Soldier of Fortune (11 page)

The
Confederate army moved in easy stages. Roused at four o'clock in the morning,
they assembled in rank and file a quarter of an hour later. The march began at
five and they pressed on until late morning, setting up their next camp before
the heat of the noonday sun could take its toll. Afternoon and evening were
times of rest. Marlborough had carefully planned ahead. Wherever they camped,
they found ample provisions awaiting them. There was no need to scour the area
for food. Corporal John had already seen to their needs.

At
each stage of the march, Marlborough rode on ahead with his cavalry then waited
for the infantry, artillery and baggage wagons to catch up with him. When they
reached their destination for that day, Marlborough adjourned to his tent with
his secretary. He unfurled a map and tapped it with a finger.

'We
are right here, Adam,' he said to his secretary. 'We are poised to reach the
Moselle.'

'How
far will we go, Your Grace?' asked Cardonnel.

'Far
enough to confuse the enemy. King Louis's spies will have delivered their
reports by now and Villeroi will be on his way to block our path into France.
The marshal has no idea that our march towards the Moselle is part of an
elaborate feint.'

'It's
a brilliant conception.'

'The
execution has to be equally brilliant. I've letters to write and orders to
give,' he said, opening a leather satchel and taking out a pile of papers.
'There's never an end to correspondence.'

'It's
one of the necessities of warfare.'

'I
know, Adam, but it can get tedious at times.'

Marlborough's
travelling table and chairs had already been set up for him in the tent. Quill,
ink and paper stood ready. The two men removed their hats and set them aside
before they got down to the business of the day.

'My
wife never finds it tedious,' said Marlborough fondly. 'I had yet another
letter from her today. The Duchess is pursuing me all the way across Europe.'

'Better
to do so on the page than in person,' observed Cardonnel drily. 'An army on the
march is no place for a lady.'

'Yet
we have several following us in the baggage train.'

'Those
women hardly come from the upper reaches of society.'

'That's
where you are mistaken, Adam.' 'Oh?'

'One
of them at least can boast of distinguished parentage.' Marlborough lowered
himself on to his seat. 'Or, to be more precise, she will when she joins us.
She's clearly a spirited young lady who is undeterred by the multiple
discomforts of travel. It will come as a great shock to Daniel Rawson, I fear.'

'Captain
Rawson?'

'Yes,
Adam.'

Cardonnel
was curious. 'In what way is he involved?'

'The
oldest way of all, I suspect,' said Marlborough with a quiet smile. 'The
youngest daughter of Sir Nicholas Piper is smitten by him. According to my
wife's latest letter, Abigail was so distressed at his departure from London
that she decided to follow him. As you can imagine, her parents are thoroughly
dismayed.'

'The
lady is
here
?'
asked the secretary incredulously.

'She's
certainly on Rawson's tail.' He chortled. 'We'll have to warn him about a
possible attack from the rear.'

'It's
highly dangerous for a woman to travel alone.'

'Her
maid is with her, apparently.'

'Even
so,' said Cardonnel. 'It's very reckless of them. I'd be very alarmed if a
daughter of mine took such an appalling risk. They need an armed guard.'

'If
they catch us with us, that's exactly what they'll have.'

'But
they may never reach us alive.'

'Have
more faith in the power of love,' said Marlborough. 'It can find a way past the
most daunting obstacles. Abigail Piper is patently a young lady with tenacity
and sense of purpose. I fancy that Rawson will be seeing her before too long.'

The
voyage had been a sustained ordeal. Sailing across the rough waters of the
North Sea in a brig had been a rude baptism for Abigail Piper and her maid,
Emily Greene. It was a supreme test of their mettle. They were sick,
uncomfortable, soaked to the skin and very frightened. They were tossed around
so helplessly by the surging waves, and lashed by such a violent storm, that
they despaired of ever seeing dry land again. When it did finally appear, they
were too weak to take any pleasure from the sight. They needed three days in
The Hague to recover from the torments inflicted upon them by the elements and
they were not cheered by the thought that they would one day have to make a
return voyage.

Notwithstanding
the many scares and setbacks, Abigail did not regret her decision to follow
Daniel Rawson. She was soothed by dreams about him and lifted by hopes of what
would happen when she finally caught up with him. She also derived a sisterly
glee from thinking how dumbfounded Dorothy would be back in London. Abigail had
looked ahead. To pay for horses, food and accommodation, she had brought a
substantial amount of her savings with her. What neither she nor Emily was able
to bring with them was much luggage. Travelling light was crucial.

Abigail
was an accomplished horsewoman but her maid was an indifferent rider. When they
bought two horses, therefore, Emily had severe misgivings.

'I'm
not sure that I can do this,' she said worriedly.

Abigail
was encouraging. 'Of course you can, Emily,' she said. 'The worst is behind us.
If you can survive a voyage like that, you can do anything.'

'How
do I know the horse will behave itself?'

'You'll
ride the mare - she looks placid enough.'

'What
if she bolts?'

'I'll
be beside you every inch of the way,' said Abigail, putting a consoling arm
around her. 'Come on - I'll help you to mount up.'

It
took some time to get Emily in the saddle and she looked very unhappy about it.
Their belongings had been stuffed into satchels that were slung across their
horses. Knowing the dangers of travelling alone, they joined some merchants for
the first stage of their journey. They had no difficulty in following the army.
A body of men that large left clear evidence of their route. The weather was
fine, the roads flat and their travelling companions were pleasant. Abigail was
relieved to be on the move at last and Emily slowly became accustomed to the
jolting rhythm of her mount.

'I
could never have done this without you,' said Abigail.

'I
wish you hadn't done it at all,' Emily admitted.

'You
were keen to join me in my adventure at the start.'

'Yes,
Miss Abigail, but that was before I knew what lay ahead.' 'Captain Rawson,'
said Abigail, beaming.
'He
is what lies ahead. The captain
is the sole reason we're here, Emily, and I'll endure any misery to reach him
so that I can show my true feelings for him.'

'I
hope he appreciates all the efforts you've made for him.'

Abigail
was transported. 'Oh, he will - I
know
he will.'

Daniel
Rawson liked to keep busy. When the army pitched camp for another day, he did
not take the opportunity to rest. He checked on his men, practised his
swordplay for an hour, then swam in the river. On his way back to his tent, he
encountered Sergeant Henry Welbeck.

'It's
too hot,' said Welbeck, sweat dribbling down his face.

'Do
what I did,' advised Daniel, hair still wet. 'A dip in the river will cool you
off nicely, Henry.'

'I
can't swim.'

'Then
it's high time you learnt. What will happen if we're cornered by the enemy and
have to beat a hasty retreat across a river? Do you want to be drowned?'

'No,
Dan. But, then, I don't ever expect to be in retreat. The Frenchies won't
attack us. They'll simply observe from a distance. That's all Marshal Villeroi
ever does.'

'He
may be forced to do more than that this time.'

'Is
that what the Corporal John told you?'

'No,
Henry.'

'Then
how do you know?'

'It's
what I'd do in his position,' said Daniel. 'We've spent years trying to bring
the French to battle and they've only obliged us with an occasional skirmish.
I'm ashamed to say that my own countrymen, the Dutch, are to blame. They're
more interested in protecting their own borders than launching a concerted
attack on the enemy.'

'I
always think of you as English - not Dutch.'

'I'm
both, Henry.'

'That's
impossible.'

'No,
it isn't,' said Daniel genially. 'When I'm in pursuit of a young lady in
London, I'm pure-bred English. When I'm doing the same in The Hague, I'm as
Dutch as a windmill.'

'You
always claim to be a churchgoing man.'

'So
I am - I attend services every day here in the camp.'

'Does
your religion allow you to chase so many women?'

'I
always make sure that they're Christians,' replied Daniel with a wicked grin.
'I do it for sport, Henry, like every other soldier.'

'Not
me,' said Welbeck, scowling. 'I can't abide women.'

'Then
whatever do you do for pleasure?'

'I
watch people like you getting into a tangle with the fairer sex. Seeing idiots
led by their pizzle is always worth a laugh. They never learn. Your time will
come, Dan, mark my words. Women will be the death of you in the end.'

'Every
man is entitled to one vice.'

'Where
does it say that in the Bible?'

Daniel
chuckled. 'I can't remember offhand,' he said. 'But I'm surprised that an
atheist like you has even heard of the Bible. If you had, you'd lead a more
honest and God-fearing life.'

'There's
no more honest man in the whole army,' said Welbeck, bristling. 'I don't need
to fear a God in order to do my duty. And I don't need to pray for success in
battle when I know that prayers are useless. Good commanders and well- trained
soldiers win victories not someone up there in a place you call Heaven.' 'Don't
mock, Henry.
You
may end up in Heaven one day.'

'I
still won't believe it exists.'

Daniel
burst into laughter. 'There's no convincing you, is there?' he said. 'Miracles
happen every time we fight yet you still refuse to accept that there's a God.'

'The
only miracle I want to see is an end to this war. Then we can all go home, put
our weapons aside and lead peaceful lives.'

'That
will only happen when we finally defeat the French.'

'Then
where
are
they?' demanded Welbeck.

'Villeroi
and his men are probably very close.'

'Watching
and waiting.'

'There'll
be plenty of action before too long,' said Daniel, giving him a playful punch
on the arm. 'I feel it in my bones.'

When
they crested the hill, the two men pulled their horses to a halt and surveyed
the scene below. The camp covered a huge area, a small town of canvas nestling
beside the river. Even from that distance, they could pick out the different
colours of the uniforms. Charles Catto and Frédéric Seurel had caught up with
their prey at last.

'There
you are,' said Catto, 'I told you we'd find them.'

'How
do we get to him?' asked Seurel.

'Leave
that to me.'

'What
do I do?'

'You
can sharpen your dagger,' said Catto, taking a telescope from his saddlebag.
'It will soon be needed, Frédéric. You can have the honour of cutting off
Captain Daniel Rawson's head.'