Fire and Sword (15 page)

Lock knew that his cousin was right. A lookout was
essential to their survival and it was only fair that each of them took it in turns. Searle himself was not excluded from the duty. He’d been up on the hill earlier in the day until he was relieved by the next man. Lock hated the chore. It reminded him too much of the army from which he’d fled. He’d always found sentry duty to be boring and dispiriting. When he’d deserted, he hoped that he’d put it behind him. Yet here he was again with a musket in his hands, staring at an empty landscape for a danger that never appeared. It was demoralising.

After a while, he lowered the weapon to the ground and sat cross-legged beside it. That offered him some relief. The grass was long and the ground soft. Birdsong acted as a gentle lullaby. Lock’s eyes soon began to flutter. Minutes later, he was asleep.

After waiting until dark, Daniel deployed his men around the old farmhouse. He and Welbeck then approached on foot to take a closer look. There was nobody on the hill now. The deserters were all fast asleep inside the building. The first place that Daniel checked was the stables. Six horses were inside and two others were tethered to a fence nearby. That told them how many men they were up against. Welbeck led one of the horses away and Daniel followed with two more in tow. Leaving the animals with members of the patrol, they went back for three more and took them a safe distance away. Daniel brought out the last two horses on his own.

‘I didn’t know we came here to act as horse thieves,’ said Welbeck in an undertone. ‘Are we just making sure that they can’t gallop out of there?’

‘That’s one reason,’ said Daniel, ‘but there’s another as well.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘I didn’t want the horses waking them up.’

‘Why should they do that, Dan? They were as good as gold when we led them out of there. I didn’t hear a peep from them.’

‘It would have been different when the blaze started.’

Welbeck was stunned. ‘Are you talking about a fire?’

‘Yes,’ said Daniel, remembering the gutted farmhouse, ‘I think it’s high time that they had a taste of their own medicine.’

Going back to the stables, he took armfuls of dry hay from the manger and Welbeck did the same. They made a pile in front of the door and beneath the windows. Daniel even tossed some up onto the roof. When he was ready, he lit the piles of hay and waited for the fire to take hold. It was the signal for the patrol to move forward with their weapons at the ready. Searle and his men were deeply asleep and it was several minutes before any of them heard the noise of the fire or inhaled the clouds of smoke that began to fill the house. The door itself was alight before anyone finally stirred and the front of the building was a sheet of flame.

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 24
^th
Foot.’

‘Well, Captain Rawson, here’s a 25
^th
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.’

‘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.’