The man looked in the back of the coach and saw two stout women, leaning against each other and apparently asleep. Janssen was wearing a dress borrowed from his servant. The hood of his cape obscured his head and face. At Daniel's suggestion, he'd readily shaved off his beard.
The guard sniggered and handed the papers back to Daniel.
'You're right, my friend,' he said. 'They're an ugly pair.'
The turnkey who'd been knocked out by the butt of a pistol took a long time to recover consciousness. When he did so, he found himself bound hand and foot. A gag prevented him from doing anything but make a muffled noise. Realising that he was under a sheet, he began to thresh around until he rolled off the mattress and on to the floor. As the sheet was peeled away, he lay there half-naked, twitching violently like a large fish hauled on to the deck of a ship. The guard who'd been resting on the bench leapt up in alarm at the sight.
'Where's Janssen?' he demanded.
News of the escape spread around the prison like wildfire, causing anger and amazement. Emanuel Janssen was being held at the Bastille at the express command of King Louis. Nobody looked forward to conveying news of the escape at Versailles. There would be dire repercussions. The fugitive had to be recaptured as soon as possible. When the police were informed, riders were dispatched to every exit of the city with orders that nobody was to leave unless they were wholly above suspicion. Guards on duty were questioned about those whom they'd already allowed out that morning. Information was gathered from all sources and taken back at a gallop to the Lieutenant-General of Police. He scrutinised it for a long time before he pronounced his verdict.
'Janssen is still in the city,' he declared. 'Find him!'
Five miles away, dressed in a more manly fashion now, the tapestry-maker sat in the coach with an arm around his daughter. Beatrix was opposite them while Dopff was perched beside the driver. Since there were five of them, Daniel did not push the horse too fast. Nursing him along, he left the main road and plunged off into some woods where they could rest and eat some of the food stored in the coach. The rain had now stopped and the sun was peeping through the clouds. It was a portent of something but Daniel had no idea what it might be.
Chapter Twelve
The Confederate Army was on the move. Now that the campaign season had drawn to an end with an impasse in the Low Countries, it was possible for a large-scale withdrawal of troops to winter quarters. Dutch regiments maintained a presence on the western borders but most British soldiers were pulled back. The long marches taxed the patience and energy of Hugh Dobbs. As soon as they stopped for a rest on their latest journey, he sat down beneath a tree with his back to the trunk. Tom Hillier was with him.
'I hate marching,' said Dobbs. 'I've got delicate feet.'
'You should've joined the cavalry,' advised Hillier.
'I can't ride a horse.'
'It only takes a little practice. I learnt to ride when I was a boy. We had a couple of ponies at the farm.'
Dobbs became reflective. 'I grew up in a small town with nothing to do except fight with the other boys. I was bored, Tom. That's why I was tricked into joining the army. The recruiting sergeant made it sound such an exciting life. When they marched into town with the drums beating, I was the first in the queue to sign up.'
'When did you start to regret it?'
'When I realised I'd have somebody yelling at me all day long.'
'You get used to that.'
'Well, I haven't. Sergeants are all bloody slave-drivers and corporals are not much better.'
Hillier smiled. 'I'll remind you of that when you get promoted.'
'Not me,' said Dobbs. 'I'm not nasty enough and I'd never want the responsibility What about you?'
'I've only been here five minutes,' Hillier reminded him. 'It's far too early to think about promotion of any kind. That's years away. I've learnt to take one day at a time.'
'When we're on the march, they're all the same.'
'What about marching into battle?'
'That is different,' conceded Dobbs. 'The first time I did it, my hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold my drumsticks. I had no idea there'd be so much noise. It was deafening and it went on for hours. The worst part of it was afterwards.'
'Why was that?'
'It was carnage, Tom. The sight of all those dead or dying men made me puke. There were horses, too, hundreds of them scattered across the battlefield, some blown to pieces by cannon. I'd never seen so much blood.'
'It must have been hideous.'
'The stink was terrible. It took days for the burial teams to toss all our casualties into a grave. You could smell the stench from miles away. That's one thing the recruiting sergeant didn't warn us about,' he said, bitterly. 'He reckoned that soldiering was an adventure.'
'It is, Hugh.'
'That's not what I've found.'
'I had an adventure right at the start,' said Hillier. 'Some idiot hid my drum at the top of a tree and I had to climb up to get it.'
Dobbs grinned. 'I still don't know how you managed that. I pulled off all of the lower branches to make it more difficult.'
'I was determined to get it back.'
'You must have had help.'
'No,' said Hillier, 'everybody who walked past simply laughed at me. They thought I'd never climb up there.'
Daniel Rawson's advice had been sound. Because he made no mention of the assistance given by the captain, Hillier had earned the respect of the other drummers. It had taken a fight with Dobbs to win him over completely but they were now good friends. The problem for Hillier was that not all officers were as helpful as Captain Rawson.
"There's one benefit about this marching,' said Hillier.
'I haven't noticed it.'
'Major Cracknell has kept out of my way.'
'That man is a swine, Tom.'
'He's an officer so he'll always have the whip hand over us.'
'He picked on you again and again.'
'I know,' said Hillier, thinking of the punishments he'd endured. 'It was very unpleasant. But I think he's lost interest in me now.'
'Don't believe that for a second.' 'Oh?'
'Cruel bastards like Major Cracknell never give up. That man wants to break you, Tom, and he'll keep chasing after you until he does. I'm sorry,' said Dobbs, 'but you mustn't deceive yourself. The major will be back.'
Now that he'd escaped the cumulative indignities of imprisonment, Emanuel Janssen tried to make light of them in order not to distress his daughter. His claims to have been well treated did not convince Amalia. She could see the change in his appearance. He'd lost weight and looked older. He was pale and drawn with a distant fear in his eyes. Amalia was reminded of a time when her father had been ill and she'd nursed him back to health. She sensed that he'd need even more care to recover from his experience in the Bastille.
'They didn't hurt you in any way?' she asked.
'They took me away from you, Amalia,' he said, 'and nothing could be more painful than that. I spent each and every day worrying about you.'
They were resting in the woods and Janssen was sharing a quiet moment with his daughter. Dopff was as delighted as any of them to see his master and kept glancing across at him to make sure that he really was there. Certain that they'd be caught before they left Paris, Beatrix had been terrified throughout their flight. With the tension suddenly eased, she sobbed incessantly with relief. Lacking the words to console her, Dopff put his arms around her and patted her back. Over her shoulder, he took another look at Janssen and smiled in awe, as if beholding a miracle.
Daniel had left them beside the coach while he walked back to the edge of the woods. Through his telescope, he'd been watching the main road for signs of pursuit. Since the escape would definitely have been discovered by now, he'd expected search parties to be sent out but none appeared on the main road. Daniel concluded that they must have reason to believe the fugitives were still within the city walls. It was a boon to them. Their journey through
France would be much easier without a posse on their heels but he was very conscious that other dangers would lie ahead. After a few more minutes, Daniel went back to rejoin the others. Janssen immediately came across to him and shook his hand warmly.
'Amalia has been telling me what you did for them, Captain Rawson,' he said, effusively. 'We're forever in your debt.'
'I did what was expected of me, that's all,' said Daniel.
'You're far too modest. What you achieved beggars belief. The Duke of Marlborough will hear of this.'
'My task is to make sure that you reach him safely.'
'According to my daughter, you can do anything.'
'That's very flattering but quite untrue.'
'Amalia rarely exaggerates, Captain Rawson.'
'I think it wiser if you don't call me that,' said Daniel. 'We're still on French soil. Until we leave it, my name is Marcel Daron.'
'I'll remember that, Monsieur Daron.'
'And, in the event of our being stopped, the rest of you must answer to the names on your forged papers.'
'Does that mean I'm to travel as Mademoiselle Lantin?' asked Janssen with a wry smile. 'Posing as a woman was a new experience for me. I'm glad I didn't have to speak as Emma Lantin.'
'That will be Beatrix's name from now on. We must be on our way,' he continued, raising his voice to address the others. 'We need to put distance between ourselves and Paris.'
Amalia and Beatrix returned to the coach and climbed in. Dopff clambered up on to the driving seat. Before he got into the vehicle, Janssen had a question for Daniel.
'How good is your memory?' he asked.
'It's fairly reliable, I think.'
'I'm sure it's better than mine. We need to have a long talk. The last time I was at Versailles, I overheard discussions about the war that would be of great interest to the Duke. I want to tell someone about them before I forget.'
'You could always put them on paper,' said Daniel.
'I was about to do that when I was arrested so I was unable to pass on the information to a British agent in the city. I think I'd prefer to confide in you,' said Janssen. 'As a soldier, you'll be able to decide if the intelligence has any real value.'
'I will.'
'Was it explained to you how I worked in Paris?'
'Yes,' said Daniel. 'Whenever you had anything that might be useful, you passed it on to a man named Pierre Lefeaux.'
'He was such a delightful fellow,' recalled Janssen. 'He and his wife became good friends of mine. Pierre was so courageous. He made what I was doing feel very ordinary by comparison. He was the one who took the risks. I don't suppose that you had any dealings with them, by any chance?'
It was not the time to tell him the truth about the fate of his two friends. Janssen was still elated by his escape. Daniel felt that it would be wrong to deprive him of his joy or to upset the others by describing what he'd seen when he visited the Lefeaux household.
'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'I never had that pleasure.'
Ronan Flynn was a dutiful son-in-law. Twice a week, he drove Charlotte and their baby to the village where her parents had their cottage, making sure that he had a supply of the day's bread with them. It was only three miles away from Paris so he could get there and back in an afternoon. When his wife was dressed for the outing, he helped her up on to the cart then passed up
Louise. Wrapped in a shawl, the baby was fast asleep and even the joggling of the cart and the tumult in the streets didn't wake her up. The little family was off on what they believed would be an enjoyable excursion. As they approached one of the city gates, however, they encountered a problem. The gates were locked and armed guards stood in front of them, turning people back. Charlotte was worried.
'What's wrong?' she said.
'I'll go and find out, my darling.'
'Mother and Father are expecting us, Ronan.'
'We'll get to them somehow,' he promised.
Handing her the reins, he hopped down from the cart and walked past a line of others wanting to leave the capital. There was a coach, two carts and a number of horsemen. Flynn strode to the head of the queue where a man was arguing vociferously with one of the guards. It reached the point where the guard lifted his musket to threaten him. Raising both hands in a gesture of surrender, the man backed away and swore under his breath. Flynn spoke to the guard.
'We have to visit my wife's parents,' he said.
'Nobody is leaving today,' warned the guard.
'What's the reason?'
'All the city gates have been shut. Visitors can come in but we've been ordered to let nobody out unless they have authority.'
'Well, we have authority,' said Flynn. 'We're good citizens and we pay our taxes regularly. That surely entitles us to come and go as we wish.' He turned to point down the queue. 'That's my wife, sitting on the cart with our baby in her arms. Surely, you can let us out?'
'No, Monsieur.'
'But we're completely harmless.'
'That makes no difference. We have our orders.'
'Who issued these bleeding orders?' asked Flynn, temper rising.
'It was the Lieutenant-General of Police.'
'Did he have the grace to say why?'
'He did, Monsieur,' replied the guard. 'An important prisoner has escaped from the Bastille. We must make sure that he doesn't leave Paris.'
'He must be very important if you're taking measures like this. Who is the fellow?'
'That's none of your business.'
'It is my business if it spoils a family visit. Who did they have locked away in the Bastille? To cause all this upheaval, he must have been a foreign prince at least.'
'He was a Dutchman,' said the guard. "That's all I know. Now please turn back.'
Seeing that the guard was adamant, Flynn gave up. It was annoying to him and would be a grave disappointment to his wife's parents. They'd be very anxious when Flynn and Charlotte failed to turn up and their free bread would be sorely missed. The Irishman had almost reached the cart when he realised what the guard had just told him. A Dutchman had somehow escaped from the Bastille and was on the run. Into Flynn's mind came the image of three guests who'd stayed at his house recently. He thought about a boat that had been hired and a coach that was sought. He remembered a number of isolated clues that now fitted neatly together to make a perfect whole. Forgetting his anger at the disruption to their visit, he opened his mouth wide and roared with laughter.
'Dan Rawson!' he said to himself. 'You're a clever old devil!'
The coach kept up steady speed. Daniel was careful to pace the horse, stopping occasionally to let it rest or drink from a stream. When they set off after one such break, Amalia volunteered to sit beside Daniel, allowing Dopff to travel inside the coach for once. Warmed by the afternoon sun, she surveyed the rolling countryside ahead.
'How far will we go today?' she wondered.
'As far as we can before the light disappears,' he said. 'We'll look for a wayside inn. We'll have been driving for several hours by then. The horse will deserve a good feed and a long rest.'
'What happened to your own horse?'
'I had to trade it in to buy this coach.'
'We must pay something of the cost,' said Amalia, seriously. 'It's wrong that you should pay for everything. I have plenty of money as well as my jewellery.'
'Hold on to it in case we need it.'
'Are you sure?'
'I still have some reserves left.'
'Very well, Daniel.'
'And remember that when we're with strangers, I'm not Daniel anymore. I'm Marcel Daron. The others have been warned.'
'I won't forget.'
Sitting close together, neither of them noticed the discomfort of the bare wooden seat or the loud creaking of the vehicle as it swayed to and fro. They were wholly preoccupied with each other. When one wheel hit a deep pothole, however, they were very much aware of it. The coach lurched violently sideways for a second before righting itself with a bump. Amalia w
as thrown against Daniel and he put an arm around her, pulling her close in a moment of intimacy that caused a frisson in both of them. It was minutes before he released her.
'When we find a suitable inn,' said Daniel at length, 'I suggest that you and Beatrix share one room while your father occupies another with Kees.'
'What about you?'
'I'll sleep in the coach.'
'You can't sleep in this,' she protested.
'One of us has to,' he explained, 'and I'm the only person with any weapons. I want everything of real value to be hidden in the coach in case we're stopped and searched. The tapestry will remain here as well. Someone has to stand guard during the night.'
'But it's so unfair on you.'
'Then you can act as a sentry instead,' he teased.
'We could guard the coach together,' she said, blurting out the suggestion without considering what it would entail.
'I don't think your father would approve of that, appealing as the idea is. In any case, you'll be busy elsewhere, keeping Beatrix under control. If anyone is likely to give us away, it's your servant. You have to watch her carefully.'
'Beatrix is much better since we left Paris.'
'She still needs a close eye kept on her,' he said. 'At the first sign of trouble, I'm afraid that she may let us all down.'
'Then I'll do as you say.'
They rode on in companionable silence for a while, scanning the horizon and feeling a slight chill as the sun was obscured by clouds. Every so often the wheels would squelch through a puddle left by the heavy rain and throw moisture into the air. Though animals grazed in some of the fields, they didn't see anybody else for miles. Daniel was already planning ahead, thinking about the next stage of their journey and trying to work out when and where to cross the French border. Amalia's mind was fixed on something beyond that.
Drums of War Page 16