5 A Very Murdering Battle (19 page)

‘No – I think that you’d make a good curé.’

‘There are two insurmountable obstacles, Rachel.’

‘What are they?’

‘First,’ he said, ‘I’m not and never could be a Roman Catholic. By birth and inclination, I’m a Protestant and proud to be so.’

‘What’s the second obstacle, Daniel?’

‘It’s rather too late for me to take a vow of celibacy.’

Rachel hooted with laughter. ‘Amalia will be relieved to hear that.’

‘She’ll also be relieved to hear that we got safely away from Mons.’

‘I never had any doubts that we would, you
silver-tongued
devil. When you talked to the old man about our uncle, I believed every single word of it.’

‘Let’s hope that he did.’

‘You had him eating out of your hand, Daniel. Well,’ she added, ‘we bid farewell to Henri Dupuy and greetings to Henry Welbeck. I can be myself with him. I’m fed up with grieving over a dead man I never even met. I want real life.’ She saw Daniel look behind him. ‘And you can forget about the old man. I watched his eyes. He didn’t suspect a thing.’

The priest had first been alerted by the fact that the woman had taken pains to say so little. Again, they had never entirely convinced him that they were a brother and sister. There was scant facial resemblance. Why, then, were they paying their respects to Henri Dupuy? The old man had known him well. He didn’t recall that his former parishioner had had relatives in Ypres. It would surely have been mentioned at some stage. Who were the strangers and what did they really want?

Later that day, he took his suspicions to the captain of the guard at the gate through which the visitors had entered. He gave a good description of them and the man remembered them feeling sorry for them.

‘I don’t think pity is in order,’ said the priest.

‘Why not, Father?’

‘It’s because they were here under false pretences.’

‘That’s a bold claim to make.’

‘I can substantiate it. The man was no curé and the woman was no sister. They had no connection at all with the person they said was their uncle.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘I talked to Henri Dupuy’s son. He has no cousins in Ypres or elsewhere, for that matter. He was as baffled as I am.’ He leant forward. ‘My eyesight may be fading, Captain, but my instincts are as sharp as ever. That fellow was a clever actor but I sense that he was too worldly to be a man of the cloth. There’s one more thing to consider – why would a priest ask me about the soldiers in the town?’

The captain rubbed his chin with a thoughtful hand. ‘What were they doing in Mons?’ he asked.

‘I suggest that you catch them and find out.’

Amalia Janssen had always wanted a brother or sister but it was not to be. As an only child, she enjoyed a monopoly of her parents’ attention, yet felt that she was missing something. Gregarious and affable, she’d had plenty of childhood friends. There were even those who occasionally spent the night under her roof. She led a full and happy life. What she lacked, however, was a sibling with whom she could grow up and in whom she could confide her most secret thoughts. Everything changed when Kees Dopff came to the house. Notwithstanding his handicaps, he turned out to be a model apprentice and was virtually adopted by Emanuel Janssen. Dopff became the brother that Amalia had never had. She was able to communicate with him in ways that no other person could manage. She sensed his moods, anticipated his needs and loved their conversations mixing words and mime.

When Dopff began to feel unwell, therefore, Amalia was the first to notice. She urged him to have an early night and he was glad to take her advice. Next morning, he was late for breakfast, an event so unusual as to arouse concern. He finally appeared with an apologetic smile but it was his pale cheeks that worried Amalia.

‘Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to get up, Kees?’

Nodding his head, he rubbed his stomach to show that he was hungry.

‘That’s a good sign, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Whenever I feel poorly, I can’t eat a thing. What do you think, Father? Are you to blame for his fatigue? Have you been making Kees work too hard?’

‘I can’t stop him from doing that, Amalia,’ said Janssen. ‘I have to drag him away from his loom sometimes.’

‘I think he should have a morning off.’

Dopff shook his head and looked alarmed. He was keen to work. To prove that there was nothing wrong with his appetite, he had a hearty breakfast and clearly enjoyed his food. It made Amalia feel less anxious about him. Dopff was not merely a skilled weaver, he was a talented artist who was always creating designs that he hoped might one day appear on a tapestry. Amalia loved to watch him making his sketches and tried her own hand at the exercise. While she could conjure up pretty designs, she had nothing like Dopff’s natural artistic ability.

By the end of the meal, he seemed much better. There was even a touch of colour in his cheeks now. If he was feeling any discomfort, it was not showing in his face. Amalia decided that she was worrying unnecessarily. When Dopff went off to start work, she nevertheless asked her father to keep an eye on him.

‘I’m sure there’s
something
amiss, Father.’

‘I can’t remember him having a day’s illness,’ he said.

‘There’s always a first time.’

‘He’s probably the healthiest of all of us, Amalia. I’m too old, Aelbert has never been robust and Nick drinks too much. One of us will start to falter before Kees does. He has an iron constitution.’

‘Well,
you
don’t, Father,’ she told him. ‘Bear that in mind. There are limits to what you can do in a day. You must keep within them.’

He smiled fondly. ‘You’ve been saying that to me for ages.’

‘Then why don’t you do what I ask you?’

They chatted away until a servant came to clear the table. Janssen was ready to start work and talked about the project in hand. Amalia walked with him to the workshop. Geel and Pienaar were already there but it was Dopff who was actually busy at his loom. Amalia glanced across at him. He seemed happily absorbed in what he was doing, yet she was instantly disturbed. There was something about the way that his shoulders stooped. Dopff had put his legs much further apart than usual as if to brace himself. Then he began to sway. Amalia moved forward involuntarily.

‘Are you all right, Kees?’ she asked.

When he turned to face her, she could see the perspiration on his face. He couldn’t even answer her question with a gesture. He looked shaky and confused. After blinking in dismay, he wobbled for a second then collapsed on the floor.

‘Heavens!’ exclaimed Janssen. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘He needs a doctor,’ decided Amalia, bending over him.

‘Poor fellow!’ said Pienaar at her elbow. ‘Shall I help him to his room?’

Geel was decisive. ‘No,’ he said, coming forward, ‘I’ll do that.’ He bent down to pick up Dopff. ‘Come on, Kees. The best place for you is in bed.’

‘Can you manage on your own, Nick?’ asked Amalia.

‘Yes. He’s as light as a feather.’

It was a downright lie but Geel was eager to impress her. Adjusting his hold, he carried Dopff out of the workshop and up the stairs. Amalia was at his heels. Her father, meanwhile, was sending one of the servants to fetch a doctor. Dopff had a room at the very top of the house. It was hard work climbing the steep staircase but Geel didn’t utter a word of complaint. Though his arms were aching and shooting pains were attacking his legs, he soldiered on until he reached the upper landing. Amalia went past him to open the door and he carried Dopff the last few yards into the room. Between them, he and Amalia lowered the body on to the bed. Beads of sweat covered Dopff’s face now but he was conscious again and even managed a brave smile.

Geel wasn’t interested in the patient. He was relishing the rare treat of standing so close to Amalia. His prompt action had won her gratitude. Though she was preoccupied with Dopff, she hadn’t forgotten who’d carried him to his bed.

‘Thank you, Nick,’ she said, turning to him. ‘It’s so kind of you.’

When she grasped his arm for a second, the pain in his limbs vanished.

* * *

They spent the night in the open. Both of them were used to sleeping under the stars. The weather was fine and a warm breeze helped to dry the grass somewhat. When they set off next morning, they didn’t do so as a French curé and his sister. That disguise was no longer needed. After leaving Mons, Daniel had guided them back to the woods where they’d had the encounter with the three deserters. Rachel realised why he’d stripped two of the men of their uniforms and hidden them in a hollow trunk. They were there to be retrieved. One had belonged to Goujon who’d been as tall and well built as Daniel. The other had been worn by the man with the pistol, a stout individual of middle height. Daniel had discounted the third uniform because it was the wrong size for either of them and it had a bullet hole between the shoulder blades. Down the back of that blue uniform was a long, red bloodstain.

‘Are you ready yet?’ asked Daniel.

‘I can’t get into this coat.’

‘You ought to – that deserter was more or less your size.’

‘The breeches are too long and the coat is too tight,’ she protested.

‘Force yourself into them.’

Daniel was anxious to be on their way. Having collected the uniforms from their hiding place, they’d ridden on until darkness forced them to look for shelter. When they set out again next morning, he wanted them to look like French soldiers. Close up, Rachel would deceive nobody but she’d look far more convincing from a distance. Anyone searching for a parish priest and a plump woman would ride past without subjecting them to any scrutiny.

Rachel came out from behind the tree for an inspection. The coat was tight and the breeches were ridiculously wrinkled. With her tricorn hat on, however, she did have a military air about her. She was by no means the first woman to pose as a soldier. Others had chosen to conceal their gender in the past so that they could don a uniform and fight alongside men. Daniel could recall an instance after the Battle of Ramillies when a wounded British soldier, examined by a surgeon, was found to be female. The woman had enlisted in the army to be close to her husband and had revelled in the life. Rachel wouldn’t need to go to those extremes. She just needed to be able to fool a casual observer. As he adjusted her uniform for her, Daniel felt confident that she would. It was not only the uniforms, boots and hats that he’d borrowed from the deserters. He’d also taken the pistol with which he’d been threatened by one of the men. It was secreted beneath his coat and the ammunition was in his pocket. His dagger – a gift from Rachel for coming to her rescue – was concealed in his boot. She, too, was armed with a pistol, loaded and kept in her saddlebag.

‘I’ll need a hand to mount,’ she warned him.

‘Be my guest,’ he said.

Daniel held the stirrup while she put her foot into it then heaved her upwards into the saddle. As she sat astride the horse, she flexed her muscles.

‘It doesn’t feel quite so tight now.’

‘Let’s go.’

‘Don’t forget that you’re a French soldier.’

‘
Oui, oui, monsieur
.’

Hauling himself into the saddle, he rode off beside her, making sure that the road was clear before emerging from the cover of the trees. Sunshine was at last trying to make a belated appearance. The track was still muddy but at least they didn’t have to ride with rain in their faces. They skirted the small fortress of St-Ghislain which sat squarely on the line of march from Tournai to Mons and collected friendly waves from soldiers who were heading for the town. With benign weather and with a breeze at their backs, they made good progress.

Rachel was uncomfortable and became increasingly restless.

‘How much longer will I have to be in the French army?’ she asked.

‘Keep the uniform on until I’m certain that we’re not being followed.’

‘If there was a posse after us, we’d have seen them by now.’

‘It’s too early to make that assumption, Rachel.’

‘This coat is pinching me all over.’

‘It’s served its purpose so far,’ Daniel pointed out. ‘Those soldiers thought you were one of their own.’

‘I don’t think we need this disguise at all,’ she argued. ‘Even if that priest did learn that we’d lied to him, he wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d probably think we were a pair of harmless lunatics and pray for us to be cured. It’s time to stop being so furtive, Daniel. Nobody is on our tail.’

When the parish priest reported his suspicions, his warning was not ignored. If strangers had come to Mons and made false claims about a recently deceased man, then the likelihood was that their visit had more sinister intentions. Soldiers had been sent to scour the streets for a curé in his thirties with a female companion of similar age. In the course of their search, they also checked the other gates in case the mysterious pair had already left the town. By the time that they established that the wanted couple had already left, it was too dark to go after them. At dawn on the following day, however, five soldiers left under the command of a sergeant. They took the road used by Daniel and Rachel after their departure. It wasn’t long before they picked up the trail. A shepherd remembered seeing a priest ride past on the previous evening with a woman beside him. A mile further on, the posse spoke to a farmer who’d also seen the fugitives.

The sergeant led the troop off at a steady canter, wondering how far ahead his quarry might be. Riding beside him was a jaded corporal.

‘This could all be a terrible waste of time, Sergeant,’ he said.

‘We have our orders.’

‘If you ask me, they’re stupid orders.’

‘I
didn’t
ask you,’ said the sergeant, pointedly.

‘If they ride all night, they’ll be miles away by now.’

‘Then we press on until we catch up with them.’

‘They could be entirely innocent,’ said the corporal, batting away a fly with the flat of his hand. ‘We have no proof that they’ve done anything wrong.’

‘Yes, we do. We have proof that they’re impostors and the fact that they stayed such a short time in Mons shows that they realised they’d aroused suspicion. That’s why they fled after less than an hour.’

‘What do you think they were doing in the town?’

‘I mean to ask them that very question.’

‘You’d have to catch them first and we don’t even know that we’re on the right road. Supposing that they turned off somewhere?’

The sergeant glowered at him. ‘Supposing that you shut your mouth, Corporal?’

‘I’m only saying what the others are saying. It’s a wild goose chase.’

‘I
like
chasing wild geese because I always catch one in the end. Shall I tell you why I’m certain they’re directly ahead of us? That,’ said the sergeant, using an arm to indicate, ‘is the road to Tournai. My guess is that they’re heading there to deliver their report. They’ve been on a reconnaissance, Corporal.’

‘Oh – have they?’

‘That’s why we need to track them down – they’re enemy spies.’

The problem with wearing the uniforms was that it made it impossible for both of them to stop at a wayside inn or to seek refreshment at a farmstead. Rachel would be seen for what she really was – an attractive, vigorous, full-bodied woman. When they were in need of a meal, therefore, Daniel left her in hiding nearby while he went off to buy food and drink. The first thing she did in the privacy of a copse was to take off her coat so that she could breathe properly again. Breeches and boots were left on but the coat was hung from a low branch. Sitting on the grass with her back against a tree, Rachel was able to relax for the first time that day. Weary from spending so many hours in the saddle, she consoled herself with the thought that she was far safer there than she would have been if still burrowing through the tunnels at Tournai. It had been dangerous, filthy, back-breaking work. Instead of risking her life at the siege, she was riding through open countryside with a handsome man she adored. Rachel was so glad that she’d decided to leave Wales and return to army life. It gave her an exhilaration that couldn’t be found anywhere else. All she needed to complete her happiness was a husband in the 24
^th
Foot and she’d already picked him out.

Lost in her reverie, she didn’t hear the sound of a twig breaking close by. When something thudded against the trunk of a tree, however, Rachel tensed. The noise was too clear to be ignored. She chided herself for leaving her weapon in the saddlebag. Her horse was over ten yards away. Could she reach it in time? She levered herself up off the ground and looked around the little clearing. Nobody was visible but she knew that she wasn’t alone. She began to creep slowly towards the horses, intending to snatch her pistol from the saddlebag in order to defend herself. But she never reached her target. Yards short of the animals, she heard stealthy footsteps behind her then a hand was clasped over her mouth. Rachel tried to struggle but a strong arm enveloped her and held her tight.