Brothers in Arms (Jack Steel 3)

by Iain Gale

  Steel smiled. ‘The blame does not lie entirely with them, Colonel. I was a little late in arriving.’

  Hawkins smiled. ‘Ever the diplomat, Jack. No matter. It’s good to see you again, my boy. And you are quite well now?’

  ‘As well as I might hope, sir.’

  Hawkins laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ever a man of understatement. It is one of your most endearing qualities, Jack. Your modesty aside, of course. That and your sheer bloody-mindedness, eh? And how’s your lovely wife?’

  ‘She is quite well, sir.’

  Hawkins guffawed. ‘There you are again. That girl was never “quite well” in her life, Jack, and well you know it. She’s radiant. And thriving. And I’ll wager that it was all that you could do to drag yourself away from her to see His Grace. And who could blame you? Lucky devil. Ah, here we are.’

  He opened a door and motioned Steel to enter a room abundant with carved wooden panelling, part gilded and part painted with landscape scenes of peasants working industriously in the fields of what was presumably a depiction of the surrounding countryside. Behind a huge ormolu desk in the centre of the room sat the Duke of Marlborough. To his right and left stood celebrated generals of the Allied army. Steel recognized Lord Orkney, William Cadogan and a number of others. He noted that all were British and that their Dutch allies were notable by their absence.

  He turned to Hawkins. ‘D’you not think it would be better if I were to wait outside, sir?’

  ‘No, stay here. The Duke is expecting you. He will not mind. I know that you are in his thoughts.’

  Marlborough, apparently oblivious to their entrance, stood up and, peering down at the map which had been spread across the leather-topped surface of the desk, cursed his allies and his health. If only he had been in better spirits, he thought, without this damned headache that returned night and day, then he might perhaps have persuaded the Dutch to accept his plan. But he was so tired. So very, very tired. Feeling his eyes begin to close, he sighed and looked up to address his generals: ‘Gentlemen. I find it hard to believe that Prince Eugene, who has ever been my closest ally and truest friend, should have taken the part of the Dutch in this and forbidden our planned move on Paris.’

  Steel heard the words and gazed at the Duke. So that had been his intention – to march on Paris itself. To seize the French capital. It was unthinkably bold, a master-stroke that might surely have ended the war. Why then, he wondered, had the Dutch opposed it?

  Marlborough continued: ‘Instead, gentlemen, His Highness, our Dutch advisor the good Herr Goslinga – fine strategist that he is’ (there was a laugh from the company) – ‘proposes that we should pursue the Duke of Burgundy and blockade the French in Ghent and Bruges.’

  Cadogan spoke. ‘His plan is not without merit, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough scowled at his friend and second-in-command. ‘Sadly, William, I have to confess that you are right. But it is not what we should do. On the advice of Prince Eugene I intend to compromise and take Lille. This, I perceive, will throw Louis into such a rage and terror that he may sue for peace. It should not take more than ten days’ bombardment. And once the town is gained, the citadel may perhaps take as much time again. Then perhaps we shall have our march on Paris after all. I do not intend to think about going into winter quarters until we have persuaded Marshal Vendôme to quit his position at Ghent.’

  Orkney spoke up. ‘But do you really think that our taking of Lille will be enough to persuade Louis to treat for peace on our terms?’

  ‘I have it on good account that as we speak the French King is of a mind to close this war. He knows that his country is being bled dry by our victories. Not for the first time, and I dare say not the last, the flower of the French nobility is being squandered on the fields of Flanders. Besides, I intend to scour northern France as we did in Bavaria.’

  Orkney said, ‘You’ll burn Artois?’

  Marlborough nodded. ‘Much as it pains me to do so, as you know that it did in Bavaria, I see no alternative. General Lumley, you will take your dragoons and as many of the Dutch horse as you can get from them and push deep into Artois and as far as you can into Picardy too. Within days I intend to have fifty squadrons along with foot and cannon deep in France. You know that we have had parties of dragoons out as far as Armentières since last week.’ He pointed to the map and made a bold sweep with his hand across Picardy. ‘We hold the ground and town of St Quentin, halfway from Lille to Paris. Arras and Lens too are ours for all practical purposes. Doullens and Peronne will surely follow. We have already taken French hostages, and you, Lumley, will doubtless take many more, as many as you like, but single out the dignitaries and officials. Louis will not countenance such a move. I have authorized burning and pillaging too. Houses, crops, livestock. Nothing more. No one is to be hurt without cause. It is certain to turn his hand.’

  Cadogan coughed. ‘We do have some disturbing reports, Your Grace, that the Dutch have already been over-zealous.’

  Marlborough frowned. ‘Yes. Well, we are bound to have such reports. But what else can we do if we are to bring this war to a speedy end? Ah well, gentlemen, having done all that is feasible I can do no more than submit to destiny. All that remains to be done is to take Lille and to ensure that Louis is aware of our desire to conclude a peace. Now, rejoin your units. We march on Lille.’

  As the generals dispersed towards the door, at last the Duke saw Steel in the corner of the room. His face brightened and he picked up a wine glass from his desk. ‘Ah, Captain Steel, welcome. You’ll join me in a toast. You know what the day is?’

  ‘Only a fool, sir, would be in this army and not know. It is Blenheim Day, Your Grace.’

  ‘Indeed it is, Steel. And how great was your own part in that engagement? And look how far we have come since then. You heard me speak now, did you not? You see that we are almost at the very gates of Paris.’ He took a long draught from the glass as a footman filled another and handed it to Steel. ‘But it seems that I am to be discouraged from such boldness. What it is, Steel, to be the commander of such an army of allies! Our allies, Steel. Allies by name. We needs must have them, but at such times as this I do wish that we did not. Perhaps not even Prince Eugene himself. Let us drink to Blenheim, then.’

  Both men drained their glasses, and Marlborough spoke again. ‘In truth, though, I am not much inclined to merriment. Captain Steel, forgive me. I trust that your wound is fully recovered?’

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace. It is much better, sir. Quite healed. I have a man in the company who works wonders with herbals.’

  ‘Then you must have him come to me when you can spare him. I am troubled still by headaches and the ague. But to business. We have a task for you. Hawkins.’

  Having been standing near the door for some minutes, quaffing quietly from a goblet of wine, the colonel strode forward. ‘Quite so. We have need once again of your talents, Steel. Our army might not be permitted to march on the city, but there will be a British presence in the French capital ere the week is out. You will take yourself to Paris.’

  Steel guessed from their smiles that his gasp had been audible.

  Marlborough said, ‘Yes, I thought that might throw you, Steel. Understand, though, that we would only give such a challenge, Captain, if we thought you fully capable of succeeding. This is of the utmost importance. Tell him, Hawkins.’

  ‘When you arrive in the city, make for the Hôtel de Boisgelou on the quai de Bourbon. I’ll give you the exact directions. There you will find the house of one of our most trusted men, a British officer by the name of Simpson who goes under the alias of Henri de St Colombe. Simpson is our finest spy. He is a little effete, you might suppose, and not the sort of fellow you’d expect to lead a regiment into battle. But believe me, he’s unbeatable at subterfuge. He’ll be expecting you. We’ve given him warning.’

  ‘But I don’t understand the purpose. What do you need to know? And why me, sir?’

  ‘It’s not what we need to k
now, Jack, it’s what we need the French to know. Simpson is merely the contact. Once you’re there in Paris, he will help you to make contact with a particular French officer. It is he who really holds the key to this affair.’

  Again Marlborough cut in. ‘Simpson has informed us that this man, a Major Charpentier, is much disaffected with the war and seeks an end to it. Explain, Hawkins, if you would.’

  The colonel continued: ‘It is hardly surprising. He lost a leg at Blenheim, Simpson says. In truth, though, it appears that the major is genuinely on the side of peace. He’s quite disaffected with war. And you know that we wish for nothing more than a French surrender. Most importantly, Simpson has discovered that Charpentier has the ear of the King himself. Something to do with a boyhood friendship with his father. Consequently, he is held in high favour at Versailles. Simpson has alerted Charpentier that we intend to make overtures for peace – on advantageous terms to us, of course. It only stands to reason to suppose that he might persuade the royal eminence, who, if Simpson and other sources close to the court are to be believed, is already himself becoming unsure of continuing a war with England which has lasted with few breaks for some forty years of his reign.’

  Steel’s head was swimming with facts, and not least with the magnitude of this new mission. ‘How do I find this Major Charpentier?’

  ‘On account of his wound, Charpentier is now second-in-command at the Hôpital des Invalides, the convalescent home for Louis’s soldiers on the outskirts of Paris. He has a house in the grounds, although he prefers to live as an inmate, where he can be in the company of his fellow veterans and cripples. You’ve heard of the place?’

  ‘How could I not have heard of it, sir? They say it is a new wonder of the world, a haven for those ruined in battle with a gilded dome that shines out across the city, a hospital furnished with every medical advancement, a place where the poor devils can live in some comfort and security and with other soldiers. It is the greatest symbol of a monarch’s gratitude to his men. I believe that it was the model for our own military hospital at Chelsea, but by all accounts it is on a much grander scale.’

  ‘Quite so. A very haven, but twice as grand as Chelsea and three times its size. We may hope that our dear Queen might some day do the same for her own brave boys. Perhaps you will be able to advise her, Steel’ – he smiled – ‘being, as you will be, a former inmate of the place.’

  Steel blanched. ‘You want me to live in the Hôpital des Invalides? As an inmate? With the French? For how long?’

  ‘Only a few nights. Two at the most. You must. There is no other way to meet Major Charpentier. Not only must you enter but you must take up residence there, as if you were passing through the city and had sought out the major as an old friend. No one must suspect that you are a British officer.’

  Marlborough interjected, ‘I am aware that it is much to ask of you, Captain Steel. You should know too that with Louis now living at Versailles the hospital has become the de facto headquarters of the French army. But we only ask you, Steel, on account of the service you have given in the past. A little more wine?’

  He signed to a footman who hurried across and replenished Steel’s glass. The red wine was of a local vintage, strong and pungent and packing a kick which brought home to Steel the full importance of his task. As he drank, a question came to his mind, and although he at first hesitated to ask it he ultimately could no longer resist.

  He looked directly at the Duke. ‘Do not be offended, sir, and please do not think that I shirk from the task, but it merely occurs to me that perhaps Simpson might treat himself with the major and tell him of your intentions?’

  Marlborough replied, ‘Well asked, Captain Steel. The fact is that Major Charpentier needs proof of our faith in this matter before he takes it to the King and risks his own neck.’

  Hawkins continued: ‘You see, Jack, he might want peace, but for obvious reasons he does not trust the English as a race. You will carry a letter to King Louis from the Duke himself. This the major, if he has faith in what you say, will convey to Versailles. It’s up to you to persuade him that you are to be trusted. Besides, Simpson is precisely the sort of man he detests: a spy. He will only parlay with a brother officer, and one lately returned from the front. You are the only man for the job, Jack. Particularly since you were wounded at Oudenarde. To be honest, he’ll love you.’

  ‘But what about a disguise? An alias? What name shall I have? And how shall I get back?’

  Hawkins replied, ‘Choose your own alias, within reason. I suggest that from now on you will be a captain in the Irish brigade in King Louis’s army. You may choose the regiment too. See the Quartermaster General and he will find you a suit of clothes. God knows we took enough to clothe a company after Oudenarde. As for returning here, Simpson has his methods. Have no worries. We shall get you back. And have no fears for Lady Henrietta’s safety. We shall look after her, Jack.’

  Marlborough looked up from the map over which he had been poring. ‘You’re quite happy with the arrangements, Captain?’

  Steel nodded – and lied: ‘Quite happy, sir.’

  ‘Good. And please be assured that should you accomplish your task – as we are sure you must – we shall be most grateful.’

  Steel bowed and wondered what form that gratitude would take, should he live long enough to see it. ‘Thank you, Your Grace. I am honoured to be of service once again. You may trust that I shall do my utmost to ensure that Major Charpentier is convinced of our sincerity.’

  ‘I do trust in that, Steel. And you may trust that if you succeed you will play a part in ending this war and saving a great many lives. Your own included.’

  FIVE

  The coach crested the hill and pulled up abruptly with a jolt, and Steel thanked God that it had. For the last five days he had travelled in this infernal machine, and even though the banquettes were upholstered after a fashion the wheels themselves lacked proper suspension, the carriage being merely hung by leather straps from the wood and metal framework, and every rock and bump in the road had been painfully amplified.

  He had had only two travelling companions. For the first day he had enjoyed the company of a young captain of foot assigned temporarily to the artillery, who had been seconded from the camp to assist with the transportation of a parcel of French guns captured on the retreat of the enemy from Flanders. The two of them had played a few hands of piquet, and Steel, characteristically discarding the low cards, had taken five consecutive tricks. He had won four guineas and had teased the captain about the ruts in the road having been caused by the earlier passage of artillery. The captain, a jovial chap and a fellow career soldier driven, he said, into the army by a spendthrift father, had not seemed to mind at all and had entertained Steel with tales of the mishaps of cannon and the actual prowess of that neglected arm which would soon come to become an integral part of the army rather than contracted as Ordnance.

  Sadly he had left all too soon, and Steel had been joined instead by the man who now sat facing him: a rubicund major of dragoons by the name of Cousins. The man was as tedious as Steel’s previous companion had been amusing, and he wondered quite what the lumpish oaf was doing in command of anything more than a dining table. The man’s entire conversation, as one might have guessed from his figure, concerned nothing save food and drink. As the hours had passed, Steel had become adept at shutting out the man’s words, but somehow they now began to seep into his mind.

  ‘Well, this is my stop and I must bid you adieu, Captain Johnson.’

  For a moment Steel looked puzzled at the name, and then quickly answered to his new alias: ‘And farewell to you, Major.’

  ‘Until we meet again. I must say, Captain, I have enjoyed your company.’

  Steel smiled and nodded. ‘Likewise, Major, of course. And good luck with the dragoons. Be sure to keep the French busy, sir.’

  The major laughed and made what Steel presumed was intended to be an impressive display of swordplay with his hand, but w
hich instead looked merely comic. ‘Oh, you may be sure of that. And good luck to you, Captain, whatever your business might be. You never did get round to telling me.’ He paused by the door, as if expecting to hear now the nature of Steel’s mission.

  ‘No. I never did,’ said Steel bluntly. He had done his utmost not to talk about himself, which with the garrulous major had not been difficult. He had revealed only his name, the alias of Johnson, which he had borrowed from his mother’s side of the family. Steel had used it before as a cover on the Duke’s business, and it was sufficiently familiar to ensure that he would not be caught out for more than an instant should he be addressed by it. Closing the door firmly behind the major, he pointed to a group of tired-looking, red-coated horsemen sitting by a small spinney. ‘Oh look, Major, your men have come to welcome you back.’

  As he watched the major leave, with his attendant dragoons, Steel stretched his legs and allowed himself a few minutes’ rest. He would have preferred to travel the entire way to Paris by horse, but Hawkins had insisted that he should take a carriage as far as the farthest Allied lines. Steel recalled his words: ‘It is absolutely imperative that you should preserve your strength for your mission. God knows you will have need of it, Jack.’ The words filled him with foreboding, but also with the thrill of the challenge that was sure to come. Soon he would be alone in enemy territory, too far from the Allied lines to rely on any help other than his own guile and that of his contact in Paris.

  Taking leave of Hawkins, he had trundled out of the gates of Menin and through Flanders with an escort of a half-troop of dragoons. All the while, forty miles a day, Steel had remarked on the fact that they had seen only red-coated troops – Marlborough’s men, all of them, hellbent on undertaking the Duke’s work of reducing Flanders by fire. For a little of the time Steel had managed to snatch some sleep, glad to make the most of the opportunity to store up his energy, for he knew he would have need of it in the days to come. Waking, he had been conscious of the names of towns called out by the coachman, names which, once familiar as enemy strongholds, he now knew now under changed circumstances: Arras, Péronne, St Quentin. And the further they had penetrated into the heartland of northern France the more acutely aware he became of the brilliance of Marlborough’s original, thwarted plan to press on to Paris, and the utter folly of the Dutch decision to prevent such a move.