Drums of War

by Edward Marston

  'That was a long time ago,' said Hillier, dreamily.

  'You took your flogging like a man, I hear.'

  'That's no consolation, sir.'

  'It is to your uncle. Sergeant Welbeck was impressed.'

  'He'd have been more impressed if I'd obeyed regulations.

  But I let him down and I let myself down. My parents will be disgusted.'

  'There's no reason for them to hear about it.'

  'There is, Captain Rawson. My first thought was to keep it from them and I begged Uncle Henry to do likewise. It's just not possible,' said Hillier, quietly. 'I was brought up to tell my parents the truth and my conscience won't allow me to hide this. I can't lie to them.'

  'Concealing the truth is not the same as telling a lie.'

  'It is to me, sir.'

  'In saying nothing of this,' observed Daniel, 'you'd be sparing them untold pain. More to the point, you'd be sparing yourself the ordeal of writing the letter. The army is the army, Tom. It's a hard existence. I'm sure that your parents realise that.'

  'They did, Captain. They kept warning me against it.'

  Daniel sighed. 'My mother warned me against it. She implored me to stay at home with her. My father died fighting in an army and she feared the same would happen to me.'

  'Why didn't you listen to her?'

  'For the same reason you didn't pay any attention to your parents,' said Daniel. 'I had an urge inside me. I wanted adventure.'

  Hillier made no comment. He seemed to have drifted off into a reverie. There was a faraway look in his eye. It was almost as if Daniel was not even there.

  Major Cracknell was playing cards in his tent with Lieutenant Ainley and winning handsomely. He was not pleased to be interrupted by a visitor. The lieutenant, however, seized the opportunity to cut his losses. Seeing that Daniel was intent on speaking to the major, he made an excuse and left. Cracknell tossed his cards on the table.

  'You've just cost me a lot of money,' he complained.

  'The lieutenant can ill afford to lose it.'

  'Since when have you been concerned about Ainley's finances?'

  'I don't like to see anyone being exploited, Major.'

  Cracknell stood up. 'Are you accusing me of cheating?'

  'No, sir, I'm not.'

  'Then please refrain from making any further comment on the subject. That, after all,' he said, hands on hips, 'is not what brought you here, is it? You've come to talk about a squealing drummer with a back as red as a lobster.'

  'I'm reliably informed that Private Hillier didn't squeal.'

  'Perhaps not but he certainly squirmed!

  'You obviously took pleasure from that.'

  'The pleasure I had was derived from the chance to administer a warning to the others. A good flogging keeps the rest of the men in check for a month. If I'd been lenient with Hillier, it would have encouraged others to emulate him. Dozens of them would have been sneaking off at night to the nearest brothel. I had to make an example of him. Eighty lashes were justified.'

  'It was a vindictive punishment.'

  'What would you have done, Captain?' asked Cracknell with a sneer. 'Would you have docked his wages or simply given him a slap on the wrist?'

  'I'd have taken the circumstances into account. He was a young man, new to the army, obviously cajoled by others into leaving camp without permission. It was his first offence. If he'd been treated firmly but fairly,' argued Daniel, 'he'd have learnt his lesson. But that wasn't enough for you, Major. You wanted blood. You've been persecuting Hillier ever since you discovered that he was Sergeant Welbeck's nephew.'

  'I deny that.'

  'Your conduct has been malicious and unwarranted.'

  'I need no lectures on conduct from you, Captain Rawson,' shouted Cracknell, exploding with anger. 'While you've been cavorting off somewhere, it's been left to me and others to maintain a high standard of discipline in this regiment. It's the duty of officers to keep the lower ranks in order. Unlike you, I don't try to befriend them. It's a sign of weakness and they need a show of strength.'

  'What they need is to be able to respect an officer.'

  'It's the principle on which I operate.'

  'No, Major, you confuse cold fear with respect. They're very different. How can anyone respect you for what you did to Hillier? You took a harmless lad and had him beaten to a pulp to gratify your own desires. Had anyone else been caught that night,' stressed Daniel, 'you wouldn't even have been involved in the punishment.'

  'I won't be criticised!' yelled Cracknell.

  'You deserve more than criticism.'

  'Is that a threat, Captain Rawson?'

  'Take it as you wish, sir.'

  'You're talking to a superior officer.'

  'No, I'm not,' retorted Daniel. 'I'm talking to a cruel, jealous, twisted, malevolent, self-important bastard who's a disgrace to the uniform he wears.'

  Losing his temper, Cracknell lashed out wildly with a fist but Daniel dodged the punch with ease and pushed him away. He squared up to the major, hands bunched in readiness. He looked lithe, fit and determined. He was fired by the opportunity to take revenge on behalf of Hillier and to assuage his own hatred of the man. It was a moment for which he'd always yearned. But it never came. Cracknell's anger was replaced by a sulky wariness. Aware of Daniel's reputation as a fighter, he had second thoughts about taking him on. The major was forced to back down, glowering at him but making no move. They stood there for several minutes. The tension was eventually broken by the appearance of a messenger.

  'Excuse me,' said the man, entering the tent. 'Lieutenant Ainley told me that you were here, Captain Rawson. You're to report to General Churchill at once, sir. He has orders for you.'

  Daniel was reluctant to leave the camp on the very day that he'd returned to it. Orders from Marlborough, however, could not be ignored. A dispatch had arrived from Vienna, instructing him to join the commander-in-chief as swiftly as possible because he was needed as an interpreter. Evidently, Marlborough knew about the success in France. Letters sent from The Hague had only given him outline details and he was anxious to hear the full story from the captain's own mouth. After a series of farewells, Daniel set out with a small escort on the road to the Austrian capital. In the company of fellow-soldiers, he was able to move much faster than he'd done during the flight from Paris. By staying in the saddle longer, they covered much more distance each day.

  When they finally reached their destination, he expected Marlborough to be staying in one of the Emperor's palaces. Daniel found him ensconced instead at the home of the English ambassador in Vienna. Marlborough had been careful to avoid the formality that would have been imposed upon him if he'd been the Emperor's guest. In a private house, he was not dogged by ceremony. Daniel was given an effusive welcome and, as soon as he'd had some refreshment, pressed to give a detailed account of his trip to Paris. Both Marlborough and Adam Cardonnel were avid listeners. Distressed to hear of Pierre Lefeaux' fate, they were agog when Daniel explained how the escape from the Bastille had been engineered. He also passed on the intelligence that Janssen had taken the trouble to confide in him. As on previous occasions when he'd talked about the escapade, the names of Amalia and Beatrix did not feature.

  'We owe you thanks and congratulations,' said Marlborough. 'When we heard that Janssen had been imprisoned, we abandoned all hope of ever seeing him again.'

  'We wondered if we'd ever see you again,' added Cardonnel. 'It sounds to me as if you had some narrow escapes.'

  'We did, sir,' said Daniel.

  'Rather more of them than you told us about, in fact.'

  'I don't follow.'

  'We have another report of what took place in France. It's a shade more fulsome than your own.'

  'Yes,' said Marlborough, reaching for a sealed letter on the table, 'we had a missive from Emanuel Janssen. He's put much more flesh on the story than you. You've been too self-effacing, Daniel. You said nothing about your capture by highwaymen or the crisis you met
when you tried to drive a coach across a river.'

  'They seemed irrelevant details, Your Grace,' said Daniel. 'My orders were to get someone out of Paris and that's what took up most of my energy. It's not something to boast about. I simply did what I felt was necessary.'

  Marlborough laughed. 'Do you hear that, Adam?'

  'Yes, Your Grace,' replied Cardonnel. 'I've never known a soldier less willing to take credit for his achievements.'

  'It can't all be put down to modesty, I think. Daniel's loss of memory is another factor to consider.'

  Daniel frowned. 'I had no loss of memory, Your Grace.'

  'Then why did we not hear about Janssen's daughter, not to mention his assistant and servant? You rescued four people. One of them in particular has been singing your praises.' 'Oh?'

  'I refer to Amalia Janssen. According to her father, she reveres you in every way. Well,' he went on, holding out the letter, 'you can read what she has to say. This was written in her own fair hand and enclosed with the missive from Janssen.'

  'Thank you, Your Grace,' said Daniel, taking the letter.

  'Read it in private,' suggested Marlborough. 'Later on, I trust, when your memory has been sufficiently jogged, you can tell us what really happened during your escape from France.'

  Notwithstanding his regrets at having to leave his regiment, Daniel was delighted with his new duties. In taking part in diplomacy as an interpreter, he was helping to further the war effort. He was intrigued by the way that Marlborough persuaded Emperor Joseph to commit soldiers to the next campaign even though he gave no details of how he would deploy them. It was only at his lodging that Marlborough talked openly about the strategy for the coming year. Daniel felt honoured to be present at the discussion, a sign that his opinion was valued and his discretion taken for granted.

  'Italy is the key to the whole enterprise,' said Marlborough, pointing at the map that lay open on the table. 'We must transfer all our regiments there so that we can unite with Prince Eugene and save Savoy from being overrun.'

  'What of the Dutch army, Your Grace?' asked Daniel.

  'It can stay in the Low Countries and do what it always does.

  Namely, avoid anything resembling a full-scale battle. They and the French are kindred spirits. Instead of going on the attack, they'd rather adopt defensive positions and stare at each other over the intervening territory without firing a shot.'

  'Moving our entire force to northern Italy is taking a huge risk.'

  'That's precisely why the enemy will never expect it.'

  'Think what happened last year,' said Cardonnel. 'Our march to the Danube was a triumph because it took the French by surprise. They never imagined we'd take so many men so far south.'

  'In doing so,' resumed Marlborough, 'we were able to save the Empire from widespread destruction if not total extinction. It's the reason we're able to sit here in Vienna. By deceiving Marshal Tallard with regard to our objective, we secured the most resounding victory of the war. I look for a similar triumph in Savoy.'

  'There'll be an immediate advantage,' said Daniel. 'You'll be fighting alongside a brilliant soldier. Prince Eugene has something of your own daring, Your Grace.'

  'I hold him in the highest esteem.'

  'You'll find him more amenable than General Slangenberg.'

  'A wild elephant would be more amenable than Slangenberg,' said Marlborough, chuckling. 'At least it would charge without having to reconnoitre the battlefield three times before doing so. No,' he went on, tapping the map, 'Savoy must be the point of attack. It straddles the mountain passes between Italy and France. When we reinforce Savoy, we open up a gateway into enemy territory. It may even be possible to use the English navy to secure ports like Nice and Toulon, allowing a secondary invasion.'

  'That would flutter the dovecotes in Versailles,' said Cardonnel.

  'We must strike hard and strike early, Adam.'

  "Thanks to the intelligence that Daniel passed on from our tapestry-maker with the sharp ears, we know that the French will concentrate their activities in the Low Countries.'

  'They'll be ill-prepared for a decisive thrust into northern Italy.' Marlborough saw the doubt in Daniel's eyes. 'You have reservations, I fancy.'

  'None at all about the boldness of the plan, Your Grace,' said Daniel. 'I admire it. However, three things worry me.'

  'What are they?'

  'First, there's the problem of getting our army there. It will involve a march through the length of Germany, across Austria, over the Alpine passes and down into the Lombardy plains.' His finger described the route on the map. 'At a rough guess, that must be twice the distance we travelled on our way to the Danube.'

  'Another reason why the French will never imagine we'd attempt such a march. I know what your second objection is,' Marlborough went on, anticipating him, 'and it's been voiced before. On such a long journey, how will we keep the army in bread and forage?'

  'It will place a massive burden on our quartermasters.'

  'We shall have to plan ahead with the utmost care, Daniel.'

  'That brings me to my third worry, Your Grace. The campaign will entail the support of our allies. Without a concerted attack,' said Daniel, 'we'd not be able to repel the French. How can we be sure that all contingents will arrive at the rendezvous together?'

  'They managed it on the march to the Danube last year.'

  'Yet they failed abysmally on the Moselle.'

  'They did,' Marlborough conceded, 'and steps will be taken to prevent a repetition of that farce. You raise legitimate objections, Daniel, and we've looked at all three of them. With commitment and organisation, they can all be overcome. Put it another way,' he said, folding up the map. 'Where would you rather fight? Would you prefer to be bogged down in the Low Countries with the Dutch or riding into battle with Prince Eugene of Savoy?'

  'I'd choose Prince Eugene every time,' said Cardonnel.

  'So would I,' added Daniel, brightly. 'Italian wine tastes so much better than Dutch beer.'

  Weeks rolled by with surprising speed. Daniel's command of German was put to good use in an endless round of ceremonies, meetings, dinners and balls held in celebration of Marlborough's visit. From Vienna, they went on to Berlin and thence to Hanover where the Electress Sophia, struck again by his graciousness, fawned over him. In diplomatic terms, the tour had been an unqualified success but it had been exhausting. The year was coming to an end before Daniel returned to The Hague with the embassy. His first task there was to act as an interpreter between Marlborough and Anthonie Heinsius, Grand Pensionary of Holland. A fine statesman, Heinsius still exerted great influence in his country though his power had declined a little after the death of William III. He and the commander-in-chief shared an implacable hatred of France's expansionist policies. There was a deep mutual respect between the two men.

  Daniel had responded to Amalia's letter and couched his reply in the same affectionate terms that she'd used. Since they were constantly on the move, it was difficult to maintain a correspondence with her and he hoped for a chance to see Amalia when they got back to Holland. All that he contrived was a flying visit to Amsterdam but it was enough to show him that her feelings for him had not changed. On his part, he thought she looked more beautiful than ever. Being with her father in the safety of their own home had removed all her anxiety. She was happy, relaxed and enchanting.

  'What time do you sail for England?' she asked.

  'We leave on the morning tide, Amalia.'

  'When will you be back?'

  'Not until the spring,' he said.

  'That's months away,' she protested.

  'It will soon pass.'

  'What will you do in England?'

  'Oh, I think His Grace will have plenty of work for me.'

  'Will you promise to write?'

  'Only if you promise to reply,' he insisted.

  'Please hurry back, Daniel. I'll miss you.'

  'You could always visit me in England.'

  'Fath
er needs me here,' she said, resignedly.

  Daniel put a hand under her chin to lift it up. 'I, too, have my needs,' he said, stealing a kiss. "Think of me often.'

  'Will you be staying in London?'

  'That depends on His Grace,' he explained. 'But the first place I'll visit is Somerset.'

  'Why?'

  'I have to pay my respects, Amalia.'

  Though the return voyage to England was uncomfortable, it had none of the horrors they'd encountered on their earlier crossing to Holland. Daniel was glad to step back on to British soil again. As soon as he could, he rode off in the direction of the West Country. Long hours in the saddle were taken up with contemplation. He missed Amalia, he thought about Henry Welbeck and he wondered how Tom Hillier was now faring. Not for the first time, he speculated on what would have happened if he and Major Cracknell had not been interrupted when they came close to exchanging blows. His worry was that, in trying to defend Hillier, he'd only made it more likely that the drummer would be singled out again for punishment. There was nothing he could do about that now.

  Somerset was sprinkled with snow and spangled with frost. Its wintry prettiness was belied by a gusting wind that made his hat flap about and an icy track that caused his horse's hooves to slide from time to time. By adopting a cautious pace, he eventually reached the village and went straight to its church. The graveyard was dusted with white and the ground as hard as iron. Daniel was only a boy when he buried his father there. Captain Nathan Rawson had been one of the many rebels taken captive and hanged after the battle of Sedgemoor. Sneaking up to the gallows at night, Daniel and some friends had cut down the body and given it a hasty burial in consecrated ground. As he'd done most of the digging, Daniel remembered how soft the earth had been in July.

  Since it was an unauthorised burial, they had hidden Nathan Rawson's last remains in a grave tucked away in a corner. It was several years before his son was able to return and, after explaining the situation to the priest, secure a proper Christian burial in the place where Nathan had once been baptised. Every time he came to England, Daniel made a pilgrimage to the site. The same bitter memories were resurrected. His father had been a valiant soldier who'd made the mistake of fighting for the wrong side. When the rebel army was routed, his fate was sealed and so was that of his farm. Under the threat of eviction, Daniel and his mother had loaded some belongings on to a cart and driven to the coast to take ship to Amsterdam.