Drums of War cr-2

by Edward Marston

  Another question suddenly loomed and it had a frightening immediacy. What would his uncle, Henry Welbeck, say?

  'Shall we go again tomorrow night?' Dobbs asked him.

  'I don't know, Hugh.'

  'But she liked you, Tom. She told me.'

  'I haven't any money,' said Hillier.

  'Borrow some. That's what I'll do.'

  'I'll see how I feel in the morning.'

  'How do you feel now, that's the main thing? Are you glad that you came with us? Didn't I say it'd be the making of you?'

  'It was good,' said Hillier, warmed by the memory. 'Thank you for taking me. It was very good.'

  They ambled along in the darkness until they saw the campfires ahead. Dobbs hushed them all into silence and took over the lead, trying to find the route by which they'd left earlier. They went in single file with Hillier at the rear. Reaching the stream, Dobbs went along the bank in search of a place to cross. The youth directly behind Dobbs suddenly tripped, bumped into him and burst out laughing.

  'Be quiet!' hissed Dobbs.

  'I'm sorry, Hugh.'

  The damage had already been done. Hearing the noise, two of the sentries came to see what had caused it. In response to their challenge, Dobbs took to his heels.

  'Run!' he called.

  The other three raced after him, running along the bank until they reached a point where it dipped down low. Following their leader, they plunged into the water and splashed their way across. Hillier kept up with them until he'd almost gained the other bank. His foot then caught in some weeds and he fell headlong into the stream. By the time he'd disentangled his foot and got back up again, it was too late. The sentries were waiting for him. He found himself looking at the barrels of their muskets.

  Fine weather and an early start allowed them to make good speed on the following day. Janssen rode well and Amalia proved herself a capable horsewoman, handling a spirited mount without undue difficulty. Dopff, too, was developing into an able coachman though he still had trouble controlling the horse's speed. Daniel kept leaving the others so that he could ride ahead and act as a scout. There was nothing to delay them this time. Hours passed by without incident. During a period of rest, Janssen took him aside.

  'I still haven't told you what I found out,' he said.

  'Then do so now.'

  'It's become a little confused in my mind, I fear. During those weeks in the Bastille, I rather lost my bearings.'

  'I can understand why,' said Daniel.

  'Where shall I start?'

  'Go back to the time when you were last in touch with Pierre Lefeaux. All the intelligence you sent him would have reached us. What else is there to add?'

  'I overheard a conversation between the king and one of his advisers. They were talking about next year's campaigns.'

  'That sounds promising. What exactly was said?'

  Janssen's account was rambling but full of interesting detail. It led on to other intelligence that he'd gleaned. Daniel was patient, drawing the information slowly out of him and sifting it as he did so. Until his arrest, the tapestry-maker had been an assiduous spy. His weakness was an inability to distinguish fact from anecdote. Much of what he said was of no military value to the Allies but it was offset by some significant intelligence. At the end of their conversation, Janssen sought information of another kind.

  'Tell me what happened to Pierre Lefeaux,' he requested. 'When I mentioned his name before, I sensed that you were not telling me the whole truth.'

  'Monsieur Lefeaux is no longer able to help us,' said Daniel, his face impassive. 'That's all you need to know.'

  'Has he been arrested as well?'

  'It amounts to that.'

  'You're holding something back from me,' said Janssen. 'Pierre and his wife were dear friends of mine. I'm entitled to be told what became of them. Is Pierre still alive?'

  'No,' confessed Daniel.

  'What happened to him?'

  'He was executed.'

  'What about his wife?'

  'She met the same fate.'

  Janssen reeled as if from a blow. "This is my fault,' he said, eyes filled with contrition. 'I must have blundered in some way and caused their deaths. I'll never forgive myself for that.'

  'I suspect that it may have been the other way round,' said Daniel, sadly. 'Monsieur Lefeaux was probably caught first and your name was beaten out of him. There was clear evidence he'd been tortured. The French police are searching for our agents all the time. You've no need to feel any guilt.'

  'I'm bound to, Daniel,' said Janssen. 'All I ever wanted to do with my life was to weave tapestries and bring up my daughter. It was madness for me to go to Paris in the first place.'

  'I disagree. The rewards have been considerable.'

  'Forgive me if I fail to see any of them. As a result of what I did, two good people were put to death, I was imprisoned and Amalia and the others were locked in a nightmare. I know how close you are to the Duke,' he went on, taking Daniel by the shoulders. 'Can you please ask him when this damnable war will end?'

  Major Simon Cracknell kept him waiting. Ordinarily, he would have no dealings with anyone caught absent without leave but, when the name of Tom Hillier passed before him, he took a keen interest. The young drummer was kept under guard all morning. It was only after he'd washed his luncheon down with a glass of wine that the major chose to send for the miscreant. With a guard at his side, Hillier came into the major's tent looking exhausted and fearful. The major made him stand there in silence for a few minutes while he pretended to read the report on the table in front of him.

  'Well?' he said at length, looking up. 'What do you have to say for yourself?'

  'I would like to make an unreserved apology, sir.'

  'To whom?'

  'To you, Major.'

  'Any apology needs to be directed at the British army for breaking its regulations. You're well aware of them by now.'

  'I am, sir,' admitted Hillier.

  'So why did you flout them?'

  'It was a mistake.'

  'It was a very bad mistake,' said Cracknell, 'but I want to know what lies behind it. What possessed you to go absent without leave?'

  'It was only for a short time.'

  'One minute is too long. Regulations are there to be obeyed. You seem unable to grasp that fact.' He flicked a glance at the report. 'What were the names of the others?'

  'I was on my own, sir.'

  'Don't lie to me.'

  'I went for a walk in the night and strayed outside the boundary. That's all that happened, Major.'

  'Then perhaps you'll explain why this report differs from your account. According to this, you were part of a group. Instead of going for a walk, you were actually caught running as hard as you could.'

  'I was eager to return to camp, sir.'

  'You should never have left it in the first place.'

  'I accept that, Major.'

  'Give me the names of your companions.'

  'I had none,' said Hillier, determined not to give his friends away. 'I was alone.'

  'And where had you been during the night?'

  'I told you, Major. I went for a stroll.'

  'And did that stroll, by any chance, take you towards the town?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Are you telling me that you didn't leave camp in order to roister in a tavern or dip your prick in some greasy whore?'

  Hillier blushed. 'I went nowhere near the town, sir.'

  'What about your friends?'

  'There were no friends, Major.'

  'In some respects,' said Cracknell, 'I suppose that's correct. When you fell over in the stream, none of your so-called friends stopped to help you up. They thought only of themselves. That being the case, you've no need to be misled by false loyalty. They left you to face the punishment they should all share.'

  'There was nobody else involved, Major,' insisted Hillier.

  The officer sat back in his chair. 'What view do you think your uncle w
ould take of all this?'

  'That's not for me to say, sir.'

  'Sergeant Welbeck will be very disappointed to hear that a nephew of his sneaked off to wallow in some filthy brothel. He'll be even more upset to hear that you don't have the courage to name the others who took part in the sorry escapade. You'd never have done this on your own, would you? I think you were led astray by them.'

  'I went of my own accord, Major.'

  'Are you willing to suffer while the other culprits go free?'

  Hillier made no reply. Getting to his feet, Cracknell walked across to stand in front of him and fix him with a cold stare. Wanting to blink and swallow hard, the drummer steeled himself to do neither. Whatever else he did, he resolved not to show weakness. The major was intent on humbling him. Self- respect made Hillier stand there without flinching.

  'This is your last chance,' said Cracknell, making each word feel like a pinprick. 'Name your companions or I'll be forced to increase the severity of the punishment.' Hillier said nothing. Losing his patience, the major waved a hand. 'Take him away and stand guard over him. He's to be allowed neither food nor water.'

  Welbeck was giving instructions to a corporal when he saw his visitor. Hugh Dobbs was hurrying towards him between the parallel lines of tents. His manner was furtive and his expression doleful. Welbeck dismissed the corporal with a peremptory nod then folded his arms, breathing in deeply through his nose.

  'Go straight back where you came from,' he said when the drummer reached him. 'I want to hear no more tittle-tattle.'

  'But this is important, Sergeant.'

  'Behaving like a soldier is the only thing of importance in the army. I suggest that you grow up and start doing it.'

  'Don't you want to hear what Major Cracknell has done?'

  'No, lad, I do not.'

  'But you'll be there when it happens.'

  'I told you to stop bothering me,' said Welbeck. 'If you come within ten yards of me again, I'll have you put under armed guard.'

  'That's where Tom is at the moment.'

  The sergeant narrowed his lids. 'What did you say?'

  'Tom Hillier was absent without leave last night. He was taken before Major Cracknell. But,' he went on, turning away, 'since you don't want to know anything about your own nephew, I won't tell you the news. You'll find it out soon enough anyway.'

  Welbeck grabbed his shoulder and spun him round so that Dobbs was looking up into the sergeant's unforgiving face. Though his tone was brusque, he could not hide the flicker of interest.

  'What news?' he demanded.

  'On the major's orders, Tom is going to be flogged.'

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fortune could not favour them indefinitely. After the shock of being ambushed and held captive, they'd enjoyed a relatively clear run along the French roads. Three of them were on horseback and, though Amalia was accustomed to riding side-saddle, she was coping well in a less ladylike sitting position. Dopff provided the real surprise. His initial reluctance to act as coachman had given way to a positive relish for the task. He improved steadily and, with only two people on board, the vehicle was no strain for the powerful animal between the shafts. Dopff had overcome his natural fear of horses to develop a close relationship with this one. Whenever they rested, it was the little Dutchman who fed his horse or led it to water and he spent a lot of time simply standing beside the animal and patting it.

  They encountered their first setback that afternoon. Riding ahead of them, Daniel spotted a detachment of soldiers marching towards him along the main road. He immediately galloped back to the others and diverted them on to a meandering track through a forest, hoping that it would take them in the right direction. Dopff's inexperience soon told. On a proper road, he could handle the coach with assurance but a bumpy track that constantly twisted and turned was another matter. He began to lose confidence. What broke his nerve completely was the appearance of a wild boar that darted suddenly out of some thickets and sped across their path. The coach horse neighed in alarm and bolted. Dopff tried manfully to keep hold of the reins until the overhanging branch of a tree swept him off his seat altogether.

  The other horses had also been scared by the boar. Amalia and her father were struggling to control their mounts but it was Beatrix who was in most danger. As the coach careered on madly without a driver, brushing past thick bushes and bouncing off trees, she was thrown helplessly from side to side. Daniel responded at once. With a sharp dig of his heels, he galloped after the vehicle, praying that he could reach it before it overturned or was badly damaged. Beatrix's life was at stake. She was screaming hysterically. The track was narrow but there was just enough room for Daniel to pass. As he drew level, however, the coach lurched sideways and buffeted his horse, forcing him to pull back and wait until a better chance presented itself. Beatrix's howls grew more desperate by the second.

  Bushes and trees then vanished magically as the coach entered a large clearing. Daniel didn't waste his opportunity. Kicking more speed out of his mount, he overtook the coach, came up alongside the horse and reached out to grab its bridle, pulling hard as he did so. The coach described a wide semicircle in the grass before finally coming to a halt. Daniel dismounted and made sure that the coach horse was sufficiently calmed before he ran to the vehicle itself. The moment he opened the door, Beatrix fell out gratefully into his arms, blubbering like a child. She was heavily bruised and frightened out of her wits but no bones had been broken.

  Dopff had been less fortunate. Knocked from the driving seat, he'd tumbled to the ground and banged his head against the solid trunk of a tree. He was unconscious for several minutes and blood oozed from the gash in his skull. Amalia quickly tore off part of her petticoat to use as a bandage. She and her father crouched over Dopff until his eyelids at last flickered. They praised him for his bravery and assured him that he was not responsible for what had happened. He was still far too dazed to understand them.

  Having sat Beatrix on the grass and given her a sip of water from a flagon they'd providentially filled, Daniel was able to inspect the damage to the coach. It consisted largely of scratches and dents though something had smashed a hole in one door. Daniel was more concerned about the coach horse, going over it carefully for signs of injury. Apart from several grazes, some of them spattered with blood, the animal had come through unscathed. It was now nibbling at some grass. Daniel was relieved. He'd learnt his lesson. From now on, he wouldn't foist the job of driving the coach on to Dopff. The risk was too great.

  When the others eventually joined them, he reached a decision.

  'I think it might be wise to break our journey for a while,' he said, 'don't you?'

  Alone in the tent, still wearing the uniform soiled from his antics on the previous night, Tom Hillier had ample time for reflection. He was musing on the unfortunate turn of events that had landed him in his predicament when the tent flap was drawn back and Welbeck came in. Hillier was startled to see him.

  'What are you doing here, Sergeant?' he asked.

  'I might ask the same of you, lad.'

  'I was absent without leave,' admitted the drummer.

  'Why?'

  'I was very foolish.'

  'That's patently obvious. The question is why? You must be aware of the regulations by now. Why deliberately break them?'

  'It was an accident, Sergeant.'

  'Oh, I see,' said Welbeck with heavy sarcasm. 'You were strolling round the edge of the camp and you accidentally stepped outside its limits. The fact that it was in the middle of the night was also purely accidental, I'm sure.'

  'I accept that I did wrong,' said Hillier, shamefaced.

  'What use is that? You knew that you were doing wrong before you even set out. That should've deterred you.'

  'I hoped that I wouldn't be caught.'

  Welbeck grimaced. 'I've lost count of the number of times I've heard that pathetic bloody excuse. It's the reason that thieves steal or men commit murder. They hope they won't be caught.
It's a hope that can justify any crime and — make no mistake about this, Tom — being absent without leave is a serious crime. If you disappear from camp while we're engaged in a campaign, you could be seen as a deserter.' He shook Hillier hard with both hands. 'Do you know what the army does to deserters?'

  'I do, Sergeant.'

  'Are you quite sure?'

  'Deserters are shot.'

  'Only the lucky ones,' said Welbeck. 'I can remember seeing a deserter given five hundred lashes. He was flayed to death. Is that how you want to end your time in the army?'

  'No,' said Hillier in distress. 'I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I did. It won't ever happen again.'

  'It shouldn't have happened this time. The only saving grace is that it wasn't your own idea. You were talked into it by others.'

  'Nobody else was to blame.'

  'Do you expect me to believe that?'

  'I got myself into this mess alone,' affirmed Hillier.

  'Where did you go? Come on, lad,' he went on as his nephew hesitated. 'I've been in the army a very long time and I know there are only a few reasons why soldiers are absent without leave. So please don't tell me you went fishing at night or collecting birds' eggs. You sneaked off to the town, didn't you?'

  'I left camp without permission, Sergeant. That's all I can say.'

  'And what am I to say to your mother about this incident? Am I to tell her that it took you less than six weeks in the army to catch the pox and earn yourself a flogging?'

  'Please don't mention any of this to her,' begged Hillier.

  'She'll want to know how you're getting on.'

  'I know I'm in disgrace. Give me a chance to make amends for it.'

  'And how are you going to do that, lad?' asked Welbeck with a mirthless laugh. 'You're about to be flogged. If you caught something nasty between the legs of some doxy last night, you'll spend the next couple of weeks wondering which itches most — your back or your balls.' Hillier blanched. 'Who went to the town with you?'

  'I left here on my own, Sergeant.'