Soldier of Fortune (13 page)

Daniel
Rawson finally got a taste of the action he wanted. When they reached Coblenz,
a sizeable force was sent off in the direction of the Moselle valley but only
as a means of distracting Marshal Villeroi and his men. Daniel remained with
the main army as it moved south and crossed the Rhine where their ranks were
swelled by the addition of 5000 Hanoverians and Prussians. To the French
observers who were tracking them, it looked as if they were heading for

Mainz
and were prepared to go much deeper into Germany than they had ever done
before. Daniel finally got a clearer idea of what was in the Duke of
Marlborough's mind.

As
usual, their commander rode on ahead with the cavalry squadrons, leaving the
infantry, artillery and supply wagons to follow at a more sedate pace. Mounted
on his horse, Daniel was near the front of a multi-coloured column of soldiers
that stretched back into the distance. Having marched through open country at a
steady pace, they now entered woodland. The farther they went, the darker it
got as overhanging branches blocked out the light or filtered it through their
leaves to throw dazzling patterns on the ground. Birds sang in the trees,
undisturbed by the tramp of many feet and rumble of supply wagons. There was no
sense of danger.

When
it came, therefore, it took them completely by surprise. As the leading
regiments reached a large clearing, they stepped into the sunlight and became
open targets. A volley of musket fire rang out, scattering the birds in a
squawking cacophony, and hitting a number of men in Daniel's regiment. He
reacted swiftly and ordered those under his command to fan out and take cover
before the next hail of lead was discharged. Dismounting from his horse, he led
it quickly into the trees for safety. From the sound of the attack, he guessed
that somewhere between two and three dozen weapons had been fired. A couple of
his men had been killed outright, many more had been injured.

Since
there was no second volley, Daniel knew that the French snipers must have fled
and he signalled his men to move forward in pursuit of them. Mounting his horse
again, he drew his sword and kicked it into a canter. Other officers followed
his example but he was way ahead of them, furious that they had been caught off
guard and lusting for revenge. He soon caught the sound of many horses,
pounding their way through the undergrowth until they came out of the woodland.
Daniel emerged from the trees to see the familiar French uniforms strung out in
front of him as they galloped away. His estimate had been fairly accurate. He
counted thirty of them.

Spurring
his horse on, he slowly began to gain on the stragglers. Two of them were
dropping behind the other riders and they veered off to the left in an attempt
to shake off the pursuit. Daniel left it to others to chase the main body of
snipers and followed the pair who had become detached from it. His horse was
fleet of foot and he was soon within thirty yards of the two men. Glancing over
his shoulder, one of them was alarmed to see how close Daniel was but reassured
by the fact that he was completely isolated from his fellows.

The
musket slung around the Frenchman's shoulders had been discharged but he was
also carrying a loaded pistol. Pulling it out, he waited until Daniel got
closer then raised it to fire. Even at a short distance, accuracy was
impossible from the saddle of a galloping horse and the ball went harmlessly
past Daniel's ear. The next moment, Daniel drew level with him and slashed at
the man's outstretched hand, slicing it off at the wrist and sending it
tumbling to the ground with the pistol still in its grasp. The man gave a howl
of pain and held the bleeding stump under his other arm in a vain attempt to
stem the flow.

The
other Frenchman had seen enough. He put his own safety before that of his
comrade, abandoning him without a second thought as he rode away. Daniel was
therefore able to sheath his sword, grab the reins of the wounded man's horse
and bring round in a circle as he slowed it to a halt. He promptly dismounted.
Swearing at his attacker, the Frenchmen tried to kick at him but Daniel hauled
him unceremoniously from the saddle and pushed him to the ground. When he tried
to examine the wound, however, a gob of spit hit him full in the face. Daniel
wiped it away then punched the man hard on the chin to subdue him before he
pulled off his coat, easing the blood-soaked sleeve gently over the wounded
wrist. He had seen too many hideous injuries on the battlefield to be
distressed by the sight of blood. It was an emergency. Daniel turned army
surgeon.

'You
need a tourniquet, my friend,' he said affably, pulling at the man's shirt and
tearing it into strips. 'We have to keep you alive so that you're able to talk
to His Grace, the Duke of Marlborough. I'm sure you have a lot of interesting
things to tell him.'

When
the Allied armies crossed the River Main, it became certain to the enemy that
the march on the Moselle valley had been a cunning ploy to mislead them. They
set up camp and Daniel handed over his prisoner for interrogation. The ambush
in the woods had inflicted serious injuries on some of his men, one of whom had
been blinded while another had had to suffer amputation as a result. After
checking on their condition and trying to cheer them up, he went back to his
tent. Daniel was about to enter it when he saw Henry Welbeck in conversation
with a tall, slim man in the uniform of a private. The sergeant was pointing at
Daniel. His companion nodded. After studying Daniel for a moment, the man gave
a nod of thanks to Welbeck and walked away. The sergeant strolled over to his
friend.

'Who
was that?' asked Daniel.

'A
new recruit,' replied Welbeck. 'He joined us yesterday. The bugger has too many
airs and graces for me but he was keen to serve in the ranks and he looks fit
enough.'

'What's
his name?'

'Will
Curtis.'

'Why
did he choose this regiment?'

'He
says that his father served in it when it was first raised in 1689 by Colonel
Sir Edward Dering. Curtis's father was killed in action against the French.'

'What
was his name?'

'You'll
have to ask him, Dan,' said Welbeck. 'All I see is another stupid Englishman
willing to throw his life away in this pointless war. Besides, Eve got more
important things to worry about than Private Will Curtis. He's simply target
practice for the enemy.'

'Why
were you pointing me out?' wondered Daniel.

'He'd
heard about this hare-brained officer who went charging off alone after those
Frenchies and brought back a prisoner single-handed.' He bared his few
remaining teeth in a grin. 'It seems the poor man lost his other hand somehow.'

'I
hacked it off, Henry.'

'That
was the rumour Curtis heard. He wondered who this intrepid Captain Rawson
really was. Now he knows. He also knows how crafty these Frenchies can be,' he
went on. 'That ambush killed two men, blinded a third, took a leg off a fourth
and left another ten unfit for action. It cost me fourteen soldiers, Dan.'

'The
French just wanted to let us know they are here.'

'I
thought they'd all be waiting for us in the Moselle valley.'

'Marshal
Villeroi might be,' said Daniel, 'so he's behind us now. Somewhere in front of
us are Marshal Marsin and the Bavarians. We'll have them to contend with them
before the summer is over.'

'Will
we have enough men to take them on?'

'When
we cross the River Neckar, the hope is that we'll be joined by 14,000 Danes and
Prussians. That's what I've been told.'

'The
River Neckar!' echoed Welbeck. 'Are we going that far south? What's Corporal
John playing at, Dan? Does he mean to march us all the way to Italy?'

'No,
Henry,' said Daniel. 'He means to win a pitched battle against the French that
will leave them in tatters. Where it will be, I can't tell you but there'll be
a huge butcher's bill to pay.'

'There
always is. We only lost a handful of men today. Thousands more will be killed
or maimed before we're done.'

'That's
why you should be grateful when people like Will Curtis volunteer to join us.
We need every last soldier that we can get.'

Private
Will Curtis, meanwhile, had found himself a quiet spot under a tree where he
could draw a diagram of part of the camp with a pencil. Each tent was a tiny
square that he numbered carefully so that no mistake would be made. Beside one
tent, he put a large cross. Slipping the diagram into his pocket, he went to
the corner of the camp that he had just sketched and paced out the distance
from the first tent he had drawn and the one with the cross. He made a mental
note of the number of paces. Charles Catto was content. He could find his way
there in the dark.

As
a result of the ambush, additional pickets were posted around the camp but the
evening passed without incident. Knowing that they would be up again at dawn,
most of the men took to their beds early but Daniel Rawson stayed up late to
give Richard Hopwood a chance of retrieving some money at backgammon. They
played in Daniel's tent by the light of two candles. Hopwood was a fresh-face
young man who had recently bought a commission in the regiment and who - in spite
of his enthusiasm - had almost no experience of battle. While Daniel liked him
immensely, it did not stop him from making an assault on the lieutenant's
purse.

That
night, however, it was Daniel's turn to lose. Though he was by far the more
skilful player, his mind was filled with the image of Abigail Piper, struggling
to reach him. Wondering what had happened to her, and feeling guilty that he
had unwittingly prompted her to follow him, he had several lapses of
concentration. Hopwood was quick to seize the advantage, earning back some of
the money he had lost in previous games. No matter how hard Daniel tried to
oust Abigail from his thoughts, she kept coming back to trouble him. He knew
that he would never forgive himself if any harm came to her.

'Another
game?' asked Hopwood, winning yet again.

'It's
late, Richard.'

'One
more - your luck may change this time.'

'Very
well,' agreed Daniel, 'but you'll have to excuse me for a minute while I answer
the call of nature.'

Daniel
stood up, the sudden movement creating a draught that made both of the flames
dance crazily. He went out of the tent and made his way to the latrines that
had been dug some distance away. A fire was burning to give him some guidance.
When he had relieved himself, he chatted for a few moments to some of the
guards who were patrolling the camp, then he returned to his tent. As he pulled
back the flap, he was surprised to see that both candles had been blown out,
leaving a haunting smell of smoke.

Assuming
that Hopwood had decided against playing again and had instead gone back to his
own tent, Daniel moved forward in the dark. Before he could stop himself, he
tripped over something and fell to the ground. He got up quickly, groped his
way to a candle and managed to light it after a few attempts. The sight that it
illumined made him gape in horror. Richard Hopwood had not only been killed.

Someone
had removed his head.