Fire and Sword cr-3

by Edward Marston

  ‘You do him an injustice,’ said Valeran.

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘In one way, we couldn’t have had a better witness. He may have lapsed into old age now but he wasn’t always a farmer. In his younger days, he saw service in the French army. That’s why it puzzled him.’

  ‘What did?’

  ‘Well,’ continued Valeran, ‘they passed so close to him that he was able to take a good look at them and he noticed something very strange. The uniforms they wore didn’t all come from the same regiment. Indeed, he had a strong feeling that one of the uniforms didn’t even belong in the cavalry.’

  Matthew Searle tossed his coat onto the fire and used a sword to stir up the blaze. It was the last of the French uniforms to be consumed by the flames. The other men looked on. Hugh Davey had doubts.

  ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to destroy them?’ he asked.

  Searle was curt. ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘But they might have come in useful, Matt.’

  ‘They brought us bad luck. Also, as long as we keep them, we put ourselves in danger. If a French patrol finds them here, we’ll have some awkward questions to face.’

  ‘This part of Flanders is held by the Allies,’ said Edwin Lock. ‘I should know. We helped to capture it.’

  ‘It’s ours at the moment, perhaps — that could soon change.’

  ‘What a pity!’ said Davey, staring into the flames. ‘I preferred that uniform. It was the only one that fitted me.’

  There were six of them in all. Searle had allowed the other two members of the band to ride off to the town in search of carnal pleasure. When the first pair returned, it would be the turn of Lock and Davey. They were throbbing with anticipation. Searle saw the look of desperation in their eyes.

  ‘Remember what I said to the others,’ he warned. ‘You take your pleasure and come straight back here. If I have to come looking for you, I’ll cut your balls off and make you swallow them.’

  ‘We’ll come back, Matt,’ said Lock, slipping a protective hand to his groin. ‘I promise.’

  ‘But only when we’ve had our money’s worth,’ added Davey.

  ‘Tell them nothing,’ ordered Searle. ‘They don’t need to know your name or where you came from. A careless word from either of you and we’re done for. There’ll be patrols out looking for us by now.’

  ‘We won’t be there for conversation, Matt,’ said Davey with a sly grin. ‘We’ll have plenty of that on the way back when me and Edwin talk about what we got.’

  Lock cackled. ‘I’m getting everything, Hugh!’ he boasted.

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘When is it your turn, Matt?’ asked Lock. ‘You didn’t even touch any of those women at the farmhouse. You must be feeling as ripe for fucking as any of us.’

  ‘I’ll wait till last,’ said Searle, ‘when I’ve made sure that you’ve all obeyed orders and come back. Don’t you dare try to run away on your own. Neither of you would last five minutes without me.’ He threw a meaningful glance at the mound of earth around the grave of Ianto Morgan. ‘If you do as you’re told, everything will be fine. Cross me and you’ll end up beside Ianto.’

  ‘At least Ianto had a proper burial,’ said Lock, morosely. ‘I know that because I dug the grave. That’s more than we can say for poor Gregory. He went up in flames.’

  Searle was derisive. ‘Gregory Pyle was an idiot,’ he said. ‘If he couldn’t tell the difference between a man and a woman, he deserved to go up in smoke. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d killed the farmer instead of his wife.’

  ‘There’s only eight of us left now, Matt,’ said Davey. ‘We’ll have to choose smaller farms from now on with less people to kill.’

  ‘Leave all the decisions to me, Hugh.’

  ‘I always do.’

  ‘And so do I,’ said Lock, sycophantically.

  ‘Riders are coming!’ yelled the lookout on the hill.

  The three men immediately grabbed their weapons and a fourth rushed out of the house with a musket. Hand over his eyes to shield them from the evening sun, the lookout peered into the distance.

  ‘How many are there, Will?’ asked Searle.

  ‘Two of them, I think,’ replied the lookout. ‘Yes, just the two of them — they’re clear of those trees now.’

  ‘Are they wearing uniforms?’

  ‘Yes, they both have redcoats. You can put your weapons away,’ he said with a laugh of relief. ‘It’s Luke and Peter, back from the town.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that!’ said Searle to himself.

  ‘That means it’s our turn!’ declared Lock.

  ‘Come on, Edwin,’ said Davey, slapping his thigh in delight. ‘Saddle up. We’re off to town.’

  They watched her for days before deciding on their plan of action. Seizing her from the house would be difficult because it would involve subduing her father, his assistant and the various servants. Amalia Janssen would be a far easier target in the open. She was methodical. Every day she ventured out, either to visit the market or simply to stretch her legs. The same servant always accompanied her, a plump woman who waddled along the streets with a basket over her arm. At some point in their walk, they invariably stopped to look in the windows of some dress shops. They then made their way home down a series of lanes. An almost identical route was taken each day and — if the weather was fine — they ventured out at roughly the same time.

  Following that same pattern would be Amalia’s downfall.

  The day began with great excitement when a letter arrived from Daniel Rawson. It had come via The Hague. Marlborough was in regular contact with Heinsius so that the Grand Pensionary was kept well informed about the army’s movements and strategy and thus able to discuss them with the States-General. Daniel’s letter had been included with dispatches sent by Marlborough and forwarded to Amsterdam. Amalia was overjoyed. Though the letter was as brief as its predecessors, it made her glow for hours. It showed that Daniel was still thinking about her.

  When she was ready to go out, Amalia didn’t want to be parted from her latest letter. Instead of joining the others inside the pink ribbon, therefore, it was tucked up her sleeve so that she could feel it against her skin. It was like a good luck charm. Beatrix was waiting for her with a large basket on her arm. They left the house together, unaware that someone was watching them from the opposite side of the street. As the two women went on their familiar route, the man followed them.

  ‘What do we need today?’ asked Amalia.

  ‘Cook has given me a list,’ replied Beatrix.

  ‘She usually forgets something.’

  ‘Then she can go out and buy it herself when we get back because I’m not making two trips to market in one day.’

  ‘I thought you liked to be out in the fresh air.’

  ‘Once a day is all the exercise I need, Miss Amalia,’ said Beatrix. ‘I have far too many jobs to be done in the house. I don’t want your father complaining.’

  ‘Father never complains,’ said Amalia.

  ‘That’s only because I never give him cause.’ They turned a corner and headed for the market. Beatrix had a knowing smile. ‘I think that someone had a letter this morning.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I can always tell. You never stop grinning.’

  Amalia laughed. ‘Oh dear!’ she exclaimed. ‘Do I give myself away so easily? I shall have to be more careful in the future.’

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you so happy, Miss Amalia.’

  ‘Thank you, Beatrix.’

  ‘And is Captain Rawson well?’

  ‘He’s very well indeed.’

  The market was as busy and noisy as ever. When they plunged in among the stalls, the basket soon began to fill. Amalia paid for the items but left all the haggling to Beatrix, who examined all the food carefully before she agreed to buy it. Their last purchase was the bread, still warm from the oven and giving off a bewitching aroma. Once everything on the list was safely in the b
asket, they wended their way slowly home. Amalia made her obligatory stop outside the shop that displayed the dresses she coveted. She was transfixed for a long time and her companion was restless.

  ‘We must get back,’ said Beatrix.

  ‘Give me a few more minutes.’

  ‘This basket is heavy, Miss Amalia.’

  ‘Then put it down for a moment.’

  Beatrix obeyed, folding her arms and hoping she’d not be kept waiting too long. In fact, Amalia’s vigil was promptly interrupted. A young man came round the corner from the lane and approached them at speed.

  ‘There you are,’ he said, breathlessly. ‘I was told I might find you here. Your father’s been taken ill, I’m afraid. I was sent to fetch you.’

  Amalia was disconcerted. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Come and see for yourself. The doctor’s been sent for.’

  ‘Wait a moment,’ said Beatrix, her instincts aroused. ‘Who exactly are you, sir?’

  ‘I’m a friend of Emanuel Janssen,’ said the man. ‘I was in the house when he had the seizure. Please hurry — I’ll explain everything on the way.’

  Amalia was too worried to have any suspicions. She allowed herself to be guided around the corner. A coach was waiting in the lane. As soon as they drew level with it, the man opened the door and bundled her into the vehicle, jumping in beside her. Beatrix tried to protest but she was grabbed from behind by the man who’d been following them since they’d left the house. Spinning her round, he threw her violently to the ground then clambered into the coach. Beatrix was left face down on the pavement, hurt, dazed and surrounded by the contents of the upturned basket. The driver cracked his whip and the coach rolled swiftly down the lane. Amalia was inside it, being overpowered by two men so that she could be bound and gagged. She was terrified.

  Daniel’s letter had not brought her luck, after all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘Can this be true?’ asked Jonathan Ainley, incredulously.

  ‘As true as I stand here, Lieutenant,’ said Welbeck.

  ‘But he seemed such an engaging fellow.’

  ‘That’s what made me suspect him.’

  ‘He promised to paint my portrait.’

  ‘You’ll never receive it now,’ said Daniel. ‘Ralph Higgins’ career as an artist is at an end — and so is his work for the French.’

  ‘Upon my soul!’ exclaimed Ainley. ‘This is most extraordinary.’

  The three of them were standing beside the stream that looped around the edge of their camp. Cooks were filling buckets of water to use in the preparation of the day’s meals. A little way upstream, horses were being allowed to slake their thirst. Camp followers were washing clothes so that they could be hung out to dry in the warm sunshine. A boy was trying to fish with a rudimentary rod.

  The lieutenant had just been told that the sutler with whom he’d talked so freely was, in reality, an enemy spy. It was sobering news. Guilt made Ainley wince.

  ‘I should have been more alert,’ he admitted.

  ‘I think you should, Lieutenant,’ said Welbeck, muffling his contempt under a token respect. ‘I would have thought a man in your position would not be taken in so easily.’

  ‘How right you are, Sergeant!’

  ‘Before you confided in him, Higgins should have been sifted.’

  ‘I can see that now.’

  ‘Better men than you have been deceived,’ said Daniel, trying to soften the blow for his fellow officer. ‘The fact is that Higgins has been gathering intelligence under our noses since this campaign started and nobody had the slightest idea of his true purpose. We must be thankful to Sergeant Welbeck that he was finally unmasked.’

  ‘I endorse that wholeheartedly — congratulations, Sergeant.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Welbeck.

  ‘You deserve commendation for this.’

  ‘His Grace was kind enough to write to me, sir. Yet I look for no praise.’ Welbeck straightened his shoulders. ‘I was only doing my duty.’

  ‘You were doing it very well.’

  ‘It was Captain Rawson who got the proof that Higgins was a spy. We caught him as he tried to flee.’

  ‘And we caught his accomplice as well,’ added Daniel. ‘One of them, anyway — there’s a third man who acted as courier but we’ve been unable to identify him. The chances are that he’s already left with whatever intelligence Higgins had managed to collect.’

  Ainley swallowed hard. ‘I see.’

  ‘That brings us to you, of course. What exactly did you tell him?’

  ‘We had a pleasant conversation, that’s all.’

  ‘Can you recall what it was about?’

  ‘I divulged no secrets,’ said Ainley, defensively.

  ‘You must have divulged something, sir,’ said Welbeck, ‘or the fellow wouldn’t have come to me.’

  ‘I simply said that you were Daniel’s — Captain Rawson’s — friend and that you probably knew him better than any of us.’

  ‘What else did you say?’ wondered Daniel.

  ‘I talked about you, mainly.’

  ‘Sutlers are only here to sell their provender. Didn’t it strike you as odd that this particular one wanted to talk to you about a fellow officer?’

  ‘That’s the curious thing,’ said Ainley, ‘We didn’t begin by discussing you. Higgins was too cunning for that. He worked around to it as he did that sketch of me. I suppose,’ he went on with obvious discomfort, ‘that I was drawn in.’

  Welbeck was forthright. ‘You were too gullible, sir.’

  ‘I suppose that I was.’

  ‘It’s not for you to criticise an officer, Sergeant,’ said Daniel, coming to the lieutenant’s aid. ‘We both know how credible Higgins was. Anyone could have been fooled.’

  ‘I wasn’t, sir,’ said Welbeck. ‘But I was too late.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘The damage was done by the time he came to me.’

  ‘What damage?’ said Ainley, hurt by the accusation. ‘On my word of honour, I said nothing about Captain Rawson that wasn’t common knowledge. I talked about him leading a forlorn hope at the Schellenberg and of his gallantry at Blenheim. There’s no secret about any of that.’

  ‘What else did he want to know?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘How you’d risen from the ranks.’

  ‘That was done purely on merit,’ said Welbeck, pointedly.

  ‘You were more aware of the details, Sergeant, so I took the liberty of mentioning your name. Had I had the slightest inkling of his true motives, of course, I’d never have dreamt of doing that.’

  ‘No, Lieutenant, I’m sure that you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I told Higgins nothing he couldn’t have got from elsewhere,’ said Ainley. ‘He’d already heard rumours of what you did in Paris. In fact — now that I remember — it was your adventures in the Bastille that really interested him. He couldn’t believe that you could rescue a prisoner then bring him and three other people all the way back to Holland. He was laughing in wonder.’

  ‘He was laughing at you,’ said Welbeck to himself but he didn’t translate the thought into words. Stone-faced and bordering on disrespect, he put a question to Ainley.

  ‘How long would you say that you and Higgins talked, sir?’

  Ainley considered. ‘I can’t really put a time on it, Sergeant.’

  ‘He boasted to us that he could draw a sketch in five minutes. It sounds to me as if the pair of you went on a lot longer than that so you must have told him a great deal about Captain Rawson.’

  ‘I suppose that I did.’

  ‘I trust that you didn’t mention Major Crevel,’ said Daniel.

  ‘No, no, I swear it,’ replied Ainley. ‘On that subject, my lips were sealed. I obeyed your orders on that score, Captain.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Honestly, I feel so deuced embarrassed by all this.’

  ‘You’ve nothing to reproach yourself with, Lieutenant,’
said Daniel with a forgiving smile. ‘I just wanted to hear what had happened between you and Higgins. You’ve put my mind at rest and I’m grateful to you.’

  Ainley brightened. ‘Oh, I’m not under fire, then.’

  ‘Not at all — I’m sorry that I kept you so long.’

  Daniel put a hand in the middle of his back to ease him gently away then he strolled along the bank in the opposite direction with Welbeck. The sergeant was able to lapse into familiarity.

  ‘You let that silly bugger off lightly, Dan,’ he said.

  ‘Lieutenant Ainley means well.’

  ‘No wonder Higgins picked on that simpleton. He could see how naive the lieutenant was. He probably got the entire life story of Daniel Rawson out of that fool.’

  ‘We caught Higgins,’ said Daniel, ‘so no harm was done.’

  ‘The lieutenant should learn to keep his big gob shut.’

  ‘And you should learn to be less censorious of an officer, Henry. I concede that Ainley has his shortcomings but he’s assiduous in his duties and has distinguished himself in battle.’

  Welbeck snorted. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it, Dan.’

  ‘He may surprise you yet.’

  Before he could speak up for the lieutenant, Daniel saw someone walking briskly towards him. The man was carrying a letter in his hand. When he reached them, he gave it to Daniel.

  ‘His Grace wanted you to have this as a matter of urgency, Captain,’ said the messenger. ‘It was sent from the French camp.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Daniel waited until the man had gone before he opened the letter. When he realised what he was holding, he recoiled as if from a heavy blow. His mind clouded for an instant. There was no need to read the letter because, having written it to Amalia Janssen, he already knew its contents. Daniel was shocked that something so private had been made public. If it had been sent by the enemy, the message was clear.

  Amalia was in dire trouble.

  Flanked by two guards, Amalia Janssen stood in trepidation while Vendome ran a searching eye over her. His scrutiny made her blood run cold. Being abducted and smuggled out of Holland had been a frightening experience but her captors had treated her with a measure of respect. She got little of that from Vendome. His gaze was so direct and penetrating that it was almost as if he were slowly undressing her until she was stark naked before him. Bound and defenceless, Amalia felt abused. She turned her face away in embarrassment.