4 Under Siege (2 page)

She was a woman of generous proportions and middle height, with a chubby prettiness not entirely obliterated by the ravages of an outdoor life and the imprint of marital tragedy. Daniel put her in her late thirties. He didn’t need to be told what she did. Rachel Rees was a camp follower, one of the many females who trailed behind an army, acting as cooks, seamstresses, washerwomen and – in the wake of any fighting – as nurses. Clearly, she was also a scavenger, combing the battlefield after the slaughter had ceased and stripping the corpses of anything of value. Among her recent acquisitions, it appeared, was the horse now cropping the grass behind them. Daniel noted the quality of the saddle and the elaborate housing.

‘This is a French officer’s horse,’ he observed.

‘I found it looking for a new owner,’ she said, airily, ‘so I took care of it until I could sell it. This man offered me the best price,’ she went on, indicating the Hessian who was now sitting up and rubbing his sore chin, ‘and I was stupid enough to trust him. Well, you saw how he honours a bargain.’

‘She’s a horse thief!’ said the man as he hauled himself gingerly to his feet. ‘She deserves to be hanged from the nearest tree – if you can find one strong enough to support her.’

‘What’s that villain saying about me?’ demanded Rachel.

‘The lady deserves to be treated with respect,’ said Daniel in fluent German. ‘An apology would not come amiss.’

‘Apologise to that big, fat, ugly tub of lard?’ sneered the man. ‘Nothing would make me do that!’

‘Then you’ll have to die unrepentant.’

Stepping back, Daniel drew his sword with a flourish and held the point against the man’s throat, jabbing lightly to draw blood. The Hessian put a hand up to the scratch and swore volubly.

‘Hold your tongue!’ roared Rachel. ‘There’s no need for foul language. I know enough German to understand those vile words.’

‘That means you have
two
things for which to apologise,’ said Daniel, calmly. ‘You must say sorry for assaulting the lady and ask her pardon for inadvertently swearing in her presence. Well?’ He held out his sword. ‘Which is it to be? You can either behave like a gentleman for once or be killed like the cheating rogue you are.’

The man hesitated, weighing up his chances. His sword lay on the ground. Daniel gestured towards it, encouraging him to pick it up. If he was to kill the man, he’d do so in a fair fight. But the Hessian had grave doubts that he could get the better of his opponent if they fought on equal terms. Daniel was fit, confident and had already demonstrated his superior strength and agility. The Hessian’s one chance of winning was to shoot him with the pistol holstered beside the saddle of his horse. Pretending to bend down to retrieve his weapon, therefore, the man made a sudden dash for his horse. He was far too slow. Daniel had read his mind and stuck out a foot to send him tumbling to the ground. When the man rolled over on his back, he looked up at the sword that was poised to strike him.

‘No, no!’ he begged, losing his nerve completely. ‘Don’t kill me. I’m sorry that I attacked the lady and sorry that I swore in front of her. I apologise unreservedly. Look,’ he went on, piteously, ‘I’ll pay her twice the price she asked for the horse and we’ll part as friends.’ He turned to her. ‘What do you say to that?’

Rachel was unimpressed. ‘I wouldn’t sell it to you if you were the last man on earth,’ she said, curling a derisive lip. She held out her hand. ‘Give me the sword, Captain Rawson and let
me
kill him.’

‘Don’t let her touch me!’ wailed the man.

‘She won’t need to now that the apology has been made,’ said Daniel, lowering his weapon. ‘Get up and go back to your regiment in disgrace.’

‘He should pay for what he did to me!’ shouted Rachel.

‘Oh, he will – have no fear of that. The tables have been turned. He came to get a horse but will instead give one away.’

‘You can’t take my horse,’ pleaded the man, scrambling to his feet. ‘How will I get back to camp? It’s miles away.’

‘Then you’d better start walking.’

‘I’m a cavalry officer. I must have a horse.’

‘Buy one honestly,’ said Daniel, using the flat of his sword to smack the man’s buttocks. ‘Off you go!’

With a yelp of pain, the Hessian scurried away, flinging abuse over his shoulder and vowing revenge. Daniel didn’t even bother to listen. Instead, he sheathed his sword and indicated the man’s horse.

‘It’s small recompense for the way he treated you,’ he said, ‘but it’s yours to sell along with the other now. They’re both fine animals and will each cost a pretty penny.’

‘I can’t thank you enough, sir,’ said Rachel. ‘When I’ve sold the pair of them, I’ll have enough money to pay off all my debts and eat properly for a while.’ She nodded at her donkey’s huge saddlebags. ‘And I’ll be able to buy more stock. That’s how I make ends meet, you see. I’m a sutler. I sell all sorts of things to the army.’ Her face clouded for a moment. ‘Don’t think too harshly of me, Captain Rawson.’

‘Why should I do that?’ he asked. ‘I admire you. When I came along, you were putting up a good fight against that man.’

‘I know what people think about looters. They despise us for picking the pockets of the dead. But that’s not what I do. I search for the living, not the deceased. I got to Will Baggott in time to hold him in my arms for a few minutes before he passed away. It was such a comfort to him. And I’ve done it to so many other brave boys,’ she said, wistfully. ‘They’ve been given up as dead and I nurse them back to life for a while so that they can have a woman’s arms around them as they slip away. I’m there to give succour. I’m not like the others, Captain,’ she went on, earnestly. ‘I never take their money – not if they’re British soldiers.’ Her voice hardened. ‘When it comes to the French, of course, it’s a different matter. It was them who killed my two husbands and left me to fend for myself. They
owe
me something in return. I’m entitled to take whatever I can from them. After the battle at Oudenarde, it just happened to be that horse.’

‘Be more careful when you sell it next time,’ he advised. ‘And try one of our own regiments. At least you’ll be able to haggle in your own language then.’

‘You don’t disapprove of me, then?’ she asked, hopefully.

‘Of course not, Rachel – I’m sure that you deserve everything you find, especially as it comes with the compliments of the enemy.’ They shared a laugh. ‘I’m just grateful that I was riding this way at the right time.’

‘I’m more than grateful,’ she said, standing on her toes so that she could plant a wet kiss on his lips. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll never forget this. You have a lifelong friend in Rachel Rees.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said, taken aback by her unexpected surge of affection. ‘In times of war, a soldier can never have too many friends. But a new friendship was not all I forged today, I fancy.’ He turned to look at the receding figure of the Hessian officer. ‘I think I may have made a sworn enemy as well.’

It was a brilliant plan. Conceived with care and explained in detail, it had the boldness, simplicity and originality characteristic of him. As he addressed the council of war, the Duke of Marlborough was given a respectful hearing. Daniel was there to act as an interpreter and he could see the looks of surprise – not to say amazement – on the faces of some of the Allied generals.

‘In essence,’ said Marlborough, indicating the map on the table before them, ‘we strike where they least expect us, and that is deep into France itself. We should ignore their frontier fortresses, enter the heartland and move eventually towards Paris itself. Just imagine the panic an attack on the French capital would cause. Yes,’ he went on, raising a palm to quell protests, ‘I know what the objection is. How will we maintain supplies? The answer, gentlemen, is this. A seaborne force already assembled will seize the port of Abbeville and that will be the base for our supply line.’ He saw the doubt in their faces. ‘We are masters of marching where we please. Why ignore such a huge advantage?’

‘We may march where we please,’ argued a Dutch general, ‘but we’ll not reduce French strongholds as we please, because we have no siege train. Nor are we able to transport one to the frontier by means of canals and rivers. The French still hold Ghent at the junction of the Lys and the Schelde. Vendôme and his army are skulking there and will block any attempts we make to move artillery by water.’

‘Then we bring the siege train overland,’ said Marlborough. ‘We are not unprepared, gentlemen. I’ve already sent cavalry into northern France to gather supplies and seize cattle and horses. The British navy stands by to await orders. I hardly need remind you that my brother, Admiral George Churchill, is in charge of naval operations, so we may expect complete cooperation. Well,’ he continued, spreading his arms, ‘what do you think? There are dangers, I grant you, but they are substantially lessened if we strike while the iron is hot and catch the French off guard.’ He turned to Prince Eugene of Savoy, sitting close to him. ‘What comments would
you
make, Your Highness?’

Pursing his lips, Eugene weighed his words before replying.

‘I congratulate you, Your Grace,’ he said, politely. ‘It is a clever and courageous plan and nobody but you could have devised it. However, I fear that it is too impracticable. We cannot venture into France until we have Lille as a
place d’armes
and magazine. Once that is secure, we will be in a far stronger position. Exciting as it may be, your plan involves too big a risk.’

‘I disagree,’ said Marlborough. ‘On the surface, it may look wild and overambitious but that’s all part of the deception. The French will never dream that we’d commit ourselves to an invasion on such a scale, so they will have taken no steps to counter it.’

‘I think perhaps that you should call to mind the Swedish army. They showed great daring when they took on a foe like Russia. And what has happened?’

‘They are worn out by hunger and fatigue.’

‘And hindered by constant ambushes,’ said Eugene. ‘As a result, King Charles and his army are struggling.’

‘We don’t face a parallel situation,’ contended Marlborough. ‘There are similarities, I confess, but they are few in number. We can learn from the mistakes that King Charles made. I visited him last year and saw for myself his army’s shortcomings.’

‘It had no hospitals, no magazines, no food supplies and no reinforcements close at hand. It is an army that lives on what it finds, fighting a war of
chicane
that is bound to end in defeat. The Russians will use delay and evasion to frustrate them,’ said Eugene, ‘and that is the strategy the French would employ against us.’

‘Not if we disable them by the suddenness of our attack.’

‘I am sorry, Your Grace, but I lack your confidence in the reliability of supplies by sea. We might seize Abbeville or any other port, but think of the problems the vessels would encounter during winter. Some would surely founder and others would be uncertain to reach us during the gales they are bound to encounter.’ Eugene placed a finger on the map. ‘This is where we must start,’ he said, collecting murmurs of approval and nods of affirmation from around the table. ‘We must lay siege to Lille.’

‘But that’s precisely what they expect,’ said Marlborough. ‘According to our latest reports, Marshal Boufflers will be sent there with a sizeable force, and nobody is more experienced at defending a town than the marshal. If we invest Lille, we are in for a long, bitter siege that will be fiendishly expensive and cost us thousands of lives we can ill afford to lose.’

‘Nevertheless, I believe it to be our next logical step.’

‘I concur with His Highness,’ said a Dutch voice. ‘Lille is second in importance only to Paris. It’s a pearl among fortresses. Take that and we’ll send a shiver down the spine of King Louis himself. No matter how long it takes, we must invest Lille.’

There was general agreement around the table. When Daniel had finished translating from the Dutch for Marlborough’s benefit, he caught the eye of Adam Cardonnel, secretary to the captain-general. Cardonnel was as disappointed as Daniel. Both of them thought the plan was an example of tactical genius yet it had been rejected out of hand. It was galling. Daniel accepted that the project was a gamble but, if it succeeded, it would surely hasten the end of the war. He’d been fired by the idea of invading France itself, sweeping all resistance aside and forcing Louis XIV to accept peace on Allied terms. It was not to be. While Daniel and Cardonnel concealed their resentment at the way the plan had been discarded, Marlborough started eagerly to discuss the siege of Lille as if that had been his intention all along. As always, he remained unfailingly courteous to those who’d wrecked yet another of his brilliant schemes.

It was only after the council of war ended, and its members had dispersed, that he let his true feelings show. Snatching up the map, he folded it angrily then slapped it back down on the table.

‘Hell and damnation!’ he exclaimed. ‘Don’t they
want
us to win this confounded war? Abide by my counsel and we at least have a chance of doing that. Follow their advice and we prolong the hostilities indefinitely. Laying siege to Lille could take us well into winter.’

‘It was ever thus, Your Grace,’ said Cardonnel, wearily. ‘Every time you advocate real enterprise, they retreat into their shells like so many tortoises. It’s exasperating.’ He glanced apologetically at Daniel. ‘Forgive me for casting aspersions on your fellow countrymen, but the Dutch are the real thorn in our sides.’

‘I know it only too well,’ said Daniel. ‘They are far too cautious. I expected them to take fright at such an audacious scheme but I hoped it might win support from Prince Eugene.’

‘So did I,’ resumed Marlborough, running a hand across a worried brow. ‘I have to admit that I was counting on his support. He commands great influence and is an intrepid commander. I thought my plan might appeal to his sense of adventure.’

‘Unfortunately,’ said Cardonnel, ‘he found it
too
adventurous.’

‘You can never be too adventurous in war, Adam.’

‘After all this time, they should trust your instincts, Your Grace. You presented them with triumphs at Blenheim, Ramillies and, only weeks ago, at Oudenarde. What more proof do they require of your unrivalled abilities in conducting a campaign?’

Marlborough heaved a sigh. ‘I wish I knew!’

‘I think I can explain Prince Eugene’s position,’ suggested Daniel. ‘Alone of those present, he recognised the virtues of striking into France. What worried him was the role of the navy. He’s accustomed to fighting land battles and has a natural distrust of amphibious warfare. The prince has some justification for his scepticism,’ he said. ‘Our sailors haven’t had an unblemished record of success so far. Look at the way we failed to take the naval base at Toulon last year, for instance. That was a serious setback.’

‘I still believe the project would have been feasible,’ said Marlborough, sadly. ‘Our cavalry met with little resistance in France. They briefly occupied towns like La Bassée, Lens, St-Quentin and Péronne and even raided the suburbs of Arras.’

‘We come back to the same old problem,’ noted Cardonnel. ‘You are hampered by the constraints of leading a coalition army.’

‘Had I been commanding a force made up entirely of British regiments, we’d now be surging through France instead of committing all our resources to Lille. As for the navy, I feel sure that they’d provide more than adequate support during summer and autumn. Even as we speak, Major General Erle is moored off the Isle of Wight with eleven embarked battalions. I accept that Abbeville would not be ideal for our purposes in winter,’ admitted Marlborough, ‘but – with luck and God’s blessing – the war might not last that long. We stand a chance of bringing France to its knees before then.’

Cardonnel nodded. ‘Instead of which we must brace ourselves for yet another campaign season next year.’

‘Where on earth will I find the strength to continue?’

Marlborough emitted another long sigh. Daniel was alarmed to see him looking so tired and forlorn. At a time when he should have been exploiting the tactical initiative gained at Oudenarde, he was unable to carry his allies with him. There was no sign of his famed resilience now. He seemed old, listless and disillusioned. Daniel sought to raise his spirits.

‘There is one ray of hope, Your Grace,’ he opined.

‘I fail to see it,’ said Marlborough.

‘The French prize Lille above all their fortresses. If they see it under threat, it might provoke them into battle.’

‘I think that unlikely, Daniel.’

‘Yet it’s still a possibility.’

‘A very faint one, alas,’ said Cardonnel.

‘Adam is right,’ agreed Marlborough. ‘Bringing the French to battle is like chasing moonbeams. Well, can you blame them? Every time they step onto a battlefield, we beat them. They’re still smarting from their disaster at Oudenarde. We’ll not lure Vendôme into action and Burgundy will not wish to lose even more men. No, Daniel, we are in for yet another protracted siege. However,’ he said, trying to shake off his cares, ‘let’s not get too downhearted. Our course is set and we must follow it.’ He straightened his shoulders. ‘Let’s turn to a more pleasant subject, shall we? I take it that you found time to pay a visit to Amsterdam.’

Daniel smiled fondly. ‘I did, Your Grace.’

‘And how did you find the dear lady?’

‘Amalia was far happier to be in her home than imprisoned in the French camp. She’ll not let herself be kidnapped again.’

‘Unless the kidnapper happens to be a certain Captain Rawson, that is,’ said Cardonnel with a grin. ‘I’m afraid that Miss Janssen may not be seeing you again for some time.’

‘She understands that,’ said Daniel.

‘What about my tapestry?’ asked Marlborough. ‘Her father must have started working on it by now.’

‘It will take some time yet, Your Grace. It’s intricate work that can’t be rushed. Emanuel Janssen and his assistants each have a separate loom so that they can weave individual sections,’ explained Daniel. ‘Eventually, they’ll sew all the different pieces together. Having fought in the battle, I was privileged to help with the design. I vow that you’ll be delighted with it. Ramillies has been depicted with uncanny accuracy. It’s going to be a masterpiece.’

Emanuel Janssen was a small, skinny, stooping man with silver hair and a beard. Long years of dedication to his craft had rounded his shoulders and dimmed his eyes, obliging him to wear spectacles. Peering through them as he worked from the back of the tapestry, he studied the mirror that showed him the front. Three other looms were in action, so the workshop at the rear of his house reverberated with rhythmical clatter. Two of his assistants had to raise their voices over the noise. The third, Kees Dopff, more of an adopted son than an assistant, had been dumb from birth, but his face was so expressive that he and his employer were able to conduct conversations without resorting to words. Janssen was still sewing meticulously away when he caught sight of his daughter out of the corner of his eye. He broke off immediately, knowing that Amalia would not have interrupted him on a whim. Something of significance must have happened. He could see the glow of excitement in her cheeks

‘Let’s step outside where it’s a little quieter,’ he suggested, guiding her back into the house. ‘Now, then,’ he said when they were out of earshot of the clamour, ‘what’s going on?’

‘A letter has come for you,’ she replied, holding it out.

‘There’s nothing unusual in that, Amalia. I get letters all the time. Couldn’t this one have waited?’

‘No, Father – it’s from England.’

He took it from her. ‘Really?’

‘Look at the seal. It’s from someone of consequence.’

‘Then let’s see what someone of consequence has to say, shall we?’ Breaking the seal, he unfolded the letter then blinked in surprise. ‘It’s from Her Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough.’

‘I could tell by the feel of it that it was important.’

‘Then you can read it to me,’ he said. ‘My eyes are always a trifle blurred after hours at the loom and your command of English is far better than mine.’

‘You must thank Daniel for that. He’s encouraged me to become fluent. He’s helped me with French as well.’ She took the missive back and held it to her breast. ‘Oh, if only this had come from him!’

Short, slight and fair-headed, Amalia had an elfin beauty that had enchanted Daniel Rawson from the start. Lost momentarily in her thoughts, she forgot that her father was even there.

‘Well?’ he asked with an amused smile. ‘Do I get to hear the contents or must I read it myself?’

Amalia giggled. ‘I’m sorry, Father.’ Glancing at the opening sentence, she let out a cry of joy. ‘It’s an invitation. Since your tapestry of Ramillies is to hang in Blenheim Palace, the duchess has invited you to England to see it being built.’

‘What a wonderful treat!’