Brothers in Arms (10 page)

‘I’m quite sure of it, Captain, whether or not my name is on your list. And now, if you will allow me past, please. You’ll find that Colonel Hawkins knows me.’

The clerk sniffed. ‘Yes, well, I’m sure that he does, Captain Steel, but you must know that, whether or not the Colonel knows you, you cannot enter without an appointment. The Captain General is a very busy man.’ He smiled irritatingly. ‘You must understand, Captain. Quite apart from yourself he has a good many other officers to see and affairs of state to which he must attend. I’m very much afraid that I can’t seem to place your papers at present. Perhaps you would take a seat over there.’

Steel followed the line of the man’s pointing finger to the far side of the room, where on a row of chairs a dozen officers sat and slouched in various states of alertness. Two at least appeared to be asleep. Steel paused for a moment and then, his patience breaking at last, he turned on the little man. ‘No, Captain, I do not intend to take a seat and wait for the workings of your petty-minded bureaucracies to catch up. I am here to see the Captain General.’

With that he pushed past the clerk and the desk and moved quickly towards the staircase, but no sooner had he done so than his way was blocked by two sergeants of the Foot Guards, both of them quite his equal in height and stature and armed with half-pikes. Steel’s hand went fast for his sword hilt, but even as it did he felt another hand close over his own and stop him.

‘Jack Steel. Well, here you are at last. You’d best come along with me. The Duke cannot be kept waiting.’

Steel turned to see the familiar, rubicund face of Colonel James Hawkins, his friend and contact on Marlborough’s staff. Hawkins was a key advisor to the Duke, a clever, experienced soldier whose instinct and common sense had played no little part in the Duke’s victories. He was also the man who these past four years had been instrumental in engineering Steel’s promotion through commissioning him in the Duke’s service. Hawkins pushed past the two Guardsmen who, recognizing him, stepped aside, and ushered Steel up the marble staircase.

‘We were wondering what had happened to you. Don’t tell me that these petty-minded idiots have been holding you up. I’ll have them all on a charge. You see, this is the inevitable consequence of the Duke’s reforms. To the good we have an army of professional soldiers with professional officers, well trained, well equipped and well fed. What you have just encountered is what it takes to make the army so: another army, shadowing the first, whose sole purpose is to ensure that all of Marlborough’s great ideas are put into practice. Sadly, sometimes, they’re just too efficient for our own good.’

Steel smiled. ‘The blame does not lie entirely with them, Colonel. I was a little late in arriving.’

Hawkins smiled. ‘Ever the diplomat, Jack. No matter. It’s good to see you again, my boy. And you are quite well now?’

‘As well as I might hope, sir.’

Hawkins laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ever a man of understatement. It is one of your most endearing qualities, Jack. Your modesty aside, of course. That and your sheer bloody-mindedness, eh? And how’s your lovely wife?’

‘She is quite well, sir.’

Hawkins guffawed. ‘There you are again. That girl was never “quite well” in her life, Jack, and well you know it. She’s radiant. And thriving. And I’ll wager that it was all that you could do to drag yourself away from her to see His Grace. And who could blame you? Lucky devil. Ah, here we are.’

He opened a door and motioned Steel to enter a room abundant with carved wooden panelling, part gilded and part painted with landscape scenes of peasants working industriously in the fields of what was presumably a depiction of the surrounding countryside. Behind a huge ormolu desk in the centre of the room sat the Duke of Marlborough. To his right and left stood celebrated generals of the Allied army. Steel recognized Lord Orkney, William Cadogan and a number of others. He noted that all were British and that their Dutch allies were notable by their absence.

He turned to Hawkins. ‘D’you not think it would be better if I were to wait outside, sir?’

‘No, stay here. The Duke is expecting you. He will not mind. I know that you are in his thoughts.’

Marlborough, apparently oblivious to their entrance, stood up and, peering down at the map which had been spread across the leather-topped surface of the desk, cursed his allies and his health. If only he had been in better spirits, he thought, without this damned headache that returned night and day, then he might perhaps have persuaded the Dutch to accept his plan. But he was so tired. So very, very tired. Feeling his eyes begin to close, he sighed and looked up to address his generals: ‘Gentlemen. I find it hard to believe that Prince Eugene, who has ever been my closest ally and truest friend, should have taken the part of the Dutch in this and forbidden our planned move on Paris.’

Steel heard the words and gazed at the Duke. So that had been his intention – to march on Paris itself. To seize the French capital. It was unthinkably bold, a master-stroke that might surely have ended the war. Why then, he wondered, had the Dutch opposed it?

Marlborough continued: ‘Instead, gentlemen, His Highness, our Dutch advisor the good Herr Goslinga – fine strategist that he is’ (there was a laugh from the company) – ‘proposes that we should pursue the Duke of Burgundy and blockade the French in Ghent and Bruges.’

Cadogan spoke. ‘His plan is not without merit, Your Grace.’

Marlborough scowled at his friend and second-in-command. ‘Sadly, William, I have to confess that you are right. But it is not what we should do. On the advice of Prince Eugene I intend to compromise and take Lille. This, I perceive, will throw Louis into such a rage and terror that he may sue for peace. It should not take more than ten days’ bombardment. And once the town is gained, the citadel may perhaps take as much time again. Then perhaps we shall have our march on Paris after all. I do not intend to think about going into winter quarters until we have persuaded Marshal Vendôme to quit his position at Ghent.’

Orkney spoke up. ‘But do you really think that our taking of Lille will be enough to persuade Louis to treat for peace on our terms?’

‘I have it on good account that as we speak the French King is of a mind to close this war. He knows that his country is being bled dry by our victories. Not for the first time, and I dare say not the last, the flower of the French nobility is being squandered on the fields of Flanders. Besides, I intend to scour northern France as we did in Bavaria.’

Orkney said, ‘You’ll burn Artois?’

Marlborough nodded. ‘Much as it pains me to do so, as you know that it did in Bavaria, I see no alternative. General Lumley, you will take your dragoons and as many of the Dutch horse as you can get from them and push deep into Artois and as far as you can into Picardy too. Within days I intend to have fifty squadrons along with foot and cannon deep in France. You know that we have had parties of dragoons out as far as Armentières since last week.’ He pointed to the map and made a bold sweep with his hand across Picardy. ‘We hold the ground and town of St Quentin, halfway from Lille to Paris. Arras and Lens too are ours for all practical purposes. Doullens and Peronne will surely follow. We have already taken French hostages, and you, Lumley, will doubtless take many more, as many as you like, but single out the dignitaries and officials. Louis will not countenance such a move. I have authorized burning and pillaging too. Houses, crops, livestock. Nothing more. No one is to be hurt without cause. It is certain to turn his hand.’

Cadogan coughed. ‘We do have some disturbing reports, Your Grace, that the Dutch have already been over-zealous.’

Marlborough frowned. ‘Yes. Well, we are bound to have such reports. But what else can we do if we are to bring this war to a speedy end? Ah well, gentlemen, having done all that is feasible I can do no more than submit to destiny. All that remains to be done is to take Lille and to ensure that Louis is aware of our desire to conclude a peace. Now, rejoin your units. We march on Lille.’

As the generals dispersed towards the door, at last the Duke saw Steel in the corner of the room. His face brightened and he picked up a wine glass from his desk. ‘Ah, Captain Steel, welcome. You’ll join me in a toast. You know what the day is?’

‘Only a fool, sir, would be in this army and not know. It is Blenheim Day, Your Grace.’

‘Indeed it is, Steel. And how great was your own part in that engagement? And look how far we have come since then. You heard me speak now, did you not? You see that we are almost at the very gates of Paris.’ He took a long draught from the glass as a footman filled another and handed it to Steel. ‘But it seems that I am to be discouraged from such boldness. What it is, Steel, to be the commander of such an army of allies! Our allies, Steel. Allies by name. We needs must have them, but at such times as this I do wish that we did not. Perhaps not even Prince Eugene himself. Let us drink to Blenheim, then.’

Both men drained their glasses, and Marlborough spoke again. ‘In truth, though, I am not much inclined to merriment. Captain Steel, forgive me. I trust that your wound is fully recovered?’

‘Thank you, Your Grace. It is much better, sir. Quite healed. I have a man in the company who works wonders with herbals.’

‘Then you must have him come to me when you can spare him. I am troubled still by headaches and the ague. But to business. We have a task for you. Hawkins.’

Having been standing near the door for some minutes, quaffing quietly from a goblet of wine, the colonel strode forward. ‘Quite so. We have need once again of your talents, Steel. Our army might not be permitted to march on the city, but there will be a British presence in the French capital ere the week is out. You will take yourself to Paris.’

Steel guessed from their smiles that his gasp had been audible.

Marlborough said, ‘Yes, I thought that might throw you, Steel. Understand, though, that we would only give such a challenge, Captain, if we thought you fully capable of succeeding. This is of the utmost importance. Tell him, Hawkins.’

‘When you arrive in the city, make for the Hôtel de Boisgelou on the quai de Bourbon. I’ll give you the exact directions. There you will find the house of one of our most trusted men, a British officer by the name of Simpson who goes under the alias of Henri de St Colombe. Simpson is our finest spy. He is a little effete, you might suppose, and not the sort of fellow you’d expect to lead a regiment into battle. But believe me, he’s unbeatable at subterfuge. He’ll be expecting you. We’ve given him warning.’

‘But I don’t understand the purpose. What do you need to know? And why me, sir?’

‘It’s not what we need to know, Jack, it’s what we need the French to know. Simpson is merely the contact. Once you’re there in Paris, he will help you to make contact with a particular French officer. It is he who really holds the key to this affair.’

Again Marlborough cut in. ‘Simpson has informed us that this man, a Major Charpentier, is much disaffected with the war and seeks an end to it. Explain, Hawkins, if you would.’

The colonel continued: ‘It is hardly surprising. He lost a leg at Blenheim, Simpson says. In truth, though, it appears that the major is genuinely on the side of peace. He’s quite disaffected with war. And you know that we wish for nothing more than a French surrender. Most importantly, Simpson has discovered that Charpentier has the ear of the King himself. Something to do with a boyhood friendship with his father. Consequently, he is held in high favour at Versailles. Simpson has alerted Charpentier that we intend to make overtures for peace – on advantageous terms to us, of course. It only stands to reason to suppose that he might persuade the royal eminence, who, if Simpson and other sources close to the court are to be believed, is already himself becoming unsure of continuing a war with England which has lasted with few breaks for some forty years of his reign.’

Steel’s head was swimming with facts, and not least with the magnitude of this new mission. ‘How do I find this Major Charpentier?’

‘On account of his wound, Charpentier is now second-in-command at the Hôpital des Invalides, the convalescent home for Louis’s soldiers on the outskirts of Paris. He has a house in the grounds, although he prefers to live as an inmate, where he can be in the company of his fellow veterans and cripples. You’ve heard of the place?’

‘How could I not have heard of it, sir? They say it is a new wonder of the world, a haven for those ruined in battle with a gilded dome that shines out across the city, a hospital furnished with every medical advancement, a place where the poor devils can live in some comfort and security and with other soldiers. It is the greatest symbol of a monarch’s gratitude to his men. I believe that it was the model for our own military hospital at Chelsea, but by all accounts it is on a much grander scale.’

‘Quite so. A very haven, but twice as grand as Chelsea and three times its size. We may hope that our dear Queen might some day do the same for her own brave boys. Perhaps you will be able to advise her, Steel’ – he smiled – ‘being, as you will be, a former inmate of the place.’