5 A Very Murdering Battle (23 page)

‘Time to go home,’ announced Pienaar, reaching for his coat and hat.

‘I want to call on Kees first.’

‘I thought you saw him this morning.’

‘Only for a few minutes,’ said Geel. ‘I promised that I’d look in on him again before I left. Why don’t
you
pay him a visit, Aelbert?’

‘Oh, he doesn’t want me there.’

‘Kees will be glad to see anybody. He’s so bored.’

‘Perhaps I’ll go tomorrow,’ said Pienaar, evasively. ‘I’ve got too much to do this evening. Goodbye, Nick – and remember what I said.’

‘Yes, I will. Goodbye.’

Geel knew the reason that Pienaar would never climb the stairs to see Dopff. It wasn’t because he didn’t care about his colleague. He was fond of Dopff. What held him back was the fear of seeing someone lying in a sickbed. Memories of his wife’s long and harrowing illness were still too painful to contemplate. Pienaar didn’t want them revived by the sight of another patient. He’d wait until Dopff had recovered and returned to the workshop.

Geel, by contrast, was very keen to see how Dopff was faring. He was unlikely to meet Amalia on the stairs again but he’d pass her bedchamber and be able to luxuriate in warm thoughts of his brief time inside the room. It had been a magical experience and he intended to repeat it. On this occasion, he wanted more than simply to stand there and absorb the atmosphere. However, Dopff came first. Reaching the room on the upper landing, he tapped on the door and let himself in. He was both shocked and disappointed. Instead of being in bed, Dopff was sitting in a chair in his dressing gown. He looked altogether healthier than he had done earlier in the day. Geel was annoyed. He needed Dopff to remain as an invalid.

‘You ought to be in bed, Kees,’ he urged.

Dopff shook his head then stood up to show that he felt much better. He spread his arms then turned around. He pointed downstairs to indicate that he might return to work the next day.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ said Geel, masking his true feelings, ‘but the doctor told you not to rush things. You need a couple more days of complete rest.’

With his deft hands describing shapes in the air, Dopff thanked him for being so kind as to visit him again. Though it was untrue, Geel told him that Pienaar had sent his best wishes and was looking forward to working beside him again. After ten minutes of conversation, Geel began to get restless. He had something more important to do than soothe a patient.

‘Well,’ he said, shaking hands with his friend, ‘I must be off. I have a lot to do this evening. But it’s wonderful to see you looking so much better.’

Collecting a farewell wave from Dopff, he opened the door and descended the stairs to the other landing. Nobody saw him sidle up to Amalia’s bedchamber and let himself in. It was as enchanting as it had been on his first visit. He felt emboldened to take more liberties this time, sitting on the bed to feel the mattress on which she slept then stretching full length so that his head rested on her pillow. A warm glow suffused his whole body. Filled with excitement, he gave his imagination full rein. He longed to have Amalia beside him on the bed to love and caress. He yearned to possess her. Since that was impossible at the moment, Geel wanted a keepsake, something private and personal that he could take away with him. He needed a trophy from his visit.

His preference was for an item of clothing but, after consideration, he decided that its disappearance was certain to be noticed. He searched the room for minutes, opening drawers and looking in cupboards, touching everything he found simply because it belonged to her. In the final drawer, he discovered exactly what he wanted. It was a collection of ribbons and he slipped one of them into his pocket, vowing to place it on his own pillow that night. With his prize tucked safely away, he left the room furtively, went down the stairs and departed quietly from the house. On the walk back home, he was sustained by a sense of triumph.

Marlborough always liked to reconnoitre a potential battlefield in person. Early on 9th September, therefore, he rode out with some of his senior officers to survey the terrain. Daniel was among those at his side. They were surprised and not a little dismayed to see Villars’ army coming up in four large columns in the distance. It seemed as if they might try to push through one of the gaps beside the Bois de Thiery and the Allies were simply not ready to withstand a frontal assault. The absent Prince Eugene was covering the gap in the Bois de Boussu and other commanders were spread out across a wide area to watch various gaps in the woodland. Marlborough felt that he lacked the strength to launch an attack of his own and was relieved when he saw the French entrenching a position that included the Bois de Sars on its left and the Bois de la Lanière on its right. Swirling rain didn’t help the reconnaissance. Men and horses were thoroughly soaked and they found it difficult to see properly through the downpour.

As the party was returning to camp, Daniel was close enough to the captain-general to initiate a conversation. He was always keen to discuss tactics.

‘The French are digging in, Your Grace,’ he observed. ‘When will we begin a bombardment?’

‘Not until this afternoon when we have sufficient guns.’

‘We could certainly use the men who are still besieging St-Ghislain. When Rachel Rees and I rode past the town, I had a feeling that it might prove to be an awkward proposition.’

‘According to General Withers, it’s almost on the point of surrender,’ said Marlborough, ‘and not before time. That will liberate a sizeable number to join us.’

‘What about Mons? You’ve committed appreciable forces there.’

‘They’ll need to be thinned slightly. I’ve ordered four battalions of Germans to leave the town in order to swell our ranks. In whatever conflict lies ahead, we’re going to rely heavily on our German and Austrian forces.’

‘By the same token,’ noted Daniel, ‘the French will rely heavily on their Bavarian contingents. It will be a truly international battle.’

His comment was appropriate. A large proportion of the Allied army was made up of Dutch and Austrian troops with a substantial number of British and Prussian regiments in support. Daniel’s beloved 24
^th
Foot was only one of a number of British infantry regiments. He had friends in the 16
^th
, 19
^th
and the 26
^th
, the Cameronians, but there were several others at the disposal of the captain-general. Hanoverians and Danes served in the Allied army while regiments of Scots, Irish and Swiss had been recruited by both sides. Soldiers were impelled by different motives. Idealists were there in pursuit of their perceived cause, patriots fought for their respective countries and mercenaries simply killed for money. Victory would offer huge political gains, a sense of national pride or a hefty profit. When they finally clashed, something of the order of two hundred thousand soldiers would be engaged.

‘We’ll have to hold another council of war,’ said Marlborough.

Daniel’s eyebrow lifted meaningfully. ‘Then a further delay is likely.’

‘It’s the Dutch who are always overcautious, Daniel. Is there some way that you could prod your fellow countrymen into action?’

‘When I see them fighting, I’m glad to be Dutch. During a council of war, however, I’m relieved that my father was English. There are times,’ admitted Daniel, ‘when having a foot in both camps, so to speak, puts a real strain on me.’

‘You seem to cope remarkably well with it.’

‘I’ve had to, Your Grace.’

‘What would happen if ever the British and Dutch governments fell out?’

‘I can’t see that happening somehow.’

‘Nothing should be ruled out,’ said Marlborough, sagely. ‘You’re a British soldier with Dutch sympathies. Which side would you support?’

‘Neither and both,’ said Daniel.

‘That’s the answer of a born diplomat.’

‘I’d find it difficult to bear arms against the country I serve.’

‘Difficult but not impossible,’ said Marlborough. ‘The British army is your paymaster but I fancy that its claims would be outweighed by your very beautiful paymistress. Am I right?’

Cantering along in the rain was not the best time to discuss his private life. As it happened, Daniel was spared the problem of making a reply by the arrival of the Dutch general, who eased his mount beside Marlborough so that he could ply him with questions. Daniel was free to ponder the response he would have given. Which would he choose – England or Holland? Would the home of his father count for more than the birthplace of his mother? Or would the issue be decided by Amalia Janssen? It seemed more than likely. Daniel couldn’t conceive of fighting against the country in which she lived and whose language she spoke. Unknown to her, Amalia had settled the argument in a flash. In the event of conflict between the two countries, Daniel would resign his commission in the British army to fight under the Dutch flag. He just hoped that such a circumstance would never arise.

Having viewed the French army and seen its controlled movements, he knew that any battle would be a ferocious one. Death was bound to garner a rich harvest and it would not do it slowly over a period of time, as in a siege. Widespread slaughter might take only a matter of hours. No matter what role would be assigned to Daniel, there would be a strong element of danger. Reports of the conflict would inevitably be published in the Dutch newspapers and help to stoke Amalia’s concern. Should he be killed in action, all that she would have to remember him by was a sequence of letters that chartered their relationship from its early warm friendship to the full-blooded romance it had now become. Amalia deserved more. Commitment in words did not hold the same power and reassurance as a legal and spiritual partnership. When he thought about it, he believed that Amalia might have drawn comfort from the fact that she was sending a husband off to war and not merely the man she loved.

Though he was surrounded by over a dozen people in a very public place, Daniel nevertheless reached a crucial private decision. If – God willing – he came through the forthcoming battle intact, he would offer Amalia Janssen a proposal of marriage. Nobody around him could understand why he let out a whoop of joy.

‘Hurry up, Father,’ said Amalia, impatiently. ‘I want to read it.’

‘I’ve told you. There’s nothing about the latest developments. The article is about the surrender of Tournai and that was several days ago.’

‘Daniel was
there
at the time. Every detail is important to me.’

‘It’s important to me as well,’ said Janssen, mildly, ‘but I can see that I’ll get no peace to read the report until you’ve seen it first. Here you are,’ he went on, yielding it up, ‘but I want it back as soon as you’ve finished with it.’

‘Thank you.’

Amalia buried her head in the newspaper and read every word pertaining to the Allied army in Flanders. It didn’t matter that it was all out of date. Anything that had involved Daniel was significant to her. She recoiled when she saw the scale of Allied losses at Tournai and prayed that Daniel was not among them. If he’d survived one siege, he might now be taking part in another one at Mons. There would be more carnage on both sides. It was frightening. After poring over every word, she finally handed the newspaper back to her father.

‘I wish I knew what was going on,’ she said in exasperation.

‘From what I can see in this report,’ remarked her father, ‘I’m not sure that anyone knows exactly what’s happening. It must be so confusing for His Grace, the Duke of Marlborough. Trying to wage war in foul weather is almost impossible. It slows everything down. The roads are rivers of mud and the rivers themselves must be swollen by this terrible rain. We’re fighting the elements as much as the French.’

‘I’m only thinking about Daniel.’

‘Then you’re being rather selfish.’

‘I know but I can’t help it.’

‘A lot of Dutch soldiers will be taking part in any battle,’ he scolded, gently, ‘and they all have families who are worried sick about them. Spare a thought for
them
as well, Amalia.’

‘I will,’ she said, shamefacedly. ‘There are so many people in Amsterdam already in mourning for lost sons and fathers. The list of casualties gets longer and longer each week.’ She made an effort to shake off her anxieties. ‘From now on, I’ll try to concentrate on good things instead of dwelling on bad ones that may never happen. For instance, Kees came back to work today. That really pleased me.’

‘It pleased me even more, Amalia. We missed him in the workshop.’

‘Aelbert was saying that the place seemed empty without him.’

‘We’re delighted to have him back,’ said Janssen. ‘Or at least, Aelbert and I are. I’m not so sure about Nick.’

She was puzzled. ‘But he’s very fond of Kees. He visited him every day when Kees was off work. That’s more than Aelbert did.’

‘He had his own reasons for staying away but he wasn’t ignoring Kees. In fact, Aelbert bought him a number of gifts to cheer him up. And when Kees turned up this morning, Aelbert embraced him warmly.’

‘How did Nick react?’

‘Well,’ said Janssen, ‘he
appeared
to welcome Kees but I thought I sensed a whisper of disappointment. It was almost as if he’d wanted Kees to have a longer convalescence so that he could go on visiting him. Heaven knows why.’

While her father began to read the newspaper again, Amalia was troubled. She recalled what Beatrix had said to her about Geel. Having dismissed the servant’s warning out of hand, she now felt slightly guilty for doing so. Beatrix’s judgement was to some extent supported by what her father had told her. Could it really be true that Geel was less interested in the health of a sick friend and colleague than he was in Amalia herself? Were his regular visits to the patient undertaken in the hope of a chance meeting with her? It was unlikely yet not impossible. Nicholaes Geel had started to unsettle her. Amalia now had someone other than Daniel to worry about.

* * *

Everyone knew that a major battle was close at hand. By mid-afternoon on 9th September, the French had already started to cannonade Allied lines. British regiments were relieved when their own artillery returned fire, albeit in a rather desultory fashion. Their confidence was tinged with apprehension. Everything they’d heard about the opposing army suggested that Villars had instilled a new vigour and pride into it. Some soldiers – Joel Drew, the barber, was one of them – were old enough to remember a time when French armies held sway over the whole of Europe. Fighting was in their blood. That tradition had not wholly disappeared. Led by the right commander, they were a formidable enemy, especially when, as now, they’d been able to choose the ground for the battle.

British regiments of horse and foot watched and prayed. Some cleaned their weapons, others wrote letters to their loved ones and others again sat in groups and reminisced about past victories in order to banish present fears. At such a time, the one thing guaranteed to bolster their spirits was the sight of their captain-general, strolling through the camp with an air of buoyancy. Seeing that the rain had largely eased off, Marlborough perambulated through the British ranks, speaking or waving to all and sundry as he did so. It was his approachability that had earned him the nickname of Corporal John. Unlike so many commanders, he was neither aloof nor indifferent. By showing his men that he understood and sympathised with them, he gained their respect and gratitude. They rushed to get a glimpse of him.

Since he was part of Marlborough’s entourage, Daniel seized the chance to slip away in search of the 24
^th
Foot. He discovered Welbeck outside the sergeant’s tent, calmly smoking a pipe.

‘Don’t you want to see His Grace?’ asked Daniel.

‘I’ve seen him before.’

‘He’s trying to put some cheer into the men.’

‘Cheer is useless,’ said Welbeck. ‘They need steel inside them.’

Daniel sniffed. ‘That smells like a different tobacco. It’s got a much nicer aroma than the one you usually smoke. Why did you change?’

‘It was a gift.’

‘Ah, I see …’

‘And before you reproach me again, Dan, I
did
thank her this time.’

‘Did you do so in person?’

‘Yes,’ said Welbeck, ‘though Rachel was only here for a minute.’

‘I wish I had someone to supply me with rum and tobacco.’

‘You don’t bleeding well smoke a pipe.’

‘I was speaking figuratively, Henry.’

Distant explosions seemed to be getting nearer as each army bombarded the other with increasing force. Welbeck glanced in the direction of the French lines.

‘When do we attack, Dan?’

‘The final decision hasn’t yet been made.’

‘It has to be tomorrow, surely.’

‘That’s up to the council of war,’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s just say that a battle is imminent and that it promises to be a fierce one. Villars and Boufflers are fine commanders. They’ll make their men fight to the death.’

A flicker of alarm appeared in Welbeck’s eyes. Daniel was surprised. His friend was one of the most fearless men he’d ever met. Welbeck always marched bravely into battle without any concern for his own safety. He relied on his skills as a soldier to survive and they’d never let him down. Though he still had unquestioning faith in his abilities, Welbeck was no longer immune to dread. Daniel guessed what lay behind the transformation. Welbeck now had a much stronger reason to stay alive. Rum and tobacco had induced a change of heart.

The thunder of the artillery was louder than ever. They could hear the cries of wounded soldiers and the sound of drums giving commands to the infantry in the line of fire. In the early exchanges, the French were more than holding their own. Daniel could not stay long. Because of their close friendship, he and Welbeck embraced each other warmly. Rachel Rees caught them stepping apart and she clapped her hands together in delight.