4 Under Siege

by Edward Marston

  ‘Look at that poor devil,’ he said, indicating one corpse. ‘He was burnt to a cinder.’

  Welbeck was unconcerned. ‘It serves him right.’

  ‘Don’t you feel sorry for him, Sergeant?’

  ‘I feel sorry for the horse but not for its rider.’

  ‘How many did we kill?’

  ‘Not enough,’ said Welbeck, angrily. ‘Most of them got through to the town with their fresh supplies. What were our picquets doing, letting the buggers through like that?’

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘There’ll be some stern questioning, that’s what will happen. When you besiege a town for two months, you should have it by the throat. The last thing you should do is to let a convoy get through to it with relief supplies.’

  ‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?’ asked Plummer, tearing his gaze away from the hideous scene around him.

  ‘I’ve seen the Frenchies play tricks before but never like this.’

  ‘You have to admire the way they rode in, bold as brass.’

  ‘I blame the Dutch.’

  ‘Why is that, Sergeant?’

  ‘It’s a simple question of colours, lad. Because some of our Dutch allies wear blue uniforms, they’re dressed in the same colour as the enemy. If everybody in our ranks wore red coats like us, this deception could never have happened.’ Thrusting his pipe into his mouth, he looked shrewdly at Plummer. ‘How are you finding army life?’

  ‘I hate every second of it.’

  ‘That will wear off in time.’

  ‘Harry Gaunt has deserted and some of the others are talking about it,’ said Plummer. ‘We’re scared.’

  ‘You should be more scared of running away than of staying here,’ said Welbeck, his face inches away from the recruit. ‘Deserters are usually caught and they get short shrift. How far will Harry Gaunt go with one eye and no knowledge of the region? Desertion means ignominy. Staying here to fight gives you a chance of glory.’

  ‘Is that what you call glory?’ asked Plummer, pointing to the blackened corpse.

  ‘Yes – if you happened to be the man who shot him.’

  ‘At least he was killed instantly. We’re dying a slow death.’

  ‘I’ve got a feeling you’ll outlast this siege, Ben Plummer,’ said Welbeck, taking a step backwards. ‘When I first clapped eyes on you, I didn’t like the way you looked or the way you talked. As for the crime that got you here, I despise people who live off the proceeds of women like that.’

  ‘You never met any of them,’ said Plummer with something of his old impudence. ‘I only employed the most succulent ladies. Even you would’ve felt a tingle of interest in them.’

  ‘Close that foul mouth of yours.’

  ‘If I had one of them to warm my bed right now, I might think that the army was not such an ordeal after all. Perhaps that’s the answer,’ he mused. ‘I’ll have to get myself wounded – though not too badly – then I can get to pick out the prettiest nurse and persuade her to tend to my needs.’ He gave a snigger. ‘Your own dear lady is working as a nurse, isn’t she, Sergeant?’

  Welbeck’s punch sent him somersaulting across the ground.

  The voyage was a test of his patience. A squall came up from nowhere to blow them off course and add another day to the crossing. All that Daniel could do was to wait for better weather and endeavour to remain calm. There was one source of consolation. The ship on which he’d embarked would have been the earliest that Andrew Syme could have taken with certain news of Daniel’s death. Sir John Rievers might not make his move until he heard that news. Amalia was in the clutches of a dangerous and manipulative man but – until word arrived from the hired assassin – Rievers might stay his hand. Daniel was sure that Amalia would be unaware of her host’s intentions. With her trusting nature, she’d be powerless against his wiles.

  As he sat below deck, Daniel took out the letter he’d found in Syme’s pocket. In the brief time before his death, the man had been unable to supply many details of his employer but he’d admitted writing the letter designed to lure Daniel out of camp. Had he read it earlier, he would certainly have been deceived. The neat calligraphy, the desperate plea for help and the plausible manner of the courier would have had the desired effect on Daniel. After securing permission from Marlborough, he would have ridden off unsuspectingly with the man paid to kill him. It was a chilling thought.

  Reading it now, he was in a different frame of mind. Instead of being concerned by Amalia’s plight to the exclusion of all else, he was able to study it carefully. An emotional response was superseded by a more critical one. If a close friend of Amalia’s had died, a name would have been supplied. As for the claim of a serious illness, it had to be set against the fact that she was a healthy young woman in the prime of her life. While she might look delicate, Amalia had a very strong constitution and was rarely troubled by complaints of any kind. The deciding factor for Daniel was that the letter was apparently penned by Sir John Rievers. However bereaved and sick she might be, Amalia would never call upon her host to send for help. Her father would willingly have taken on that duty.

  Everything about the epistle was false yet it might have succeeded in its malign purpose. Daniel was grateful that it had never been put into his hand. Folding it up, he slipped it back into his pocket and got to his feet. Before leaving the convoy, he’d managed to borrow another uniform, albeit from a different regiment than the 24th. He looked very smart in it. The ship’s surgeon had dressed his wounds properly and they were already starting to heal. While his physical ailments were improving, however, his mind was still a cauldron of doubt and apprehension. Who was Sir John Rievers and why did he have designs on Amalia? What did Syme mean when he said that Daniel was not the first person to be killed at the man’s behest? When would they reach England? Where was Amalia now? Would Daniel be in time?

  A yell from above interrupted his meditation. The sound of feet running on deck suggested activity. Daniel went up the narrow staircase to investigate. All of a sudden, the breeze had stiffened markedly and the sails were flapping. Members of the crew were hauling on ropes or climbing the rigging as they sought to unfurl every piece of canvas on the vessel. It was as if a giant hand was now pushing them along. They sailed on through the white-capped waves with far more speed. Daniel crossed to the bulwark. With the wind plucking at his hair and with spray sprinkling his face, he scanned the horizon for a sight of land but all that confronted him was a vast expanse of sea. Somewhere in the far distance, Amalia was facing a terrible danger of which she was not even aware.

  The very idea of her being molested made him burn with anger.

  ‘I’m coming, Amalia,’ he said under his breath. ‘I’m coming.’

  Sir John Rievers chafed at the delay. Amalia and the others had been away for days now. He’d offered to act as their guide in London but Janssen had politely refused the offer, feeling that he wanted to be alone with his daughter after so much time under their host’s eye. Understanding that, Sir John took no offence but he missed Amalia the second she left his property. An early fear had disturbed him. He wondered if the visit to London would also be a search for news about Daniel Rawson. If they questioned the information given them by Sir John, they might wish to see a copy of the relevant Gazette in order to check the list of dead. When they saw that Daniel’s name was not, in fact, there, they’d know they’d been duped.

  On reflection, Sir John dismissed the notion. Amalia and her father were too naive to do such a thing. In awe of a member of the aristocracy, they’d never have the slightest suspicion of him. It was her effulgent innocence that made Amalia so irresistible. She was blithely unaware of his designs on her. Waiting for her to return only served to intensify his desire to possess her. The one barrier between them must have been removed by now. Andrew Syme would have obeyed his orders and be on his way back to England. There was no need to delay anymore. When Amalia finally returned from London with the others, Sir John was w
aiting for them.

  ‘Did you see all you wanted to see?’ asked Sir John.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ replied Janssen. ‘It was wonderful.’

  ‘We could have stayed for a week,’ said Amalia as she let Sir John help her down from the carriage. ‘Is there any news?’

  ‘Not as yet,’ he said, ‘but I expect it every day.’

  ‘I prayed that we’d know the truth by now,’ she said.

  ‘When I was in church, I added my own supplication.’

  He went into the house with them, leaving the servants to unload the luggage. Beatrix went off into the kitchen and Janssen begged to be excused because he was suffering from a headache. Without having to contrive it, Sir John was alone with Amalia. His eyes feasted on her.

  ‘Do you feel tired after the journey?’

  ‘No, Sir John, I feel as fresh as a daisy.’

  ‘Then perhaps you’d join me for a walk. There’s something I need to discuss with you.’

  Amalia was puzzled. ‘Couldn’t we discuss it here?’

  ‘Walls have ears – and it’s a very private matter.’

  ‘Then I’ll be happy to come with you.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful day for a stroll.’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘Where shall we go, Sir John?’

  ‘Let’s walk in the direction of the lake, shall we?’ he suggested. ‘That should enable us to stretch our legs.’

  He stood aside so that Amalia could go past him. As they left the house, she adjusted her hat. They had gone riding together a number of times but they’d never been for a stroll together. Somehow it felt more intimate. Beaming at her, Sir John offered his arm. Amalia hesitated for a moment before taking it. Feeling her so close to him made his blood race. It confirmed his earlier decision. The time had at last come.

  When the ship docked at Harwich, Daniel was among the first passengers to go down the gangplank. It was early evening but he didn’t stay in the town. He hired a horse immediately and set off at a steady pace, riding through the night so that no time was wasted. On every other occasion he’d been in England, he’d made a point of visiting his father’s grave. Somerset didn’t even impinge upon his thoughts now. Daniel had only one object in mind and that was to reach Amalia as soon as possible. When the long continuous ride began to tell on his horse, he changed it for a new mount, snatching food and drink at a tavern before he resumed his journey. With fresh legs beneath him and with most of the distance already covered, he was able to push the new horse hard. Endless hours in the saddle eventually yielded their bounty. A signpost to Woodstock told him that he only had three miles to go.

  It was a pleasant walk through the broad acres of parkland but Amalia was not entirely at ease. For one thing, Sir John was holding her arm too tightly for comfort. Then again, his manner had changed. He was much more familiar and confiding than he’d ever been before. What worried her more, however, was the subject of the discussion. When she’d asked what it was, he told her that he’d rather wait until they reached the lake. Having no idea what it could be, Amalia let all kinds of worrying thoughts fill her head. When they reached the lake, Sir John guided her along its edge until they reached an arbour. He released her arm so that she could sit on the wooden bench. Certain that they had complete privacy, he lowered himself down beside her.

  ‘What did you enjoy most about London?’ he asked.

  ‘The visit to St Paul’s Cathedral – it was overwhelming.’

  ‘You’ve seen a lot during your stay in England. I hope that it’s helped you to think well of us as a people.’

  ‘I’ve never thought less than well of you, Sir John,’ she said.

  ‘Some foreign visitors are critical of the English character.’

  ‘Well, I’m not one of them, I can assure you.’

  ‘You like it here, then?’

  ‘Everything we’ve seen of England has been a delight.’

  ‘I hope that you include Rievers Hall in your praise.’

  ‘We’ll take away the fondest memory of it, Sir John.’

  He smiled at her. ‘What a sweet thing to say!’

  ‘It’s the truth.’

  She looked so beautiful that he wanted to reach out and take a first kiss from her but that would only disturb her. Sir John knew that he had to take his time. Biting his lip, he turned away as if he was searching for words. When he faced her again, his expression had changed completely. He seemed to be sad and deeply upset.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, anxiously.

  ‘I said that I had something to discuss with you.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering what it is.’

  He took a deep breath before speaking. ‘I lied to you earlier on, Miss Janssen,’ he said, taking her hands. ‘It was not the right place or the right time to tell you. I’m afraid that I have to pass on some grim news.’

  Her whole body tensed. ‘Is it about Daniel?’

  ‘Unhappily, it is.’

  ‘What happened? Tell me, please. Don’t keep me in suspense.’

  ‘The man whom I sent abroad – Andrew Syme – returned to England while you were away.’

  ‘What did he find out?’ she begged. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Captain Rawson did not, in fact, fall in action.’

  ‘Thank God!’ she cried.

  ‘But he is dead, alas.’ Her face crumpled. ‘It appears that he was killed in a duel.’ He squeezed her hands. ‘I feel dreadful at having to pass on such sad tidings but I felt that you ought to know.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said, shaking all over. ‘Daniel killed in a duel? Can this be true? No, no, Sir John,’ she cried. ‘I know he’s still alive. Why are you trying to tell me that he’s dead?’

  It was too much for Amalia to bear. As the full impact of the news hit her, she began to sway to and fro, her eyelids fluttered, her mind went numb and her limbs slack. When she swooned into his arms, Sir John pulled her to him, embracing her warmly and covering her face with kisses. It was the first stage in a process that would take time that he was ready to invest. Until her grief subsided, he would be the reliable friend, gently ingratiating himself with Amalia and with her father. As soon as she began to recover from her loss, he would ensnare her as he’d ensnared other women before her, moving almost imperceptibly from being a friend to being a lover. Amalia was his at last. Pulling her even closer, he could feel her heart beating against his chest. He could also hear it pounding away.

  Sir John was mistaken. The noise had not come from her heart but from the hooves of an approaching horse. He looked out of the arbour to see a figure in uniform coming around the rim of the lake. Amalia was starting to come out of her faint, shaking her head to clear it and trying to sit up. Sir John pulled away from her, using only one hand to steady her. His eyes were fixed on the stranger, heading for them with such obvious determination. Sir John might be unable to identify him but Amalia recognised him at once.

  ‘Daniel!’ she exclaimed, leaping to her feet.

  Sir John gaped. ‘That can’t be Captain Rawson.’

  ‘He’s not dead, after all. Why did you lie to me? That was cruel. Daniel is alive. You can see for yourself, Sir John.’

  She ran to meet him. When Daniel reached her, he reined in the horse, leapt from the saddle and embraced her. Amalia sobbed on his shoulder. After easing her head back so that he could look at her, he gave her a kiss, then put an arm around her as he led her back to the arbour. Having risen from the bench, Sir John struck an attitude.

  ‘Captain Rawson, I declare,’ he said, forcing a smile. ‘By all, this is wonderful! You are most welcome, sir. We were misinformed about you. A report came in that you were dead.’

  ‘It’s your friend, Mr Syme, who’s dead,’ said Daniel. ‘I had the supreme pleasure of killing him.’

  Amalia was confused. ‘But I thought that Mr Syme was sent to find out if you were still alive.’

  ‘He was hired to kill me, Amalia, and there’s his paymaster.’
/>   He pointed an accusatory finger at Sir John, who remained quite unperturbed. Amalia was still in a state of disbelief. Daniel detached himself from her so that he could confront the other man.

  ‘You are wholly despicable, Sir John,’ he said.

  ‘Clearly, there’s been a misunderstanding here,’ replied the other with an attempt at nonchalance. ‘I would never pay someone to kill another man. The very idea is unthinkable.’ His laugh was brittle. ‘Why don’t you both come up to the Hall and let me explain everything over a glass of claret?’

  ‘I’ve had all the explanation I need,’ said Daniel. ‘You wanted me out of the way so that you could use your charm on Amalia. I’m told that she’s not the first woman you’ve deprived of her man in order to take advantage of her.’

  Amalia gasped. ‘Is that what he was going to do?’

  ‘Not at all, dear lady,’ said Sir John. ‘I’m a married man and a doting husband. You’ve seen the way I minister to Lady Rievers. I’ve devoted my life to her.’

  ‘No,’ said Daniel, advancing on him. ‘You have other interests in your life, Sir John, and you’ll stop at nothing – not even murder – so that you can enjoy them.’ He drew his sword. ‘Find yourself a weapon. Only a coward sends someone else to do their dirty work. If you really want me dead, kill me yourself.’

  Sir John abandoned his pose of innocence. He was staggered to learn that Andrew Syme had failed for once. Knowing of the man’s expertise with a sword, he could not believe that someone had beaten him in a duel. Evidently, Daniel was an even better swordsman. If he dared to take him on, Sir John would certainly be killed. He tried to bluff his way out of the situation.

  ‘Why don’t you leave while you still may, Captain Rawson?’ he asked. ‘We’re within hailing distance of the Hall. All I have to do is to raise the alarm and half a dozen servants will come running to beat you to death with staves.’

  Daniel stood his ground. ‘His Grace, the Duke of Marlborough knows where I am and precisely why I’m here. If anything untoward happens to me, you’ll have to answer to him.’ He held his sword aloft. ‘Give me satisfaction, Sir John. Since you can’t live as a gentleman, at least try to die like one.’