4 Under Siege (5 page)

After putting the fear of death into them, Welbeck spent hours working on basic drills. Hopeless at first, they slowly improved and his cold sarcasm eventually eased off. By the time they were dismissed, the men realised that their lives had changed irremediably for the worse. Welbeck reserved a final word for Ben Plummer.

‘Are you still thinking about women?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m not, Sergeant,’ said Plummer, mouth still on fire.

‘The army has saved you from their clutches.’

‘I see that now, Sergeant.’

‘Women are worse enemies than the French. They’ll sap your strength and take your mind off this great enterprise of winning a war. They destroy and corrupt. They steal a man’s soul. You may not think it now, Ben Plummer, but the day will come when you thank me for keeping you away from women of all kinds.’

Plummer was not convinced. ‘Yes, Sergeant,’ he murmured.

‘What were those three words again?’

‘Listen, learn, obey.’

‘Good man,’ said Welbeck, patting him on the cheek and producing a groan of pain. ‘You’ve still got plenty of teeth left to eat our delicious army food. Now go off and join the others. Corporal Jenner will look after you.’

Hand over his sore mouth, Plummer scampered gratefully off. Welbeck watched him go, satisfied that he’d stamped his authority on the latest sorry group of recruits. There’d be little time to turn them into fighting soldiers before they were involved in action but he was used to that. All the shouting had left Welbeck with a dry throat. He decided to have a drink before smoking his pipe. When he got back to his tent, a surprise lay in store. Not only was there a fresh flagon of beer awaiting him, there was a pouch of tobacco that he’d never seen before. Welbeck had no idea who had put them there and racked his brain in search of potential benefactors. None came easily to mind. The beer was very welcome and he took a long swig of it but it was the tobacco that intrigued him. Opening the pouch, he sniffed inside. The aroma made him sigh with pleasure. It was his favourite brand.

Lieutenant Erich Schlager, the Hessian cavalry officer, was not a man to let any wrongs inflicted upon him go unanswered. Vengeful by nature, he always struck back hard at real or imagined slights. His confrontation with a British officer had involved far more than a slight and the memory of it was a constant flame inside his head. Schlager had not only lost a fine horse he’d intended to steal from the woman trying to sell it, he’d been prevented from taking his pleasure by force. Beaten and shamed in front of her, he’d been robbed of his own horse and compelled to walk several miles back to his camp where he’d had to endure the jeers of his fellow officers. Instead of coming back with two battle-trained horses, he had none at all, a severe handicap for someone in a cavalry regiment.

Bent on retribution, all that Schlager had was a name that the woman had mentioned – Captain Rawson. It was, however, a start and it gave him hope. Somewhere in one of the many British regiments forming part of the Allied army was the person he was after. All that Schlager had to do was to track him down before hostilities broke out again. To that end, he instructed a man to conduct a search on his behalf and he waited impatiently for tidings. Meanwhile, even though he’d acquired a new mount, he had to put up with continued mockery in the camp. Captain Rawson had turned him into a figure of fun and that was unforgivable.

At length the news finally came. It was brought to him by a short, whiskery, weasel-faced man with eyes unusually close to each other. He was licking his lips at the thought of his reward.

‘Did you have any luck?’ demanded Schlager.

‘Yes, I did, Lieutenant.’

‘Go on.’

‘I tracked down Captain Daniel Rawson.’

‘Where will I find him?’

‘He’s in the 24
^th
Regiment of Foot,’ said the man, ‘and he’s well spoken of by everybody.’

Schlager scowled. ‘Not by me.’

‘There’s something else you should know, sir. Captain Rawson is part of the Duke of Marlborough’s staff.’ Schlager’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. ‘By all accounts, he’s something of a hero.’

‘I don’t care who he is – I want him.’

‘Have I done well, sir?’ asked the man.

‘Find out where he is.’

‘But I’ve just done that, Lieutenant. You promised me payment.’

‘All that you’ve told me so far is the name of his regiment.’

‘There’s more,’ said the man. ‘Five British regiments have been assigned to Prince Eugene, who’ll be your own commander during the siege. The 24th is one of them.’

‘What use is that if Captain Rawson is not there?’

‘But he may be.’

‘Find out for definite.’

‘It won’t be easy, sir. I’m only a civilian. What I’ve learnt so far came from chatting to soldiers off duty. I had to buy more than a drink or two to get the information,’ he went on, extending a palm. ‘I’m out of pocket. I need the money I’m owed.’

Schlager was curt. ‘You’ll get nothing at all until you tell me how I can reach this heroic captain. Get me details. When you do that,’ he said, dangling a bribe, ‘I’ll pay you twice the amount I offered before. Will that content you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied the man, obsequiously.

‘If he’s part of Marlborough’s staff, he’ll have quarters nearby. Tell me exactly where they are and your work is done.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’

‘Well,’ snapped Schlager, ‘don’t just stand there. Be quick about it, man. We could be moved from here at any moment. I need to locate Captain Rawson
now
. Go and discover where he is.’

‘Yes, sir, I will.’

The man scurried off as if his heels had been set alight.

‘Have you ever thought of getting married again, Rachel?’ he asked.

‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘that would be tempting fate. I’ve already buried two husbands. I couldn’t bear the pain of seeing another one being lowered to the ground.’

‘Supposing you only
pretended
to be married?’

She chortled merrily. ‘I’ve done that a number of times, Captain Rawson – especially in cold weather when a woman needs company. They’ve been husbands for one night or maybe two, if I’ve taken a fancy to them.’ Her grin became a frown. ‘Don’t look down on me for it, sir. It goes against my nature to be a nun. I’m a true Christian but I’m also a warm-blooded woman. I have needs.’

‘How would you like to pretend to be married once more?’ When he saw her features glow with delight, he hastened to explain. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, Rachel. That was not a proposal from me. I’m already spoken for. I’d only pretend to be your husband.’

‘But that’s what the others did.’

‘There’s only so far the pretence must go.’

Her face fell. ‘I knew that it was too good an offer to believe.’

‘How do you feel about the French?’

She growled. ‘I hate them. They widowed me twice in a row.’

‘What would you do to get back at them?’

‘Anything at all,’ she declared, bunching her fists. ‘Give me a musket and I’ll march in the front line.’

‘I had something rather more subtle in mind,’ he said. ‘We are, as you’re undoubtedly aware, besieging Lille. For reasons I can’t divulge, I need to get inside the town for a while. You might help me do that.’

Rachel blinked. ‘How?’

‘If I approach the place on my own, I have to concoct a story to get me through the gates. Whereas, if the two of us ride up with a load of wares, everyone will see what our purpose is.’

‘I don’t want to sell anything to the French unless it’s poison.’

‘You won’t have to, Rachel,’ he said. ‘Once inside, you can stay quietly out of the way while I go about my business.’

‘And what business is that, Captain Rawson?’

‘I’m not at liberty to tell you.’

‘Will it be dangerous?’

He was impassive. ‘It could be.’

‘Does that mean it will be dangerous for me as well?’

‘There is a risk involved,’ he admitted, ‘but it’s one I hoped you were brave enough to take. This is important work and it might help to shorten the length of the siege. Besides, I thought you might be interested to see the inside of Lille. I certainly am.’

Rachel had grave misgivings. She knew how well fortified the town was and she feared that, once inside, she might be trapped there indefinitely while the Allies pounded away with their cannon. The last thing she wished to do was to present an inadvertent target to her own soldiers. Her instinct was to decline the offer but she didn’t wish to let Daniel down. There were obligations to fulfil. He’d saved her from a violent assault and given her the Hessian officer’s horse to sell. It had brought a very good price, as did the horse already in her possession. Without Daniel’s assistance, she’d have ended up with nothing but bruises and a sense of shame. Both horses would now be encamped with the Hessian cavalry and Rachel would have no means of redress. Her debt to the British captain was enormous and it could not be discharged by the gift of a French dagger, however costly it might be.

Riding into an enemy stronghold would be hazardous but she’d coped with many hazards as she scoured a battlefield, climbing over mounds of dead soldiers and horses, trying to ignore the hideous sights and the overwhelming stench, avoiding the desperate lunges from dying Frenchmen and warding off scavengers who thought she was after their booty. Every time she’d gone to show some tenderness to a British casualty, she’d put herself in jeopardy yet always come through unharmed. This time, at least, she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have someone to shield her and had been given vivid proof of Daniel’s ability to do that. And even though she might not share his bed, Rachel would nevertheless savour the thrill, if only for a short time, of pretending to be his wife. A visit to Lille was not as forbidding as it had first appeared to her.

‘What must I do, Captain Rawson?’ she wondered.

‘The first thing is to forget my name,’ he told her. ‘From now on, I am Alain Borrel and you are Madame Borrel. You married me when I left the French army as an invalid. We scratch a living as sutlers.’

‘Rachel Borrel,’ she mused. ‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How much French can you speak?’

‘Enough to get by,’ she said. ‘It’s easier to learn than German. Some of the French words are very similar to those in Welsh. Look at ‘window’, for instance. In French, it’s
fenêtre
and in Welsh it’s
ffenestr
.’

‘I don’t expect you to pretend to be a French matron. You’re the Welsh wife of Alain Borrel, citizen of Paris and former soldier. If anything should happen to me, however, I wanted to be sure that you have enough command of the language to hold a conversation.’

‘I do, Captain Rawson… Oops!’ She gave a laugh. ‘I should have called you Alain.’

‘Does that mean you agree to come?’

‘Yes – when do we go?’

‘I’ll let my beard grow for a couple of days first.’

‘But I prefer you clean-shaven.’

‘You have no choice in the matter,’ he said. ‘I have to look very different. Captain Daniel Rawson is not exactly unknown to the French. There’s always a faint chance that someone will recognise me. The less I look like him, therefore, the better.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much for doing this, Rachel. You could be performing a very valuable service for us.’

‘I’m always at your beck and call, Alain.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, Madame Borell. Now then, when it’s time to go, where will I find you?’

She chortled again. ‘I’ll be waiting for my husband.’

It was Amalia Janssen who began to have cold feet about the voyage. When she reached the harbour with her father and her maidservant, she was taken aback by the tumult. The quays and the vessels were swarming with people, making as much noise as they possibly could, the hullabaloo intensified by the unrelenting cries of the gulls as they floated on the wind or swooped low over the water. Every dog in Amsterdam also seemed to have turned up to swell the cacophony. Emanuel Janssen was one of Europe’s leading
tapestry-makers
but he was just another passenger now. His status had vanished completely. Amalia was shocked by the lack of respect he got as they were herded onto the ship by a rough-looking member of the crew. Even while moored, they were bobbing up and down. The stiffening breeze was blowing the curls that peeped out from under Amalia’s bonnet and a sharp tang invaded her nostrils.

Ironically, Beatrix seemed to be unperturbed by it all.

‘Oh, I’m so glad that I decided to come,’ she said.

Amalia winced. ‘I thought it would be more romantic than this.’

‘There’s no romance in sailing over the sea,’ said Janssen with a grin. ‘Wait until we are hit by a squall.’

‘I thought the weather would be fine at this time of year, Father.’

‘Summer storms can come when least expected.’

‘Don’t worry, Miss Amalia,’ said Beatrix. ‘I’ll take care of you.’

It was a complete reversal of their positions. Amalia had anticipated looking after Beatrix, giving her affection and reassurance throughout a voyage that would unnerve her from start to finish. Yet the many things upsetting Amalia seemed to have no effect on the maidservant. Unlike her mistress, she was not worried by the tilting deck, continual din, or the lecherous grins and knowing nudges of the crew. To be surrounded by so many crudely inquisitive sailors unsettled Amalia. She felt as if she were being stripped naked by their burning eyes. It brought a blush to her cheeks.

When the ship finally set sail, however, everything changed. The sun blazed down, the prow cut cleanly through the water and the crew were too busy hoisting the sails to notice any of the passengers. While Beatrix and her father began to feel a trifle queasy, Amalia had no discomfort. As the three of them watched Amsterdam receding slowly behind them, she adjusted quickly to the motion of the deck. Timbers creaked, the sea swished by and a flock of gulls bade them farewell. She was embarking on an adventure and was determined to relish every second of it. They were well clear of land before her companions felt ready for conversation.

‘How are you, Amalia?’ asked Janssen.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘What about you, Father?’

‘My stomach is rather unsettled at the moment.’

‘So is mine,’ complained Beatrix. ‘I feel sick.’

She was not the only one. Two other passengers had already vomited into the sea and a third was about to do so. As the waves splashed against the hull, spray came up to drench their faces. Beatrix decided to go below deck, working her way carefully along the bulwark before descending the steps. Janssen turned to his daughter.

‘What are you most looking forward to, Amalia?’

‘The sheer excitement of being in England,’ she said. ‘Daniel has told me so much about it.’

‘We’ll make sure we visit Somerset while we’re there.’

‘I know how to find the farm where he grew up and I’d like to lay some flowers on his father’s grave. It’s what Daniel always does whenever he returns to England.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘What about you, Father? What do you intend to do?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘first and foremost, we must call on the Duchess of Marlborough so that I can show her the design for the tapestry, then get some idea of where it will hang. It’s not the first commission I’ve had from England. Some of my work is already on show there and I’d like to visit one or two of the houses where it is. We’ll have a carriage at our disposal so must make best use of it.’

‘Beatrix wants to see London.’

Janssen laughed. ‘With respect to Beatrix, this trip has not been arranged primarily for her benefit. On the other hand, we couldn’t possible go to England without visiting its capital city, so her wish will be granted.’

‘I’m longing to write to Daniel about our exploits. There’ll be so much to tell him.’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, my dear. We haven’t even crossed the North Sea yet.’ He put a hand to his stomach. ‘I can’t say that I’m enjoying this stage of the journey so far.’