Drums of War (11 page)

'I
understand you have a nephew in the regiment,' he said.

'Yes,
Major.'

'I
can't say that I approve. One Welbeck is more than enough.'

'The
lad's name is Hillier, sir.'

'I
know, sergeant. I made it my business to find out. Tom Hillier is a drummer. I
shall be interested to see how he develops.'

Welbeck
was worried. There was no reason why a major should take the slightest notice
of the new recruit unless it was to use him as a means of wounding his uncle. It
was the sort of thing that someone like Cracknell would do. In persecuting
Hillier, the major would be hurting Welbeck and in doing that he would be
assuaging his hatred of a fellow officer. Helpless to defend his nephew, the
sergeant wished that Daniel Rawson was still there to come to his aid.

'Where
the hell
are
you, Dan?' he said to himself.

Pierre
Lefeaux was a cobbler in the city. While pursuing his trade, he also acted as a
British spy, receiving and passing on intelligence to others. Because people
came in and out of his shop all day, there was never any suspicion of him.
Vital secrets had been concealed in shoes that needed to be repaired. Lefeaux
had duly passed them on by all manner of devious means. His shop was in one of
the more salubrious districts of Paris though Daniel had to ride through the
teeming streets of the poorer quarters in order to find it. Even though it was
afternoon, the place was closed. After tethering his horse, Daniel spoke to one
of the neighbours and learnt that the cobbler's shop had not been open all
week.

The
news was disturbing. According to Daniel's information, Lefeaux was an
important part of an intelligence system that had been developed in the French
capital. He was unlikely to desert his post unless he had fled out of fear of
discovery. The neighbour had told him that the cobbler lived above the shop
with his wife but that nothing had been seen of either of them. Daniel studied
the building. He could not leave without finding out what had happened to the
couple. If one of his spies had gone astray, Marlborough would expect a full
report. Daniel needed to get inside the premises to search for clues that
indicated the fate of Pierre Lefeaux.

Making
sure that he was not seen, Daniel went swiftly around to the rear of the house.
The shutters were all locked and the little stable was empty, its door wide
open. He moved to a ground floor window that was not overlooked by any of the
neighbours and took out a dagger. Inserting it between the shutters, he tried
to lift the catch but it was securely locked in place. He went back into the
stable and looked for an implement that he could use as a lever. He found
nothing suitable until his eye alighted on a pair of rusty horseshoes, lying in
a corner as if tossed there. Seizing both of them, Daniel went back to the
shutter. He used his dagger to saw away at the wood, making the slit wide
enough to admit something thicker. Then he worked a horseshoe between the
shutters and slowly applied pressure.

The
catch held firm at first. As he put more effort into levering the timber apart,
the shutters opened enough for him to push the other horseshoe into the gap
further up. He now had two levers in play and the wood began to groan under the
strain. All at once, with a loud bang, the lock snapped and the shutters flew
open. Daniel had to leap back out of the way. He put the horseshoes aside and
waited to see if the noise had been heard by anyone else. Nobody came. He flew
into action. Removing his hat, he took hold of the window frame and pulled
himself through it with speed and agility. He was in the kitchen and could see
food left out on the table. The morsels of meat on the two platters were
encircled by flies. Almost all of the butter had been eaten. When he felt the
loaf of bread, it was dry and stale.

Daniel
went through to the parlour but was unable to see much in the half-dark and did
not want to open any other shutters in case he attracted attention. When he
went through to the shop itself, he could smell the leather. A boot was affixed
to a last and a hammer lay beside it. Shoes and boots in need of repair lined
the shelves. Daniel had the feeling that many customers were going to be
disappointed. As his eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, he went back
into the parlour and up the staircase. A noisome smell soon hit his nostrils
and it was all too familiar.

It
was the unmistakable stink of death. Opening the door to the front bedroom, he
blenched.

Pierre
Lefeaux and his wife had been hanged from the main beam, their hands tied
behind their backs. Their faces were badly bruised and dried blood stained
their clothing. He surmised that they'd been tortured before execution. Flies
buzzed noisily all around them. Maggots were dining on their rotting flesh. The
reek of decomposition was overpowering. Daniel estimated that they'd been dead
for several days. Hand over his mouth, he rushed down the stairs and climbed
through the window so that he could breathe in fresh air again. His mind was
racing and his stomach churning. It was a frightening development. The cobbler
had obviously been punished for providing intelligence to the British army. As
he rode away from the shop, Daniel was bound to wonder if Emanuel Janssen had
met a similarly gruesome fate.

The
news that they might have to flee from the house very soon had caused a
commotion. Beatrix was close to hysteria and Kees Dopff flailed his arms like a
windmill, pleading with Amalia Janssen not to abandon the tapestry on which her
father had worked so sedulously and so long. It took some time to subdue them.
Amalia sat them down in the parlour and tried to reason with them.

'It
may be that we're able to stay right here,' she said.

"Then
why this talk of running away?' asked Beatrix.

'That's
only a last resort.'

'Who
says so?'

'Captain
Rawson.'

And
do you believe everything he tells you?'

'Yes,
I do.'

'You
hardly know him, Miss Amalia.'

'I
know him well enough to trust him.'

'Well,
I'm not sure that I do,' said Beatrix. 'After the things that have been going
on here, I don't trust anyone.' She turned to Dopff. 'Do you?' He shook his
head violently. 'There you are.'

Amalia
was patient. 'Captain Rawson has been sent to help us,' she explained. 'There's
no call for you to know why. Suffice it to say that his arrival has been the
one thing to lift my spirits since my father went missing. I'm as reluctant as
either of you to quit this house but, if it's essential, then we must do as
we're told.'

'What
about your father?'

'Captain
Rawson is making enquiries about him.'

'Oh,
I wish I knew what was going on,' Beatrix wailed. 'I never wanted to come here
in the first place.' Dopff's expression showed that he agreed with her. 'But at
least we had a fine house.'

'It
may have served its purpose, Beatrix,' said Amalia. 'Now why don't you and Kees
gather together the few belongings you'll be able to take if we're forced out
of here.' She saw the anguish on Dopff's face. 'There's no call for alarm,
Kees,' she went on, softly. 'I promise you that we won't leave the tapestry behind.'
He brightened immediately. 'You'd better be ready to take it down from the
loom.'

Dopff
nodded and left the room. Amalia sent the servant off to pack her bags. About
to go to her own bedroom, she saw a horse pull up outside the front window and
recognised the rider. She ran to the door to admit Daniel then brought him into
the parlour.

'Well?'
she asked. 'Did you see Monsieur Lefeaux?'

'He
was not able to help us,' replied Daniel, sadly.

'Didn't
he know where Father was?'

'I'm
afraid not, Miss Janssen.'

'What
exactly did he say?'

'That
doesn't matter,' said Daniel, keeping the awful truth from her. 'What has
become clear is that you must leave here tonight. I called on my friend and
he's willing to look after us for a while. He has a horse and cart.'

'How
far must we go?'

'The
house is on the other side of the city.'

'Who
is this friend?'

'His
name is Ronan Flynn and he has a warm Irish heart. He and his wife will look
after us until we're ready to leave Paris.'

'And
when will that be, Captain Rawson?'

'When
we've discovered where your father is.'

'Someone
must know,' she said with an edge of desperation.

'Yes,
Miss Janssen, and I think he's standing outside in the street. That man who's
been watching the house is still there. If anyone knows what's going on, he
does.'

'What
are you going to do?'

'I'm
going to have a friendly word with him,' said Daniel.

They
waited until evening shadows began to lengthen and the streets began to clear
of people. Daniel then issued his instructions. Amalia Janssen was ready to
obey them to the letter but Beatrix was fearful.

'I
don't want to go out there, sir,' she said with a shudder.

'Why
not?' asked Daniel.

'That
dreadful man is waiting.'

'He
won't trouble you for much longer.'

'What
are you going to do?'

'I
simply need to speak to him.'

'Well,
why can't you go out there and do that, sir?'

'Listen
to Captain Rawson,' said Amalia. 'He knows best. All that we have to do is to
walk for ten minutes. No harm will come to us if we're together.'

Beatrix
was not convinced and it was clear from Dopff's face that he, too, had qualms.
On the other hand, the weaver had been impressed by their visitor's
decisiveness and had no doubts about Daniel's good intentions. He just wished he
understood why a British soldier had come to their assistance out of the blue.
Daniel repeated his orders slowly.

'Give
me five minutes and then leave the house together,' he said. 'Walk past the man
at the corner and lead him around in a circle before coming back here. Is that
understood?'

'Yes,'
replied Amalia.

'Where
will
you
be, Captain Rawson?' asked Beatrix.

'I'll
be waiting for him,' said Daniel.

After
giving them all a smile of encouragement, he let himself out into the street
and mounted his horse. He trotted off in the opposite direction to the corner
where the watcher was stationed. Turning into the adjacent street, he rode on
until he reached another corner. When he turned right again, he kept his eyes
peeled.

Amalia
Janssen, Beatrix and Kees Dopff stood in the parlour and watched the pendulum
of the clock as it swung to and fro. Dopff wanted to point out that it was a
Dutch mathematician who first invented the pendulum clock over half a century
earlier but he felt it inappropriate. It would also take far too long for him
to convey the information by means of gesture and facial expression. When the
five minutes had elapsed, Amalia gave a nod and led them to the front door.
Beatrix was still reluctant but she could not refuse to go. She pulled a scarf
around her shoulders and gritted her teeth. With mixed feelings, Dopff opened
the front door and the women went out into the street. They heard the door
being shut behind them.

'I
don't like this,' confided Beatrix.

'Stay
close to me,' said Amalia.

Crossing
the street, they walked side by side, trying to appear as natural as they
could. They turned left at the corner and expected the burly man to confront
them but he was not there. For a second, they dared to relax. The man had
apparently gone away. Their sense of relief was rudely shattered when he
stepped out of a doorway opposite and tipped his hat in a mocking salute. They
walked quickly on. His heavy footsteps soon fell in behind them. Neither of
them dared to look over her shoulder. They were both quietly terrified.

Daniel
had found a dark alleyway where both he and his horse could hide. It was only a
question of waiting now. Certain that Emanuel Janssen had been identified as a
spy, he prayed that the man was still alive and had been spared torture. He
winced at the thought of having to tell Amalia that her father had been killed.
She seemed so young and fragile that the news could destroy her. From the way
Lefeaux and his wife had been summarily hanged, it was evident that no mercy
would be shown to spies. He could only hope that Janssen's exceptional skill as
a tapestry- maker had saved him. A monarch who took such delight in the work of
artists of all kinds might think twice about condemning a supreme craftsman to
death.

Daniel
had no more time to reflect upon what was only a faint hope. A horse and cart
went past then an old man staggered by on a walking stick. What he saw next as
he peered around the corner of the alleyway were the two women, walking in step
and staying close together. Yards behind them, he could just pick out a brawny
figure in the gloom. Flattening his back against the wall, he was ready to
pounce. Amalia Janssen and Beatrix got nearer and nearer until he could hear
their matching footsteps. When they went past him, they didn't even think to
look down the alleyway. Neither did their stalker and it was a bad mistake.
Daniel leapt out, grabbed his collar to pull him into the alleyway then held a
dagger at his throat.