Soldier of Fortune

CHAPTER NINE

When they reached the inn, a small but well-kept establishment beside the only road in the area, Charles Catto went in alone to make sure that no Confederate soldiers were there. He had a good command of German and learnt from the landlord that the huge army had marched past that morning. It was therefore safe to take a room there. Catto and Frederic Seurel ate a tasty meal at the inn before setting out to do some reconnaissance. The camp was some distance away and they got within half a mile of it before they dismounted and concealed their horses behind some bushes. They approached on foot. Both having served as soldiers, and often taken part in surprise attacks, they knew how to move with stealth.

Since Catto had already been inside the camp at the earlier site, he was aware of its likely deployment and of the position of its pickets. The landscape favoured them. Though the camp was set on a plain beside a stream, it was surrounded by undulating ground that was generously sprinkled with trees and shrubs. There was thus plenty of cover. Leading the way,

Catto chose to stay on the opposite bank of the stream from the camp. In case they were spotted, he decided, it was wise to have the fast-running waters hampering any pursuit. As they crept furtively on, they eventually found a vantage point.

'What can you see?' asked Seurel.

'Be quiet!'

'Let me have a look, Charles.'

'Wait your turn,' said Catto, lying full length as he trained his telescope on the camp. 'This is no use to us at all,' he soon added. 'We'll have to move go much farther on.'

'Why is that?'

'All I can see are Dutch uniforms, as dull as the people who wear them. The British contingent must be somewhere ahead.'

'How will we pick out Captain Rawson's regiment?'

'It will have pitched its tents close to its colonel — the Duke of Marlborough. If we're lucky, we may get a sighting of his coach. That will tell us that Rawson is not far away.'

'I never travelled in a coach when I was a soldier,' grumbled Seurel, 'or even on horseback. I had to walk every foot of the way.'

'You were never a commander, Frederic.'

'I never wanted to be.'

'Neither did I,' said Catto. 'I work best in the shadows. Instead of moving battalions about like pieces on a chessboard, I'd rather do my killing alone on the fringes of a battle.'

'I always liked a bayonet charge,' said Seurel nostalgically. 'I loved that look of despair in a man's eyes when I stabbed him in the stomach and spilt his guts on the ground.'

'There'll be no bayonet charge this time, Frederic. All we will need is a thrust of a knife or a shot from a pistol. We simply have to contrive a way to get Rawson within range of one or the other.'

'I'll strangle him with my bare hands, if you wish.'

'We have to find him first.'

'See if you can pick out his regiment.'

'I will,' said Catto, moving off. 'Stay low and follow me.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Daniel Rawson could not deny her. Though he had wanted to discuss with his fellow-officers the battle that loomed ahead, he could not ignore Abigail Piper. In response to her entreaty, he agreed to spend some time with her, feeling that it would be better to do so away from the prying eyes and waspish tongues of the soldiers. After conducting Abigail to the edge of the camp, he walked along the bank of the stream with her. The sky was overcast and the grass still damp from an earlier shower but the place seemed idyllic to her. She was alone with the man she idolised, a military hero resplendent in his uniform.

'What did His Grace, the Duke, say to you?' he asked.

'He was very considerate and very charming.'

'He always is, Abigail. He has impeccable manners.'

'I felt so nervous,' she confided, 'being with the captain- general of so large an army. I was flattered that he could even spare a few moments to see me.'

'He and your father have been in correspondence,' said Daniel, 'so he takes an almost parental interest in you. I daresay that he passed on a message from Sir Nicholas.'

'He did more than that, Daniel. Father had enclosed a letter for me, beseeching me to return home as soon as I could. The Duke offered me an escort back to The Hague.'

'In your position, I'd accept that offer gratefully.' 'And I may do so in time,' she said. 'But I'm not going to leave almost as soon as we've met. I'd feel as if I were deserting you.'

'That's a ridiculous idea!'

'I want to be near you, Daniel.'

'I appreciate that,' he said, 'but you must realise how impossible that ambition is. French and Bavarian soldiers are ahead of us, ready to prevent us from seizing a town that controls a crossing over the Danube. Marshal Tallard is following with a sizeable army, trying to catch up and attack us. All my thoughts must be concentrated on war, Abigail. Much as I relish your company, you are a diversion.'

'An agreeable diversion, I hope.'

'That's what makes it worse — you're a temptation.'

'I promise to stay out of your way,' she said, 'as long as you remember that I'm here, thinking about you and wishing you well.'

'Thank you.'

'Don't send me away, Daniel.'

'I've no power to do so.'

'And tell me — just once — that you are glad to see me.'

'I am very glad,' he said with a smile, 'not least because I was concerned for your safety. There's only one problem.'

'What is that?'

'I must forego the pleasure of your company, Abigail.'

'For the time being,' she added hopefully.

Daniel touched her arm. 'For the time being,' he said.

They walked on in silence, listening to the birds and watching the water ripple and surge. The sun made an effort to peep through the clouds but it was thwarted. Abigail savoured every moment of it. There had been times during their gruelling journey when she feared she might never see Daniel Rawson again. To enjoy a leisurely stroll in the country with him — even though it was on the eve of a battle — was the fulfilment of a dream.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Frederic Seurel was restive. They had spent an hour or more hiding behind trees and crawling through bushes. It had all been in vain. Even with the aid of his telescope, Charles Catto had been unable to identify the Duke of Marlborough's regiment. Seurel was a man of limited patience. He soon began to protest.

'This is hopeless, Charles,' he said, swatting away an insect that landed on his face. 'The longer we stay, the more chance there is that we'll be seen by some of the pickets.'

'If we keep well-hidden, we're safe.'

'I'm fed up with lying on the ground.'

'How else can we keep the camp under surveillance?'

'I think we should get ahead of them tomorrow and watch out for Captain Rawson as they march past.'

'And then what?' asked Catto irritably. 'We can hardly ambush an entire army. You do make the most stupid suggestions, Frederic.'

'I hate trailing after them for week after week. If we overtake them, there's a faint chance that we may find Rawson off guard at some point. We can try to separate him from his regiment.'

'We need to do that now, while he's in camp.'

'You keep saying that.'

'I've had more experience of stalking than you,' said Catto, sitting up to stretch himself. 'I know how to wait, watch then strike when the right moment finally comes.'

'In this case, it may never come.'

'It already has come once, Frederic.'

'Stop harping on that,' said Seurel testily.

'We had him at our mercy and you let him go.'

'It wasn't deliberate.'

'That doesn't make it any the less annoying.'

'I've never let you down in the past, Charles.'

'No,' conceded the other, 'that's true. It's the reason I chose you. I needed someone who thought and acted like a soldier, someone who could kill quickly and ruthlessly.'

'I've done that enough times, believe me.'

'Captain Rawson has to die to satisfy General Salignac's desire for revenge. The more painful the death, the happier the general will be. He wants his wife and her lover to suffer.'

'The best way to do that is to capture him and leave him alone with me for an hour,' said Seurel with a glint. 'I know all the refinements of torture. When I was in the army, I could always get prisoners to talk.'

'We're not here to have a conversation with Rawson,' said Catto, 'and we don't have the luxury of time. All that the general wants is unmistakable proof that the captain will never be able to share a bed with his wife again.'

'What about General Salignac — will he share a bed with her?'

'Not until his temper cools, Frederic. He was still throbbing with fury when we spoke. Madame Salignac had been packed off to their mansion in the country where the servants have been ordered to watch her night and day.'

'She'll have no chance to find another lover then.'

'The general has clipped her wings.'

'I need a woman,' said Seurel restlessly. 'It's been weeks now. The last one I had was that tavern wench in Coblenz.'

'Save yourself until we've finished our task,' said Catto. 'When we get paid by the general, you'll be able to afford a different woman every night of the week.' He crouched down and applied his eye to the telescope once again. 'All we need is a slice of luck.'

'We'll never get it, Charles. This chase is doomed.'

'Chance sometimes contrives better than we ourselves.'

'Yes — it contrived to put the wrong man in that tent.'

'We have to forget that and try harder.'

'You are the one who keeps reminding me of it,' said Seurel resentfully. 'You won't let me forget it.'

'I'm sorry, Frederic. I was partly to blame. I should have come in that tent with you so that I could see if we had the right man.'

'He was a British soldier and I'm always happy to kill those.'

'You can't behead a whole regiment until you finally come to Captain Rawson,' said Catto, then his body stiffened with interest. 'Then again, you may not need to do that.'

'What have you seen?'

'Manna from heaven — I can't be sure until he gets closer but someone who looks very much like the captain is walking along the river bank towards us. Here,' he said, passing the telescope to Seurel. 'See for yourself. I told you it was only a question of waiting.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

The sky was slowly darkening as they ambled along side by side. Abigail Piper's disposition, however, was sunny. She felt restored, refreshed and cheerful. It was a moment worthy of record.

'I shall put this in my diary,' she decided.

'What?'

'This wonderful time we've snatched together.'

'It must soon come to an end,' he warned her. 'We'll have to turn back before too long. But it's been a delightful break and you're right to make a note of it.'

'I wrote something in my diary every day.'

'That must have been difficult sometimes.'

'Why?'

'You had some unpleasant experiences, Abigail. You would hardly rush to put those down on paper.'

'I felt that I had to do so. No matter how late it was — or how horrid our accommodation — I always managed to scribble a few lines at the end of the day. When we slept in a barn,' she recalled, 'Emily lit a candle and held it for me so that I could write.'

'Are you going to show your diary to your sister?'

'No,' she replied. 'Dorothy won't see a single word of it.'

'She's bound to be curious.'

'I don't care. She betrayed me by writing a letter to you after she'd talked me out of doing so. That was mean and deceitful. What right did she have to get in touch with you?' Abigail went on. 'Dorothy only met you on that one occasion.'

'I was surprised to get a letter from her, I must confess.'

'If she sends another, tear it up without reading it.'

'The only letter you should worry about is the one that your father sent. He wants you back in England, Abigail. The whole family has missed you dreadfully and you must have missed them.'

'Yes, I have,' she admitted. 'I've missed them very much.' 'Then put an end to their misery,' he advised. 'Write to tell them that you are on your way back home.'

Abigail stopped and turned to face him. Her happiness suddenly gave way to a deep fear. She grabbed Daniel by both the arms.

'If I agree to go back,' she said with a note of supplication, 'will you do something in return for me?'

'That depends what it is, Abigail.'

'Please don't take part in a Forlorn Hope.'

Daniel was mystified. 'Why on earth do you ask that?'

'His Grace, the Duke, told me that you'd volunteered to join a Forlorn Hope when you reach Donauworth.'

'It would be a privilege to do so.'

'But it's so dangerous. Doesn't that concern you?'

'I'm more concerned about your change of mind,' he said. 'At our first meeting, you were entranced when I told you about a Forlorn Hope I'd once led. You praised me for my bravery. Yet now you are asking me to do something that's quite out of character.'

'I don't want anything to happen to you, Daniel.'

'I'm a soldier, Abigail. This is where I belong. Begging me to withdraw from a Forlorn Hope is like my asking you to stop being beautiful. It's a defiance of Nature.'

'I don't want to lose you,' she said, face clouding.

'The French have been trying to kill me for years,' he said blithely, 'and they've never managed to do it so far. Why should it be any different at the Schellenberg? Don't alarm yourself unnecessarily.' He grinned at her. 'I've had a lot of practice at dodging musket balls.'

'It's not something to be laughed at, Daniel.'

'I know.'

'What happens if you're killed in the Forlorn Hope?'

'Then at least I'll have died with honour,' he said proudly.

Abigail's heart began to pound and her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably. Her breath came in increasingly short bursts. The thought that her happiness might be snatched away from her on the battlefield was too much to bear. Violent images flashed through her brain. Tremors coursed through her body. After letting out a low moan, she suddenly collapsed in a faint. Daniel caught her just in time. At the very moment when he bent over to grab her, a pistol shot rang out and the ball passed just above his head. It was strange. Fearing that he might lose his life in combat, Abigail Piper had just unwittingly saved it.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

They moved fast. Even though he limped, Frederic Seurel could cover the ground at speed when necessary. Charles Catto led the way, using the trees as cover and zigzagging to confuse any pursuit. They heard raised voices behind them and kept running until they were out of earshot. The only time they had to hide was when horsemen came galloping in search of them. Concealed in the bushes, they watched the soldiers ride past and took the opportunity to catch their breath.

'Have you gone mad!' exclaimed Catto, hitting his companion. 'Why ever did you fire your pistol like that?'

'I couldn't resist it,' said Seurel. 'He escaped me in that tent and I wasn't going to let him get away from me again.'

'But that's exactly what he did. You not only missed him, you roused the camp and turned us into fugitives.'

'I'm sorry, Charles.'

'You gave the game away, you fool.'

'We've spent months on his tail without even a sighting of him then he walks within range of my pistol. I had to take a shot at him.'

'I should never have let you bring the weapon.'

'The general wants him dead, doesn't he?' argued Seurel. 'That's what we were sent to do — kill Daniel Rawson.'

'And obtain proof of his death,' said Catto, punching him hard once again. 'How could we do that when we were running for our lives? It's not enough to tell General Salignac that we shot him dead. He'll insist on proof that Rawson died at our hands and not in battle.'

'I acted on instinct.'

'Then your instincts, as usual, were wrong.'

'It was too good a chance to miss, Charles. He was there, right in front of us, unguarded, completely unaware of us.'

'He's certainly aware of it now,' said Catto ruefully. 'When your shot alerted the sentries, it alerted Captain Rawson as well. He knows that someone is after him now. We'll never get near him again.'

'That's why I had to seize the opportunity.'

'Seize it and waste it, Frederic — for the second time.'

'I would have killed him if he hadn't bent over like that. How was I to know that that woman would faint in his arms? She's the person to blame for this, not me.'

'On the contrary,' said Catto thoughtfully, 'we may yet live to thank her. In collapsing like that at a critical moment, she may have saved Rawson but she may also have saved our skins. Don't you understand?' he went on as Seurel looked puzzled. 'If we'd gone to the general and told him that you shot Rawson but we have no evidence to prove it, he'd have thought we were trying to cheat him.'

'Wouldn't he take your word for it, Charles?'

'No, he needs proof that he can dangle it in front of his wife. He wants to torment her with the thought that she was responsible for the death of her lover. If he tells her that Rawson was shot by a hired assassin, Madame Salignac may think he's inventing the story in order to make her writhe with guilt. Evidence is crucial.'

'Then we've failed,' said Seurel miserably. 'I was too eager.'

'All may not yet be lost.'

'I'll do anything to make up for it.'

'There could be way to trap him,' said Catto, 'and it will be much safer than trying to kill him in the camp. Rawson's luck can't last forever. We know his weak spot now.'

'Do we, Charles?'

'You saw her as clearly as I did. She was a pretty little thing and she means a lot to him if he takes time off from his duties to stroll along the edge of the camp with her. That's the way to get him,' he concluded. 'We have to look to the lady.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

When the shot rang out, Daniel Rawson had lowered Abigail Piper gently to the ground and lain flat beside her. His eyes searched the bushes on the other side of the stream but he could see nothing. What he could hear was the sound of feet making a hasty departure. After a few moments, sentries came running to investigate. Daniel told them what had happened and sent two of them wading across the stream. He instructed one of the remaining men to dispatch riders in search of the interlopers. Muskets at the ready, the last few sentries guarded his back as he carried Abigail to safety. When he set her down beside a tent, he dismissed the men and attended to her.

His immediate impulse had been to pursue whoever had been hiding in the bushes but he could not leave Abigail in that state. She was slowly regaining full consciousness. Her head moved and one eye opened. She became aware that she was on the ground.

'What happened?' she asked in alarm.

'You fainted, Abigail.'

'Did I?'

'Yes,' he told her, 'it's probably a result of fatigue. You've been under the most immense strain for several weeks.'

'Help me up, please.'

'Sit up first, until you feel well enough to stand.'

'How long was I lying there?' she said, as he eased her up into a sitting position. 'I do apologise, Daniel. What must you think of me?'

'I think that you need to rest.'

'I can't remember a thing.'

'Don't even try to,' he advised. 'Just get your strength back.'

He was relieved that she had not heard the pistol shot and had no intention of telling her about it. She was already frightened at the thought of his taking part in a Forlorn Hope. If she knew that he was the target for an unseen assassin as well, she would be horror-stricken. What the attack proved to Daniel was that he had been right about the murder of Lieutenant Richard Hopwood. The designated target had, in fact, been Daniel himself and the killer had returned to make a second attempt on his life. He chided himself for walking so freely in the open and for exposing Abigail to unnecessary danger as well. The bullet that missed him could easily have hit her instead.

'I'm feeling much better now,' she said, embarrassed by what had occurred. 'I do apologise, Daniel. I've never done that before.'

'Let me help you up.' Holding her under the arms, he lifted her to her feet and kept a restraining hand on her. 'How is that?'

'I'm fine now, thank you.'

'Good,' he said, releasing her but standing close in case she fainted again. 'I'm afraid that your lovely dress has some stains on it.'

'Emily will soon get rid of those.'

'I'll escort you back to her and explain what — '

'No, no,' she said, interrupting him. 'There's no need for Emily to know about this. I'd rather it was kept private.'

'Very well,' he agreed. 'Does that mean there'll be no mention of this in your diary? I thought you recorded everything.'

'We'll see, Daniel.'

'Are you able to walk now?'

'Of course.'

'Then I'll escort you back.'

Abigail was a little unsteady at first but he did not have to support her as they walked through the camp. As her mind cleared, she began to recall a few details.

'I thought we were standing by a stream,' she said.

'We were, Abigail.'

'Then how did I come to be lying beside that tent?'

'I carried you there,' he said.

'Oh, I've been such a terrible nuisance to you.'

'Not at all — I was glad to be of assistance. But I do think you need a long rest. We won't be able to meet for a while, I'm afraid. That's why these moments alone with you have been so memorable.'

'They'd be memorable to me, if only I could remember them.'

They shared a friendly laugh. Daniel chatted with her all the way back but his mind was elsewhere. His memory was not impaired. What he remembered most vividly was the failed attempt at killing him. As he had predicted, the assassin had come back.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

The Confederate army set out at 3 a.m. on July 2, 1704. After a long, tiring, demanding march over muddy roads, they arrived to find that Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria had, as earlier reports had indicated, occupied the fortified town of Dillingen with the major part of their army. Though a smaller force of over 13,000 soldiers guarded the Schellenberg, it was still a forbidding sight on its elevated position. Frantic efforts to strengthen the dilapidated defences of the hill were in progress and, more worrying to Marlborough, was the fact that an encampment for a large army had been laid out on the south bank of the Danube. Once that was filled with French and Bavarian soldiers, supplemented by the reinforcements on their way, any crossing of the river would be virtually impossible.

Count Jean d'Arco, commanding the force on the Schellenberg, was a Piedmontese soldier with a reputation for brilliance in the field. Though he was surprised by the sudden appearance of the enemy, he was relieved to see quartermasters marking out formal lines for a camp with a series of stakes. The army needed rest. Exhausted from their march, he reasoned, they would have neither the strength nor will to launch an attack until the following day. D'Arco and his senior officers therefore went off to dinner in the town without the slightest qualms. Confident that they would not require their weapons that evening, no fewer than ten battalions of Bavarians had crossed the pontoon bridge from the south bank of the Danube without their muskets.

They had all been tricked by Marlborough. He had quickly assessed the situation. To attack on the following day would be to give the enemy more time to fortify the hill, making it more difficult to storm and increasing the likely number of casualties in Confederate ranks. Marlborough therefore elected to attack at once, a decision that was strongly opposed by the Margrave of Baden who feared that a frontal assault would result in heavy losses. He was overruled by Marlborough who was ready to bear such losses if he could achieve his aim of securing a crossing on the Danube.

The Duke's Wing — with Captain Daniel Rawson part of it — had been leading the march and so was closer to the town than anyone else. They supplied the troops for the main assault. It was led by 5,750 stormers, drawn from the grenadier companies and volunteers from every battalion in the Allied army. Since artillery would be vital, Colonel Holcroft Blood set up a battery between the outlying village of Berg and the foot of the Schellenberg. They were supported by an Imperial battery, sent forward by Baden. The Kaiback stream made the ground boggy and it took time to manoeuvre all the pieces into position. Marlborough had had to leave his heaviest artillery back in Flanders but still felt that he had enough to carry the day.

The attack began at six o'clock in the evening with only two hours of daylight left. It was preceded by a Forlorn Hope. Commanded by Lord John Mordaunt and drawn from the 1 ^st English Foot Guards, it consisted of eighty courageous soldiers ready to defy death as they drew the enemy fire so that their generals could determine where the defences were strongest. Daniel Rawson had joined the Forlorn Hope, undeterred by the fears of Abigail Piper and feeling the familiar buzz of excitement as they went forward at a brisk pace. When he glanced at Lord Mordaunt beside him, he was amused to recall that the man had once nursed vain ambitions of becoming Marlborough's son-in-law.

The stray thought flew out of Daniel's mind as quickly as it had entered it. All his attention was needed for the fight. Like his comrades, Daniel was carrying a fascine, a bundle of tightly packed branches cut from the trees of the Boschberg by the dragoons. They were to be cast into the ditches in front of the breastworks so that they would be easier to cross. As they charged on, shouting and cheering at the top of their voices, many of the men hurled their fascines into the sunken lane at the bottom of the hill where they would be of little use. Daniel and a few others kept theirs until they reached an entrenchment farther up the hill.

The enemy had been outwitted. D'Arco and his officers came running back to take command of their men while the Bavarian battalions scrambled back across the pontoon bridge to retrieve their weapons from the camp. Even before the first shot was fired, the noise was deafening as the attackers yelled 'God save the Queen!' and, on a signal from their officers, broke ranks to charge at full speed. The Forlorn Hope was a mere eighty paces away when the Bavarian Electoral Guards and the Grenadiers Rouges unleashed a fierce volley that killed or wounded dozens of the attackers. Daniel was knocked helplessly to the ground as the soldier next to him was hit by three simultaneous musket balls and thrown sideways by the force of the impact.

The Schellenberg was a bell-shaped hill with a flattened top on which the French troops were ranged. The first artillery bombardment from Colonel Blood and his men wreaked havoc on the summit but went harmlessly over the heads of the Bavarians on the lower slopes. It left them free to repulse the first attack with raking fire that had British and Dutch soldiers crashing down on all sides. Daniel was dismayed to see General Goor, leading the Dutch troops, cut down by the enemy. Resounding volleys of musket fire were supported by fearsome canister shot from the battery on the hill. When they saw the attackers retiring, the Bavarian guards charged down the hill to harry them with the bayonets at the ready. Daniel had to slash away with his sword to keep them at bay.

He killed one man with a thrust then hacked two more to the ground before falling back with the others towards a sunken road, fifty yards from the ramparts, that gave them moderate cover. Only steady and disciplined fire from the English Guards and from Orkney's Regiment stopped the Bavarians continuing their charge. The hail of bullets beat them back behind the fortifications. After re-forming in the sunken road, the Confederate army stormed back to renew their assault, only to be met by another burst of deadly fire from muskets and another pounding from artillery. Corpses lay in heaps everywhere. Daniel had to climb over fallen soldiers to go forward then use some of the human mounds as shields when the volleys rang out.

Marlborough already had some idea of the troop disposition of the enemy from a corporal who had deserted from the Schellenberg. The early stages of the battle confirmed what the captain-general had been told. Defences were stout at the point of attack but there had to be weaknesses elsewhere. Marlborough sent an officer to survey the defences that linked the fort with the town of Donauworth. The report that was brought back was encouraging. The line of gabions — wicker baskets filled with stones — was completely unoccupied. The Regiment de Nettancourt, the French troops guarding that particular area, had been assigned elsewhere, leaving D'Arco's position exposed on the left.

It was time to bring the Margrave of Baden and his Imperial Grenadiers into the battle. Baden hurried his men along the bank of the Kaiback stream, out of range of any musket fire from Donauworth. There followed a steep climb up grassy slopes made treacherous by the light rain that was falling. When they reached the abandoned gabions, they attacked the French in their flank so that D'Arco and his men were put under fire from two directions. The Regiment de Nectancourt bore the brunt of the attack and, along with the French dragoons who came to their aid, resisted bravely but they were unable to withstand it for long. They were soon overwhelmed.

Seeing that their comrades were in difficulties, the four battalions defending the town fired ineffectually at Baden's men yet made no attempt to come out and fight them. The Electoral Guards and Grenadiers Rouges had fought gallantly against the initial onslaughts but they could not cope with an attack on their flank as well. As the remorseless advance continued in front of them and to their side, they lost their nerve and ran for their lives. Daniel Rawson joined the murderous chase. Having seen so many friends of his mercilessly cut down by enemy fire, he would give no quarter.

So many French and Bavarian soldiers hurtled madly across one of the pontoon bridges that it broke under the combined weight and tossed everyone into the water. Scores of them who could not swim were drowned in the Danube and many of those who did strike out for the south bank were picked off by Confederate musketry. It was a scene of absolute carnage. To complete the rout, Marlborough let loose his cavalry, and his remounted dragoons, in hot pursuit of the fleeing enemy and the fugitives were systematically hacked to death by flailing blades.

The Schellenberg had been successfully stormed but the Allied army had paid a high price for the victory. Over a quarter of the strong assault force — 1500 soldiers at least — had lost their lives. To set against such losses were important gains. Some 9000 of the garrison had been killed or taken prisoner. Also captured were 15 pieces of cannon, 13 colours and a large quantity of ammunition, weaponry, tents, baggage and camp utensils. In his haste to escape, Count d'Arco had left behind his plate and other rich booty. It was distributed among the victorious soldiers.

It was not until the fighting was over that Daniel realised how bruised and bloodied he was. One musket ball had grazed his cheek and others had ripped through his sleeve. While parrying one bayonet thrust, he had received a glancing blow from another that split open the back of his coat and left him with a gash that oozed blood. His whole body was now aching with fatigue and he felt as if he had been trampled in a cavalry charge. Covered in mud and in the gore of his fellows, he was nevertheless buoyed up by the sheer exhilaration of victory. The first stage of Marlborough's plan had been accomplished. They had attained their objective.

Only now, when it was all over, could he think about Abigail Piper once more. He recalled the plea she had made on the bank of the stream. She had been right to express fear about his involvement in the Forlorn Hope. It had been a communal act of sacrifice.

Of the eighty men in that first doomed charge, only ten British soldiers had survived. Daniel Rawson was one of them.