by Iain Gale
‘Captain Johnson, I have a message for you from Major Charpentier. He requests that you attend him in his rooms with all haste. It is a matter of some urgency.’
In an instant Steel’s carefree mood had gone. What, he wondered, might denote a matter of ‘some urgency’? Had they been discovered? Had someone witnessed their encounter last night with O’Driscoll and his thugs?
‘Thank you. I shall come presently.’
The man coughed politely. ‘I’m instructed to wait for you, sir. If you please.’
Steel grabbed his coat from the chair, flung it over his waistcoat and left in the wake of the messenger. They hurried along the corridor and passed through the anteroom of Charpentier’s quarters. The servant opened the door to the governor’s office and ushered Steel inside before closing it behind him. Once inside, however, Steel instantly toyed with the notion of immediately retracing his steps. For rather than Charpentier, it was Major Malbec who stood alone before him in the room, and Steel recalled his brother’s warning. As before, the French officer was standing by the table in the window, where he was again examining the collection of model soldiers. Steel noticed, though, that they had been rearranged and that the table had been laid out with carved wooden miniature scenery. One half of the little figures were dressed principally in red and blue coats, and the other all in white. There must have been nigh on a thousand figures facing each other across the table.
Malbec looked up and smiled at Steel as he entered. ‘Ah, Captain Johnson. Major Charpentier will not be long. He was called away on urgent business. But it is good that you are here. Perhaps until he returns you would care to join me in an exercise with his little figurines. I think you’ll find it amusing.’
Steel walked across to the table and bluffed his way through his apprehension. ‘You seem to have a battle in mind, Major. I see you have drawn them up in line of attack. They look splendid.’
‘Don’t they? Although you should see the King’s collection at Versailles. This is nothing compared to that. Twenty thousand soldiers. Quelle spectacle! Perhaps you will join me in a little sport?’
Steel nodded. ‘I should be fascinated, sir. How do we play? Is it something like chess? Or do we use cards, perhaps?’
Malbec smiled. ‘Nothing quite so simple, I’m afraid, my dear captain. But for a soldier like yourself nothing could be easier. Horse, foot and guns all move a set number of inches. The firing and mêlée I shall explain as we progress. You know this is precisely how our King learnt the art of war and why for the last sixty years the forces of France have remained the unchallenged masters of the battlefield.’
Steel failed to rise to the perhaps intentional challenge, and Malbec continued. ‘Now, Captain, I wonder, which side should you take? Perhaps that to match your coat would suit you best. Unless you’ve a mind to turn it?’
Steel stared at him and tried to smile. So, he must know. Was Malbec really playing games with him? Could he have discovered his true identity? What else to do but bluff it out?
‘No. I shall say true to my colour, of course. The red coat of Ireland will serve me as well now as it has these past ten years.’
He surveyed his troops. There were three distinct blocks of foot, brigades almost. Most were dressed in red, although those on his left flank were all in blue. Malbec’s force was similar, apart from the fact that one of his regiments was made up entirely of blue-coated grenadiers, as was the fashion in France. He noticed Steel’s stare.
‘Captain, I see that you have spotted my unfair advantage. I have an entire battalion of grenadiers who surely must outperform all my other troops, and yours. Would you not agree that the grenadier is the king of the battlefield?’
Again, Steel, looking at the small, bearskin-capped figures, wondered whether Malbec might not be teasing him. Was it possible that he could know his true identity? Still, there was no alternative however than bluff.
‘I quite agree, Major. And, yes, you are right. In that respect you do have the upper hand. But do not forget that I have an advantage in horse. Look: on my right wing an entire squadron of dragoons in superiority.’
Malbec laughed. ‘Yes, you have the advantage in horse. But you are an infantry officer. Ah well. We shall see who triumphs. So, Captain, shall be begin the game? Here is a measuring stick to determine how far your troops may move. We roll dice to simulate the fog of war. Thus we determine the effect of gunfire and the outcome of mêlée, should your men ever close with mine. As my guest, you may play first, Captain. May I suggest that you open fire with your cannon? Just as was the case on the day of the real battle.’
Steel stared at him. ‘The real battle.’
‘Surely you recognize the terrain. Even standing as you do on the enemy positions?’
Steel looked down at the table, took in every detail. Of course. The river with its bridges, the towns and the hills towering above. Malbec had set out the battlefield of Oudenarde.
‘Oudenarde. Of course. How very clever of you, Major. And I am to play the hand of the Duke of Marlborough.’
‘Yes. I must apologize for that dishonour. Still, it is only a game.’
Steel bristled. The absurdity of their situation merely served to increase the tension in the room. It seemed highly likely to him that this man had uncovered his mission. Thus he was in mortal danger. Yet here they were playing at death with model soldiers. More than that, this Frenchman was instructing him in the art of war.
‘I am no novice, monsieur. I know the etiquette of the battlefield as well as you do. Of course I shall give you a salvo. Now what do I throw for two guns? Two dice? A three and a two. Not many casualties.’
Malbec in turn threw dice for his cannon. ‘And now we move again. I shall advance my infantry towards the village.’
Steel picked up two of the tiny cavalry figures on his left flank. ‘And I shall charge straight into them with a regiment of British cavalry, taking them in the flank.’
‘In the flank. But we would form a defence. Back to back, or a square, in the Dutch manner.’
‘You’re too late, major. My cavalry are upon you while your men are still changing formation. Try the distance. And we do not stop to fire our pistols. We charge home with the sword. In the British fashion.’
Steel was transported back to Oudenarde, to the sight of the Hanoverian cavalry careering into the French infantry. He took in the glorious ranks of brightly painted toy soldiers, so neatly arrayed. And then, carnage. Here on the table, though, there was no blood as the two units closed with one another.
Malbec spoke with annoyance in his voice. ‘So then, you have made contact. Very good, Captain. I admit I am taken by suprise. But let us see what fate decrees.’
Steel threw the dice. A five.
Malbec shook his head. ‘So. What will be, will be. You have destroyed my front rank of infantry, and half of my second. You have broken through, Captain. I congratulate you. My infantry have been routed.’
‘You’re finished, Malbec. Your entire right flank is in disorder. You may as well surrender.’
‘Perhaps. But I don’t think so. You see, what can this be? I advance my fresh cavalry from behind my second line so, and charge and engage your blown and weary dragoons. You’re outnumbered and outclassed, Captain Johnson. Two dice …’ He threw two dice, a six and a five. ‘… and voilà! No more English dragoons. I am a ruthless opponent, am I not? I have no mercy.’
Steel stared, shook his head, and then smiled. ‘Very clever. But you’ve walked into a trap, Major. Did you not see my cannon?’ Malbec’s face fell. Steel continued. ‘Two batteries, firing grapeshot at fifty yards. I hardly think I need to roll the dice.’
‘D’you know, Captain, I saw your guns there, but I did not think that you would do that somehow. To fire point-blank at my horse, almost in cold blood. It’s not the work of an Englishman. Not someone who believes in fair play.’
Again Steel paused. An Englishman? Malbec was playing with him.
‘But you forge
t, Major. I’m an Irishman.’
‘I’m sorry. Of course. It was merely the fact that we are speaking English. And now, I shall fire my infantry at your cannon. And that will be that.’
‘You can’t. You’ll fire through your own cavalry.’
‘They have served their purpose.’
Steel stared at Malbec. ‘That goes against all the principles of war.’
‘Surely, Captain, you no longer fight on principle? How very English! I’m sorry, Irish.’
Steel gritted his teeth. ‘It’s your responsibility as a commander.’
Malbec laughed. ‘Responsibility? Surely, it just goes to prove that in this game of war you must never trust a soul. Wouldn’t you agree, Captain? Particularly if, as you do, you find yourself in the heart of your enemy’s war machine.’
Steel stared at him and saw the smug smile of certainty which played across his face. ‘How long have you known? About who I was?’
‘Oh, not that long. And I have to say that I’m pleased. You see, I was troubled from the moment we met as to where I had seen you before. And as for finding your quarters, well, let’s just say that we have no secrets in the Invalides.’
Thinking fast, Steel looked about the room. He still had his sword. There was a single door and a guard, he knew, outside. They were two storeys up, too high to jump without serious injury. He also presumed that Malbec would have placed further guards, and concluded quickly that if there was to be a chance of escape it was not now.
Malbec was still speaking, toying with a miniature of an ensign of French infantry. ‘Where could it be? I asked myself. I went over again and again in my mind every dealing I had had with the Irish in the past few years. I wondered, were you in England, perhaps as a prisoner?’
As Malbec was speaking the door opened and Steel turned towards it, expecting and hoping to see Charpentier and perhaps a means of deliverance. Instead, however, he found himself staring into the unforgettable green eyes of the Marquise de Puy Fort Eguille.
She smiled at him and raised a single fine eyebrow. ‘Captain Johnson. How delightful to see you again.’ She turned to Malbec. ‘Cheri, I came as quickly as I could. Your note seemed very urgent.’
‘It was of no account. The captain and I have been diverting ourselves with a game of Charpentier’s tin soldiers. In fact he was doing surprisingly well. For an Englishman.’
Steel turned and began to speak, but Malbec cut in. ‘I was just informing the captain here from where it was that I had recognized him. Don’t be surprised. I was sure that I recognized you when we met, and now I know where it was. Once I learnt that you were a British officer it came back to me. You remember an incident some four years ago? How could you forget? You were, I believe, the officer in command of a party of infantry passing through a small Bavarian village. I forget the name. It’s not important. There you made a most unpleasant discovery. Certain German villagers had … erm … got in the way of our plans and looked set to be a most useful means of raising the populace against you. They were … disposed of. Of course their bodies were not meant for you to discover, but for their own kind.’
‘You? It was you and your men did that? You bastard!’
Steel made to move towards Malbec, but only now did the French officer draw his sword. Swiftly and before he could match the move the tip came to rest against Steel’s throat.
‘Careful, Captain. There are ladies present and I would so much regret having to spill your blood. So soon, at least. But, yes, I have to admit that it was the work of my men – a crude attempt to discredit your dragoons, who at the time, you may recall, were burning the Bavarians out of their homes as they have so recently done to the poor people of Artois. Of course I know that your Duke is as always careful not to hurt anyone. I believe that he has a standing death sentence for any soldier who rapes or kills? Well, in Bavaria we merely took things a stage further. We did the job for you. Dreadful smell, though, wasn’t there? I never shall forget that.’
Steel’s hand went to his sword hilt, but Malbec pushed the tip of his own weapon a fraction deeper against Steel’s neck.
‘You evil bastard. You murdered innocent women and children.’
Malbec shook his head. ‘Murder? In time of war? Come, come. Surely you cannot believe in that? In time of war there can be no morals. The death of the villagers was merely a sad consequence of the sort of warfare that we must all fight today. So different from the neat affair on this table, no? A pity to interrupt our game. And I do believe you might have been winning.’
Still holding the sword against Steel’s throat, Malbec took his left hand and swept it across the ranks of the red-coated figures, scattering them across the table. ‘Ah well, you see how easily the ranks of the British fall. And that will be the way when next we meet them on the field. There was one other moment when I think I saw you. I believe that I may have encountered you briefly in the fight for Blenheim. I seldom forget a good swordsman.’
Steel nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. So that was where he had seen the man before. It was true. Although a sword fight in the heat of battle might last for only a few minutes, there were certain faces that Steel would never forget. Mostly he saw them in his dreams, contorted into a rictus of pain as he had left them, dying. Malbec’s, though, had never appeared thus, for he had managed to flee with his life. Steel wished to God now that he had been able to finish him at the time.
He wondered who might have betrayed him or guessed his true identity. For a moment he considered Simpson, but quickly thought better of it. It was impossible to think Alexander would have done so. Possibly the Irishman, O’Driscoll, had given him up before he had been killed. He decided that was the most likely explanation, but sought confirmation.
‘How did you discover me? You have no way of knowing who I am.’
‘No? It was really quite simple. You know this man?’
Malbec clapped his hands, and from the still open doorway another figure appeared. Steel recognized him as Simpson’s butler, Gabriel.
‘Monsieur Gabriel is an officer of the King. He holds the rank of captain in the regiment of Mousquetaires, although for the past two years he has been employed as a spy – one of our best, as a matter of fact. He is currently employed as butler to a man we have suspected for some time, a man calling himself St Colombe. Clearly he is also a British spy. Soon the trap will close on him and we will bring him to justice. You, though, were an easier fish to hook. Naturally, Gabriel informed me of the arrival at the house of St Colombe of a handsome Irish captain. And when I mentioned it to the Marquise it transpired that you two had already met. You can imagine how keen she was to renew your acquaintance. She has an eye for a pretty face. But that’s of no matter now. Now you are my prisoner, Captain Johnson, or whatever your real name might be. I’m sure you will tell me that in good time. You see, there is so much that you have to tell me. And sooner or later you will.’
TEN
Strapped to a carved wooden fauteuil, Steel tried to wrest himself free, but the thick black leather straps that bound him had been fastened so securely around the sturdy oak arms that to move at all merely caused the edge of the hide to cut into his wrist. Malbec watched his futile attempt with amusement, shaking his head.
‘It is quite pointless, Captain. Consider your situation. Accept it. And ask yourself what you would do if you did free yourself. First you have me to contend with, and then there’s our friend by the door, and once you’re out of here you would find yourself where? In the Hôpital des Invalides. In the very heart of the French military establishment. What chance do you really think you have? No, why don’t you simply tell us what we want to know and then you can go and rest. Please, Captain. And on my honour as a soldier I promise that no further harm shall befall you.’
They were in one of the rudimentary cells in the cellars of the Invalides normally used to detain miscreant inmates. Aside from the chair the furnishings consisted of a low wooden plank which served as a bed, a slo
p bucket and a small wooden table. The only source of natural light was a small window near the ceiling which gave out onto the cobblestones. At present the room was lit by two pitch-soaked torches which flickered in their cast-iron brackets and threw moving shadows around the walls. Steel was not sure whether his present lack of clear vision was due more to the poor light or the fact that his right eye was now partly closed and bloodied on account of having been punched repeatedly by both Malbec and Gabriel, who had gone to take a break from his exertions.
By the door stood an armed sentry, a tall infantryman of Malbec’s own regiment of grenadiers with a tall, bearskin cap. Another stood outside. Steel knew one thing: he was not going anywhere. Apart from the guard, Malbec and Steel, there was only one other person in the room. Steel noticed a wicked smile cross the Marquise’s face.
‘My dear Claude, be reasonable. You cannot really make the captain such a promise. You know my plans.’
Malbec, pretending not to hear, continued with his questions. ‘Captain, we do not yet know your name, but we do know that you are a British secret agent and that you have been working with the spy Simpson who calls himself St Colombe. We have known about him for some time. In fact we have waited for just such a moment before taking him. Sadly, at the present time he has evaded us, but be assured we have a shrewd idea of his possible whereabouts. He will not leave the city and will soon be joining you. I do not know for certain the purpose of your mission here in Paris but I am sure you are intent on undermining the will of the French people to wage the war to which their King has pledged them. France shall not rest until she is victorious and Britain and her allies crushed. That is the only way it will end, however long it might take and however many lives it might cost.’
Steel spat blood from his cut mouth and spoke. ‘You’re insane. The people of France don’t want this war any more. You’ve lost touch with your countrymen, Major. You think they’ll follow you to death and glory, but they wouldn’t follow you if you offered them the bloody moon.’