4 Under Siege

by Edward Marston

  ‘We’ll lose too many men, Lieutenant,’ predicted Welbeck.

  ‘Not if we make an early breach,’ said Jonathan Ainley. ‘The artillery will clear the way for us, then the cavalry can lead the charge. As for the enemy, we must have sapped their strength by now.’

  ‘It’s our own lack of strength that worries me.’

  ‘Casualties have been unwarrantably high, Sergeant, I grant you. But we mustn’t be deterred by that.’

  ‘I’ve had to watch far too many of my men lowered into graves before their time,’ said Welbeck, testily. ‘Prince Eugene has a plan of the defences – Captain Rawson went into Lille to get it – yet he still hasn’t worked out the best way to penetrate them.’

  ‘I’ll hear no criticism of His Highness,’ warned Ainley.

  ‘Dan might have saved himself all that trouble.’

  ‘Show some respect to your superiors.’

  Welbeck stifled his reply. The lieutenant was amiable but he wouldn’t countenance any censure of a man he revered. In his opinion, Prince Eugene was an outstanding soldier. While he held the sergeant in great esteem – and knew of his exploits inside Lille – Ainley drew the line at too much familiarity. Welbeck’s task was simply to obey orders and not to question them. He had to be kept in his place.

  ‘Are there any tidings of fresh supplies?’ asked Welbeck.

  ‘They’re on their way, Sergeant.’

  ‘People have been saying that for weeks.’

  ‘The situation remains unchanged.’

  ‘In other words, the French have blocked our supply line.’

  ‘That’s not true at all,’ said Ainley, hiding his own worries about the lack of supplies. ‘On the other hand, we’ve stopped any relief getting through to Lille. Hunger and lack of ammunition will soon begin to tell on them.’

  ‘It will tell on us as well, Lieutenant.’

  ‘We are not under siege.’

  ‘Well, it sometimes feels as if we are.’

  ‘I don’t care for your defeatist tone, Sergeant,’ said Ainley, sharply. ‘How can you inspire the men to fight if you suggest that the cause is hopeless? We have brilliant commanders able to exploit all the advantages we hold. I think you should remember Oudenarde. We were at a disadvantage there yet we still achieved a victory.’

  ‘Luck was on our side that day,’ argued Welbeck. ‘We all know it. Had the Duke of Burgundy entered the fray, the result might have been very different. Even you must acknowledge that.’

  ‘I’m not prepared to discuss it.’

  ‘You were the one who mentioned Oudenarde.’

  ‘And I’ll not endure this impertinence from you,’ said Ainley, raising a finger. ‘I’ll thank you to get about your business and leave me to get about mine.’

  Turning on his heel, Ainley marched off. Welbeck was dismayed. As a rule, the lieutenant was a courteous and reasonable man with no hint of the arrogance common to many officers. If Ainley was feeling tetchy, it was a bad sign. He, too, must be having doubts about their ability to sustain the siege. Welbeck was not reassured. When he went off to his men, he had to conceal his deep concerns. On one thing only could he rely with any certainty. Of the men he was about to address, several would die unspeakable deaths.

  The latest batch of recruits would be thrown into action again, marching beside battle-hardened veterans. Because of his injury, the one-eyed Harry Gaunt was excused, but Ben Plummer and the others were already standing in line with muskets loaded and bayonets fixed. They looked frightened and forlorn. Welbeck was reminded of his own early days in the army when he’d been overcome by feelings of sheer helplessness on the verge of a battle. It was a hot day but some of the men in the ranks were shivering in anticipation of what was to come.

  The siege guns had been pounding away hard and the outer defences of the town were wreathed in smoke. Some of the enemy had been killed by flying masonry, others burnt alive yet the survivors fought back with resounding cannon and raking musket volleys. The Allied cavalry charged at full gallop and the infantry went in behind them, marching to the beat of the drums. Welbeck was at the heart of the 24th Regiment. When men fell dead or wounded in front of him, he stepped over them and pressed on. If he saw anyone faltering through fear or trying to turn back, he urged them on with stentorian bellows. As they got closer and closer to the ravelin, the noise made even Welbeck’s bellow redundant. Smoke in their nostrils and chaos all around them, the 24th fought on, firing, reloading, firing again then repeating the whole process as best they could in the glowing furnace of warfare. Musket balls seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  Slowly and with great fortitude, they began to make ground, crashing through the breaches in the walls to fight at close quarters with the enemy and forcing a retreat. Instead of sniping from well-defended positions, French soldiers now offered their fleeing backs as targets. It was a rewarding sight for the Allies. Lille might still be intact but they’d captured most of the ravelin between the two huge bastions and established a base much nearer the town. Only after the last shots had been fired could they take an inventory of their losses. Over a thousand men in the Allied force had been killed or wounded. Scores of horses had fallen during the cavalry charge while others lay dying in their gore. The most significant casualty had been Prince Eugene. Hit above the eye by a musket ball, he’d had to retire from the field with blood streaming down his face. The man commanding the siege would take no further part in it.

  ‘Would you ever consider living in England?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Sir John,’ she replied.

  ‘You’ve not been put off by this visit, then?’

  ‘Not in the least – England has been a revelation.’

  ‘So have you, Miss Janssen,’ he said, seizing on the chance to pass a compliment. ‘I see that I’ve been unkind to the Dutch. I always thought their womenfolk were rather plain and dowdy yet you give the lie to that. You could hold your own with any English lady.’

  ‘You flatter me,’ she said with a nervous smile.

  ‘It would be virtually impossible to do that.’

  They’d ridden around the estate together and paused beside the lake. Even on a dull day, they could see themselves and their horses reflected in the water. The serenity that Amalia had noticed on her first visit there was comforting. Two things had prompted her to accept his invitation to ride out with him. The first was that she felt obliged to Sir John Rievers for the boundless hospitality he’d offered them. The second and more important reason was that he held the key to the truth about Daniel. Thanks to his initiative of sending someone abroad, Amalia would know the full facts of the case. While she still believed Daniel to be alive, a few vestigial doubts flitted across her mind from time to time. Sir John would put an end to uncertainty.

  ‘What has appealed to you about England?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost everything I’ve seen and everyone I’ve met.’

  His eyebrow arched. ‘Does that include Her Grace, the Duchess of Marlborough?’

  ‘Evidently, we didn’t meet Her Grace at the best of times,’ she said, tactfully. ‘But we were enraptured by Blenheim Palace. Father was thrilled to be able to meet the architect. Thank you so much for arranging that, Sir John.’

  ‘It was the least I could do.’

  ‘When the news comes – and when I know for sure that Daniel is alive – it may be possible for us to accept that invitation to dinner.’

  ‘You and your father are always welcome at Rievers Hall,’ he said, ‘but it may not be quite so easy to entice Her Grace there. She’s gone back to Windsor and we may have to wait a long while until there’s someone else for her to upbraid at Blenheim.’

  ‘We may not be here by then.’

  He was upset. ‘Oh? I thought you intended to stay for weeks.’

  ‘That was the original intention.’

  ‘Then what’s changed it? Are you unhappy with the house? I can find you alternative accommodation, if you wish. You could move into Rievers Hall,
for instance. Now that I’ve seen how thoroughly charming you both are, I’d be delighted to welcome you as guests in my own home.’

  ‘We couldn’t put you to that inconvenience,’ she said.

  ‘Where’s the inconvenience?’ he asked with a laugh. ‘We have endless empty rooms that we never use and plenty of servants to wait on you night and day.’

  ‘Father and I are not used to such luxury, Sir John.’

  ‘Do you think you could grow accustomed to it?’

  The directness of the question made her feel uneasy. Amalia was unsure if it were a serious enquiry or lighthearted one. Sir John’s smile was ambiguous. He could either be declaring his love for her or teasing her about a world she’d never expected to inhabit. A glance at the lake helped to supply her with an answer.

  ‘I’d feel like a fish out of water,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he countered. ‘You could hold your own anywhere.’

  ‘I’ll never be put to that test.’

  ‘We shall see.’ His smile became more avuncular. ‘Tell me about the visit to Somerset.’

  ‘It rained for most of the journey there but we were glad that we’d made the effort. I was able to visit the farm where Daniel had been born and brought up. Had things worked out differently, he might still be there with his family.’

  ‘And you might never have met him.’

  ‘That would have been a tragedy.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ he said, pensively. ‘Surely it’s better never to have met someone than to meet them and lose them. Not that you have lost Captain Rawson, of course,’ he added, quickly. ‘I was only speaking hypothetically.’

  ‘How soon will we know, Sir John?’

  ‘That depends on the North Sea. If it’s in a bad mood, it can hold ships up for days or blow them right off course. I’ve been caught in a squall myself and know how hazardous it can be. We just have to grit our teeth, Miss Janssen, and be patient.’

  ‘I don’t think I have any patience left.’

  He suggested that they walk around the lake. Leading their horses, they strolled side by side in a comfortable silence. Amalia was watching the swans on the lake while Sir John simply enjoyed being alone with her. They’d gone halfway around the perimeter of the lake before he spoke.

  ‘Your father would prosper in England,’ he observed.

  ‘He does well enough in Amsterdam,’ she said. ‘Father is never without work. By the standards of most people, we are quite wealthy.’

  ‘He’d have even more commissions here, Miss Janssen. Once his tapestry of Ramillies is hanging in Blenheim Palace, everyone who sees it will wish to employ him. Do you think he’d be happy here?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sir John.’

  ‘Is there any reason for that?’

  ‘His heart is in Amsterdam.’

  ‘What if you choose to live in England?’

  ‘That’s not going to happen in the near future.’

  ‘One never knows,’ he said, meaningfully. ‘Fate has a strange habit of making decisions for us that we’d never before considered.’

  ‘I have no control over that, Sir John. All I know is that I wish to be as close as possible to Daniel wherever he may be.’

  ‘That’s exactly how you should feel,’ he said, feigning approval. ‘Unhappily, it looks as if this war will carry on at least until the campaign season next year. There seems to be no earthly hope of a resolution.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to wait,’ she said, resignedly.

  ‘We all will, Miss Janssen.’ He stopped to look at her, his gaze roving her face before locking on her eyes. ‘Remember what I said, won’t you? As long as you’re my guest, you can have anything you wish. You and your father can move into Rievers Hall tomorrow, if you choose.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll need to do that.’

  ‘The offer stands open.’

  ‘I’m grateful to you for making it, Sir John,’ she said. ‘There’s only one thing I wish at the moment and that’s to know for certain that Daniel is alive.’

  ‘Even as we speak,’ said Sir John, slipping an arm around her shoulders, ‘your wish may be nearing fulfilment. I have the feeling that the man I sent abroad to verify the facts may be talking to Captain Rawson very soon.’

  Andrew Syme had ridden into the main camp as part of the small but much needed band of reinforcements. It had not taken him long to find somewhere to stay and someone to bring him up to date with developments. He learnt that Daniel Rawson was no longer there. Since his injury made it impossible for him to continue, Prince Eugene had been forced to hand over the conduct of the siege to Marlborough himself, obliging the captain-general to attend on a daily basis. Daniel went with him. Syme was in no hurry. He was ready to bide his time until his quarry came within reach. Meanwhile, he was enjoying the experience of being back in an army that was constantly on the alert. News was coming in regularly of casualties sustained at the siege. As he settled into his lodging, Syme resolved to add a new name to the list of dead – Captain Daniel Rawson.

  * * *

  ‘He was the victim of his own bravery, Dan,’ said Welbeck. ‘There was no holding back for Prince Eugene. He rode at the head of his men and that was his undoing.’

  ‘He’ll be sorely missed,’ said Daniel. ‘The prince was more than a gallant soldier. He was a figurehead, an example to all, the very essence of a fighting man.’

  ‘At least he was only wounded.’

  ‘Yes, Henry, he’ll be back in the saddle one day.’

  Daniel had accompanied Marlborough on his visit to the siege that day and taken the opportunity to call upon the 24th Regiment. There was a subdued air in the camp. Everyone had hoped that they would have made far more progress by this stage and were chastened by the setbacks. Welbeck’s evaluation of the situation was blunt.

  ‘We made too many mistakes,’ he said, bitterly. ‘For all his courage in battle, Prince Eugene has his weaknesses. Neither he nor General Overkirk studied Vauban’s plan of the fortifications with sufficient care. They should have realised how much effort it had taken you to get it.’

  ‘It was a combination of effort, luck and help from others,’ said Daniel. ‘It was Guillaume Lizier who told me where to find it and his son who acted as my lookout. But the plan was not comprehensive. Other defences had been added to the original design.’

  ‘Our early attacks were a form of suicide.’

  ‘Did you lose many men?’

  ‘Far more than we can afford, Dan.’

  ‘But the latest attack has borne fruit.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call the loss of our commander a case of bearing fruit,’ said Welbeck, ‘but we did make advances. We’re now masters of that particular ravelin and we killed a lot of Frenchies. I suppose that resembles a form of victory. Now that Corporal John is in charge of the siege, we’ll make further inroads.’

  ‘Don’t bank on that,’ warned Daniel.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘His Grace is not at his best. He’s been troubled by headaches and weakened by some other malady. Having to come here every day has been an imposition on him.’

  ‘What does he feel about the state of the siege?’

  ‘He’s disappointed, Henry.’

  ‘I’d use a stronger word than that.’

  ‘He blames the engineers,’ said Daniel. ‘He feels that they’ve let us down. They’ve been too slow and too uninventive. He hoped for some enterprise from them but it never came. Also, of course, His Grace is very concerned about our lack of supplies.’

  ‘We’re desperate for ammunition, Dan. And don’t tell me it’s on its way,’ cautioned Welbeck, ‘because I’m fed up with hearing that. My men are hungry, fatigued, shocked by our losses and wondering if this siege is really worth such an effort. It’s a question I’ve asked myself.’

  ‘The strategic importance of Lille can’t be underestimated.’

  ‘Will we have enough men left to garrison the town?’

  ‘Of course
,’ said Daniel. ‘Don’t be so downhearted, Henry. It’s not like you to want to walk away from a fight.’

  ‘I’ll fight until I drop,’ retorted Welbeck. ‘But I need ammunition to do it with and food to sustain me. Oh, no,’ he moaned, as he saw a figure bearing down upon them. ‘Here’s one thing I don’t need. What’s she doing here?’

  ‘I should have thought that that was obvious.’

  As she got closer, Daniel could see the smudges of blood on her bare arms and on her apron. Like other women, Rachel Rees had been acting as an auxiliary nurse, cleaning and binding wounds at the behest of the surgeons. After tending a man who’d been badly burnt, she found a moment to go in search of Welbeck. Seeing that Daniel was there as well made her face glow with joy.

  ‘How are you both?’ she asked, cheerfully.

  ‘I’m very well, thank you,’ replied Daniel.

  ‘And I’m not,’ grunted Welbeck.

  She was concerned. ‘Are you ailing, Henry?’

  ‘Yes, I’m dying for lack of peace and quiet.’

  ‘Do you have an injury?’

  ‘You’re my injury, Rachel.’

  She cackled merrily. ‘You still have your sense of humour, I see.’

  ‘Tell her, Dan, will you? I don’t want her anywhere near me.’

  ‘You might change your tune if you’re wounded,’ said Daniel. ‘You’ll need a nurse then and Rachel is very experienced.’

  ‘I’d sooner perish in battle than submit to her nursing. In fact,’ said Welbeck, ‘I’ll pass the word around the surgeons. If I am injured, she’s not to be allowed within twenty yards of me.’

  ‘But I’d look after you, Henry,’ she said, softly.

  ‘That’s my fear.’

  ‘You ought to be grateful to women like Rachel,’ said Daniel. ‘They give freely of their time and energy. How many men would have died if it hadn’t been for their skills?’

  ‘They do useful work, I admit,’ said Welbeck, grudgingly. ‘But I still don’t want to be carried into a field hospital and find myself looking up at Rachel.’