4 Under Siege

by Edward Marston

  ‘I can see why your father might wish to help the British but why are you so eager to do so as well, Raymond?’

  ‘I have my own reason, Monsieur Borrel.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘The woman I am going to marry is English.’

  It was the first time that Daniel had ever seen him smile. Until then Raymond had been a rather tense, watchful, humourless individual with an aggressive streak. Evidently, there was a softer side to him. As they explored some of the city’s churches, Daniel got him talking about his forthcoming marriage and about his hopes for the future. Raymond began to sound like any other young man in love and bursting with optimism. A shadow then fell across his face.

  ‘We have only one fear,’ he confessed. ‘When the siege is over, we’re afraid that there will be very little of the town left to live in. Is that Marlborough’s plan?’ he asked in consternation. ‘Does he want to reduce Lille to rubble?’

  ‘No, Raymond. He wants to take Lille by inflicting as little damage as possible. He always respects the rights of a civilian population and will not destroy any homes, if it can be avoided.’

  ‘And can it be avoided, Monsieur?’

  Daniel was honest. ‘In this case,’ he said, ‘I think it unlikely.’

  It had taken a full day for Emanuel Janssen and Beatrix Udderzook to get their sea legs. Once they became accustomed to the constant roll of the ship, the thunderous flapping of the sails and the feel of spray on their cheeks, they found the voyage less of a trial. Everything was relative. What they thought was a choppy sea was described by the sailors as an unusually calm one. What they called a howling gale was no more than a strong wind to the crew. Amalia had suffered no ill effects since coming aboard and, unlike the others, slept well at night. Her affliction was boredom. After the initial exhilaration of ploughing majestically through the waves, she grew tired of seeing nothing but apparently limitless expanses of water on all sides of her. As well as finding it monotonous, she was filled with a sense of insignificance. In the midst of the North Sea, all her high ambitions appeared incredibly petty and selfish now.

  ‘How much longer will it be?’ asked Beatrix.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Amalia, scanning the horizon for a sight of land. ‘It seems like an age since we set off.’

  ‘Did you ask your father about going to London?’

  ‘Yes, Beatrix, and we will spend time there at the end of our stay. You’ll get a brief glimpse of the city when we land there, but we have to drive straight off to Oxfordshire then. I’ll be so interested to see what the fashions are in England,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid they’ll make me look so dowdy and provincial.’

  ‘You could never do that, Miss Amalia,’ said the ever-faithful Beatrix. ‘Even in Paris, you outshone all those grand ladies with their silken dresses and ridiculous wigs.’

  Amalia remembered it otherwise. Beside the flamboyance of the French aristocracy, she’d always felt invisible. It had made her take more interest in fashion for its own sake. Beatrix, however, would hear no criticism of her mistress. As ever, Amalia was touched by her maidservant’s unswerving loyalty.

  ‘What do you think of your dream?’ she asked. ‘According to that, we should all have drowned by now.’

  Beatrix laughed. ‘They were silly fears.’

  ‘Do you feel safe and sound?’

  ‘Yes, I do – now that we’re actually at sea. I’m enjoying it, Miss Amalia. It’s not at all as I’d imagined.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised it would be quite so noisy.’

  ‘You get used to that,’ said Beatrix. She inhaled deeply. ‘If only the other servants could see me now. They were very jealous when I told them we’d be staying at a palace.’

  ‘That’s not strictly true,’ explained Amalia. ‘It will be years before Blenheim is actually finished. The duchess has kindly found us some accommodation in Woodstock. It’s a village nearby.’

  ‘What do they eat in England?’

  ‘Much the same as we do, I suppose.’

  ‘Didn’t Captain Rawson tell you what to expect?’

  ‘He had no idea that we were going there.’

  ‘I thought that you wrote to tell him.’

  ‘I did, Beatrix, but my letters take a long time to reach him. I can’t even be sure where he is. The army is always on the move. The chances are that he hasn’t even read my letter.’

  ‘What will he think when he does read it, Miss Amalia?’

  ‘He’ll be very pleased. He wanted me to see England.’

  ‘Would you ever think of living there?’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Amalia with a laugh. ‘We haven’t got that far yet.’

  ‘I don’t think it would appeal to me.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘To start with, I hate the sound of their language.’

  ‘That works both ways. They’re not enamoured of Dutch.’

  ‘Well, they ought to be,’ said Beatrix. ‘It has a nicer ring to it. No, the truth is that I could never feel at home anywhere else than Amsterdam. But I want you to know that my feelings don’t come into it,’ she went on. ‘I’d follow you wherever you wanted to go, whether it was England, Italy, Turkey or even Russia. I’ll always be at your side, Miss

  Amalia – except that you might be Mrs Daniel Rawson by then.’ Amalia suddenly felt bashful and unsure how to respond. She was spared the effort of doing so by a shout from the man in the crow’s nest. He’d seen a speck in the far distance.

  ‘Land ho!’

  Everyone rushed to the bulwark. It was England at last.

  Rachel Rees settled into the tavern very quickly. Though she couldn’t understand every word that was spoken, she could sense moods instantly. There was an underlying tension in the place. With her husband in custody, Madame Lizier was clearly under great strain and her fears were shared by her son and her sister. Rachel sought to relieve the pressure of work on the others by making the beds in the guest rooms, helping with the cooking and, most notably, taking a turn as a serving wench that evening when the place really filled up. Her vivacity made her immediately popular and she enjoyed the lively banter. The customers cheered to the echo when they discovered that she had a beautiful singing voice.

  Daniel was grateful for the way she threw herself into the work even though she had no real idea of why they were there. With her natural affability and bustling competence, she made Estelle, the unmarried sister of Madame Lizier, look slow and dull beside her. Rachel was good for business. Wanting a chance to speak to her, the customers – soldiers, in particular – called her over and ordered more wine than they would normally do so. The more they drank, the less discreet they became. Seated among them, Daniel was able to tease out many crucial details of the reinforcement of Lille. His decision to take Rachel Rees with him had been vindicated.

  There was only one problem and it arose during a slight lull.

  ‘You’re doing wonders, Rachel,’ he said, taking her aside. ‘Go on like this and they’ll want to keep you here for ever.’

  ‘One thing I can do, Alain, is to sell. It’s my living.’

  ‘Madame Lizier is very pleased with what you’ve done.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do in return for the accommodation. By the way,’ she said with a playful nudge, ‘we’ll have to be careful tonight.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘The bed creaks like anything. There’ll be no secrets in the dark tonight. Everyone will know what we get up to.’

  Before Daniel could tell her that he wouldn’t be sharing the bed with her, another customer came up. He was a big, paunchy soldier in his forties with a waxed moustache that he fingered with one hand. His eyes gleamed familiarly. When he whispered something in Rachel’s ears, she gave a loud cackle of pleasure. Daniel slipped away and left them to it. He found Bette Lizier alone in the kitchen. It was the first chance he’d had to speak to her since she’d returned from visiting her husband.

  ‘How did you find
Guillaume?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s very annoyed at being kept there.’

  ‘Do they have any real evidence against him?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘He was arrested on the strength of idle gossip.’

  ‘Then they must release him in time. How is he being treated?’

  ‘The food is poor but at least they are leaving him alone. They no longer question him every day. Guillaume says that they are more interested in the siege than in him.’

  ‘So you were able to talk to him freely?’

  ‘Yes, Monsieur Borrel,’ she replied. ‘I told him about you and he agreed that you could be trusted.’

  ‘Did you put those questions of mine to him?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Was he able to help me in any way?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Guillaume says that only old documents are likely to be in the town hall. There’s a room where the archives are kept. It’s on the first floor at the back of the building.’

  ‘That sounds promising,’ said Daniel. ‘What else did he tell you?’

  ‘The only time you could get in there is after dark. Guillaume said that the best way would be through one of the attic rooms but you’d have to be able to climb.’

  ‘I’ve had plenty of practice at that.’

  ‘Be careful, Monsieur. There are guards outside the main door and a nightwatchman is on patrol inside the building until dawn.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning.’

  ‘As for the other things you wanted to know,’ she continued, ‘Guillaume was not really able to help. He has no idea where plans of any new fortifications are kept. But he did have one suggestion.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Talk to the men who are building them. Guillaume says that it’s not being left only to soldiers. They’re getting people from the town to do the digging as well. My husband is the only person still kept under lock and key. The others were all released to work on the defences.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Daniel. ‘That’s worth knowing.’

  Bette Lizier stepped back and studied him quizzically.

  ‘May I ask you a question now?’ she said.

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘How long have you been married?’

  ‘Not very long,’ he said, evasively.

  ‘I rather think it is not at all.’

  Daniel was curious. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Rachel is a good woman and she’s been a wonderful help to me but she’s not the wife you’d choose, Monsieur. She looks as if she’s married to you but you don’t look as if you’re married to her.’

  ‘We’re travelling as man and wife, that’s all I can say.’

  ‘Forgive me for being so nosy.’

  ‘Not at all, Madame,’ said Daniel. ‘You have sharp eyes. And so, I should tell you, does Raymond. During our tour of the town, he was very useful. He obviously takes after you.’

  ‘He thought you were an impostor. I sensed that you were not.’

  ‘What else did you sense?’

  She gave a quiet smile. ‘That would be telling, Monsieur.’ She heard raucous laughter from the bar. ‘Rachel has been in there far too long. Perhaps it’s time for me to relieve your wife.’

  ‘Leave her be,’ said Daniel. ‘She’s enjoying every moment.’

  It was late when the customers finally left the conviviality of the Coq d’Or and rolled off to their homes or their billets. Daniel and Raymond helped the women to clear up in the bar. It was extraordinary how much debris a few dozen people could create. The first thing that Daniel did was to open the windows to get rid of the smell of tobacco and cooked food. The fug gradually cleared. When everything had been put away in readiness for the morrow, the candles were snuffed out and they all retired upstairs.

  Having had several drinks bought for her by customers, Rachel was in high spirits. She tripped up the stairs with the eagerness of a young bride on the first night of her honeymoon. Daniel lingered in the passageway outside their bedroom so that she would have ample time to change into her nightdress. Before he entered the room, he first tapped politely on the door.

  ‘There’s no need for you to knock,’ said Rachel, sitting up in bed. ‘We’re husband and wife, after all.’

  ‘Not when we’re alone like this,’ he corrected.

  ‘Do I look so hideous to you?’

  ‘No, no, you’re a very attractive woman, Rachel.’

  ‘Those soldiers seemed to think so. It’s just as well I didn’t understand everything they said.’ She giggled. ‘They were making some very rude remarks.’ She patted the bed beside her. ‘Come and join me, Monsieur Borrel.’

  ‘I’ll sleep on the floor, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I do mind. I want some company.’

  ‘You heard what I said. I’m already spoken for.’

  ‘Why not come to bed and tell me all about her?’ said Rachel, beckoning him to her. ‘We’ll simply talk, I promise you.’

  Daniel knew that it was a promise she had no intention of keeping. By the light of the single candle, she was doing her best to look seductive, pulling her nightdress down to expose both shoulders and beaming at him. Resisting temptation, Daniel took one of the blankets from the bed and placed it on the floor.

  She was piqued. ‘Don’t I even get a kiss?’

  Daniel got up and placed a kiss on her forehead.

  ‘Good night, Madame Borell,’ he said, blowing out the candle.

  ‘You know where I am, if you change your mind.’

  But Daniel had no urge whatsoever to do so. After taking off his clothes, he settled down on the blanket in his nightshirt, trying to adjust his body to the undulations in the oak flooring. As he lay there in the dark, he reviewed what he’d so far learnt and what he needed to do on the following day. He was soon interrupted by loud snores from the bed. Rachel had given up all hope of enticing him into it. While she was deeply asleep, Daniel remained awake. Instincts sharpened by years of being on continual guard against attack made him listen intently. The floorboards in the passageway were creaking gently. Somebody was on the move.

  The only weapon he’d brought with him was the dagger that Rachel had given him as a gift. Reaching for it, he kept it concealed beneath the blanket. His ears hadn’t deceived him. The footsteps stopped outside the door and someone tentatively lifted the latch. A moment later, the door swung open and Daniel saw a figure enter in the gloom. The newcomer groped his way to the bed.

  ‘Rachel, Rachel,’ he said, drunkenly, ‘where are you, my love?’

  She woke with a start. ‘Is that you, Alain?’

  ‘No, it’s me, Sergeant Furneaux.’

  He dived on top of her and groped her breast. Rachel was horrified. Apart from anything else, the Frenchman was stark naked.

  ‘Get off me!’ she cried, pushing him away.

  ‘I want you,’ he insisted, silencing her protests with a kiss.

  It was as far as his courtship was allowed to go. Leaping up from the floor, Daniel dragged him from the bed and knocked him out with a single punch. Covering the interloper with a blanket, he put him over his shoulder and took him out of the room. Too drunk to know what he was doing, Sergeant Furneaux was now too dazed to know what was happening. Daniel carried him down the stairs and out into the yard, removing the blanket before dropping him in the horse trough. He left Furneaux spluttering in the water.

  When he got back to the bedroom, Daniel saw that Rachel had lit the candle again. She was shocked and frightened.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ she asked.

  ‘The same thing I’d do to any man who tries to molest my wife,’ he said with a grin. ‘Don’t worry about him. By morning, he won’t remember a thing about it.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Renowned for the roar of his voice and the strictness of his discipline, Henry Welbeck was not the ogre he always appeared to those under him. He really cared for his men and hated the thought of losing some of them every time an e
ngagement with the enemy took place. Though nobody would have guessed it, he took an almost paternal interest in his charges, striving to turn uncouth recruits into responsible human beings and schooling them to be capable soldiers in order to give them a better chance of survival. Nothing upset him more than to lead a burial detail over a battlefield. After all these years, the pain of losing his men in such large numbers was still intense. It was even more intolerable if the deaths had been as a result of horrendous mistakes by a senior officer. He was scathing in his denunciation of those above him.

  After drilling his new recruits, he stood them in a line before him. It was a very hot day and they were dripping with sweat. Ben Plummer looked as if he was about to collapse from exhaustion.

  ‘I am your salvation,’ Welbeck told them. ‘Don’t look to the officers to act in your best interest. Many of them will not even be there. It’s soldiers like us who face enemy fire time and again. There are officers in every regiment who never even leave the comforts of their home in England. Once they’ve bought their commissions, they stay as far away from danger as possible. They leave that to us.’ He glared at Plummer. ‘What do they leave to us, Ben?’

  ‘Danger, Sergeant,’ said Plummer.

  ‘The only danger you ever met before, I daresay, was from a diseased whore.’ The other men sniggered. ‘Well, you’ll get more than a burning prick when French muskets start to aim at you. The first thing you’ll do is to fill your breeches in sheer terror. Unless,’ he emphasised, tapping his chest, ‘unless, that is, you listen to, learn from and obey your dear Sergeant Welbeck. In other words, I’m the only thing standing between you and a hideous death. I’m your true saviour. Now, do you have any questions?’

  ‘Are we dismissed, Sergeant?’ gasped Plummer.

  ‘No, you’re not. We’ve barely started.’

  ‘When do we eat?’ asked another man.

  ‘You eat when I say, you hungry little turd.’

  A third voice piped up. ‘When do we have muskets?’

  ‘Well done,’ said Welbeck without sarcasm. ‘Someone’s asked a sensible question at last. The answer is that you have muskets when I can trust you not to shoot me with them.’ They laughed. ‘Oh, it has happened in the past, believe me. I’ve had two people who tried to blow me to pieces and one who did his best to run me through with a bayonet. They lived to regret it. We flog people who show that kind of disrespect to a sergeant. We flay them alive.’ He walked along the line. ‘Is there anyone here who’d like to find out what two hundred lashes feel like on your bare back?’ There was long silence. ‘No? I thought not. We’ve got no idiots here. We’ve got no heroes either, by the look of you. It’s up to me to put some heroism into you. I’ll not take cowards into battle under my command. I only want men with backbone. Be warned. I have a reputation to keep.’