Drums of War (5 page)

'What
was their crime, Henry?' he asked.

'They
upset me.'

'I'll
wager they don't do that again in a hurry. I've heard men say that they'd
rather be flogged than feel the lash of your tongue.'

'They
have to be kept in line, Dan,' said Welbeck. 'If they can't control themselves
in camp, how can they control their muskets in the heat of battle? We both know
that obedience is everything in the army. I'll brook no waywardness in my
ranks.' He looked his friend up and down. 'So you've deigned to visit us at
last, have you? I thought you'd deserted us and joined the cavalry.'

'Only
for one engagement,' Daniel told him. 'I happened to be in the right place at
the crucial moment. And I can tell you now that your criticism of His Grace the
other day was very unjust. Whatever you may think, he doesn't expect the lower
ranks to do all the work. He led the charge against the enemy and fought like a
demon.'

'So
I heard and I take my hat off to him.'

'At
his age, most commanders have long retired.'

'It's
only poor buggers like us who keep going into our dotage.'

'That's
because we love army life so much,' teased Daniel, giving him a slap on the
shoulder. 'Without it, we'd probably die of boredom.'

Welbeck
grimaced. 'War has its own kind of boredom, Dan. What can be more boring then
trudging all night long then being denied a chance to fight? At least, you
managed to see some action. All that we could do was to wait and watch.'

'That
was probably a relief to young Tom.'

'Who?'

'Tom
Hillier, that nephew you choose to ignore. He didn't get a baptism of fire in
his first battle, after all. That will steady his nerves.'

'The
lad will have to get by on his own.'

'You
might show
some
sort of interest in him.'

'I
will, Dan,' said Welbeck, coolly. 'I'll check every few weeks to see if the
young fool is still alive.'

'I'm
glad you're not
my
uncle.'

Before
Welbeck could give a tart reply, they were interrupted by the arrival of Major
Simon Cracknell. Slim, straight-backed and of medium height, he cut a fine
figure in his impeccably tailored uniform. His boots had an almost pristine
glow to them. When he stepped out from between some tents to confront them,
neither man was pleased to see him. Welbeck thought the major supercilious and
overbearing while Daniel found him difficult to like. Cracknell was a highly
efficient officer but he and Daniel would never be soulmates. While one hailed
from a wealthy family and had been able to buy his commission the other had
worked his way up slowly from the ranks. It annoyed Cracknell that Daniel was a
favourite of Marlborough's and had now joined his staff. Though he treated the
captain with
surface
politeness,
he was seething with jealousy inside.

'What
are you doing here, Captain Rawson?' he said, archly.  'I thought you'd
moved on to higher things.'

'I
do whatever I'm called upon to do, Major,' replied Daniel

'Then
why aren't you doing it at this moment?'

'I
took the opportunity to call on a friend.'

'There's
no such thing as friendship between a captain and a mere sergeant. Fraternise
with the ranks and you lose their respect.'

'Captain
Rawson will never lose
my
respect,
sir,' said Welbeck.

Cracknell
was curt. 'Your opinion is irrelevant here,' he said 'I don't remember inviting
it and I'll certainly pay no heed to it In any case, Sergeant, you should
reserve your respect for officers who remain with their regiment. Now that the
captain has seen fit to leave us, he has no real function here.'

'His
Grace gave me express permission to come, Major'

'Really?'
Cracknell lifted a patronising eyebrow. 'Given the way that you're indulged,
I'm surprised that His Grace
could
spare
you.'

Daniel
bit back a reply. There had been unresolved tension between the two men since
they had first met and he could do little to alleviate it. Though he admired
Cracknell as a soldier he loathed him as a man, finding his manner offensive
and disapproving strongly of the way he treated those beneath him All of the
other officers in the regiment accepted that Daniel had unique qualities that
gained him preferential treatment from their commander-in-chief. Major
Cracknell was the sole exception. A mocking note came into his voice.

'What
does it feel like to be the Chosen One?'

'I
think you exaggerate my importance, Major,' said Daniel.

'Captain
Rawson was promoted for one simple reason,' said Welbeck, bluntly. "The
Duke knows the difference between a good officer and a bad one.'

Cracknell
bristled. 'Hold your tongue, Sergeant!'

'Yes,
Major.'

'You're
not part of this conversation.'

'No,
Major.'

'You
see what happens when you befriend someone from the ranks?' said Cracknell to
Daniel. 'They get above themselves.'

'I've
never found that in Sergeant Welbeck's case,' said Daniel. 'He's been in the
army long enough to learn respect for the chain of command. How many years has
it been now?'

'Twenty-five,
sir,' answered Welbeck. 'My former regiment was disbanded and I joined this one
when it was first raised in 1689.'

'There
you are, Major - a quarter of a century of sterling service.'

'I'm
not interested in
him',
said Cracknell, dismissively.
'In fact, I'd prefer it if he went away so that we can talk in private.'

'I'll
speak to you later, Henry,' said Daniel.

'Yes,
Captain,' returned Welbeck.

After
giving them a nod of farewell, he withdrew into his tent. Glad to have got rid
of the sergeant, Cracknell was able to turn all his attention on Daniel. He
gave a condescending smile.

'Well,'
he said, 'what news from on high, Captain Rawson?'

'The
chaplain is the best person to tell you that, Major,' replied Daniel,
mischievously. 'He can speak directly to God.'

'We
can do without drollery. I was referring to His Grace, as you well know. What
are his intentions?'

'You'll
have to wait until he confides them in you.'

'But
you have his ear. You must know what's in the wind.'

'I
have no part in any decisions that may be made,' said Daniel. 'When orders are
issued, you'll hear them as soon as I do.'

'You
must have some notion of what's afoot.'

'We
continue to secure our position, that's all I can tell you.'

'Surely
we'll try to make further advances.'

'His
Grace is never one to rest on his laurels.'

'What
have you heard?' demanded Cracknell. 'What's the gossip among his coterie?
Where will we move next?'

'Your
guess is as good as mine, Major.'

'I
think you're deliberately hiding the truth from me.'

'In
all honesty,' said Daniel, 'I'm not. Being part of His Grace's staff does not
entitle me to privileged information. As far as I know, immediate plans have
not yet been agreed. Were we able to make a decisive move, I'm sure that we'd
have done so by now but it seems as if the Dutch are delaying us once again.'

'The
Dutch!' snarled Cracknell, curling a lip in disgust. 'What appalling allies
they make! That beast, Slangenberg, is the worst of them. Had it not been for
him and his ilk, we could have broken through the Lines two years ago. They've
held us back at every turn. I hate their generals and I despise the whole
rotten nation. The Dutch are nothing but a crew of flat-faced, addle- headed,
pusillanimous old women. It pains me to fight alongside such cowards.'

'My
mother was Dutch,' said Daniel, calmly.

'I
was forgetting that. It explains everything.'

'About
what, may I ask?'

'About
you
, Captain Rawson,' said Cracknell, nastily. 'It
accounts for the flaws in your character. They're far too many to name. Your
father, I know, was English but it's the Dutch influence that's uppermost in
you* It's made you slow, shifty and unreliable. Worst of all, it's given you
the stubbornness of a mule.'

Daniel
smiled. 'I regard that as a compliment, Major.'

'Then
it's the only one you'll ever get from me.'

Annoyed
that he was unable to provoke Daniel, the major glared at him for a moment then
stalked off. Henry Welbeck came out of his tent to rejoin his friend. He had
heard every word through the canvas. He looked at the departing figure of Simon
Cracknell then spat on the ground before speaking.

'Who's
going to kill that bastard, Dan - you or me?'

The
euphoria engendered by the Allied success did not last long. Bad weather forced
a delay of several days and the Dutch generals once again refused to approve a
major engagement. With the enemy now drawn up behind the River Dyle,
Slangenberg and the others could not even agree on the best point to attempt a
crossing and they quarrelled for hours on end. Their hesitation caused even
further delays. It was not until 30 July that the council of war authorised a
move over the river south of Louvain with a diversion to the north. Marshal
Villeroi moved smartly to block the first attempt but Allied troops managed to
cross on pontoon bridges lower down the river. To Marlborough's delight, a
battle at last seemed imminent. He carefully manoeuvred his men into position
and was ready to strike. At the last moment, however, almost inevitably,
General Slangenberg objected to an attack. The furious commander- in-chief had
to call off the whole operation and march back to camp at Meldert.

'This
is humiliating!' cried Marlborough in the privacy of his quarters. 'How can I
conduct a war with such intolerable handicaps? The stupidity, pique and
cowardice of the Dutch generals are beyond belief. It's almost as if they don't
want
to defeat the French.'

'Slangenberg
is to blame, John,' said his brother, General Churchill. 'His behaviour has
verged on insubordination. I think that you should bring it to the attention of
the States-General.'

'It's
not as simple as that, Charles.'

'Refuse
to work with that bearded curmudgeon. He's been our nemesis from the start. I
tell you, there are times when I believe that Slangenberg must be in the pay of
the enemy.'

'I've
tried everything to appease the old devil. I even told him it was an honour to
have someone of his eminence under my command. But it was all to no avail. He
continues to fester with jealousy and obstruct any plans we make.'

'Say
as much to Grand Pensionary Heinsius,' advised Churchill. 'He's the one man
with the power to dismiss Slangenberg.'

'I
have to choose my words with care,' said Marlborough, biting his lip. 'Much as
I'd love to show my rage, I must hold it in lest I upset people who are - when
all is said and done - our major allies.'

'His
Grace has shown a masterly control of his true feelings,' said Adam Cardonnel.
'Were he to commit them to paper, it would probably burst into flame.'

The
three men shared a hollow laugh. They all knew that, in any correspondence,
truth had to be mixed liberally with tact. In the wake of yet another missed
opportunity to draw the French into battle, they were angry and jaded. The
lustre of their victory at Blenheim was starting to wear off. They needed to
prove that it had not been achieved by an isolated stroke of luck. Time was
running out. Campaigning would be over in the autumn when food supplies
dwindled. They did not wish to retire to winter quarters without having made at
least some impression on the enemy.

Churchill
was as distressed as his elder brother. General of Foot since 1702, he had seen
his men performing heroically, only to have their efforts undermined by their
allies. After the latest setback, he feared the worst.

'We'll
end this year with very little to show for it,' he said.

'Not
necessarily,' said Marlborough. 'We may yet do something of note before the
summer is out.'

'Well,
it will not be with the assistance of the Dutch.'

'It
will have to be, Charles.'

'Then
it's doomed from the start,' said Churchill. "The truth of it is that the
Dutch are sick of fighting. They have no stomachs for a long war. More and more
voices in The Hague are suggesting that they sue for peace with France.'

'In
that event,' Cardonnel pointed out, 'they'll have to accept a Frenchman as the
King of Spain and that's anathema to us.'

'It's
anathema to the Dutch as well,' said Marlborough.