Drums of War (23 page)

'What
did you say your name was?' he said.

'Rawson,'
replied the other. 'Captain Daniel Rawson.'

The
rain was easing when they arrived at the wharf but that did nothing to lessen
the intensity of Cornudet's grumbling. He had simply not expected them in such
weather. Since the storm had been so fierce, he'd hauled his skiff out of the
river and turned it over so that it would not get waterlogged. As he and Daniel
lowered it back on to the Seine, the boatman was aggrieved.

'Why
couldn't you pick a day when the sun was shining?'

'We
have no choice, Monsieur,' said Daniel.

'I
ought to be in bed, resting my old bones. My wife thinks I'm a fool to go on
the river today?'

'Did
you tell her how much you'll earn?'

'That's
beside the point, Monsieur,' said Cornudet.

'Is
it? I've only paid you half the fare. When you drop the passengers off, you'll
get the remainder.'

'Where
am I supposed to be taking them?'

'It's
the best part of two miles downstream,' said Daniel. 'You'll know the place
because I'll wave to you from the bank. We'll get there some time ahead of
you.'

'I
thought you'd be coming in the boat.'

'I've
lightened your load for you.'

'Why
did you do that?'

'I
think they deserve to be alone,' said Daniel, indicating Amalia and Dopff, who
stood side by side and gazed at each other as they'd been instructed to do.
'You may as well know the truth, Monsieur Cornudet. They're young lovers,
running away to get married in Mantes. Take pity on them.'

The
boatman's tone changed. 'Oh,' he said, amused, 'I am to help a romance to
flower, am I? Why didn't you say so? That makes all the difference, Monsieur
Daron. I'm not so old that I can't remember what it's like to be young and in
love. You leave them to me,' he went on. 'I'll look after them.'

'Thank
you,' said Daniel. 'I knew that you would.'

Now
that the boat was bobbing on the water, the passengers could climb aboard.
Dopff went first, carrying a bag but without the tapestry this time. Amalia
paused at the top of the stone stairs for a whispered farewell to Daniel.

'When
can I see him?' she begged.

'When
we are well clear of the city,' he told her.

'I
can't wait!'

'Forget
about him for the moment. Remember that you're eloping with the man you love.
Fasten all your attention on him.'

'Kees
is more embarrassed than I am.'

'It's
only for a short while.'

Amalia
was concerned. 'What if you don't get out of the city?'

'Then
you have no alternative,' said Daniel, kissing his fingers before touching her
lips with them. 'You'll
have
to marry Kees then.'

The
coach was a fairly ramshackle affair. It was no more than a wooden box on a
cart but it served their purpose. Rolling over the cobblestones, it gave its
occupants an uncomfortable ride. They were happy to endure it. Emanuel Janssen
was overjoyed that he was travelling with his latest tapestry, neatly folded up
at his feet. Seated beside him was Beatrix, ordinarily his servant but elevated
to a new station on this occasion. Janssen did not object. After repeated
humiliation in the Bastille, he was not one to stand on his dignity. He
willingly acquiesced in everything that was asked of him. Beatrix had been less
ready to comply but the promise of escape was enough to persuade her. They were
finally leaving a place she'd come to hate and fear in equal proportions.

The
rain was still persistent enough to make the guards huddle against the walls at
the city gate. Only one of them stepped forward to challenge the coach driver.
Daniel's hat was pulled down over his forehead so that nobody would identify
him as the man who'd ridden out of Paris the previous day. To complete the
disguise, he'd even changed his name. Instead of masquerading as Marcel Daron,
he handed over the papers he'd taken from Jacques Serval after their fight.
Satisfied that the driver was a French citizen, the guard thrust the document
back at him.

'What
about your passengers?' he said.

'Don't
disturb them, Monsieur,' warned Daniel. 'They're fast asleep. I'm taking them
to Mantes for a wedding.' He pulled some more papers from inside his coat and
gave them to the guard. 'Neither of
them
is getting married, as you'll see.'

Shielding
the papers from the rain with one hand, the guard read the names. One was the
genuine passport that had allowed Beatrix Udderzook, a Dutch servant, into the
city. The other was a clever forgery and would have got her out again as Emma
Lantin, a Frenchwoman. In fact, it was being used to get Janssen out of Paris
instead. The guard took a long time inspecting the papers and Daniel began to
fear that Beatrix's name would arouse suspicion. After their flight from the
house, the name of Amalia Janssen would certainly have been given to the guards
at every exit. Daniel had hoped that the servant's name would not be known.

The
man looked in the back of the coach and saw two stout women, leaning against
each other and apparently asleep. Janssen was wearing a dress borrowed from his
servant. The hood of his cape obscured his head and face. At Daniel's
suggestion, he'd readily shaved off his beard.

The
guard sniggered and handed the papers back to Daniel.

'You're
right, my friend,' he said. 'They're an ugly pair.'

The
turnkey who'd been knocked out by the butt of a pistol took a long time to
recover consciousness. When he did so, he found himself bound hand and foot. A
gag prevented him from doing anything but make a muffled noise. Realising that
he was under a sheet, he began to thresh around until he rolled off the
mattress and on to the floor. As the sheet was peeled away, he lay there
half-naked, twitching violently like a large fish hauled on to the deck of a
ship. The guard who'd been resting on the bench leapt up in alarm at the sight.

'Where's
Janssen?' he demanded.

News
of the escape spread around the prison like wildfire, causing anger and
amazement. Emanuel Janssen was being held at the Bastille at the express
command of King Louis. Nobody looked forward to conveying news of the escape at
Versailles. There would be dire repercussions. The fugitive had to be
recaptured as soon as possible. When the police were informed, riders were
dispatched to every exit of the city with orders that nobody was to leave
unless they were wholly above suspicion. Guards on duty were questioned about
those whom they'd already allowed out that morning. Information was gathered
from all sources and taken back at a gallop to the Lieutenant-General of
Police. He scrutinised it for a long time before he pronounced his verdict.

'Janssen
is still in the city,' he declared. 'Find him!'

Five
miles away, dressed in a more manly fashion now, the tapestry-maker sat in the
coach with an arm around his daughter. Beatrix was opposite them while Dopff
was perched beside the driver. Since there were five of them, Daniel did not
push the horse too fast. Nursing him along, he left the main road and plunged
off into some woods where they could rest and eat some of the food stored in
the coach. The rain had now stopped and the sun was peeping through the clouds.
It was a portent of something but Daniel had no idea what it might be.

The
Confederate Army was on the move. Now that the campaign season had drawn to an
end with an impasse in the Low Countries, it was possible for a large-scale
withdrawal of troops to winter quarters. Dutch regiments maintained a presence
on the western borders but most British soldiers were pulled back. The long
marches taxed the patience and energy of Hugh Dobbs. As soon as they stopped
for a rest on their latest journey, he sat down beneath a tree with his back to
the trunk. Tom Hillier was with him.

'I
hate marching,' said Dobbs. 'I've got delicate feet.'

'You
should've joined the cavalry,' advised Hillier.

'I
can't ride a horse.'

'It
only takes a little practice. I learnt to ride when I was a boy. We had a
couple of ponies at the farm.'

Dobbs
became reflective. 'I grew up in a small town with nothing to do except fight
with the other boys. I was bored, Tom. That's why I was tricked into joining
the army. The recruiting sergeant made it sound such an exciting life. When
they marched into town with the drums beating, I was the first in the queue to
sign up.'

'When
did you start to regret it?'

'When
I realised I'd have somebody yelling at me all day long.'

'You
get used to that.'

'Well,
I haven't. Sergeants are all bloody slave-drivers and corporals are not much
better.'

Hillier
smiled. 'I'll remind you of that when
you
get promoted.'

'Not
me,' said Dobbs. 'I'm not nasty enough and I'd never want the responsibility
What about you?'

'I've
only been here five minutes,' Hillier reminded him. 'It's far too early to
think about promotion of any kind. That's years away. I've learnt to take one
day at a time.'

'When
we're on the march, they're all the same.'

'What
about marching into battle?'

'That
is
different,' conceded Dobbs. 'The first time I did
it, my hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold my drumsticks. I had no
idea there'd be so much noise. It was deafening and it went on for hours. The
worst part of it was afterwards.'

'Why
was that?'

'It
was carnage, Tom. The sight of all those dead or dying men made me puke. There
were horses, too, hundreds of them scattered across the battlefield, some blown
to pieces by cannon. I'd never seen so much blood.'

'It
must have been hideous.'

'The
stink was terrible. It took days for the burial teams to toss all our
casualties into a grave. You could smell the stench from miles away. That's one
thing the recruiting sergeant
didn't
warn us about,' he said, bitterly. 'He reckoned that soldiering was an
adventure.'

'It
is, Hugh.'

'That's
not what I've found.'

'I
had an adventure right at the start,' said Hillier. 'Some idiot hid my drum at
the top of a tree and I had to climb up to get it.'

Dobbs
grinned. 'I still don't know how you managed that. I pulled off all of the
lower branches to make it more difficult.'

'I
was determined to get it back.'

'You
must have had help.'

'No,'
said Hillier, 'everybody who walked past simply laughed at me. They thought I'd
never climb up there.'

Daniel
Rawson's advice had been sound. Because he made no mention of the assistance
given by the captain, Hillier had earned the respect of the other drummers. It
had taken a fight with Dobbs to win him over completely but they were now good
friends. The problem for Hillier was that not all officers were as helpful as
Captain Rawson.

"There's
one benefit about this marching,' said Hillier.

'I
haven't noticed it.'

'Major
Cracknell has kept out of my way.'

'That
man is a swine, Tom.'

'He's
an officer so he'll always have the whip hand over us.'

'He
picked on you again and again.'

'I
know,' said Hillier, thinking of the punishments he'd endured. 'It was very
unpleasant. But I think he's lost interest in me now.'

'Don't
believe that for a second.' 'Oh?'

'Cruel
bastards like Major Cracknell never give up. That man wants to break you, Tom,
and he'll keep chasing after you until he does. I'm sorry,' said Dobbs, 'but
you mustn't deceive yourself. The major will be back.'

Now
that he'd escaped the cumulative indignities of imprisonment, Emanuel Janssen
tried to make light of them in order not to distress his daughter. His claims
to have been well treated did not convince Amalia. She could see the change in
his appearance. He'd lost weight and looked older. He was pale and drawn with a
distant fear in his eyes. Amalia was reminded of a time when her father had
been ill and she'd nursed him back to health. She sensed that he'd need even
more care to recover from his experience in the Bastille.

'They
didn't hurt you in any way?' she asked.

'They
took me away from you, Amalia,' he said, 'and nothing could be more painful
than that. I spent each and every day worrying about you.'

They
were resting in the woods and Janssen was sharing a quiet moment with his
daughter. Dopff was as delighted as any of them to see his master and kept
glancing across at him to make sure that he really was there. Certain that
they'd be caught before they left Paris, Beatrix had been terrified throughout
their flight. With the tension suddenly eased, she sobbed incessantly with
relief. Lacking the words to console her, Dopff put his arms around her and
patted her back. Over her shoulder, he took another look at Janssen and smiled
in awe, as if beholding a miracle.