Fire and Sword cr-3

by Edward Marston

  ‘I’m not after the provisions.’

  ‘Your horse has vanished into thin air as well.’

  ‘That doesn’t worry me either.’

  ‘Really — then what are you after, Gustave?’

  ‘The only item that I want back is a sword. It was hidden under the seat and now it’s gone.’

  ‘Oh?’ The old man was curious. ‘And why would you be carrying a thing like that?’

  ‘It’s a family heirloom,’ lied Daniel. ‘It belonged to my father and I promised to keep it for his sake.’

  ‘Did he serve in the army?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘Which army was that?’

  ‘It was the French army, of course. He was a true patriot.’

  ‘What about you, Gustave?’ asked the old man, regarding him shrewdly. ‘Would you call yourself a true patriot?’

  ‘Yes, I would,’ affirmed Daniel.

  ‘You’d be willing to die for France?’

  ‘If it was necessary, I would.’

  ‘Then you’d better volunteer for the army,’ said the old man, ‘because that’s the only way you might get your sword back.’

  Daniel’s eye lit up. ‘You know where it is?’

  ‘I might do.’

  ‘Then please tell me — I must know.’

  ‘Earlier today, I went for a walk along the stream.’

  ‘That’s where my wagon was left,’ said Daniel.

  ‘I know. I saw it. I also saw the soldiers who were climbing all over it. I took care not to get too close,’ continued the old man, ‘because some of them are too free with their bayonets. I watched them search all over and underneath the wagon.’

  ‘Did they find anything?’

  ‘Yes, they did. I didn’t get a proper look at what it was because they were all clustered together but I think it must have come from under the seat.’

  ‘It was my sword!’

  ‘If it was, the army has it now, Gustave. I daresay it’s been handed over to a senior officer. You may have lost it for ever.’

  When they put their minds to it, Burgundy and Vendome could work effectively together. Their meeting that afternoon bordered on friendliness. They dealt with correspondence together, reviewed the latest intelligence and — should battle arise — discussed the deployment of their men. It was only when Vendome was about to leave that the commander-in-chief introduced a note of discord.

  ‘I’m pleased to see that you’ve come to your senses at last,’ he observed. ‘It’s very gratifying.’

  Vendome tensed. ‘I’m not sure that I follow.’

  ‘Your mind is now centred on the task in hand, my lord Duke. It’s no longer befuddled by your obsession with a captain in the British army.’

  ‘It was not an obsession.’

  ‘Let’s not be pedantic. We’ll call it an undue interest, shall we?’

  ‘You can call it what you like, my lord,’ said Vendome, sharply. ‘I see it as a legitimate subject of concern.’

  ‘Then let’s leave it at that,’ said Burgundy with a patronising smirk. ‘Suffice it to say that you’ve learnt your lesson.’

  ‘And what lesson was that, may I ask?’

  ‘That it’s wrong to give priority to a single individual when we have a whole army to fight.’

  ‘Yet that’s exactly what you do,’ rejoined Vendome. ‘I’ve just spent a couple of hours listening to you repeating Marlborough’s name over and over again. You, too, it seems, have your gaze fixed on a single individual.’

  ‘Marlborough is their captain general.’

  ‘Captain Rawson is a valued member of his personal staff and is entrusted with missions that nobody else could accomplish. That alone makes him a person of exceptional interest.’

  ‘The fellow made you look like a fool.’

  ‘I see no fool when I peer into a mirror, my lord.’

  ‘Why do you keep arguing over my choice of words?’ said Burgundy, irritably. ‘Let me rephrase what I’m trying to say. You set a trap for Captain Rawson and he cleverly eluded it. I would have thought you’d be glad to forget about him altogether.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ said Vendome.

  ‘Why go on scratching the itch of your complete failure?’

  ‘The failure was by no means complete. It was tempered with success. Even you were impressed at the way I contrived to get one of our ablest spies — Sophie Prunier — inside the British camp.’

  ‘That was a pleasing stratagem, I admit.’

  ‘Then you’ll also admit that the capture of Captain Rawson is a pleasing stratagem when I bring him before you.’

  Burgundy sniffed. ‘It will never happen.’

  ‘Would you care to place a wager on that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t demean myself by doing so. Mademoiselle Prunier, I am sure, is a lady of immense ability but even she is not going to walk into our camp with the captain over her shoulder.’

  ‘I fancy that he’ll walk into the camp on his own, my lord.’

  ‘That’s a preposterous notion!’ said Burgundy, laughing.

  ‘It’s not too late to accept that wager.’

  ‘I don’t have the slightest interest in Captain Rawson.’

  ‘Well, you should do — your grandfather certainly will.’

  Burgundy flicked a hand. ‘Be off with you!’

  ‘Very well, my lord,’ said Vendome, frothing at being dismissed in such a peremptory manner. ‘But I may be back before long and I’ll be ready to accept your apology.’

  Turning on his heel, he swept angrily out of the tent.

  When he joined his father at their wagon, Alphonse found the old man in a reflective mood. Nudged out of his reverie, he told his son about the conversation with Gustave Carraud.

  ‘I met him earlier,’ said Alphonse, ‘and told him what happened to his wagon. He was keen to speak to Josette.’

  ‘What did you make of him?’

  ‘He seemed very upset that his wagon had gone.’

  ‘That’s the funny thing,’ said the old man, stroking his chin. ‘It wasn’t the wagon that he was worried about. He didn’t even mind that his horse had been stolen. How can he stay in business with no animal to pull the wagon? It doesn’t make sense. All that he was after was his sword.’

  ‘I didn’t know he had a sword,’ said Alphonse.

  ‘Gustave told me it was hidden under the seat. I knew he didn’t find it there because I saw soldiers searching the wagon this morning. I think they took the sword away.’

  ‘What does he want with it?’

  ‘He claimed that it belonged to his father.’

  ‘Did you believe him?’

  ‘No,’ said the old man, ‘and I don’t believe that he’s a sutler. None of us would dare to leave our wagon unguarded for a few days. That’s what Gustave did. Where did he sneak off to in the night?’

  ‘I wondered about that.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, Alphonse.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘There may be money in this for us,’ said his father. ‘There’s something else I remembered about him, you see. Gustave wanted to be shown around the camp.’

  ‘That’s right — I took him. We went everywhere.’

  ‘Put all those things together, Alphonse. He arrives here out of nowhere. He beats you and Victor in a fight. He gives us wine to buy our friendship. You walk around the camp with him. The next minute, he’s nowhere to be seen. And when he comes back, the only thing that he’s really after is a sword.’ The old man narrowed the lids on his remaining eye. ‘Do you see what I mean?’

  Alphonse needed time to absorb all that he’d been told and to weigh its significance. His brain was slow but it eventually reached the same conclusion as his father.

  ‘We need to speak to someone,’ he decided.

  ‘Leave that to me,’ said the old man. ‘I know how to haggle. We have useful information. That costs money.’

  Daniel was agitated. The chances of getting his sword back
seemed remote. If it was in the hands of the army, it meant that they’d had a specific reason for searching the wagon. They must have known who its putative owner was. That being the case, it was almost certain that a link had been established between the arrival of a sutler by the name of Gustave Carraud and the disappearance of two women from custody. Daniel was in a quandary. Common sense told him to get out of the camp as soon as possible but nostalgia urged him to continue the search for his sword. It was a question of head versus heart. As he sat beside the stream, a fierce battle was raging within him.

  Another factor had to be considered. Henry Welbeck was hiding in the woods not far away, waiting to ride back to Terbanck with his friend. He would already be fretting. Daniel had assured him that he would soon return with his sword, possibly even with his wagon. That plan had been shattered. He was now cut adrift in the enemy camp with no means of warning Welbeck that his mission might take a great deal longer than anticipated. Daniel scolded himself for being too confident. Having made false assumptions, he was now suffering the consequences.

  Should he go or should he stay? Daniel agonised over the decision until it was suddenly taken out of his hands. As he gazed at the stream, he noticed human figures dancing on the water and turned round quickly to discover that he was facing a dozen bayonets.

  ‘Where the hell are you, Dan Rawson?’ said Welbeck to himself. ‘I want to get out of this bleeding place.’

  Though he had the cover of the woods, he could never feel safe being so close to the French camp. His one source of comfort was the ample supply of food and drink they’d brought with them. Crouched beside the horses in the clearing, he munched some bread and cheese. He’d reloaded the pistol that Daniel had given him and carried a dagger as well but the weapons didn’t reassure him. The wood was full of wild animals. Welbeck never actually saw any of them but the horses were aware of any potential danger. Every so often, they’d neigh, become restive and pull at their reins. When he heard a noise in the undergrowth yet again, Welbeck jumped to his feet and drew the pistol in readiness, hoping that he wouldn’t have to fire a shot in case it was heard by any French soldiers on the road nearby. The sound of something scuttling rapidly away allowed him to relax a little and put the weapon back in its holster.

  Finishing his meal, he brushed the crumbs from his clothing then made his way furtively back towards the road. Welbeck hid in the thickets where Daniel had earlier concealed himself, remaining out of sight yet able to see the road in both directions. Once he’d worked out how to use it, the telescope proved a useful aid. Settling down, he found that he’d just put one knee into some animal dung. As he was trying to wipe off the mess with a handful of grass, an insect stung him on the back of the neck. Welbeck killed it with a slap but it had bequeathed a sharp pain. He swore at Daniel under his breath.

  ‘Why on earth did I let you talk me into this, you bastard?’

  Vendome studied the papers with interest then held them up.

  ‘These appear to be in order,’ he said, blandly.

  ‘Does that mean I can be released?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Oh, no — these papers are the property of Gustave Carraud.’

  ‘That’s my name, Your Grace.’

  ‘It’s one of them, I grant you. I’m told that you also answer to the name of Marcel Daron when you pose as a wine merchant. I’ve no doubt that you have other names at your disposal as well and that, in each case, your papers will be expertly forged.’

  Daniel had been hauled off to Vendome’s quarters and was being held by two guards. Raoul Valeran, who had been in charge of the arrest, was also there, anticipating extravagant praise if not a tangible reward for his work. When he was searched, Daniel had his pockets emptied and was deprived of the dagger he was carrying. His situation seemed hopeless but he wrested a tiny moment of joy out of it. On the table in front of Vendome was what looked very much like Daniel’s missing sword. He had difficulty in keeping his eyes off it.

  ‘Let’s dispose of Monsieur Carraud, shall we?’ said Vendome, holding the papers over a candle until they caught alight. He tossed them to the ground where they were consumed by flame. ‘That takes care of that, I think. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to tell us your real name.’

  ‘I’m Gustave Carraud,’ said Daniel, doggedly.

  ‘And what is your occupation?’

  ‘I’m a sutler.’

  ‘Then where is your wagon?’

  ‘It’s down by the stream.’

  ‘Yes, so I believe. It’s more or less empty and your horse has gone. How can you conduct business without something to sell?’

  ‘The wagon was pillaged.’

  ‘Why didn’t you take more care of it?’

  ‘I was…distracted for a while,’ answered Daniel.

  ‘That’s not surprising,’ said Vendome with an oily smile. ‘A woman like Mademoiselle Janssen would distract any man and so would Mademoiselle Prunier. You obviously have an eye for beautiful women.’

  ‘I think you’re confusing me with someone else.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He turned to Valeran. ‘Show him.’

  Valeran stepped forward and lifted the sword from the table.

  ‘Have you ever seen this weapon before?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Daniel, averting his gaze.

  ‘Look at it more carefully.’

  ‘I don’t need to — it’s an army sabre.’

  ‘A British army sabre,’ corrected Valeran, ‘and it belongs to Captain Daniel Rawson of the 24^th Foot.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that name before.’

  ‘It was Captain Rawson who rescued the two ladies to whom His Grace has just referred. The captain is very close to Amalia Janssen which is why she was taken hostage. Sophie Prunier was also held in custody and, unable to resist helping someone in distress, the captain agreed to take her with him as well.’ He glanced at Vendome to see if his questioning met with the other’s approval. ‘Does any of this sound familiar to you?’

  ‘I’m afraid that it doesn’t,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Are you speaking as Gustave Carraud or as Marcel Daron?’

  Daniel remained silent. Unable to resist looking at his sword, he weighed up the possibilities of escape if he suddenly seized it. The weapon was only two feet away, balanced on Valeran’s outstretched hands. There were four people in the tent with Daniel and all of them were armed. Outside, he’d seen two guards. Even if he managed to hack his way out of Vendome’s quarters, he wouldn’t get far.

  Valeran seemed to read his mind. He held the sword closer.

  ‘Go on, Captain Rawson,’ he urged. ‘Take it. I know it’s yours.’

  ‘I’m a sutler. I have no need of a sword.’

  ‘You’re a soldier. You have no need of a wagon, especially as you’ve no idea how to protect it.’

  ‘My name is Gustave Carraud,’ said Daniel, stoutly.

  ‘Are you still clinging to that ridiculous lie?’

  ‘My papers were in order.’

  ‘What papers?’ asked Vendome, taking over. ‘I see no papers. Monsieur Carraud has been burnt out of existence so you must be someone else. We’ve spoken to one of the sutlers you befriended,’ he went on. ‘He told us how you disappeared from the camp for days and came back with some flimsy excuse. I had a feeling that we’d be seeing you again, Captain Rawson. You were so desperate to reclaim your sword, weren’t you? That’s the mark of a true soldier.’

  Daniel was caught. They knew far too much about him. He wondered which of the sutlers had betrayed him. Alphonse had been too ready to accept him and Josette too eager to assault him. It had to be the old man. Daniel had been wrong to admit that he cared far more about a sword than he did about his horse and wagon. In doing so, he’d lowered his guard. Alphonse’s father had been astute enough to realise that Gustave Carraud had something very important to hide. The arrest had been set in motion by the old man.

  ‘Do you still deny that you are Captain Daniel Rawson?’ said
Vendome, walking across to confront him.

  ‘I do,’ replied Daniel.

  ‘Then perhaps it’s time for you to meet an old friend.’

  Vendome gave a nod and Valeran went briskly out of the tent. Though he showed no sign of it, Daniel was profoundly alarmed. He feared that Henry Welbeck had been apprehended as well. A spasm of guilt shot through him. In bringing his friend, he’d imperilled him. Daniel could speak French fluently but Welbeck had only a limited grasp of the language. He could never pass for a Frenchman. If caught, his disguise would be useless. Daniel’s face was impassive. Yet inwardly, he was berating himself.

  As the tent flap was drawn back, he braced himself for the sight of his friend but it was not the sergeant who was led in by Valeran. It was a big man in the blue uniform of a major. Strutting across to him, the newcomer snatched off Daniel’s hat so that he could take a good look at him. He required only a couple of seconds. Satisfied, he drew back his hand and delivered a resounding slap across Daniel’s face.

  ‘That’s him,’ he said with leering certainty. ‘Marcel Daron.’

  ‘Thank you, Major Crevel,’ said Vendome. ‘You’ve proved his identity beyond doubt. Henceforth, however, you must call him by his real name — Captain Daniel Rawson.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Amalia Janssen spent most of her time wondering where Daniel was and worrying that he might be in danger. But she also found herself recalling the inspection of the camp that she and Sophie Prunier had made in the company of Lieutenant Ainley. Something about the other woman had troubled her deeply yet she was not quite sure what it was. Sophie had never been less than friendly and confiding towards her. During their imprisonment, they’d been able to offer each other mutual support. Even in so short a time together, a trust had built up between them. It was the reason that Amalia had felt able to talk so freely to Sophie about her relationship with Daniel.

  Something had changed and it disturbed Amalia so much that she lay awake that night, trying to solve the puzzle. Why had Sophie been so anxious to see the entire camp? What had made such a difference? Why had a woman who’d sworn that she’d never trust a soldier again been so ready to talk with Lieutenant Ainley? Why did she now seem at ease? What exactly was behind Sophie’s ambiguous smile? As the questions multiplied in Amalia’s mind, they combined eventually into one — who was she?