‘No,’ she teased, ‘you’d much rather have me lying beside you. Anyway,’ she continued over Welbeck’s spluttering, ‘I really came to tell you that I’ve finally had enough. I’ve been thinking over that idea I told you about, Captain Rawson.’
‘You’re going to return to Wales?’ said Daniel.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘though not immediately, of course. As long as I’m needed as a nurse, I’ll stay. But the moment that Lille is taken, I’ll be heading home to Brecon.’
‘Praise the Lord!’ cried Welbeck.
‘You could always come with me, Henry.’
‘I feel safer being shot at by the Frenchies.’
‘What made you reach your decision?’ asked Daniel.
‘I’ve seen too much blood and misery and horror,’ she said. ‘I’m ready for a quieter life. In a sense, Captain Rawson, you helped me to make my mind up.’
‘How did I do that?’
‘It was when you took me into Lille. I know I was only a serving wench for a short time but I loved every second of it. I felt at home. I was meeting new people, selling them something they wanted and working in a happy atmosphere. I can do all that back in Brecon,’ she said, ‘with no danger of being arrested and thrown into gaol.’
‘It’s a good decision, Rachel,’ said Welbeck, smiling at her for once. ‘I support it wholeheartedly.’
‘And so do I,’ added Daniel.
‘Wales is the only place for a woman like you.’
‘I haven’t gone yet, Henry,’ she said, eyes twinkling. ‘There’s still time for you to make me change my mind.’
When she returned to the house, Amalia found her father seated in front of the painting so that he could study it in detail.
‘Are you still looking at that?’ she said with slight mockery.
‘I like it, Amalia,’ he rejoined. ‘I liked it when I first saw it. To be honest, I thought of returning to Oxford to buy it.’
‘Sir John anticipated your wish.’
‘I was amazed when I found it waiting for me.’
‘His generosity is overwhelming.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Janssen. ‘I’d feel much happier if he’d let me pay for the painting. We don’t deserve such favours. He’s been treating us like close friends of his rather than strangers.’
‘He’s invited us to move to Rievers Hall.’
‘Why should we do that? We have everything we need here.’
‘That’s what I told him, Father.’
Emanuel Janssen was a doting parent of an only child. When Amalia lost a mother and he lost a wife, they became even closer. Protective of his daughter, Janssen had been delighted when he saw her friendship with Daniel Rawson develop into something deeper and more lasting. He was, however, less certain about her friendship with Sir John Rievers.
‘Did you enjoy your ride this afternoon?’
‘I always enjoy it.’
‘You seem to spend a lot of time in Sir John’s company.’
‘I can hardly refuse an invitation,’ she said. ‘Besides – and I don’t mean this as a criticism of you – Sir John and I are the only two people who are absolutely sure that Daniel is still alive. His presence helps to reassure me.’
‘I believe he’s alive as well, Amalia,’ he attested.
‘You only do that for my sake, Father. I can see it in your eyes and it’s the same with Beatrix. Both of you do all you can to bolster my spirits in spite of your misgivings.’
‘We’re bound to have some qualms. After all, Sir John told us that he’d seen Daniel’s name listed among the dead in the Gazette. That’s an official publication, apparently. It doesn’t often make mistakes.’
‘It did so in this case,’ she said, firmly.
‘I hope with all my heart that you’re right, Amalia.’
‘I am right. Sir John agrees with me. His only regret is that he told me the bad news when he did.’
‘Yes,’ said Janssen, ‘I’ve been thinking about that.’
‘He keeps apologising to me. He did so again this afternoon. Sir John believes that he should have been certain of his facts before he passed on such dire news. It’s because he’s feeling so guilty,’ she explained, ‘that he went to the trouble of sending a man abroad to investigate.’
‘Why did he tell you when he did?’
‘He’d promised to find any mention of Daniel that he could.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking, Amalia,’ he said. ‘Why did Sir John break such terrible news to you alone? I was there at the time. He’d just presented me with this wonderful painting. Can you understand what I’m saying? I should have been with you at such a moment.’
Amalia was jolted. ‘That never occurred to me.’
‘By the time that I came into the room, you’d fainted.’
‘Luckily, Sir John caught me as I fell. What I think happened was this,’ she said, thinking it through. ‘I suspect that he didn’t intend to give me such a shock like that. But knowing how eager I was for news of Daniel – and catching me alone – he couldn’t stop himself from blurting it out. That’s why he can’t stop apologising.’
‘Yes,’ said Janssen, unconvinced by her theory, ‘it’s one explanation, I suppose.’
‘Can you think of another one, Father?’
Face puckered with concern, she looked up at him. Amalia seemed so young and fragile. He simply could not bring himself to upset her by raising any doubts. For her benefit, his fears had to be suppressed. He glanced admiringly at the painting once again before manufacturing a smile.
‘No, Amalia,’ he said, ‘I can’t. Obviously, that must have been exactly what happened. And if you and Sir John are convinced of Daniel’s safety,’ he added with confidence, ‘then so am I. The man sent abroad after him will find Daniel alive and in good health.’
Even though he knew that supplies were running short, Daniel was shocked to learn that ammunition would run out in less than a week. The continuous booming of the siege guns had eaten up their stocks of powder and shot, and the artillery were forced to retrieve some of the enemy shot aimed at them in order to reuse it.
‘Food supplies are low as well,’ said Daniel.
‘Where food is concerned,’ said Marlborough, ‘we can always reduce rations and forage further afield. That’s not the case with ammunition. If we don’t have it soon, then the guns will fall silent and Lille will be able to breathe a sigh of relief.’
‘I’ll set out at once, Your Grace.’
‘You know the route the convoy is taking. They’ll have left Ostend by now and be well on their way.’
‘Who’s in command of the escort?’
‘Major-General Webb and he’s an ideal choice. Acquaint them with our predicament here and see when he’s likely to arrive. Tell him that Cadogan is on his way with reinforcements.’
‘We’ll have to hope the convoy has not been intercepted.’
‘That’s always a possibility, alas,’ said Marlborough. ‘The enemy have enough troops in the area. I had planned for Major General Erle to move towards Bruges but we had reports of massive numbers being rushed there so the plan had to be abandoned.’
‘The French would hate to lose Bruges.’
‘They’d hate to lose Lille even more but that’s what will happen. Once Lille has fallen, we can turn our attention to Bruges and Ghent.’
‘But only if we have enough ammunition,’ said Daniel.
‘Quite so – that’s critical.’
‘I’ll bring news as soon as I can, Your Grace.’
‘May good fortune attend you!’
After trading farewells with him, Daniel left Marlborough’s quarters and walked briskly across to his horse. His uniform was likely to attract the attention of the enemy but he was relying on his riding skills and his knowledge of the region to avoid any problems. While he was only acting as a courier, he was glad to be back in action again. After the excitement of his two visits to Lille, he’d spent most of his time
beside Marlborough and, while it was always fascinating to see the captain-general exercising his command, it didn’t provide the exhilaration that Daniel sought. He was pleased with the opportunity to be sent on an important mission. As he left the camp, the road opened out enticingly before him.
His task not only gave him the freedom of action coveted, it enabled him to speculate once more on the mysterious reference to Amalia in the letter Marlborough received from his wife. Who had died and how had Amalia reacted? Why had she not written to him about her loss? Where was she now? What could he possibly do to alleviate her suffering? When could he see her again?
With so many questions filling his mind, his concentration was affected. Daniel kept his eyes peeled on what was ahead and on both sides of him but he was too preoccupied to look behind him. Thinking about Amalia’s plight and blaming himself for not being there to comfort her, he was completely unaware of the fact that he’d been followed the moment he’d left camp.
Andrew Syme could not believe his luck. After only a short time, he’d been able to gather a lot of information about Daniel Rawson and could now identify him by sight. Knowing that it would be far too risky to make an attempt on his life in camp, he’d devised a ruse. Syme had written a letter that purported to come from Sir John Rievers. It informed Daniel that, in addition to grieving over the death of a close friend, Amalia was seriously ill. Since she could not be moved, she was desperate for Daniel to come to her in England. Syme had fully expected that his letter would lure Daniel out of the camp so that he could be killed somewhere along the road. The ruse was no longer needed. Having kept him under surveillance, Syme was rewarded with the sight of his leaving the camp entirely on his own. As he trailed behind his target, there was a smile of triumph on his face. His task was going to be far easier than he’d ever dared to imagine.
The dog did Daniel a favour. It was a small, fierce, ragged mongrel that hurtled out of a farmyard and yapped madly as it danced around his horse’s hooves. Frightened by the attack, the animal reared slightly and swung round. In that split second, Daniel caught a glimpse of someone in the middle distance, riding steadily after him. He knew at once that he was being stalked. Avoiding the dog, he galloped clear of the little farm. A mile further on, he came to a hill with wooded slopes. As soon as he’d crested it, Daniel looked for a hiding place among the trees. He dismounted, tethered his horse then took out his pistol. Choosing a vantage point, he waited until he heard the clip-clop of a horse.
When the rider came into view, Daniel saw him rein in his mount at the top of the hill and look down the open road. His suspicions were confirmed. Had the man been harmless, he would have ridden on his way without caring about anyone else. Instead of that, he was hovering as he tried to work out where the person ahead of him had disappeared. The man was close enough for Daniel to take a good look at him but too far away to be within range of a pistol. Tall in the saddle, he was lean and alert. Daniel could discern the air of a soldier about him, yet he was wearing the apparel of a wealthy English gentleman. He was an odd person to meet in such a place.
After a few minutes, the man shrugged and seemed to abandon his pursuit. Tugging on the rein, he turned his horse and vanished down the other side of the hill. Daniel was not tempted out of hiding. He waited a considerable time before he moved, keeping an eye on the crest of the hill throughout. But the man did not come back. When he felt it was safe to do so, Daniel mounted his horse and trotted back up the road. He reached the top of the hill and looked at the prospect below. Beyond the farm, he could see for another mile or more. If the rider had gone back in that direction, Daniel would certainly have spotted him. That meant he was concealed somewhere, lying in wait, ready to pounce if his quarry came within reach. Daniel didn’t give him that opportunity. Wheeling his horse, he set off back down the hill. Whenever he glanced over his shoulder, he saw nobody in pursuit yet he knew that the man would be back.
It was a minor setback but Syme was not in the least worried. Lurking among the trees, he decided that it might actually be a good thing that Daniel Rawson was aware of him. It added spice to the situation and gave him an extra challenge. It had never been Syme’s intention to shoot him in the back. He was too much of a soldier and a gentleman to resort to what he regarded as cowardly murder. When he killed Daniel, he’d intended to do so in some form of duel. He wanted to look in the man’s face before he took his life. It was clear where Daniel was going. By talking to officers at the camp, Syme had learnt how low the stocks of ammunition were at the siege. A convoy was on its way from Ostend. Someone needed to find out where it was and how long it would take to reach Lille. Since he was part of Marlborough’s staff, Daniel Rawson had been selected. That was what Syme assumed and his assumption had been supported by the route taken. Daniel was on the road north to Menin.
Coming out of his refuge, Syme mounted his horse and trotted once more to the top of the hill. From his eminence, he could see a rider in the distance, his sword glinting in the sunshine and his red coat standing out in vivid contrast to the green grass. Syme kicked his horse into a canter. The second stage of his chase had begun.
Unable to see him, Daniel nevertheless knew that he was there. It didn’t matter if the man was a French spy or someone with a personal grudge against him. The only fact that Daniel considered was that he was being tailed by a professional and he reproached himself for not realising sooner that he was being followed. Danger was not only behind him. As he came out of a copse, Daniel saw a French patrol directly ahead of him. He took evasive action at once, swinging his horse to the right and galloping along the bank of a bubbling stream. The patrol gave chase immediately, half a dozen men each eager to be the one to capture or kill an enemy. Fanned out across a field, they were a couple of hundred yards away but felt certain that they’d be able to overhaul him.
Daniel could hear the drumming of the hooves behind him. He didn’t waste time looking back. His gaze was fixed on the wood ahead of him. If he could gain the safety of the trees, he believed, he might somehow be able to shake off the patrol. They were slowly gaining on him. Veering sharply to the right, Daniel splashed across the stream and felt the cold water sprinkling his face. When he reached the wood, he plunged in and picked a way between the trees and shrubs. The further he went, the darker it got. In what seemed like only seconds, he could hear the patrol crashing through the undergrowth behind him and taunting him with calls. Their leader ordered them to spread out.
He was in a quandary. Unable to find a hiding place, Daniel didn’t dare to break cover. Once out in the open, he’d be doomed. Divide and kill. That was his only option. The soldiers would be coming one at a time. Daniel was armed with his sword, pistol and the dagger given him by Rachel Rees. Three weapons would not be enough to account for six soldiers but they were all that he had at his disposal. Finding a thick, gnarled oak, he tethered his horse behind some bushes then climbed the tree. The first man appeared only a few moments later, sword in hand as he rode slowly along. Daniel waited until his target was directly below him, then he dropped from the bough on which he’d been resting and knocked the man from the saddle, hitting the ground before rolling over and using the dagger to slit his throat. One down and five to go – the fight for survival was on.
The commotion brought another French soldier within range. This time Daniel felled him with his sword, leaping out from behind the tree to hack at the man, then grabbing his arm to drag him to the ground. One thrust of the sabre despatched him but the man’s cry of agony aroused the others. Taking to his heels, Daniel darted off through the trees to put distance between himself and the two corpses, but he could not outrun a horse. One of them pounded after him and he could hear it closing in on him. When he turned round, he saw a sabre raised to slice his head off. Daniel had the pistol in his hand instantly and put a ball into the rider’s brain. As the man fell backwards and dropped his sabre, its point stuck in the ground.
No sooner had one horse cantered past him than an
other came into view. It was the leader of the patrol and he was pointing a pistol menacingly at Daniel. The precise moment the man fired, Daniel hurled the dagger at him and, as he felt a searing pain in his right arm, he saw the weapon bury itself in the Frenchman’s chest. Trying vainly to pull out the dagger, the soldier gurgled helplessly, then fell from the saddle and writhed on the ground. Four men down and only two left – Daniel had the right to feel elated. Instead he had to stem the bleeding from the flesh wound in his arm. The pistol ball had missed the bone but grazed him enough to produce a lot of blood and severe pain. Tearing open the jacket of the man he’d shot, Daniel ripped off enough of his shirt to be able to bind the wound. However, he was given no time to tie it in place. Before he could even move, two other riders nudged their horses into view and looked down with horror at their fallen comrades. Both had sabres in their hands and murder in their minds.
Daniel was defenceless. He had no weapon in his hand and no means of escape. His arm was on fire. His mind was racing. All that he could do was to wait for them to attack.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They were in no hurry. Dismounting from their horses, they looked closely at the two corpses, their anger mounting as they did so. The captain of a British regiment would be a good prize but they had no intention of taking a prisoner. All that they wanted was revenge. They exchanged a glance as if deciding who should be first, then one of them raised his sabre to strike. Knowing that his chances were slim, Daniel got ready to dodge the blow, hoping that he could dive for one of the discarded weapons. His plan was never put to the test. Before the blade descended in a vicious arc, two shots rang out and both men pitched forward with a pistol ball in their brain.
Grinning broadly, Andrew Syme stepped into view.
‘Always carry two pistols, Captain Rawson,’ he advised, holding up his two weapons. ‘It doubles your chances of escaping alive from this sort of situation.’
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