Rules of War

by Iain Gale

  Surely, he thought, the town would not stand much more of this firestorm? Surely soon they would either see the gates flung open and the garrison marched out under a white flag; or they would be given the signal to attack? But time passed. No men marched out, no signal came. And still the bombs rained down.

  Governor de la Motte stumbled through the doorway of the Florida casemate and into the room. At any other time, the unusually swift entrance of the sweating, red-faced man would have been enough to make any of those who could among the tortured inhabitants look round in curiosity. But it was the person who now followed the governor through the door who attracted the stares of the soldiers and the wounded townspeople of Ostend. The first thing that struck you was her beauty, which made a stark and poignant contrast to the broken and bloodied debris of humanity lying across the floor of the stinking casemate. Then there was her dress. Lady Henrietta Vaughan wore the same dress of yellow silk in which she had been captured in the Channel on the frigate that had been taking her from her father’s estates in Ireland to Southampton. It was not that she did not have a change of clothes, nor that she had not been permitted to keep them by her captors; it was merely that this was her very favourite dress and she had thought that with the prospect of a successful British assault upon the town, she had better be looking her best.

  Sadly however, in the course of their journey across town, the dress had become marked with soot smuts falling from the sky and at one stage had even been touched by a cinder, causing a small hole to appear in the skirt. Her face too was marked by black streaks, powder marks, but her coiffure had survived intact, which said much for the skill of her maid, who followed now in her wake. On the whole, however, Lady Henrietta was not in the best of humours. In fact she was quite out of sorts and if her ladyship’s beauty was out-matched by one thing, it was her temper, as Major Malbec was about to discover.

  She had made her way through the town with her face covered by a fan and flanked by servants and soldiers and had thus been mercifully unaware of the suffering unfolding around her. Brought up to remain phlegmatic, Henrietta came from a military family and was also thus not unused to the sound of cannon fire and musketry at parades. And she had a passion for fireworks. So of all the party that now sought refuge within Malbec’s casemate, Lady Henrietta was the least shaken, although she was furious. Her eyes searched out the officer in command and without casting a glance anywhere else in the room, she headed directly for Malbec.

  ‘Major. Please explain yourself. I am first ushered into a stinking godforsaken barrack room and confined there for the best part of three hours and then I am bidden to walk through streets, while we are under attack, merely because you desire my presence. Why, we might all have been killed. Were we not to remain within shelter on the other side of the town? It seems to me that you have brought me closer to danger here. You are aware that is expressly forbidden under the terms of my capture and parole. You will explain yourself, Major. I am aware that I have rights, as a prisoner of war.’

  Malbec, who had recovered his composure, stared at her in disbelief. ‘Rights? But you are no prisoner of war, madame. You are no officer. I grant you that you are an English noblewoman and thus you do have certain privileges as my prisoner. But these are not written in the articles of war. I am sorry if you have been unduly distressed, but it is hardly surprising when your own army and navy open fire on the town and murder hundreds of innocent civilians.’

  Malbec gestured to indicate the wounded, who had been laid out in rows along the walls of the casemate. At the far end of the room a score of shapes covered with blankets marked out the dead.

  For the first time Lady Henrietta looked around her. The sight that met her was one that would stay with her for the rest of her life. She gasped: ‘Oh, dear God. No. Surely, this cannot be the work of our guns. Tell me this was not the work of British arms. No, I will not believe it.’

  Then, at a loss for words, she appeared to stagger, as if about to faint. Captain Lejeune hurried to her and helped her to a chair.

  Malbec spoke again: ‘I am afraid, madame, that is precisely the cause of this suffering. So now, what rights do you suppose these people here might believe that you should have?’

  Lady Henrietta said nothing. She lowered her gaze and began to sob. At last, having been recovering his breath for the past few minutes, de la Motte spoke.

  ‘Have you seen the city, Major? Those poor people. I … I cannot go on with this. We must open the gates to the British, before any more innocent blood is spilt.’

  Malbec walked across to the corpulent governor who now noticed the presence of the wounded and the refugees.

  ‘Major Malbec? What is this? Why have you let these people in? Your orders were to –’

  ‘Yes, I am aware of my orders. I changed my mind. But now it is more important that we stop the bombardment. As you say, before more blood is spilt. But we shall not open the gates to the British. In fact we shall not lose. I have a plan, Governor.’

  He signalled to Sergeant Müller and pointed to Lady Henrietta. Müller smiled and walking over to the chair where she sat, grasped her by the arm and pulled her upright.

  ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing, man? Laissez moi, laissez! Major! Tell your dog to unhand me!’

  Malbec shook his head and beckoned Müller towards him. The sergeant came, grinning and dragging Lady Henrietta with him. Malbec turned back to de la Motte. ‘You see, Governor, this English milady is our secret weapon. It’s really very simple.’

  He beckoned again and Müller pushed Lady Henrietta towards Malbec. She turned on him, taking the veteran completely by surprise. ‘Let go of me, you ruffian.’ Müller laughed and she turned back to Malbec: ‘You, sir, are no gentleman.’

  Her words were proud and fearless but her eyes betrayed her terror. Malbec addressed her, not looking at her but picking carefully at his fingernails with a small fruit knife. ‘How amusing. You are the second person today to remind me of that fact. Of course, you’re right. But you are most definitely a lady. And now, my dear lady, you are going to help the poor people of Ostend. You see, your friends out there seem determined to destroy this town and us with it. We can’t let that happen can we? Can we?’

  ‘What do you intend to do with me?’

  He looked her straight in the eyes. ‘I intend to do what any sane man would do in my position, gentleman or not. I intend to use you to stop this madness, in the only way I know how.’

  An expression of puzzlement and alarm spread across Lady Henrietta’s face. Malbec turned to Müller: ‘Choose two men and take her ladyship for a walk. You will escort her up to the highest parapet that you can find. The Babylon Bastion will do, facing directly to the west, the one with the flagstaff. You will tie her to that staff. Securely, Müller, and make sure that she’s in clear view of the British. We want to let them know who we have here. Oh, and Müller, try to make sure that she doesn’t get killed. That is not in the plan. Then take cover and leave her up there but for no more than five minutes. Then we shall see what happens. Whatever you do, take care to avoid the pirate Trouin or any of his men. You should have no difficulty. As far as I know he was heading for the Pontoon Bastion, down by the Key. He believes that she’s still his prize and he won’t want her pretty head severed by a cannon shot before he can barter her with the British – or sell her on to some eager son of Mohammed.’

  Lady Henrietta stared at Malbec: ‘You can’t be serious … By God you are. You’re inhuman. This is murder, I shall be killed! It goes against all the laws of humanity.’

  Malbec stared hard into her eyes. ‘Don’t talk to me about the laws of humanity. Your great duke broke those laws the minute he opened fire on this town.’

  ‘I insist, Major. This is inhuman. It’s barbaric. Let me go. I demand …’

  She moved towards him, uncertain of what she intended, but as she did so Müller grasped both her arms tightly and bent them behind her back, making her wince. At the same time, h
er words were cut short as Malbec dealt her a stinging blow across the cheek with the flat of his hand. She screamed, then looked at him with blazing, pleading eyes and said nothing. And then Lady Henrietta Vaughan lowered her head and began to sob.

  Malbec turned to Müller: ‘Take her away. And remember –five minutes up there at the most. We don’t want to tempt fate and make her into a martyr.’

  De la Motte stared at Malbec: ‘Surely you are not serious, Major. She’s a woman, after all.’

  ‘Yes, I know. And not bad, probably. Wouldn’t you say?’

  De la Motte looked even more aghast.

  Malbec turned to Müller: ‘Go. Now. Do it.’

  The sergeant beckoned two men to him and together they frog-marched Lady Henrietta towards the doors. Two more soldiers opened them and before the desperate people outside had time to realize what was happening, had closed them hard behind the party and shot the bolts.

  ‘And now, my dear Governor, we sit and wait. And if all goes according to plan, if her ladyship is not cut in two by a cannonball, then I do believe that by tomorrow morning we shall either have a visit from our British friends, under a flag of truce, or, more simply and conveniently, they will have left. Either way, and whatever your scruples, you have to agree that our troubles do appear to be over.’

  ‘Good God, James. What’s that? There’s a girl up there. There, on the highest part of that great gate. There’s a Frenchman with her. No, now he’s gone. She seems to be tied to that pole. What the devil are they playing at? Can you see any closer?’

  ‘No. My Lord. Not without a glass. Merely that she is, as you aver, a girl. She must be terrified.’

  ‘So would you be if you were forced to stand on top of that redoubt in this storm of shot. What’s she doing up there, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Shall I tell the gunnery captains to cease firing at her, sir?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course – well, no, not instantly that is. It might be a trick. Dammit! Who the devil is she?’ Marlborough drew a glass from his saddlebag and opened it out.

  Hawkins interjected: ‘Might I suggest, Your Grace, that the French might want us to see her. Perhaps they think we should know who she is.’

  ‘Are you inferring that she might be an Englishwoman? Surely not! Cadogan, send a runner. One of your aides; who’s your most courtly man? Send him, whoever he is and get him to have a squint at her. See if he can put a name to her.’

  Hawkins reached across to Marlborough: ‘If I might trouble you for the glass a moment, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough gave him the small brass telescope and Hawkins adjusted the focus. After a few moments he lowered the glass and closed it.

  ‘There’s no need to send for anyone, Your Grace. There is no doubt about it, I recognize her myself. That is Lady Henrietta Vaughan, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Romney.’

  ‘Good God, man. Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Sure as I’ve ever been. She was presumed dead. Her ship was taken by pirates these three weeks back. It is Lady Henrietta to be sure, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough frowned. ‘There is nothing else for it, James, we must stop the bombardment. Cadogan, ride down to the column. Pull back the assault. Have Argyll stand down. I am no man for parlay of hostages, but that is clearly what the French intend. Sound the retire. Make a signal to the admiral to cease fire, and you had better tell Lieutenant Forbes while you’re about it.’

  In Claude Malbec’s casemate the misery continued. And then suddenly there was silence. Everyone strained to listen – the guns had ceased firing. Malbec sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Again in the darkness of his mind he could see Marie’s sweet, sad face. But this time she was smiling.

  Colonel Hawkins was standing outside Marlborough’s campaign tent when Steel found him the following morning. He held up his hand, smiling. ‘I wouldn’t go in quite yet, Jack. He’s in the very devil of a mood.’

  There was a commotion inside the tent and as they watched one of Marlborough’s servants came running out, his cravat askew, bearing a plate of half-eaten beef.

  Hawkins grinned: ‘Haven’t seen him like this for quite a while. That business with the girl really unsettled him.’

  ‘Who was she, Colonel?’

  ‘Name of Henrietta Vaughan. Daughter of the Duke of Romney.’

  Steel stared: ‘Good God.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘She is a first cousin to a lady of my acquaintance.’

  ‘Is she, by God? Well if your lady is anything like her cousin, then you’re a lucky man.’

  Steel bristled: ‘I did not say, sir, that the lady in question was anything more to me than an acquaintance.’

  Hawkins understood: ‘Do excuse me, Steel. None of my business. No business of mine at all. Merely a remark.’

  Steel was wondering whether perhaps he should explain the current wholly chaste nature of his relationship with Lady Henrietta’s cousin, Arabella Moore; sixteen years ago, as his lover, Arabella had purchased him his first commission. Before he had decided, a man in civilian dress, under escort, appeared behind Hawkins.

  The colonel beckoned him forward with a friendly gesture: ‘Captain Steel, this is Mister Brouwer. He has come from within the town, at considerable personal risk, to ask for an explanation as to why his people were bombarded. Naturally he is desirous of seeing the duke. But I thought that perhaps you might better be able to explain to him.’

  Steel looked at Hawkins, searching for a clue as to what he meant. Leaving Brouwer with an apology, Hawkins moved across to him and said quietly, ‘The pamphlets, Steel. Tell him about the pamphlets. Make sure he understands that they are libellous. Traitorous. Utterly unfounded. Make him believe in us again, in Marlborough. Lay it on about how the French must be driven out, how much we hate them. And tell him that once his town is free they can have their own government. And for God’s sake don’t forget to apologize for firing on his people.’

  Steel nodded and with Hawkins walked across to Brouwer. ‘This is Captain Steel, Mister Brouwer. A most trusted officer and confidant of the duke of Marlborough. Again I must apologize for His Grace being currently so indisposed. He suffers most severely from mal de tête, if you will excuse my use of the French. But I am sure that Captain Steel will explain everything quite clearly. You may use my tent, Steel – and give Mister Brouwer a glass of wine. You’ll find it on the sideboard. You won’t be disturbed.’

  Steel nodded: ‘Thank you, Colonel.’

  He motioned Brouwer towards Hawkins’ tent some yards away and as the colonel watched, began to attempt to explain their reasons for murdering women and children, and to rebuild the man’s trust in Marlborough’s army.

  Almost an hour and very nearly two bottles of Hawkins’ excellent hock later, Steel began to feel as if he might be succeeding. Quick to assess the man’s modest social status, he had been careful to underplay his own position. He had spoken of his background with the emphasis on suffering, and told Brouwer how he had been compelled to leave the family home and forcibly indentured to a lawyer, and how he had run away to join the colours. Within minutes Brouwer had been made aware that Steel was no ordinary officer, no dandified fop who would throw his men to the guns to forge his own glorious reputation, but a natural gentleman. And Steel for his part, having set out to seduce Brouwer’s soul with guile, quickly found his cynical veneer evaporating. He liked Marius Brouwer. The man had a rare honesty and a genuine sense of injustice which appealed to Steel’s own instinct for fair play. In fact at one point in their conversation he had found himself beginning to question the moral integrity of his own generals. But he had quickly brought himself to order, remembering the vital purpose of his mission. And now, even as Brouwer remonstrated once again at the fact that Marlborough had only two years back ordered the burning of Bavaria, Steel could see the man was warming to him and exploited his advantage.

  ‘Mister Brouwer, whatever you might have read, I can assure you His Grace did not authorize the kill
ing of any civilians. That is not our way.’

  Brouwer smiled: ‘It was your way here.’

  ‘Please. I beg you. You must believe me. We were under the impression that Vauban had constructed bunkers – case-mates – in which your people would take cover. How were we to know that the French would seize them for themselves and shut you out?’

  Brouwer nodded his head: ‘Yes. You’re right. I do see that now, Captain. It is the French and not yourselves who are the real monsters. As we always knew they were.’

  The Belgian had said as much already, although clearly his mind had not really been made up. This time, though, Steel believed that he meant it.

  ‘I’m so glad that you see that, Mister Brouwer. More wine?’

  ‘Perhaps not, Captain. My head is not as strong as it was and if I am to get back into the town, then I must have all my senses.’

  He paused and looked Steel directly in the eye, as if trying to tell whether or not the tall redcoat might be lying. How he hated this game, hated the war, hated the French. And how he wanted so very much not to hate the British. He and his followers needed a thread of hope and at present the only thread lay with Marlborough. He put down his wine glass:

  ‘Very well. I will take you at your word, Captain. If we are to fight together, we must first be friends.’

  He stretched out his broad-palmed hand in the newfangled sign of greeting and friendship and Steel, after hesitating a moment, took it firmly in his own. Fight together? Steel wondered what he meant. But it was of no consequence, for he had, it seemed, managed to bring Brouwer back to their cause.

  He clasped Brouwer’s hand between both of his own now: ‘You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. You have my word that you will not regret it.’

  Together the two men emerged from the tent. Colonel Hawkins, who had been waiting the whole time outside Marlborough’s tent, looked across and scanned their faces anxiously for any sign of success. Steel met him with a smile which told him what he needed and had hoped to learn.