ‘That the tables have been turned on Captain Rawson. He was far too gallant to leave Sophie Prunier behind. Instead of rescuing a young lady in distress,’ said Vendôme with a triumphant smile, ‘he was escorting one of my spies into the very heart of the British camp.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Does that not merit congratulation, my lord?’

  Sophie Prunier was delighted to meet the Duke of Marlborough and be received with the courtesy for which he was renowned. While she freely volunteered information about her stay in the French camp, she took care to pass on nothing of real value to the Allied commander. Since he was fluent in French, it was Adam Cardonnel who actually questioned her while Marlborough looked on.

  ‘What else can you tell us, mademoiselle?’ he probed.

  ‘Only that I never wish to return to that camp again,’ she said, fearfully. ‘You are the enemy yet you’ve treated me with more respect than my own countrymen. I thank you for that.’

  ‘You’ll come to no harm here.�
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  ‘That’s what Lieutenant Bouteron promised me. I’d never have dared to accept his invitation otherwise. I’d hate you to think that I’m the sort of woman who would encourage what the lieutenant had in mind. When he revealed his true colours,’ she went on, ‘I was shocked beyond belief.’

  ‘It’s obviously been a great trial for you.’

  ‘I can’t bear even to think about it.’

  ‘The sooner we can reunite you with your family, the better.’

  ‘My parents are away at the moment, monsieur,’ she told him. ‘Would it be possible for me to stay here for a few days?’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Marlborough. ‘Stay as long as you wish.’

  ‘We’ll provide accommodation for you,’ added Cardonnel.

  ‘What about dear Amalia?’ she asked. ‘Will she be going home to Amsterdam now?’

  ‘No, Mademoiselle Janssen will also remain here.’

  ‘Then I hope to see her because I owe her so much. Amalia was such a wonderful support to me. And without her, I’d still be held in custody at that dreadful camp.’

  ‘You were fortunate to be there when Captain Rawson arrived.’

  Sophie beamed. ‘He’s the person I must really thank,’ she said with apparent conviction. ‘When may I see him?’

  ‘Not for a while, I’m afraid,’ said Cardonnel. ‘He has urgent business elsewhere.’

  ‘Yes,’ explained Marlborough in his halting French. ‘He’s gone back to the place from which he rescued you.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ she gasped.

  ‘It’s a matter of honour, mademoiselle.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Captain Rawson has to retrieve his sword.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, interest aroused. ‘Why did he leave this sword there in the first place? And how will he get it back?’

  Daniel spent the night sleeping under the stars with Henry Welbeck. The patrol set off at dawn, taking the deserters back to the Allied camp. Matthew Searle and his men were a sorry sight, blackened by the fire, wearing almost nothing, seated astride their horses with their hands tied behind their backs. When the column moved off, Welbeck couldn’t resist waving farewell to Edwin Lock.

  ‘They’ll never wear redcoats again,’ said the sergeant with gruff satisfaction. ‘Their uniforms were destroyed by fire. I just hope that we get back in time to see them executed.’

  ‘Their fate is irrelevant now, Henry,’ said Daniel. ‘We need to think only of what lies ahead.’

  ‘Yes…a pointless search for something you’ll never find.’

  ‘You told me I’d never find those deserters.’

  ‘That was different, Dan. You had clues to help you.’

  ‘I have even more clues as to the whereabouts of my sword,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s hidden beneath the seat in the wagon I borrowed from Ralph Higgins. All I have to do is to track it down.’

  ‘And will the whole French army put their hands over their eyes while you’re doing that?’

  ‘They won’t even know that I’m there.’

  Welbeck shook his head. ‘It’s far too risky – even for you.’

  ‘I’ve been in and out of that camp before.’

  ‘You’re tempting Providence by trying to do it again, Dan.’

  ‘I want that sword.’

  ‘Does it really mean that much to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Daniel. ‘The day I picked up that weapon, I came of age. It was the moment I knew I’d be a soldier.’

  ‘I had a moment like that,’ said Welbeck, sorrowfully, ‘and I’ve regretted it for the rest of my life.’

  Daniel laughed. ‘That’s arrant nonsense and you know it. We’re two of a kind, Henry – born soldiers with the urge to fight.’

  ‘The only urge I have is to stay alive and I’m not likely to do that if I go barging into the French camp with you.’

  ‘That’s exactly why you’ll stay outside and wait for me.’

  ‘And how long am I to wait?’ asked Welbeck.

  ‘Until you’re certain that I’m not coming out again.’

  ‘Then what do I do?’

  ‘Come in search of me, of course.’

  Welbeck shuddered. ‘And how am I supposed to do that?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll think of something,’ said Daniel, happily. ‘That’s why I brought you with me.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Amalia Janssen had been so exhausted by the events of recent days that she slept without interruption for almost fourteen hours. She awoke with the delicious feeling that she was free, unharmed and completely safe. A letter from Marlborough had been dispatched to Amsterdam to assure her father that she was alive and it had been accompanied by a scribbled note from Amalia. Knowing how guilt-stricken Beatrix would be, she’d made a point of absolving her from any blame for the abduction. In making sure that her father and her servant would no longer fret over her disappearance, she’d removed a crushing weight from her mind. Unfortunately, it had been replaced by a lighter but not inconsiderable one.

  ‘When did Captain Rawson leave?’ asked Sophie Prunier.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Amalia.

  ‘Didn’t he bid you farewell?’

  ‘No, Sophie, he left Lieutenant Ainley to do that on his behalf. Daniel – Captain Rawson, I mean – knew that I’d try to persuade him to stay here.’

  ‘Would he have listened to you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Yet he was not under orders to go, was he?’

  ‘No, it was his decision.’

  ‘The Duke of Marlborough called it a matter of honour.’

  ‘We might not think so,’ said Amalia, ‘but that’s how Captain Rawson would see it.’

  The two women were pleased to be reunited and were sharing a late breakfast in the tent assigned to Amalia. Both of them had been able to wash off the filth collected during their escape and clean clothing had been found for them, albeit of a utilitarian kind. As they ate their meal, Amalia explained why Daniel’s sword had such a symbolic importance in his life. Sophie began to understand why he was driven to retrieve it.

  ‘Do you feel afraid for him?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I do – very afraid.’

  ‘It’s a reckless thing to do. I’m surprised that the Duke of Marlborough let him take the risk.’

  ‘His Grace knows what that sword means. After all, it was he who presented it to him. Captain Rawson was only ten when he used that sword to prevent his mother from being—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Sophie, interrupting. ‘There’s no need to talk about that. It seems that British soldiers can be just as brutish as the French. It’s disgusting.’

  Amalia was tentative. ‘Did you tell His Grace what happened?’

  ‘How could I? It was too embarrassing.’

  ‘Lieutenant Bouteron should be called to account.’

  ‘I’d sooner forget his foul name.’

  ‘He should be punished.’

  ‘It would be a case of his word against mine,’ said Sophie. ‘If I made a complaint, it would be heard by the duc de Vendôme and he’ll always support his officers. That’s the tragedy of it all, Amalia. I have no recourse to justice. I have to bear my disgrace.’

  ‘It’s not a disgrace – it was forced upon you.’

  ‘I’d much rather pretend it never happened.’

  ‘Somebody should pay,’ insisted Amalia.

  Sophie looked dejected. ‘I wish that they would.’

  They ate on in silence for a while then Sophie brightened a little.

  ‘I never thought I’d get to meet the Duke of Marlborough,’ she said. ‘He’s so charming. I expected a much older man.’

  ‘His Grace is always very considerate.’

  ‘He and his secretary, Monsieur Cardonnel, were kind to me and I was surprised. When all is said and done,’ she said with a shrug, ‘I’m French. I’m one of the enemy.’

  ‘I only think of you as a good friend,’ said Amalia.


  ‘Thank you.’ Sophie reached across the table to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. ‘One day, perhaps, when this war is over, we shall be able to meet again – in Paris, perhaps.’

  ‘I’d prefer it to be in Amsterdam.’

  ‘Then that’s where it will be.’ They traded a warm smile. ‘You’re blessed to have a man like Captain Rawson in your life.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me that, Sophie. I say it to myself every day. He’s been my saviour. This time, he was yours as well.’

  ‘In your place, I’d be very concerned about him.’

  ‘Oh, I am, Sophie.’

  ‘We both saw how many soldiers there are in that camp.’

  ‘He managed to reach us, nevertheless.’

  ‘But can he get in there all over again?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Amalia, sounding far more confident than she actually felt. ‘This time, he only has himself to worry about. That should make it a lot easier.’

  ‘Yes, it should,’ agreed Sophie. ‘I’d just love to know how he’ll go about it. You’re as close to Captain Rawson as anybody. What sort of a plan do you think he’d have?’

  ‘It won’t work,’ said Henry Welbeck with categorical certainty.

  ‘I believe that it’s worth a try,’ said Daniel.

  ‘It could be suicide.’

  ‘That’s the talk of a defeatist and I’d never call you that, Henry. You’ve always believed that we could succeed in the past.’

  ‘Granted,’ said Welbeck, ‘but that was when we were surrounded by a British army and its allies. When we have sufficient numbers, we’re a match for anyone. This time, there are only two of us.’

  ‘I see that as an advantage.’

  ‘Well, I don’t, Dan.’

  ‘It’s so much easier for one person to remain hidden. You must see that, surely.’

  ‘All I see is that I may end up as the fox with a pack of slavering hounds on my trail – and I can’t run fast enough.’