Rules of War

by Iain Gale

  The villager, still holding his jaw, shook his head. ‘You do not know what it is like. Your people have not suffered like mine. Believe me, Captain, I am not alone. All over Brabant this is happening. Right now. And you cannot stop us.’

  Steel looked at Slaughter: ‘Take their weapons, Sarn’t, and lock them up for the night.’ He looked about and spotted a grain store at the entrance to the village. ‘There. That’ll do. And post sentries. I don’t want my throat cut. We’ll bury these poor bastards in the morning.’ He motioned to Jan: ‘And don’t forget this one. Tom, you escort your fellow officer. Keep an eye on him.’

  As the Grenadiers began to herd the villagers to their makeshift jail, Steel walked over to the wounded French officer, who had been cut free and was inspecting his wounds. ‘Are you badly hurt?’

  ‘They’re not deep. They were only playing with me. The real stuff hadn’t begun.’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Captain.’ He bowed to Steel: ‘Chef de Bataillon Jean D’Alembord at your service. I am in your debt, sir.’

  ‘You fought at Ramillies?’

  ‘Indeed. I have the honour to command in the Regiment du Roi.’

  ‘You were routed by our dragoons.’

  D’Alembord shrugged. ‘And now, to our disgrace, our great army is no more. I do not even know where the rest of my regiment may be.’

  ‘I am sure that you will find them in time. In France perhaps. For the present though, you are my prisoner, Commandant. I trust that we can agree on your parole?’

  There was a noise from behind them, hooves and a clatter of hobnailed shoes ringing on the cobbles. Steel called across the square: ‘Alarm. Grenadiers. To me.’

  A score of his men came running from the prisoners and reached him while the newcomers were still hidden in the shadows of the street. Steel heard them before he saw their faces or their coats.

  ‘Hold, there!’

  The voice was English and he recognized it instantly. Into the square rode the Duke of Argyll, followed on foot by his sergeant, a young captain and a half-company of Scots infantry. Argyll galloped hard across the square, his sword drawn, straight for Steel. ‘Hold hard, sir. Who are you?’ He checked his impetus and pulled hard on the horse’s reins. ‘Why, it’s Captain Steel.’

  His surprise turned to astonishment as he surveyed the scene. Saw the dead French infantry, the ground awash with their blood. He grinned at Steel. ‘By God, sir. You have done well. Six dead and two more to go? You surprise me, Steel. I had taken you for a weaker man.’

  He turned to the sergeant who had followed up with the rest of the redcoats. ‘You see, McKellar. You must not judge a man by first appearances. Well done, sir.’

  Steel shook his head: ‘You mistake me, My Lord. I am not the author of this murder. This is the work of the village militia. It is torture, sir. No more than torture and murder, done in cold blood. If we had not come upon them when we did the commandant here and his lieutenant would have also suffered horribly.’

  Argyll’s grin fell away. ‘Torture? Murder? By God, sir. I was not mistaken then. You are a friend of the French.’

  Slaughter had arrived back from the barn and, seeing Argyll, snapped to attention next to Steel. ‘That’s all the men locked away, sir. Under guard. Their officer too, sir.’

  Argyll squinted: ‘What? Who’s locked away? What officer?’

  Slaughter turned directly to the question: ‘Why the village militia, Your Honour. Them that did this. We have them under guard, sir.’

  ‘Then you will damn well remove your guard, sergeant. Forthwith.’

  Slaughter smiled: ‘Now that, Your Honour, I cannot do as Captain Steel himself has ordered me to place them under guard.’

  Argyll, his face puce, turned to Steel: ‘Captain Steel, I will not have this rank insubordination in my brigade. Place this man on a charge and then see to the release of your prisoners. My God man, they’re on our side!’

  Steel coughed: ‘I don’t think that either course of action would be wise, sir.’

  ‘Wise? Not wise? I gave you an order. What are you saying?’

  ‘Not wise, sir, firstly because my sergeant has done nothing wrong. Secondly because we are no longer brigaded under your command. And thirdly because the men I have under guard do not make war as it should be made, but as barbarians.’

  Argyll clenched the reins in his fists: ‘Then it is you, sir, who should be on a charge. I’ll have you court-martialled, sir, damn you.’ He paused, and attempted to regain his composure. ‘Captain Steel, I must confess, I do not know you. I do not know you at all. I am given to understand that you are a hero. You gained promotion at Blenheim. You fought alongside me at Ramillies. So how can you grant parole to these men? You must know that we cannot trust them.’

  Hansam, having arrived with the remainder of the company, had been watching the proceedings and now spoke. ‘Do you not consider, My Lord that perhaps my Lord Marlborough will extend them parole?’

  Argyll turned on him: ‘It is not my place or yours lieutenant to conjecture what Marlborough would or would not do. Parole? What good is parole if they should come in again and fight against us next month or next week? I have no time for parole. Any Frenchman, officer or ’listed man, taken in the field will die. He will die. I offer no quarter. Nor do I expect to receive it.’

  Steel spoke up: ‘Nevertheless, My Lord. We must obey the articles of war. These men have asked me for quarter and I intend to grant it. To do otherwise would be bloody murder.’

  Argyll surveyed the situation. Steel, his sergeant and another officer now stood between him and the two Frenchmen. Beyond them stood more than thirty Grenadiers, the finest soldiers in the army. For his part he had his sergeant, a junior officer and an unreliable half-company of dubious ability or inclination. A sound tactician, he sensed that it was time to retreat. But not without a final, verbal salvo.

  ‘Mark me, Mister Steel. For I shall certainly mark you, should I ever have the chance. This is the second occasion on which you have dared to challenge my judgement and I am not a man to be challenged. Nor am I a man to be bettered, by God.’ He turned to the column. ‘Sergeant McKellar, we march on Brussels.’

  They watched him go. Hansam sighed: ‘Jack. I swear I do not know how you manage it. You make more enemies of your own side than you do of the French. He is a brigade commander.’

  Slaughter scratched at his stubble and spoke, quietly. ‘And there was me thinking that once we’d beat the French, we’d have a nice, quiet summer.’

  Steel clapped him on the back. ‘Really, Jacob? You know me better than that. And I know that you were never a man for the quiet life. I think that we might move the billets over here. And you had better post a full guard. I intend to get some rest, and both of you should try to do so too. Remember, we’ve a people to liberate tomorrow.’

  FIVE

  Steel rode at the head of the company, keeping the little bay mare at a steady pace up the wide cobbled street. While being careful to keep his face firmly to the front, he was aware that on either side of him, from the open windows of their red brick or half-timbered houses, the people of the Upper Town of Brussels, men and women of all ranks and ages, craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the great army that it seemed had so transformed their country. Fathers balanced babies on their shoulders and women blew kisses at the unshaven, dirt-spattered redcoats who tramped the stones and the lacebedecked officers who rode at their head. It was Friday 28 May. A mere five days after the battle which had so swiftly propelled the French from the Netherlands, and Steel’s Grenadiers marched proudly at the head of Farquharson’s regiment, in the centre of one of the longest processions of soldiers which the population of this great city had ever seen. Flowers rained down upon the heads of the troops, some of whom stooped down mid-pace to pick them from the ground and tucked them into their coats until the army began to look as if it were part of some great pagan festival.

  In a sense it was. Marlborough had been given the free
dom of the city by the Estates of Brabant and, having for four days pushed his men on in pursuit of the French, was now of the opinion that they needed and deserved a rest. The news had spread quickly and the taverns and bordellos of the city lay open for business. Their proprietors knew what the soldiers wanted, for in this part of Europe, this ill-fated avenue of blood, every major town had long ago become used to the needs of a conquering army. One look at the men who now entered its streets was enough to tell every publican and madam that just as soon as the pomp and formality were ended, they were, all of them, going to do a roaring trade.

  Steel looked from side to side, acknowledging the shouts and salutes. They passed out of the street, turning right past a towering Gothic church. They were moving steadily downhill and ahead of them the street opened out into a wide, elegant square. Passing a tavern, Steel saw that its door was guarded by one of the biggest men he had ever seen, a civilian, but a man who would certainly not have looked out of place in the ranks of the Grenadiers. He noticed that the same was true of every one of the inns which lay around the square and knew that, for all their weariness of battle, few of the soldiers in this army would pass a peaceful night. If there was any sight uglier than an army without leaders, there was nothing as unruly as a victorious army given up to the temptations of the flesh. He was not one to deny his men their pleasures. But he knew too what the morning would bring. Heavy heads, absences from the ranks, broken jaws and punishment parades. And then in the coming weeks the cases of the pox, harlots claiming injury and new women – camp followers – bearing their screaming bundles of humanity and claiming fathers for their bastards.

  Steel knew. He had seen it time and time again. But he would do nothing to prevent it. Could not – debauchery was in their blood. As much a part of soldiering as was standing in line under fire and doing for your enemy before he put an end to you. It was just another part of the world he loved and he would have it no other way. Sometimes though he wished that his men could exercise a little more discretion.

  He turned to Hansam, who was riding at his side, waving a white lace handkerchief at one of the prettiest of the girls. ‘You will notice, Henry, how quickly a people can always come to love us. But you will also recall that it is not generally so.’

  ‘The army is always unpopular, Jack. Especially at home. We take the blame for all ills. To the government this war is a drain. Our men are a burden on society, and ever drunk and debauched.’ He took a pinch of snuff from a silver box and dabbed at his nose: ‘We are little loved.’

  ‘All the more important then for us to relish such adulation when we can, eh?’ Steel waved his hand at a group of pretty girls who were leaning out from a first-floor window so that their lowcut dresses showed a good deal more than usual décolletage.

  Hansam saw his gaze: ‘I believe that you may have a mind for dalliance this evening, Jack. I swear, since your German girl went off with that man in the cavalry, I have scarce seen you in the company of women.’

  Steel smiled and thought about his ‘German girl’. Conjured her face in his mind; Louisa Weber. He had not thought of her for some days. But when he did it was never without a twinge of heartache. At one point, after Blenheim, he had thought that they might settle. But Spain had called him away and now she was lost to him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Henry, I am not melancholy. Besides, you did not see me in Spain, this past year.’ He thought for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Although you know that Louisa’s betrayal was a deep hurt to me.’

  He smiled again as one of the girls took a favour, a piece of pink lace, from within the scoop of her bosom and threw it towards him. He caught it. ‘Yes. Perhaps tonight I shall allow myself a little female company. I seem to have been in that of men for so long I have forgot what it is like to see a face that does not need a hot razor taken to it.’

  Hansam laughed above the clatter of their horses’ hooves on the cobbles. ‘Well, you had better not form any too lasting a relationship. I cannot think that the duke intends us to delay here for long.’

  ‘Calm yourself, Henry. I do not intend to fall in love. Merely to find a little amusement.’ He turned in the saddle to speak to Williams, who, as a junior officer, was marching on foot at the head of the men directly behind him. ‘What say you, Tom? Shall we find an alehouse this evening or should it be more of an amorous soirée among the ladies of the town?’

  The ensign blushed and Slaughter, who was walking alongside him, his sergeant’s halberd resting on his shoulder, raised his eyebrows. Williams replied, ‘I … I think that we should be pleased to … to please the ladies, sir.’

  Steel laughed, but not cruelly. ‘You wish to please the ladies, do you? Aye, Tom. I’m sure that they will be mightily pleased with you too.’ He made sure that his voice would be heard at least by the front few ranks of the Grenadiers and continued: ‘In fact if we should find us some ladies then we shall all be sure to please them all right.’

  As he had hoped, the men in the front few files cheered and muttered ribald remarks. It was good for morale. Tease the ensign, make him blush and let the men see that although you were an officer and a gentleman you were on their level in some things at least. An officer must have a human edge. That was one of the tricks of leadership.

  Hansam spoke: ‘I do not know where you will find your concubines, Jack. Although I do hear that here in the Upper Town the people speak mostly French and are of … refined persuasions.’

  ‘In that case, Henry, d’you not think that it’s down there in the Lower Town that we ought to look.’

  The comment, again in a deliberately raised voice, brought another loud cheer from the men which turned to laughter as, turning sharply to the right, as directed by one of the English dragoons who had been posted as marshals throughout the town, they passed a small bronze statue of a naked boy. It was a fountain, fashioned in such a way that its spouting water made it appear that the boy was relieving himself into the street. Soon the entire regiment was convulsed.

  Steel turned to Hansam: ‘If that work of art is indicative of the coarseness of the native humour then I do believe that we might all be in for a stimulating evening’s sport, Henry. I don’t think that long-term attachments will be on tonight’s menu, do you?’

  The streets had become narrower now as they entered the Lower Town and as they continued, the men’s laughter, loud as it was, was drowned by the roars of the civilian crowd, who mobbed the redcoats, pressing forward even further than before.

  Williams shouted up to Steel, ‘Do you hear how they’re cheering for the British, sir?’

  Steel shook his head: ‘They’re not cheering for us because we’re British soldiers, Tom. They’re cheering because we beat the bloody French. D’you hear their accent, Tom? They’re not speaking French any more. That’s Flemish. They’re cheering because we’re not French and we’re not Spaniards, nor even Dutch. They’re cheering because at long last they believe that they might have a chance to be bloody Belgians. They don’t give a tuppenny toss who we are as long as they’re free.’

  Hansam agreed: ‘The captain’s right, Tom. Our illustrious commander has brought this people liberty from the French if they want it and that’s not something they’ll give up lightly again. How does it feel, to have given a nation back its freedom?’

  Williams smiled: ‘I think I might develop a liking for it, sir.’

  Steel saw that the young ensign had caught sight of a pretty girl at the side of the street who was throwing flowers to the soldiers and that she appeared to have returned his gaze. He shouted down to him above the din. ‘And so you should, Tom. I do believe that even Sarn’t Slaughter might enjoy a little of the victor’s spoils.’

  Steel looked to his rear and saw that Slaughter too was smiling broadly and waving his hand in acknowledgement of the rapturous cries. In his arms he cradled a huge bouquet of tulips and his face had been kissed so many times that rouge had rubbed off on to his stubble.

  Steel guffawed. ‘You’ve got a pub
lic, Jacob. They love you. If I didn’t know better I would take you for one of the actresses at the Queen’s Theatre in the Haymarket. One of the prettier ones, of course. Why Sergeant, you’re the image of pretty Mrs Oldfield herself.’

  The men took the rare chance to laugh at their sergeant and as Slaughter smiled and cursed, Steel turned back to Williams: ‘Make the most of it, lad. Tomorrow they might be chasing us from the town.’

  The boy was just wondering how he might go about finding the girl later in the day when a raven-haired woman old enough to be his mother rushed forward from the crowd and flinging her arm around his slender waist kissed him full on the lips. Around him the Grenadiers cheered and whistled. When Williams eventually contrived his release his face was bright red.

  Steel laughed. ‘That’s it, Tom. Please the ladies. Show them what a British officer’s made of.’ The front of the column was pouring out of the end of the street now and Steel, seeing a gaggle of senior mounted officers up ahead, called back to his men, ‘Face front. In your own time, Sarn’t. Restore the men to order, if you will.’

  Ahead of them the Grand Place opened out from the street and the Grenadiers filed into position alongside the other regiments formed up in its square. Directly opposite them stood the town hall which along with half a score of semi-derelict buildings still bore evidence of the terrible French bombardment of over a decade ago. It was clear though that the city’s burghers had spared no expense on rebuilding. With crow-stepped and curved gables and ornate marble façades, these buildings were as much a statement of political intent and independent spirit, thought Steel, as they were works of architecture.

  Brought to order by their sergeants, the men were marching proudly now, trying as best they could to keep in step in the way the new training manual required. Steel saw that the wide square was filled with troops of all the nations which made up this polyglot allied army. English, Scots and Danes in their bright red, the Dutch and Prussians in blue and the units of other smaller states. Above their heads the brightly-coloured silks of the colours and standards snapped and fluttered in the summer breeze. The drums had been assembled en masse along the west side of the square and were beating out an almost unbearably loud, cacophonous tattoo, which all but drowned the cheers of the crowd which pushed and jostled for room against the houses around the Grand Place to find a better view of the great and the good.