Soldier of Fortune cr-1

by Edward Marston

  'Of course you do,' he said earnestly, touching her shoulder. 'Why else would I be here? From the moment we met, I hoped that our acquaintance could blossom into something more. But any soldier is subject to the orders of his commanding officer. It's not a choice between fighting the French or staying here with you, Abigail. That's a false antithesis. My hope was that you would wave me bravely off in the knowledge that I'd return in due course to renew our friendship.'

  It was not entirely true. What Daniel had really envisaged was that news of his imminent departure would prompt her to throw herself into his arms and spare him the trouble of a long courtship. He had met Abigail at a dinner hosted by the Lord Treasurer, his chance meeting at Holywell with Lord Godolphin bearing immediate fruit. Among the guests were Sir Nicholas Piper and his younger daughter. Daniel had taken an instant liking to her and contrived some time alone with Abigail.

  She had made sure that he knew where she went for a walk with her maid every morning and, although it rained the following day, he was there for what looked like a casual encounter. In fact, her companion had been primed to drift away for a while so that the two of them could talk more freely as they sheltered under the trees. On his side, interest had swiftly moved on to frank desire whereas, for Abigail, it was a case of true love. Given her response to his news, it looked as if neither of them would get what they secretly coveted.

  'You've let me down, Daniel,' she said, holding back her tears. 'You should have told me at the very start that you'd soon be leaving the country.'

  'That would only have frightened you away,' he argued, 'and I could not bear the thought of that. It's happened before, you see. When young ladies hear that I'm in the army, they shy away from me because they know I must spend a long time abroad each year.'

  'I was bound to find out sooner or later.'

  'Granted — but by then, I trusted, we'd have established a firm friendship, something strong enough to withstand the fact that we had to be apart for a little while.'

  'I may not see you again until the autumn — if then,' she said despondently. 'That's far more than a little while. It's also more than I can tolerate. You do me wrong to raise my expectations then dash them to pieces like this.'

  'We still have one whole day together,' he told her.

  'What use is that?'

  'Whatever use we choose to put it to,' he said, trying to soothe her with a smile. 'If I've hurt you in any way, Abigail, I'm deeply sorry. Tell me how I can atone for my treatment of you.'

  He opened his arms in a gesture of apology that was at the same time a welcome invitation. Abigail was in turmoil, tempted to yield to his embrace yet held back by the anguish of losing him to a distant war. The conflicting emotions were too much for her. Unable to contain her distress, she let out a loud wail then fled from the room. Daniel instinctively tried to follow her but he found his way blocked by Dorothy Piper. Anger showed in her eyes at first but it soon vanished when she was able to study him properly.

  'Good day to you, Captain Rawson,' she said, impressed by what she saw. 'I am Abigail's elder sister, Dorothy.'

  'Delighted to make your acquaintance,' he replied. 'Abigail did not mention that she had a sister.'

  She smiled. 'I begin to see why now.'

  'Should I go after her and try to comfort her?'

  'That would be pointless. She will already have locked herself in her room and will not come out for hours. I'll speak to her later.'

  'Please assure her that I didn't mean to upset her.'

  'I most certainly will, Captain Rawson.'

  'Do you think she would permit me to call again — when I return from my duties, that is?'

  'Whatever Abigail says, you have my permission to call.'

  Her gaze was supremely confident. Daniel felt as if he were meeting an older version of Abigail Piper, equally beautiful and alluring but more experienced, more mature, more knowing. One sister had fled but another had taken her place. In the space of a minute, he felt that he had made more progress with Dorothy than he had done in a week with Abigail. The younger sister might be enamoured of him but it was the elder who held the greater promise. Daniel was content. When he was next in London, he resolved to call at the house again. He would have two excellent reasons to do so.

  Edward Marston

  Soldier of Fortune

  It was work that Charles Catto chose to do on his own. He had to visit places where Frederic Seurel's nationality would provoke hostility. His friend therefore stayed behind in their lodging while Catto began his search, aware that Seurel would come into his own later when their quarry had been run to earth. Catto not only knew the London inns frequented by soldiers, he was able to pass himself off convincingly as a former member of the British army.

  At the first two places he visited, he had no luck. The name of Daniel Rawson meant nothing to any of the discharged soldiers, carousing noisily and boasting about their military triumphs. All that they wished to do was to drink, smoke their pipes, play cards, sing out of tune and flirt with the resident prostitutes at the Drum, a lively tavern in Southwark, he had better fortune. The atmosphere was so boisterous that Catto had to shout in order be heard above the din but someone did eventually recognise the name that he mentioned.

  'Captain Rawson?' said the man. 'Yes, I know him.'

  'So he's a captain, is he?'

  'That's right, sir.'

  'What can you tell me about him?'

  'I can't tell you nothin' with my throat so dry.'

  'Let me buy you some more ale,' offered Catto, ready to pay for information. 'Take that seat in the corner and I'll join you.'

  The man followed his suggestion. Though still in his twenties, he seemed much older and had good reason to curse his army career. In one skirmish against the French, he had lost an arm, an eye and all of his good looks. He was in constant pain yet his injuries had not dimmed his respect for Daniel Rawson.

  'He was the best officer I ever served under,' he said when Catto brought two tankards across and sat beside him. 'The best and the bravest. See this?' he went on, pointing to his empty eye socket. 'And this?' He patted the empty sleeve of his coat. 'I got these when I joined Captain Rawson in a Forlorn Hope. Only six of us lived to tell the tale. Mind you, we killed a dozen Frenchies that day and broke through their defences. Captain Rawson fought like a demon. It was 'im who dragged me to safety when I got my arm blew off.'

  'Do you know where he is now?'

  'I might do.'

  'There's money in it for you,' said Catto.

  The man was suspicious. 'Why are you after the captain?'

  'I have some good news to pass on to him.'

  'What sort of good news?'

  'That's private. Now, can you help me?'

  'I could 'elp. I still have lots of friends in the regiment.'

  'Which regiment is that?'

  'The Duke of Marlborough's — so I get to 'ear all the gossip.'

  'And what have you heard about Captain Rawson?'

  The man took a long swig of ale before licking his lips. Catto slapped some coins down on the table and they were swept up quickly by the man's remaining hand.

  'Well?' prompted Catto

  'This is only a rumour but it's a strong one. The word is that Captain Rawson's sailin' from 'Arwich tomorrow with the Duke.' He took another swig of ale. 'Is that any use to you, my friend?'

  He was talking to thin air. Catto had already left the tavern and was trotting back in the direction of his lodging, leaving behind him an untouched tankard of ale. Money and free drink — the man was delighted with his bounty. It never crossed his mind that he might just have signed Daniel Rawson's death warrant.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Something was amiss. As he watched them from the ship, Daniel Rawson was both puzzled and a trifle worried. Down at the quayside, the Duke of Marlborough was taking leave of his wife before sailing off to war. Daniel had witnessed such partings between them on previous occasions and been touched by th
e tenderness shown on both sides. There was little tenderness now. The Duchess was as striking as ever, wearing a cloak, hat and gloves to keep out the persistent breeze that came in off the sea. It was her manner that surprised Daniel. She seemed cold and distant. Though she permitted a farewell kiss, it was more of a token than a sign of affection. At the very moment that her husband was about to walk away, she took a letter from beneath her cloak and slipped it into his hand.

  Daniel was perplexed. Whenever he had seen her before, Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, had always been an imperious figure, a woman of grace, poise and real substance. Even in middle age, she had an extraordinary vitality. She was too loyal to let her husband down by not seeing him off but

  Daniel sensed that she was only there for the sake of appearance. He was reminded of his visit to Holywell when he had found Marlborough and Godolphin dining alone. Daniel knew for a fact that the Duchess was in the house. Why had she not joined the two men at dinner? Was there some kind of breach between husband and wife?

  It was unsettling. Daniel had lost count of the number of times he had been alone with Marlborough and listened to him talking fondly of his wife. Having the firm foundation of a happy marriage meant so much to the Duke. It deprived him of any anxieties about his family while he was campaigning in Europe. That was important. The last thing that the Grand Alliance needed was a captain-general whose mind was distracted by marital problems. Daniel had fought alongside officers who were haunted by difficulties back home and unable to concentrate fully. A soldier with preoccupations could be a severe handicap to his comrades.

  Marlborough was escorted on to the Peregrine by his private secretary, Adam Cardonnel. The captain was ready to welcome them aboard. When greetings had been exchanged, Marlborough stood at the bulwark so that he could wave to his wife as the vessel set sail. Daniel was close enough to get a good view of him. Whatever tensions there might be between Duke and Duchess, they did not register on Marlborough's face. He looked as calm and confident as he usually did. Now in his early fifties — an age when many commanders had retired — he carried his years well and had the sprightliness of a veteran soldier eager to return to the battlefield.

  To Daniel's perceptive eye, the Duchess's performance was less convincing. She stood bravely on the quay, raising a hand when the ship pulled away and waving gently to her husband.

  Other wives who had come to watch their soldier-husbands leave were already dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs or blowing kisses at the departing vessel. The Duchess was apparently unmoved, fulfilling a duty rather than parting from a loved one who was off to a war that was fraught with danger. Marlborough waved with far more purpose. Significantly, it was his wife who turned away before he did.

  When he finally stepped away from the bulwark, he caught sight of Daniel and beckoned him over. 'It's too breezy to stay on deck,' he said. 'I'll go below. Give me ten minutes to settle in then join me in my cabin, if you will.'

  'Yes, Your Grace,' said Daniel.

  'It feels so good to be back in harness again.'

  'I agree.'

  'We'll give King Louis a real shock this time.'

  Marlborough patted him on the shoulder then went off along the deck. The crew were still unfurling the sails, each new spread of canvas catching the wind and increasing their speed. The Peregrine was a tidy vessel. Her mast was tall for a ship with a relatively shallow draught. She had a lengthy jib- boom, formed of two spars fished together and able to be hinged up when not in use. The rig was fore-and-aft with a square topsail and a topgallant fitted to the mainmast.

  Glad that they were under way at last, Daniel was nevertheless leaving with some regret. Before he could reflect upon the competing loveliness of Abigail and Dorothy Piper, however, someone came across to him. It was Adam Cardonnel, the man who worked closer to Marlborough than anybody. Daniel had always liked him, not least because he was the son of a Huguenot refugee, who had fled from France in 1685 when the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes subjected Huguenots to vicious persecution. Many had gone to Amsterdam and Daniel had grown up with their children. Horrific tales of repeated French atrocities against religious minorities had strengthened his determination to fight against the rampant Roman Catholicism of Louis XIV's France. Adam Cardonnel was a living reminder of the horrors visited upon blameless Huguenots. In addition, he was a fine soldier and an engaging companion.

  'Are you a good sailor, Daniel?' asked Cardonnel.

  'I'm a far better soldier, sir.'

  'We've seen considerable evidence of that.'

  'Sea battles are a matter of broadsides,' said Daniel. 'I like to get close enough to an enemy to see his face, not fire at him from a distance with a row of cannon.'

  'Artillery has a crucial place in land battles as well,' Cardonnel argued, 'but I take your point. You prefer close contact.' He smiled. 'From what I hear, you achieved that in Paris recently.'

  'What I did was strictly in the line of duty, sir.'

  Cardonnel laughed. 'I'm sure that it was.'

  Daniel saw his chance to probe for detail. If anyone knew what Marlborough's real intentions were, it would be his secretary. The Duke reposed full confidence in Cardonnel. Along with William Cadogan, the Quartermaster-General, he had been charged with removing some of the age-old abuses in the army. The two men had been so efficient that, as a result of their administrative and structural improvements, the army was better clothed, better fed, better paid and better led than Daniel could ever remember. Cardonnel deserved great credit for initiating much-needed reforms and implementing them.

  'I cannot wait to be in action again,' said Daniel.

  'The French will be happy to oblige you, I'm sure.'

  'His Grace tells me that we'll head for the Moselle.'

  'Then that is what we will do,' said Cardonnel impassively.

  'I had the feeling that it was only part of the overall plan.'

  'Did you?'

  'It's not ambitious enough for our captain-general.'

  'His Grace has never been allowed to give full vent to his ambition,' said Cardonnel carefully, 'or we'd have made greater progress against the French by now. Our allies are too cautious, especially the Dutch. It must be in their nature.'

  'It's not in my nature,' Daniel told him, 'and my mother was Dutch. I've always favoured direct attack that stops just short of recklessness. I suppose I get that from my father.'

  'Then he must have been a very brave man.'

  'He was, sir.'

  Daniel could see that he would learn nothing more about the plan of campaign. Cardonnel was far too discreet. On another subject, Daniel hoped, he might be forthcoming. He fished anew.

  'I was pleased to see Her Grace, the Duchess, here today.'

  'Force of habit,' said Cardonnel easily. 'It's happened so many times now. Each year they endure the same leave- taking.'

  'Not quite the same,' noted Daniel. 'I fancy I saw reluctance for the first time, as if the Duchess were unhappy to be here.'

  'Parting with one's husband for several months is never an occasion for happiness. Courage and understanding are required. The Duchess has borne her husband's long absences with equanimity.'

  'Yet she seemed almost frosty today.'

  'It's a cold wind, Daniel.' 'I was referring to her manner.'

  'What you mistook for indifference,' said Cardonnel solemnly, 'was nothing of the kind. They are still suffering the effects of a family tragedy. A little over a year ago, you may recall, their son, John, died of smallpox. It was a bitter blow. John was their only boy to survive infancy and his parents had the highest hopes of him when he went off to Cambridge. At sixteen, he was dead.'

  'I remember how shaken His Grace was by the event.'

  'He was more than shaken, Daniel. To add to his grief, he had to leave for Flanders only twelve days after his son's death. He was unable to stay with his wife to share their terrible loss. That wounded him deeply. In some ways,' he went on, 'the Duchess has never recovered from
the tragedy. She is still in mourning.'

  'That would not explain her behaviour today, sir.'

  'Then how do you account for it?'

  'I wondered if there were some rift between husband and wife,' said Daniel. 'Not that it's any of my business,' he added quickly, 'but I was bound to speculate.'

  'Then take your speculations elsewhere,' said Cardonnel with a note of rebuke. 'I do not trade in idle tittle-tattle and I feel insulted that you should imagine I did.'

  Daniel was repentant. 'I apologise unreservedly, sir.'

  'It's not your place to pry into the Duke's private affairs.'

  'I accept that.'

  'Never speak to me on such a matter again.'

  Giving him no chance to reply, Cardonnel moved smartly away and left Daniel to chide himself for his folly in raising the subject. At the same time, he was not persuaded by the other man's explanation. He still believed that the Duchess had been showing her displeasure. That belief was reinforced when, minutes later, he found his way to Marlborough's cabin. After tapping on the door, he was invited in and entered the little wood-panelled room in time to see Marlborough hurriedly stuffing a letter into his pocket. There was no mistake about the anxiety and pain in the man's face even though it was swiftly replaced by a bland smile.

  'Sit down, Daniel,' said Marlborough, indicating a chair. 'I've had more comfortable quarters in my time but these will suffice.' They both took a seat. 'I'm ready to put up with any privations in order to stop the French holding sway over the whole of Europe.'

  'The same goes for me, Your Grace,' said Daniel.

  'Then you will not mind going behind enemy lines again.'

  'I'd be grateful for the opportunity.'

  'It may well come in time,' said Marlborough. 'We have very few people as fluent in French and German as Daniel Rawson. You could pass for a native in both countries.'

  'That's why I studied the languages so carefully.'

  'With a helping hand from certain young ladies, I daresay.'