Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (8 page)

Then the last morning. Fred was to drive the wagon carrying the recruits' scanty gear—they'd get no uniforms until they joined Howe's overseas—and Dick and Ram's plentiful baggage: hams, cheeses, a hogshead of ale, an anker of brandy.

Dick was already mounted, not on the hired hack he'd ridden home, but on Son of Alan, a chestnut stone horse and one of Dales-view's choicest. Ram, up on Battle, felt very, very proud.

That pride was a little deflated when Gammer hauled him down and held him tight. "God be wi' ye, my bairn!" When she'd put him back, Dick swung her up before his saddle. "Lady Mother!" he blinked. "My thanks—for all."

"Eigh, I'm reet proud of ye," she returned unsteadily. "Ye won thy promotion like tha father did before thee. God be wi' ye—and if so much as a hair of our Ram's head hurt, I'll coom larrup ye, big as tha art!"

"Grenadiers, qui-ick march!" he bellowed. The drums rolled and they started down the driveway, John and Rob running alongside Ram—until Rob tripped and went headfirst into a snowbank.

It was a long bitter march eastward, but to Dick it was glorious. It's Ram who has softened Mother, he decided. Next campaign she'll be even easier. I'll raise my dragoons yet.

Ram was equally elated for the first ten miles. But by the time they reached Darlington and quartered at a tavern, he was just another tired little boy in need of warmth and sleep.

Then on to Stockton. Here came a check, for no ships would leave for Flanders for weeks. So Dick had to embark aboard a cat carrying coals southward to Harwich, whence he must find another vessel to cross the North Sea.

The recruits, along with Son and Battle, shared the hold with the coal, which Dick said should harden them. He and Ram were in the master's cabin. Hodges and the drummers berthed with the crew.

At Harwich, another check, for the only Flanders-bound craft awaited a "very great person" and wasn't available for soldiers. Frustrated, Dick was pacing outside the harbor master's office when a coach drew up and three army officers descended. One was Marlborough himself! Dick swept off his cap, flustered. The duke bowed, scrutinizing him. "We've met before, sir, I think."

"Captain Anstruther of Howe's, Your Grace. You were good enough to commend me for a small matter at Lille."

"Ah, yes. Howe's lost heavily there. They'd have suffered even more but for your courage. My service to you, sir,"

Made bold by such praise, Dick proved his courage yet again.

"Your Grace, I've a dozen recruits, stout lads from my own home, but no way to cross. I need every hour to Hck 'em into shape. Could Your Grace order some ship to carry me?"

"Sir, it's beyond my powers to commandeer private vessels," Marlborough smiled, "but I'll do better. Bring them aboard my yacht. We sail with the tide."

An hour later, overwhelmed Dick had his men safely aboard, even the dullest of them awed to be sailing with Duke John himself. But Son and Battle were left behind, to be shipped later with some of Marlborough's own chargers.

As the yacht reached open sea, Dick and Ram watched England dropping astern. "Mayhap I should have left ye back with Gammer," Dick teased and guffawed at Ram's look of horror. "Nay, you're safe. I couldn't put ye ashore now, even if I would."

"His Grace commands your presence aft, sir." An aide had come up. "And bring this massive young grenadier with you."

Dick chilled as he followed the major, with Ram trotting behind. What've I done to displease Old John? he fretted. Are my yokels so coal-dirty they disgust him?

He was sure he had offended when Marlborough said sternly: "Sir, Her Majesty commands that her grenadiers include none under five foot ten, yet I find this midget with you. Do you think we can beat the French with such as he?"

"He's no recruit. Your Grace, but my son," Dick explained. He hissed urgently: "Boy, make his Grace a leg!"

Ram swept off his cap and bowed to the fine gentleman whose scarlet coat sparkled with so many jeweled orders. "Sarvent, sir."

Duke John's lips twitched. "Your servant, sir." He glanced at Dick. "He goes into the field with you? His name?"

"Ramillies, Your Grace—Ram for short. I'd the honor to serve Your Grace on that great day too."

"But that's scarce three years ago. If he shoots up so fast, he'll indeed be a huge grenadier when he's fully grown."

"He's nigh five, sir." Dick would never lie to the duke, but as he told of his wife's death and the boy's delayed christening until after the battle, he actually believed his tale. Ram was, had always been, his son, blood of his blood.

"I, too, had an heir," the duke said somberly. "He died. Thus I

envy you. If ever I can be of service to your little lad, command me." He turned away and Dick, head in clouds, marched Ram forward again.

"Our fortune's made!" he exulted. "One day you'll be telling your son great Marlborough himself promised you his services."

As straight as a ramrod, if not quite so high, Ram stood two paces rear of Father, who was front and center of his grenadiers.

It was six months since that day aboard the yacht and once more Ram would be seeing Marlborough. For Old John had ordered a parade of his redcoats so that they could be inspected by his Austrian ally and brother-in-arms. Prince Eugene of Savoy.

As The Two approached the company's front, Ram slued his eyes to watch them. Behind them lay Tournai, which had surrendered to them this very morning after a desperate three months' siege.

"Attention!" Father blared and was instantly obeyed.

"Highness, permit me to present Captain Anstruther," Duke John introduced. "He's served with honor these twenty years."

Ram felt proud to see Father bowing to the prince, prouder when he realized the duke was beckoning to him also. Happily he marched stiffly to take post on Father's left.

"Permit me to also present this fine young grenadier, Master Ramillies Anstruther, who's scarcely five," said Old John.

Eugene's lips curved. "Monseigneur, vous autres Anglais, instruisez vos enfants de bonne heure dans I'art de guerre."

"Perhaps one day he may have the honor of serving under Your Excellency," Marlborough added as the pair rode on.

"Now they've both noticed us, our fortune's made!" Father gloated when the parade was dismissed, and he swung Ram high.

Then it was time for Ram to ride with Carla on their daily foraging task. But though they tried till dusk, they couldn't buy or steal even a turnip, for after so long a siege the Allies had swept the land bare, so that now the peasants were starving.

"Mother'll be angered," Carla shivered. "She'll beat me."

"No, not now I'm grown," Ram reassured her stoutly. "If she even touches you, I'll have Father flog her. So there!"

And indeed Meg merely shrugged at their failure. "Feed Dobbin and Battle good," she said. "We're to move any time now."

"Move?" Ram remounted Battle. "I must report to Father."

"Too late. The company's gone, like all the army's grenadiers. None knows where, save they marched east."

Further, it appeared the rest of the army were striking tents, and by nightfall long columns followed eastward. But last-minute orders came that no camp followers could march till later.

"Got's eyes, 'tis cheating us of our rightful loot," Meg smoldered. "A battle's sure, and they hold us back." But, while she and Nan and even Carla thus lamented. Ram had a more important worry: as a grenadier—hadn't the Duke himself called him so—his duty was to rejoin Father.

After four days, Meg rebelled. "Pack," she ordered. "If we're sly, there's side roads none'll stop us on." So at moonrise they drove off, Ram riding rearguard against possible provost's men. But soon Battle lamed himself by stepping into a deep rut, so the pony was tied to the tailgate and Ram rode inside with Carla.

With only brief halts, they went on all that night and the next day, sometimes seeing marching columns to the north. They did rest the second night, but Meg's impatience drove them on again at dawn. As they topped a rise, she pointed to a distant forest ahead, from which arose the smoke of many campfires.

"Didn't I say I'd lead ye right? Look you, Scotch, drive awhile. I'm for sleep. If ye see provost men, turn out into the fields. They won't follow us far." Crawling inside with the children, she was soon snoring.

But before long Nan reined in. "Meg, come quick!"

Meg thrust her face out. "What now? Can't a body rest?"

"Let be. D'ye see yon uniforms? White!"

"Eugene's Austrians. Ye've seen 'em before, aye, and had truck with many of 'em, I think." Grumbling, Meg took the reins again. "There's our redcoats on the left." The forest, she saw, was wide, with many troops in white and red near its fringe.

So it was that she blundered into the Irish Brigade on the left flank of the main French army; unaware that the opposing forces had become transposed, with the Allies now facing west and the French east and only the forest intervening. She hailed a redcoat and asked where Howe's grenadiers lay.

He stared at her. "Glory be, how did ye come by English?"

"Why shouldn't I come by it, ye Irish bogtrotter, even though I'm Welsh?" she countered amiably.

He yelled something in a tongue, not unlike her native Cymric, which brought more redcoats running. Too late she saw that their coat facings were unfamiliar. A sergeant strode up. "Howe's is a Sasanach regiment," he scowled. "Wliy are you here?"

"Gowd, 'tis the enemy!" Nan screeched and shot back inside the cart. Meg, however, stared defiantly at the swiftly growing crowd. "Ye'd not harm two poor ladies, I think?"

"Women!" a man bawled. "Sasanach women!" whooped another. "And me that's not let down me breeches to aught but French trulls these five years!"

Screaming, Meg lashed with the whip as men clawed at her. Nan, inside, did something that should have earned her a place in heaven, for, hissing at them to lie flat, she flung blankets over the children. Next instant she was dragged outside, scratching and squalling frantic protests.

"Let's not use 'em here and shame 'em before all," a man of some delicacy protested. "Inside the woods with 'em!"

So the pair were dragged toward the forest; Meg still insisting that she wasn't English, in the hope that these fellow Celts would be merciful, while Nan screeched in Gaelic that neither was she a hated Saxon but a true Scot from Dumfries. Inside the cart Ram and Carla cowered under the blankets, hearing the women's cries growing fainter. A bellowed protest came from afar. "Wait your turn, Shamus. I'm next and Eoin's after me!"

Then the yells were quelled by an authoritative voice, and soon Meg and Nan came whimpering back, accompanied by an officer who said: "Go back five miles and wait till dark. Then find a north-running track and mayhap you'll find your own people."

"Ach, sirr, Ah'm no' a pure vairgin," Nan panted, "but Ah'll bless ye for this tae th' yind o' ma born days!"

"Begone." He turned away.

As Meg whipped Dobbin around and started off. Major Brian O'Duane, of Clare's, cantered up and asked in the Irish what had happened.

"Two Sasanach whores lost their way," the other told him. "I arrived somewhat late, but at least I cut down the odds against them.

Half my men were waiting to take them, but I insisted that we don't make war on women."

Brian stared at the receding cart, unaware that the small figure in red who was looking back toward him from over the tailgate was his own lost son, "We don't," he agreed bleakly.

"Have done!" Nan admonished. "Theer's naught sae terrible in three. In oor trade, we've accommodated more mony a time."

"But I'm hurt sore!" Meg wailed. "They wass more like fiends. I'm unused to such handling, indeet so I am."

"AchI" Nan sniffed. "Noo, d'ye think we've come five mile? Ah'm awfu' eager for tae be back wi' oor ain folk." Soon she pondered: "Them Irish, wud they noo ha' touched the bairns? Carla's big for her age, and some favor wee lads too."

Meg shuddered. "If aught like that befell Ram, the Cap'n would flay me, so he would."

It was dark before they found the wagon train, dawn ere they learned they were now behind all the other camp women. "Got save us, but efery damn' bitch of 'em will be looting before us!" Meg stormed. "And after all we've been through."

From their sister predators they learned the reason of the grenadiers' sudden march: they'd gone to besiege Mons. The French, reacting quickly, had moved to save it. So now the hostile armies were within a few miles of each other. All day, gunfire would be heard from Mons, but by evening sharp-eared Meg caught dull rumblings from southward also.

"That'll be the main fight," she decided. "Let the trollops go off to the siege, we're off on our own again." A rainstorm favoring her, she drove across the fields unchallenged. Halting for the night, she was off again at first light. Cannonading now came from both sides of the woods near Malplaquet village. "Didn't I say we'd be first?" she crowed. Soon the thinning mist showed masses of Allied troops moving toward the smoke-crowned forest. "Got's good! There'll be choice plunder indeet!"

"Hadna' we best find the company?" Nan's conscience twitched. "Surgeon wull report us if we don't help the wounded."

"What's come over ye, you old bags? We help ourselves first."

Ram begged to be taken direct to Howe's, but, harpy eyes avid,

the women drove on toward the forest. Soon they despoiled a dead Austrian captain of some money and gold-washed buttons. Next, a wounded trooper gave his little for some water and a bandage. Only when a cannon ball struck nearby did they halt.

"Afoot's safer now," Meg decided. "Brats, drive back behind yon rise and wait. Stay there, mind."

Once behind the rise, however, Ram said: "I'm going to Father."

"But Mother said wait," Carla protested as he dragged out his saddle and, standing tiptoe, threw it over Battle.

"You wait!" he jeered, mounting. "You'll be shamed when me'n Father's won the fight." He kicked the pony into a limping walk and at last found Howe's, in the reserve, just out of cannon range. Its grenadiers, however, hadn't yet rejoined it from Mons' siege.