5 A Very Murdering Battle (14 page)

‘If I’d been called upon,’ said Geel, trying to engage her interest, ‘I’d have been very willing to lend my assistance. I’m young, strong and very able. I’m sorry that Aelbert was chosen ahead of me.’

‘You’d have done the task equally well, Nick,’ she assured him.

He grinned. ‘Do you think so?’

‘Nobody doubts your courage.’

‘My only regret is that we let the tapestry get stolen in the first place. Had I realised that it was under threat, I’d have slept here all night to protect it.’

‘That’s very noble of you.’

‘I’d have guarded the tapestry with my life.’

‘Then I’m glad that you didn’t stand sentry over it,’ she said in alarm. ‘I hate the thought that you might have been injured – even killed – defending the tapestry. You’d be a terrible loss to us.’

He grinned again. ‘Do you
mean
that, Miss Amalia?’

‘Of course – Father was praising you to me only yesterday.’

‘It’s a joy to work under this roof.’

‘I think that it must be,’ she said, smiling, ‘for you always stay much longer than the others. Aelbert left half an hour ago and, as I was coming downstairs, I saw Kees going up to his room. Yet you’re still here at your loom.’

‘It’s the place where I feel happiest.’

Gazing deep into her eyes, Geel tried to convey his feelings but his smile froze when Janssen suddenly bustled into the workshop.

‘Goodness!’ he said. ‘Are you still here, Nick? You should have gone ages ago. Why are you hanging about in the workshop?’

The reason was standing beside Geel but he wasn’t about to admit that. He’d lingered on the off chance of seeing Amalia and he’d been lucky. She’d found him alone and he’d basked in their conversation. It was something on which to build.

‘I was just about to leave, master,’ he said, moving towards the door, ‘but I’ll be back first thing tomorrow. I bid you farewell.’

He gave them both a cheerful wave but his eyes were solely on Amalia.

By the middle of July, the Allies had one hundred guns and sixty mortars booming away at the walls of Tournai, concentrating their firepower against the Porte de Valenciennes. Allied siege works were strong and their assault seemed to be bearing fruit. After three days of bombardment, they were battering a breach in the main enceinte and were pleased with their progress. It came to an abrupt halt when the French exploded a large mine that damaged one of the four main Allied batteries and claimed many lives. Encouraged by this success, the garrison launched another sortie and wrecked sections of the foremost siege works. It was daunting. During a fortnight or more of intense fighting, the Allies had sustained over three thousand casualties and seen six hundred men desert their ranks. Nothing seemed to have been gained in return.

Observers from the main French force watched from a distance and sent regular reports back to Villars. The commander read them with satisfaction.

‘Tournai is holding out,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Marlborough’s army is being given a bloody nose. He’s made a gross error of judgement. Had he applied the principles of war, he should have invested Tournai
before
turning to Lille. Instead of outwitting us, he’s mired in the mud trying to do something that he could have achieved last autumn.’

‘It’s a mistake that bodes well for us, Your Grace.’

‘The great captain-general will make many more before we’re done.’

Villars was in his quarters with Lieutenant-Colonel Morellon, one of the most trusted members of his entourage. The French commander was a striking figure, immaculately attired to the point of vanity and resolutely straight-backed. He strutted up and down with an air of self-importance. Now in his mid-fifties, he showed none of the signs of fatigue that Marlborough was exhibiting. Villars was pulsing with energy and driven by an inner conviction of superiority.

‘The Governor of Tournai will not thank us for draining his garrison,’ he said, ‘but our need is the greater. Even with reduced numbers, he’s fighting valiantly.’

‘Is there no chance of going to his aid?’ asked Morellon.

‘Not in the present circumstances. The enemy has completed its lines of circumvallation and is being covered by an army led by Prince Eugene. The place to attack them is not in the environs of Tournai.’

‘Then it must inevitably fall.’

‘Why, yes – but only after it’s taken its toll of the enemy.’

‘Reports speak of heavy Allied casualties.’

‘The longer the siege goes on, the lower their morale will sink.’

‘And the more deserters they’ll have,’ said Morellon, complacently.

He was a tall, square-shouldered man in his forties with sharp features. A great admirer of his commander, he’d retained his favour by agreeing with him at all times. Senior officers who attempted to argue with Villars found themselves at the mercy of his vile temper. Morellon had learnt never to provoke it.

‘If only we had more men, more food and more money,’ said Villars.

‘You’ve done wonders with meagre resources, Your Grace. You’ve turned a rabble into a semblance of an army.’

‘There’s still a long way to go, Charles. That’s why I delayed assembling the men until the last moment. They were simply not ready. At least they now have bread in their stomachs and – in most cases – uniforms on their backs. They’re now starting to look like an army.’

‘Under your command, anything is possible.’

‘Anything but defeat, that is,’ said Villars with a harsh laugh. ‘But I don’t mean to fight from behind barricades. What I yearn for is
la grande guerre
, a war in which a solution takes place on a battlefield strewn with enemy corpses.’

‘Yet your hands are tied. Versailles has forbidden an outright assault.’

‘They should have more faith in me.’

‘The men have faith in you, Your Grace,’ said Morellon. ‘You’ve rallied them in a way that seemed impossible after the surrender of Lille. They’ve started to hold their heads up high again.’

‘They just needed to be reminded of France’s destiny.’

‘They’ve fought with honour.’

‘Yes,’ said Villars. ‘The raiding parties I’ve sent out have so far been very successful. They’ve kept the enemy on their toes. What we’ve not done, of course, is to test the entire army. That will only happen when the King gives me free rein.’

‘When do you suppose that will be, Your Grace?’

Hands on hips, Villars struck a pose. His voice had a rasping impatience.

‘The sooner, the better – I was born to confront Marlborough in the field. I mean to teach him that he has too good an opinion of his own abilities.’ He bared his teeth. ‘It will be a lesson that he’ll never forget.’

Daniel hated to see men hanging from the gallows. It reminded him of his father’s execution. Yet he accepted that desertion had to be punished in a sufficiently public way to deter others from following their example. Three men swung in the wind from the rudimentary gibbet. He was upset to learn that one of them had been from his own regiment. A large crowd had been assembled to watch the execution. It had now dispersed, leaving only a handful of people still standing there. Daniel recognised two of them as Henry Welbeck and Ben Plummer. He crossed over to the pair and spoke above the thunder of distant artillery.

‘Was he one of your men, by any chance, Sergeant?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Welbeck. ‘His name was Jake Abbot and I’d have strangled him with my bare hands if I’d had the chance.’

‘So would I,’ piped up Plummer. ‘Jake owed me money.’

‘Be warned, Plummer.’ Welbeck pointed at the trio on the gibbet. ‘
That’s
what happens to deserters.’

Plummer glanced towards the rows of crosses on nearby mass graves. ‘And that’s what happens to those of us who stay here,’ he said, forlornly.

‘The town will surrender eventually,’ said Daniel.

‘I’m sure that it will, Captain Rawson, but will I be here to see it?’

‘If you’re not,’ warned Welbeck, ‘you’ll answer to me.’

‘I won’t be able to speak when I’m six foot underground, Sergeant.’

Shoulders hunched, Plummer moved away disconsolately. His characteristic insolence had vanished. In winter quarters, he’d been spry and impudent. Now that he was bearing arms in action again, he was a very frightened soldier.

‘He’s like so many of them, Dan,’ said Welbeck, lapsing into a more familiar tone. ‘They watch their comrades falling like flies and they ask what, in the name of God, we’re actually doing here.’

‘We’re obeying orders, Henry.’

‘We’re obeying
bad
orders, you mean.’

‘The plan is sound. When we capture Tournai, we have yet another feather in our cap. The French will be shaken by the fact that it fell into our hands.’

‘There’s no sign of that fall as yet.’

‘They can’t hold out much longer. His Grace is conducting the siege well. After a series of assaults, we’ve secured a ravelin on the bank of the Scheldt hard by the Porte de Valenciennes. It’s only a matter of days before the governor seeks an armistice. My guess is that he’ll surrender the town and retreat into the citadel.’

‘So the fight simply shifts to a different bleeding target.’

‘Sieges take time, Henry. You should know that by now.’

‘What I know is that my men are unhappy. I’ve lost a dozen of them in a failed assault and seen two of the buggers turn tail. Soldiers are leaving us every day, Dan.’

‘Tournai has its casualties as well,’ noted Daniel, ‘and the desertions are not confined to our army. It might interest you to know that an entire Irish regiment has deserted the French and thrown in its lot with us.’

Welbeck was contemptuous. ‘Never trust the Irish,’ he said. ‘They change sides whenever they think they can gain an advantage.’

‘In this case, they’re right to do so. We offer better pay than the French and a far better chance of ending up as victors.’

‘I didn’t feel like a victor when I buried my men yesterday.’

‘Think of all the dead and dying inside the town,’ said Daniel. ‘And they’ll increase steadily in number. Listen to the cannon pounding away relentlessly. We have superior artillery and more ammunition. As their stocks slowly diminish, they’ll be forced to accept the inevitable.’

‘I still think another siege was a hideous mistake.’

‘Suspend judgement until it’s over, Henry.’

They were well behind the trenches but could see and hear the continuous bombardment. Artillery fire from inside Tournai was more sporadic but accurate enough to claim victims. They could hear screams of pain and howls of anguish. Their attention was soon diverted away from the action. Rachel Rees was walking towards them, wearing a bloodstained apron and an expression of resignation.

‘At least I was safe in Brecon,’ she said, wearily.

‘Then why didn’t you do us all a favour and stay there?’ asked Welbeck, drily.

‘I was needed here, Henry. Someone has to tend the wounded.’

‘Ignore him, Rachel,’ said Daniel. ‘We’re very grateful for your help.’

‘It’s just like being back at Lille – blood and broken bodies everywhere.’

‘It will all be over much sooner than at Lille.’

She heaved a sigh. ‘One siege is much like another.’

Welbeck noticed the blood on her hands and arms. Even her face had been spattered. Rachel was doing what most of the women who were camp followers had done. She was working as a nurse and, judging by the dark rings beneath her eyes, had been doing so all night. Daniel saw the look of grudging approval in his friend’s face. Welbeck had finally found something about the Welsh woman to admire.

‘This noise is deafening,’ she complained. ‘I can’t hear myself speak.’

‘I wish that
I
couldn’t,’ sniped Welbeck.

She cackled. ‘Away with you,’ she said, ‘you rotten old tease.’

‘That’s a good suggestion. She’s all yours, Dan.’

Welbeck marched off at speed and left them there together.

‘He’s just like my first husband,’ she confided. ‘Will Baggot used to run away from me like that. But I tamed him in the end. It will be the same with Henry.’

‘I doubt that, Rachel.’

‘I’ve made a lifetime’s study of men. I can read them like a book.’

‘And what have you learnt about the sergeant?’

‘He’s shy,’ she decided. ‘Because he’s not at ease with a woman, he pretends to hate the lot of us. It’s a way of keeping us at bay so that we won’t find out how shy and inexperienced he is. I know better.’

‘There’s rather more to it than that in Henry’s case,’ said Daniel.

‘We’ll see. I intend to follow your example.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll do what you’re doing to Tournai. I’ll lay siege to him.’

He was worried. ‘I wouldn’t advise that.’

‘I know what I’m doing, Daniel.’

‘He wants no distractions at a time like this.’

‘He’ll get none. I can wait for the right moment.’

‘Then be prepared for strong resistance.’

‘Oh, there’ll be noise and protestation at first,’ she said, airily, ‘and there might even be violence. I can cope with all that. I could never love a man who didn’t fight back at me. In the end, however,’ she went on, ‘the results will be the same.’

‘What results are you talking about?’

‘Tournai is doomed,’ she prophesied, ‘and so is Henry Welbeck.’

While they were talking about him, Welbeck had walked back through the camp until he came to his tent. Lifting the flap, he stepped inside and removed his hat. Before he sat down, he spotted a small bottle on the table in the corner. Picking it up, he uncorked it and sniffed. It smelt like rum. He took an exploratory sip and his guess was confirmed. It was rum of good quality. Welbeck was just about to take a second sip when he realised who might have left it there. His first impulse was to pour it on to the ground before throwing the bottle away but he had second thoughts. It was perverse to spurn such a gift. No obligation was felt on his part. If Rachel Rees gave him some alcohol, she’d get no thanks from him. He’d not even accord her the courtesy of an acknowledgement. Popping the cork back in place, he set the bottle back on the table and admired it. In times of stress, a nip of rum was a godsend. And there would be an enormous amount of stress to come.