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.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There was no respite. Under Marlborough’s direction, the Allied army subjected Tournai to a sustained bombardment, concentrating its fire on specific targets. The noise was ear-splitting. Breaches were made in the walls and rubble lay everywhere. Sorties were almost daily events. Though the French fought back courageously, casualties inside the town increased remorselessly. Soldiers and civilians were being killed indiscriminately. Fear spread rapidly and the townspeople begged the governor to deliver them from the furious onslaught. They were afraid that the whole town would be destroyed along with most of its inhabitants. Assessing the situation, Marlborough judged that it was time for a more concerted attack.
When he saw that the Allies were marshalling their troops for a general assault, the governor beat the chamade, the signal for a parley. The bombardment ceased at once. There was a formal exchange of views between de Surville and Marlborough, carried out with measured politeness and resulting in an armistice. On the last day of July, three hundred wounded were evacuated to Douai and the remaining members of the garrison – almost four thousand five hundred in number – were allowed to withdraw into the citadel before the second stage of the siege began. During the negotiations, Marlborough had sought to persuade the French to extend the armistice until September and to surrender on that date if they hadn’t been relieved in the interim. Much bloodshed, he argued, would be saved as a consequence. Unable to make the decision of his own accord, de Surville referred the terms of the convention to Versailles. A reply soon arrived.
Daniel Rawson was present when the captain-general opened the letter in his quarters. He and Cardonnel looked on as Marlborough read the missive with a blend of irritation and amusement. Clearly, the offer had been rejected.
‘Louis is up to his old tricks,’ said Marlborough.
‘What does he say, Your Grace?’ asked Cardonnel.
‘He refuses to entertain the terms unless the armistice is linked to a ceasefire throughout the whole of Flanders.’ He handed the letter to his secretary. ‘Read it for yourself, Adam. I suppose that it’s no more than we should have expected of him.’
‘It’s a form of insult,’ opined Daniel. ‘King Louis can surely not have believed you to be so gullible as to comply with his wishes. In effect, he’s sacrificing Tournai as if it’s a gift to us rather than a conquest. We are in the position of power. Instead of making demands, he ought to be seeking a compromise.’
‘It’s a typical subterfuge, Daniel.’
‘He only talks of a ceasefire because he lacks confidence in his army. He knows that they’re unable to relieve Tournai and is too afraid to let them close with us in a decisive battle because he can foresee the outcome.’
Cardonnel put the letter down. ‘Will you draft a reply, Your Grace?’
‘It will be a very short one,’ said Marlborough.
‘A copy of this will have been sent from Versailles to the governor.’
‘Then he’ll realise that the siege must continue. Louis’s offer is ludicrous.’
Cardonnel grinned. ‘Will you tell the King that?’
‘Yes – but I’ll phrase it more obliquely.’
&n
bsp; ‘That was ever your way, Your Grace.’
‘Louis and I have had an interesting correspondence over the years,’ said Marlborough with a nostalgic smile. ‘I’ve become closely acquainted with that devious mind of his. It’s a labyrinth of unadulterated guile.’
His secretary was realistic. ‘The citadel will be a tough nut to crack.’
‘We have no illusions about that, Adam, but it will nevertheless fall. Our task would be much easier, of course, if we had detailed plans of the fortifications. When we invested Lille – thanks to Captain Rawson – we knew exactly what we were up against because he got inside the place and stole the relevant plans.’
‘It’s rather too late to ask him to do that here.’
‘It most certainly is,’ agreed Daniel. ‘The best time to enter a town is before it comes under attack. It would be suicidal to try to slip in there at the moment.’
‘You’d be blown to pieces by enemy artillery.’
‘Heaven forbid!’ exclaimed Marlborough.
‘Or you’d be picked off by a marksman.’
‘The main problem,’ said Daniel, gazing at the rough sketch on the table, ‘is that we face hidden problems. By all accounts, there’s more work below ground than above it. The engineer who designed it – the Marquis de Maigrini – has a passion for mining. There are secret passages and galleries everywhere. What is more,’ he added, looking up, ‘the Marquis is rumoured to be inside the town even as we speak. That will be a great help to them.’
‘He’ll be able to see his work tested to the limit,’ said Marlborough, ‘because we’ll hammer away with all our might until the citadel cracks apart.’ Sitting at the table, he picked up the letter from Versailles then immediately put it aside. ‘No, let Louis wait for his answer,’ he decided. ‘Others take precedence – the Lord Treasurer and the Secretary at War, for instance. Before either of those august gentlemen, it goes without saying, must come Her Majesty.’ He picked up his quill and dipped it into the inkwell. ‘It may only be a partial capitulation but it’s an achievement that needs to be recorded.’
Daniel watched him as he began to write. Having spent so long in England with him, he was more aware than most of the widening rift between the Duchess of Marlborough and the Queen, and of the predicament in which it left the captain-general. When he’d visited Queen Anne, he’d been given a frosty reception. It came in sharp contrast to the welcome he’d been accorded after his return from the triumph at Blenheim in 1704. He’d been hailed as the saviour of Europe then. The Queen had rushed to load him with honours. Of all the spoils of war, none was dearer to Marlborough’s heart – and to that of his wife, Sarah – than the acquisition of Blenheim Palace, set in sixteen thousand acres of Oxfordshire and funded at public expense. It would give them almost monarchical status.
To ensure its future, however, royal favour had to be retained or grants from the Treasury might not be so forthcoming. Back in England, Marlborough’s political enemies were using the Queen’s estrangement as a stick with which to beat him. The only way to win back her support was to achieve victory in the field. For that reason, every scrap of good news from the front had to be communicated to her. Daniel knew that the surrender of the town was only a prelude to the much more difficult task of capturing the citadel. Yet it was a definite mark of progress and, as such, it deserved recognition. Once the letter had been written and dispatched, the real battle for Tournai could begin.
‘Marlborough has bitten off more than he can chew,’ said Villars, smirking. ‘The siege is not going quite as he would have wished.’
‘No, Your Grace,’ said Morellon. ‘His army has been given a rough welcome and we’ve been given priceless time in which to organise our defences.’
The two men were in Villars’ quarters, enjoying a glass of wine and the latest report from Tournai that the citadel was resisting all attempts to storm it. Villars was pleased that he’d finally wrung a concession out of Versailles. In the event that either Valenciennes or Conde was threatened, he’d been given grudging consent to extend his lines eastwards to include Denain. He’d promptly done so. At the same time, he pursued his policy of sending out patrols to harass the enemy on its flanks.
‘Tournai may yet hold out,’ said Morellon.
‘That’s too much to hope for, Charles. Marlborough has time and superior force on his side. He’s also a master of siege warfare. The citadel must and will eventually capitulate.’
‘I spoke to some of the wounded at Douai. They had grim tales about the extent of the damage done to the town.’
‘It was to his credit that Marlborough released them as part of the armistice.’
Morellon was less impressed. ‘Was that an act of graciousness on his part or a sign that he wasn’t strong-willed enough to keep them in Tournai where they’d probably have died for lack of medical care?’
‘You do him wrong,’ snapped Villars.
‘Then I beg his pardon.’
‘He’s a true soldier and I salute him for it. He showed compassion. The Duke of Marlborough is a worthy adversary. However,’ he went on, ‘he has too good an opinion of his own abilities and that’s a weakness I mean to exploit. He was lucky at Oudenarde. The odds were against him. By rights, he should have been soundly defeated. His good fortune has now run out. He’s facing me.’
Morellon raised his glass in tribute. ‘You will succeed where others failed.’
‘There’s no doubt about that.’
‘If only you had complete freedom of action, Your Grace.’
‘That will come in time. It must.’
‘The King is too cautious.’
‘Events will force him to become bolder.’
‘He should come and see what’s happening with his own eyes,’ said Morellon, irritably. ‘It all looks so different from Versailles.’
‘His days in the saddle are over, Charles – unless he’s riding a woman, that is.’ Villars chortled. ‘Only death will rob him of that particular pleasure.’
‘Yes, he’s been a lusty monarch, no question about that.’
‘In that respect, he’s been a true French king and should be applauded. As for our immediate future,’ he went on, becoming serious, ‘we continue the good work I’ve already initiated. We strengthen our defences, build up our supplies by foraging further afield, keep a close eye on developments at Tournai and send out more raiding parties to inflict casualties on the enemy and to attract their attention.’
‘What happens when Tournai falls?’
‘One can only guess.’
‘What would you do in his position, Your Grace?’
Villars sipped his wine. ‘I’d have no hesitation in investing Ypres,’ he said. ‘We must hope that Marlborough doesn’t harbour the same intention. That would be a disaster for us,’ he admitted, facial muscles tightening. ‘King Louis is more concerned about the fate of Mons. Should it fall in the wake of Tournai, he believes that our case is undone. That’s why he urges us to use every means to relieve the garrison. The cost is not to be considered.’
‘Does he mean the cost in terms of money or the cost in terms of blood?’
‘Both – the salvation of France is at stake.’
Morellon’s smile was obsequious. ‘Then it’s as well we have a true saviour leading us,’ he said. ‘I know it, the army knows it and, very soon, the Duke of Marlborough will come to recognise it.’
Basking in the praise, Villars drained his glass with a decisive gulp.
Regiments engaged in the protracted siege of Lille had blithely assumed that Tournai would prove less problematical. They were soon disillusioned. As in the case of the former town, the siege settled into a battle of attrition. The Allies had to fight tooth and nail to gain ground then struggle to hold it. Every time they advanced their trenches, they were pounded mercilessly by cannon mounted on the ramparts of the citadel. But it was underground that the most savage encounters took place. Sappers digging tunnels to undermine the stronghold had to contend with
enemy bombs, burning straw and sudden collapses of the earth above them. When their tunnels met those already built as part of the defences, they found themselves fighting in confined spaces with pickaxes and shovels. Horror stories about gruesome deaths underground did nothing to boost the confidence of Allied soldiers. After hearing about those who’d been blown to bits, burnt to a cinder or buried alive, they were reluctant to enter the tunnels and had to be more or less forced to do so.
Henry Welbeck faced the same difficulties as other sergeants. When he met Leo Curry that morning, he was able to compare notes with him.
‘How many have you lost, Leo?’ he asked.
‘Far too many – the bravest of them died underground and, rather than obey orders, the cowards deserted.’
‘Going into the tunnels is like entering the mouth of hell.’
‘I like to fight in the open,’ said Curry, ‘where you can see the enemy.’
‘I’m of the same mind. Fighting in the dark is a bleeding ordeal. I’ve lost count of the mouthfuls of earth I’ve had to swallow and the dirt has made my uniform filthy. You never know what to expect. The French exploded a mine yesterday and carried off four of my best men. They didn’t stand a chance.’
‘This is as bad as Lille.’
‘In some ways, it’s even worse,’ said Welbeck. ‘If the enemy doesn’t kill us, this damned pestilence will. I’ve already had to bury some of its victims. I’d rather die quickly with a bullet in my brain than perish slowly with a raging fever.’
‘So would I, Henry.’
While their artillery continued to open cracks in the citadel, the Allies had suffered a number of reverses. Early in August, they’d tried to storm the walls and lost one hundred and fifty men in the process. Havoc was created underground when a double mine buried all of three hundred soldiers. As the casualties mounted, so did plague victims. Regimental surgeons worked at full stretch to cope with the constant stream of the badly wounded and the fatally infected. There was a pervasive mood of melancholy. Allied soldiers were on reduced rations, fighting in bad weather and ordered to risk their lives in gloomy tunnels that were positive death traps. Inevitably, there were those who succumbed to despair.
5 A Very Murdering Battle Page 19