Soldier of Fortune

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Unable to tempt the Elector out of the safety of Augsburg, the Duke of Marlborough adopted a policy of wholesale destruction. Farms, hamlets and villagers were razed to the ground in various parts of Bavaria and thousands of refugees fled in terror to the cities. There was no respite. As one raiding party returned, another took its place. Their orders were to leave a scene of devastation behind them. It was over sixty years since Bavaria had last seen warfare within its borders and it was appalled by the atrocities committed. The Margrave of Baden had protested strongly against the policy and there were those in the British army who objected to what was happening.

'It's a disgrace,' said Daniel Rawson. 'I yield to none in my admiration of our captain-general but I do believe he's conducting a mistaken campaign.'

'Have you told him that, Dan?'

'He's not interested in my opinions.'

'They're shared by a lot of people,' said Henry Welbeck. 'None of my men would take any pleasure in setting fire to thatched cottages and seeing whole families put to flight with children in their arms. I'm grateful that we're not involved in such work.'

'But we can see the hideous results of it. When I escaped from Augsburg,' Daniel recalled, 'I was given food and drink at a little farmhouse. I had to watch as it went up in smoke. This is no way to fight a war, Henry. Our job is to kill enemy soldiers, not to put the fear of death into innocent civilians.'

'Yet the policy might work.'

'It's not done so yet.'

'Give it time, Dan.'

'We've already had too much of it,' complained Daniel, 'without any real effect. Because we lack a proper siege train, it took us the best part of a week to bring Rain to its knees and, even then, the garrison did not capitulate. They were accorded the friendliest of terms of surrender and marched off to join the Elector. What kind of a war is this,' he wondered, 'when we harass ordinary people and let the enemy soldiers go free?'

'Everyone suffers in a war,' said Welbeck lugubriously. 'It's not like a game with set of rules that we all obey.'

'It should be, Henry.'

'Can you imagine the French abiding by rules of warfare?'

'As a matter of fact, I can,' said Daniel. 'There was a time when King Louis tried to constrain his armies from pillage and the taking of hostages. He wanted a levy exacted from a defeated town or province, and the amount was to be no greater than the figure paid in tax by the inhabitants to their overlord. Do you see what he was trying to do?' he said. 'He was trying to instil civilised values into French soldiers.'

'Then he failed.'

'Not entirely.'

'You should talk to some of the veterans from the Dutch army,' said Welbeck. 'They remember the brutal way the French behaved during the Dutch Wars. And it's less than twenty years since these Frenchies wiped cities like Mannheim, Worms and Speyer off the map. There was no sign of any civilised values then.'

'I still believe that we need rules of engagement.'

'What we need is peace, Dan — years and years of it.'

'We'll get none till we've defeated France for good,' said Daniel levelly, 'and putting the torch to Bavaria is not the best way to do it.'

'It might flush the Elector out of his hiding place.'

'He's too secure in Augsburg. I've seen the fortifications there.'

'What about his estates?'

'He'll have sent men out to defend those against attack.'

'Then he'll have weakened his army,' said Welbeck, 'so the Duke's plan will have achieved something useful. We'll have fewer of those flat-faced Bavarians to fight.'

They were in Daniel's tent. Though they might disagree with some of the orders they were given, they obeyed them to the letter. Unless invited to give his opinion, Daniel would never openly criticise decisions taken by superior officers. Welbeck never stopped criticising them but only when he was alone with his friend. It was weeks since Daniel's escape from Augsburg and he was enjoying the unalloyed pleasure of a blunt interchange of views with the sergeant. Daniel had been hurt and saddened by the policy of ravaging Bavaria and it had deepened Welbeck's melancholy.

'Is it true that the Duke is ill?' asked Welbeck.

'He suffers from severe headaches,' replied Daniel, 'and hasn't left his quarters for three days.'

'I've had a severe headache since the day I joined the army.'

'Nonsense — you're one of the healthiest men I know.'

'My brain feels like a red hot cannon ball.'

'That's because you drink too much, Henry.'

'Nobody would allow me to retire to my quarters.'

'We need you ready for action,' said Daniel. 'Now that Marshal Tallard has reached Augsburg with the reinforcements, there'll be another battle before long. '

'There was a time when commanders had the sense to avoid battles,' said Welbeck, striking a wistful note. 'Skirmishes and sieges were the order of the day then. That kept the losses down. More of our troops stayed alive. It's not easy to replace dead soldiers and damaged equipment, Dan. I vote for a siege every time.'

'Then you should have ridden off with the Margrave of Baden,' said Daniel. 'He's going to invest Ingolstadt. We must have a second crossing over the Danube in case the one at Donauworth comes under threat. Ingolstadt will be battered until resistance crumbles.'

'If there's going to be a battle, we need the Austrians with us.'

'We'll have Prince Eugene of Savoy instead.'

'Baden's men fought like tigers at the Schellenberg.'

'Yes,' said Daniel, 'and he's been claiming credit for the victory ever since. That's an insult to the British and Dutch soldiers who gave their lives that day. Baden, alas, has not yet grasped the concept of a shared triumph. He wants all the glory. No,' he concluded, 'I'll wager that Prince Eugene will prove a better ally in combat.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Prince Eugene of Savoy was delighted to have been reunited with the main army. While the majority of troops had now crossed the river with Marlborough, the Italians remained on the north bank to observe enemy movements and to guard Donauworth from possible attack. The pontoon bridges allowed easy access between the two sections of the Confederate army. With some urgency, Prince Eugene used one of them to join Marlborough for a council of war. Charles, Lord Churchill and Adam Cardonnel were also present.

'The French are on the move,' Eugene reported. 'They have crossed to the north bank of the Danube at Lauingen and seem intent on bringing their whole army there. The plain of Dillingen is crowded with troops.'

'I did not expect so decisive a move,' admitted Marlborough.

'I had a good position from which to observe them, Your Grace, but I dared not stay the night there. With only eighteen battalions, I was hopelessly outnumbered.'

'Where are your troops now, Prince Eugene?'

'At our camp near Donauworth,' said the other. 'We fell back there. May I please impress upon you the importance of not being trapped between the mountains and the Danube?'

'There's no need to do that,' Marlborough told him. 'I appreciate it all too clearly. Well,' he added, looking around his companions, 'this is troubling news. Marshal Tallard clearly wishes to threaten our supply lines running back through Nordlingen.'

'If he cuts through those,' said Churchill, 'we'll be isolated.'

'He'll not do so, John. We'll stop Tallard dead.'

'Where?'

'It will have to be at Hochstadt,' said Eugene. 'That's the last open ground where a battle could be fought before the mountains close in on the river.'

'Then that's where it must be,' decreed Marlborough, looking at the map laid out on the table before him. His index finger found the spot. 'We'll meet him here — close to the village of Blenheim.'

'That will surprise Tallard,' said Cardonnel. 'He won't expect us to resist. His army contains some of the finest and most feared regiments in Europe. He'll think he's outmanoeuvred us and that we'll be too weak to offer battle.'

'We'll cross the river at once and unite with Prince Eugene's army at Munster,' said Marlborough firmly. 'Tallard will soon learn that we are eager to take him on. Is everyone agreed?'

The others gave their consent with a nod. Prince Eugene left to return to his camp and Churchill went off to issue marching orders. Marlborough was left alone with Cardonnel. Both men were excited by the promise that the crucial battle they had sought against the French would take place at last. Years of waiting, training and planning would finally come to fruition.

'It's a pity we cannot call upon Baden,' said Cardonnel. 'I know he would probably want to steal all the glory but his forces would have been invaluable.'

'Securing another crossing of the Danube was vital, Adam,' said Marlborough. 'That's why I sent Baden to Ingolstadt. I also sent him a further ten squadrons and we'll most certainly miss those when we take on the French. But I remain confident,' he went on, rubbing his hands together. 'In taking the action he has done, Tallard has revealed his complacency. He thinks his army invincible and that we'll quail before it. We'll make him regret his mistake.' 'Yes, Your Grace.'

He gathered up his map. 'We must be away.'

'Before we go,' said Cardonnel, raising a hand, 'I need to remind you about the French deserters who came in yesterday.'

'They can tell us nothing that Prince Eugene has not already told us. Besides, so many of these so-called deserters are no more than French spies, planted on us to gather intelligence.'

'That may be so in some cases, Your Grace. All the men are interrogated to make sure that they are genuine deserters. One of them at least deserved to be heard.'

'Why is that, Adam?'

'He was a member of General Salignac's staff,' said Cardonnel. 'He's not some frightened man from the ranks. He's a senior officer who might well have useful information for us.'

'Then let's hear the fellow. What's his name?'

'Frederic Seurel.'

'Bring him in.'

Cardonnel lifted the flap of the tent and beckoned a man outside. He stepped back so that the deserter could enter. Wearing the uniform of a captain in the French army, Charles Catto came boldly into the tent.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

On August 13, 1704, the Confederate army began its march at three o'clock in the morning. Preceded by an advance guard of Horse, eight columns marched through the darkness along routes that had been chosen so that there was no danger of one body of men impeding another. The infantry tramped ruinously over standing crops in the fields, leaving the road free for the teams of horses pulling the cannon, ammunition wagons and the pontoon train. In total, over 50,000 men were on the move. Not all of them were happy about the situation.

'I hate night marches,' grumbled Henry Welbeck as he trod on a stone that made him stumble. 'I like to see where I'm going.'

'Console yourself with the thought that we'll catch them off guard,' said Daniel, riding beside him. 'The French and the Bavarians will still be fast asleep.'

'Lucky buggers!'

'We're the lucky ones, Henry. This is a day of destiny.'

Welbeck was sceptical. 'It doesn't feel like it to me, Dan.'

'I don't believe that. You have the same tingle that I always have before a battle. You have the same fluttering in your stomach and the same buzzing inside your head. You know that today is special.'

'What's special about losing more of my men?' retorted the other. 'What's special about being deafened by the sound of enemy cannon, charged at by their cavalry and shot at by their infantry?'

'You could end the battle as a hero.'

'I'm more likely to end it in an unmarked grave.'

'We've never lost an important battle under the Duke,' Daniel reminded him. 'I'd always back him to outwit Marshal Tallard.'

'Which is the bigger army?'

'Theirs.'

'Then stop telling me it's a day of destiny for us.'

'Superior numbers don't always win.'

'But it's always encouraging to have them on your side,' said Welbeck, looking up at him. 'I've never shirked a fight but I do prefer it when it's a fair one.'

They had been marching for a couple of hours and tiny specks of light were starting to appear in the black canvas of night, only to be lost from time to time in a swirling mist. Daniel was optimistic. It had been six weeks since the hostilities at the Schellenberg. All that the Confederate army had done since then was to raid a series of Bavarian settlements and leave them in flames. Much to his relief, Daniel had not been directly involved in the wanton destruction. What he wanted was a full-scale confrontation with the enemy and it was now about to take place. Nothing else mattered. He had forgotten about Abigail Piper, about his escape from Augsburg and about all the other events in the past few months. The future of the war could be determined on a plain near the village of Blenheim.

Pulsing with energy, Daniel was ready to do everything in his power to achieve the victory he felt was within their grasp, and he knew that Henry Welbeck would fight with the same resolve. Hidden behind the sergeant's characteristic moans lay the wholehearted commitment of a professional soldier. When battle was joined, Henry Welbeck would not hold back. Like his friend, he would wish to be involved in the fiercest action.

Daniel emitted a sudden laugh. 'I was just thinking,' he said. 'How nice it would be to see the look on Marshal Tallard's face when he realises we are coming!'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

During his time as French ambassador at the Court of St James's, Camille d'Hostun, Comte de Tallard, had been immensely popular in England. He was known for his lavish hospitality, for the opulence with which he surrounded himself and for his diplomatic skills. He and Marlborough had met a number of times at social events and got on well together. Now that he held a marshal's baton, however, he accorded his rival no more than a cold respect. Even on a campaign, he liked to eat the best food and drink the finest wines. As a man who enjoyed his sleep, he was not pleased to be roused from his comfortable bed with the news that the enemy was approaching.

Notwithstanding his reputation as a diplomat and as a soldier, Tallard was not an imposing figure and his short-sightedness was so bad that it was joked about behind his back. Even with a telescope, he could not discern the true meaning in the approach of the Confederate cavalry. He believed that the show of force was merely a distraction to allow the main Allied army to creep away to safety with its tail between its legs. The despatch he dashed off to Louis XIV confirmed this belief — ' They can now be seen drawn up at the head of their camp, and it appears they will march today. Word in the country is that they are going to Nordlingen. If that is so, they will leave us between them and the Danube, and consequently they will have difficulty in sustaining the places that they have taken in Bavaria.'

Shortly after his messenger had ridden off, Tallard was forced to realise his blunder. It was barely seven o'clock when he received reports that the entire enemy army was heading in his direction. He was stunned. Summoning Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, he led them up the church tower in Blenheim so that they could get a better view of the enemy's movements. The three commanders tried to divine the significance of what they saw. Having underestimated Marlborough's boldness, Tallard now went on to misinterpret it.

'He must have acquired reinforcements,' he concluded. 'Even in his rashest moment, the Duke of Marlborough would not contemplate an attack on us unless he had greater numbers at his disposal. And there's another worrying development,' he went on. 'There are rumours that the Margrave of Baden is on his way here to add his support. That would markedly strengthen the enemy and we know to our cost what a fearless general Baden is. No, gentlemen, only one course is open to us. We must fight a defensive action.'

His companions agreed with his decision. They understood the importance of holding both flanks of the Franco-Bavarian lines. No matter how large the enemy forces, they had faith in their strong defensive positions. One of them was around the village of Blenheim.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

When they were two miles from Blenheim, the Confederate army split into two wings. With 36,000 troops, Marlborough intended to attack on the left against a French army under Tallard of almost equal size. Prince Eugene of Savoy, at the head of 16,000 men, was ordered to attack on the right against the forces of Marshal Marsin and the Elector. He was thus taking on a combined army of 24,000. Unknown to Tallard, he had far more men in the field than Marlborough. Where the Allied army did have clear superiority was in the number of their cavalry squadrons.

As in most battles, the opening shots were fired by the artillery. The French right wing discharged the first cannon balls and a British soldier was the initial casualty. Colonel Blood, the artillery commander, was told by Marlborough to choose his counter-batteries. When these had been inspected and approved by the Duke, the bombardment began with a vengeance, cannon booming on both sides for the best part of four hours. The thunderous exchange of fire was so ear- splitting that, it was later learnt, the Margrave of Baden could hear it forty miles away in Ingolstadt.

Daniel Rawson was proud of his battalion. They had to wait patiently for hours until Prince Eugene and his men had looped around to the position from which they could attack. Throughout this time, the French bombardment continued with unceasing ferocity. Like all the other battalions, Daniel's had been ordered to sit or lie on the ground to escape the worst of the deafening cannonade. They were motionless targets but they did not flinch or run as the cannonballs and howitzer shells rained upon them. They had been schooled by men like Sergeant Welbeck to obey orders under fire. Daniel noted with gratification that even when some were killed outright or received critical injuries the soldiers around them did not lose their nerve.

There was another cause for delay. Before they could close with the enemy, the Confederate army had to cross the Nebel stream, a tributary of the Danube. There were few places where soldiers could cross in numbers. While the brigades waited, therefore, pioneers went on ahead to level the banks of the stream, to build causeways out of fascines, to repair the old stone bridge torn down by the French and to erect new bridges made of tin pontoons. It was well after noon when the order was finally given and the infantry rose to their feet and moved forward with their bayonets fixed.

Daniel's battalion was under the command of Brigadier- General Rowe who had warned his men that no shot should be fired until he had struck the enemy barricade with his sword. By one o'clock, they began to wade across the Nebel, aided by the fact that the ground fell slightly from around Blenheim, giving them protection to re-form their ranks before marching towards the village. When they were 300 yards away, they lay down to await the arrival of the Hessians under Major-General Wilkes, and a pair of guns. As soon as the cannon were in position, they pounded the French barricades.

Marching on foot, Archibald, Lord Rowe, led his men forward in the teeth of unrelenting artillery fire. When they got within thirty yards of the palisade, they were hit by a first volley from French musketeers. British soldiers crashed to the ground on every side but the drums kept beating and the battalions held their shape as they moved inexorably forward in their serried ranks. Rowe reached the outer palisade, but, as he struck it with his sword, he was shot from close range. The lieutenant-colonel and major who ran to his aid were also cut down by enemy fire.

The fusillade was returned by the advancing brigade, their flintlock muskets popping across a wide front before being reloaded for a second discharge. Though many French soldiers were hit by the onslaught, they still outnumbered the attackers and they were shooting from behind barricades at unprotected targets. Having lost their commander and under withering fire, the first line of Rowe's brigade eventually fell back. The French cavalry posted to the left of Blenheim were quick to exploit the signs of disarray. General Zurlauben led out three squadrons of the Gens d'Armes of the Royal Household cavalry.

They charged at the exposed flank of Rowe's own regiment and, as it struggled to form a square, they fired their pistols then used their flashing swords to hack a way through the disordered red uniforms. To the horror of the British soldiers, their regimental colours were seized. Elated by their success, the horsemen continued to slash and stab at will. They were so confident of success that they did not notice the Hessians being deployed to their flank and rear. It was only when deadly volleys rang out that they realised the danger they were in.

Driving the Gens d'Armes before them, the disciplined ranks of Hessians spread confusion among the cavalry. Some horses bolted, many crashed to the ground as they were hit by musket balls or gored with bayonets, and an endless succession of riders were toppled from their saddles. The unthinkable had happened. Elite French cavalry squadrons had been trounced by Hessian infantry. Daniel Rawson's battalion swiftly rallied and joined in the attack. Fighting on foot, he used his sword to cut and thrust. When a French blade whistled down at him, he parried it expertly then reached up quickly with his other hand to haul the rider from his mount. Before the man could even begin to defend himself, Daniel had stabbed him through the stomach.

Pulling his sword out, he left his victim writhing in agony and ran across to the riderless horse now looking around in bewilderment amid the melee. Within a second, Daniel was in the saddle, turning the animal in a circle until he saw what he wanted. He dug in his heels and rode towards the plundered regimental colours that were being held high by a French cavalry officer. It was a humiliation that could not be borne. Daniel had to kill two more riders and wound a third before he got close to the captured colours. Though Hessian soldiers converged on the man holding his trophy to block his escape, Daniel got to him first.

He was enraged that a Frenchman should be brandishing the colours of a British regiment. It was an unforgivable insult. There was a furious clash of blades as the man tried to defend himself but Daniel's assault was irresistible. With a final sweep of his sword, he almost cut his adversary's face in half, leaving him crazed by pain and blinded by blood. Before the man tumbled to the ground, Daniel snatched the colours from him and carried them aloft to the remnants of Rowe's regiment whose honour had been retrieved.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

The battle continued for hour after gruelling hour. The Confederate army had successes and reverses, breaking through at some points while being strongly repulsed at others. As the afternoon wore on, the deficiencies of the French defence became more apparent. Marshal Tallard had drawn up his men in and around Blenheim, keeping them separate from those under the command of Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria. The latter had built their respective barricades around Oberglau and Lutzingen. While the two flanks of the Franco-Bavarian forces were therefore well- defended, the long centre ground between the two had nothing like the same strength and organisation.

Marlborough was alert to the gaps in the enemy dispositions. There was a patent lack of unity. It made him wonder if Marsin and the Elector felt aggrieved that, having been beaten by the Allied armies, they had to rely on Tallard to rescue them. Both commanders were trying to vindicate their reputations now. As Prince Eugene of Savoy led an attack on the right flank, he was met with such stern resistance from Bavarian soldiers that he was forced to retire. A second assault also ended with a hasty retreat and heavy losses.

It was on the left flank that the seeds of victory were sewn. When the illustrious squadrons of Gens d'Armes were put to flight by the Hessians and by supporting British Horse and Dragoons, the brigades of Foot re-formed for a second attack. Inside Blenheim, meanwhile, there was considerable alarm. Until that moment, it was inconceivable that the finest cavalry in France could be defeated in battle. When he saw them limping back, one of the generals inside the village resorted to panic and called up the reserve.

A small settlement of some 300 houses was suddenly flooded by French infantry, packed so tightly together that they got in each others' way. When the Confederate army attacked, there was hand to hand fighting at the barricades but the defence of Blenheim was grossly impeded by the masses of men and equipment clogging up its streets. Marlborough did not need to capture the town. Once it was contained, it could offer no support to centre or to the right flank. He was able to concentrate his attention on those areas.

Help was most needed on the right flank where Prince Eugene's men had been driven back for the third time, incurring even more casualties. Some of them despaired of ever making headway against the superior numbers of Bavarians. Deserters began to flee. Prince Eugene was so disgusted that his soldiers were running from a fight that he shot two of them dead with his own pistol. He then sent urgent messages to Marlborough, requesting support. When the relief came, it was led by the commander-in-chief himself. With fresh troops at his back, Prince Eugene was at last able to make incisive raids on the right flank. The Bavarians cowered behind their defences.

With Blenheim and Lutzingen now effectively contained, both flanks were under control. It was possible for Marlborough to move the main body of his army across the Nebel to advance on the French centre. Seeing the enemy's intention, Marshal Marsin launched a counter-offensive from his position in Oberglau and the Confederate army was put under intense pressure. Though it buckled, it did not break and brisk redeployment gave it back the advantage it had lost. The steady advance continued into evening, the Allied cavalry retiring behind the infantry when under extreme pressure from the French cavalry, and supported by batteries of artillery that were brought forward.

What turned the battle were the superior tactical skills of the Duke Marlborough. He knew when and where to strike and how to respond instantly to any reversal. Stuck inside Blenheim, Tallard was simply not in a position to control an army stretched tight across a wide front and lacking any real coordination. For a man of his talent and experience in the field, it was maddening. He was always reacting to situations he could not anticipate. Instead of being able to relieve his allies by attacking the enemy flank, he was bottled up in a village that was bursting at the seams with French soldiers.

Total defeat was only a matter of time. At seven o'clock that evening, Marshal Marsin and the Elector accepted the fact and began to withdraw their forces in an orderly fashion. So exhausted were Prince Eugene and his men that they had no strength to pursue them. Tallard was not allowed the dignity of a retreat. Failing to escape from Blenheim, he surrendered along with most of his staff. For the French and for the Bavarians, it was a shattering defeat from which they would never fully recover. For the Confederate army, it was a triumph that would reverberate throughout Europe.

Daniel Rawson had played no small part in it. Having helped to recapture the colours of Rowe's regiment, he had been fully engaged in the later assaults on Blenheim, fighting on bravely after collecting a range of minor injuries and inspiring his men with his wholehearted commitment. He only quit the field for a short while when he carried the wounded Henry Welbeck through the chaos of the fray to relative safety. Leaving his friend in the hands of a surgeon, Daniel had hurried back to rejoin the battle.

Now that it was all over, he was able to visit the field hospital to check on Welbeck's condition. The sergeant had been very fortunate. A bullet had pierced his thigh but missed the bone. While he had lost a lot of blood, he was in no danger of sacrificing a limb. Despite being surrounded by wounded soldiers, Welbeck was almost cheerful.

'We beat them,' he said, grinning. 'We beat the bastards.'

'We did more than that, Henry. It's too early to give the full numbers yet but, according to what I've heard, we captured Marshal Tallard and his generals, over 1000 officers and almost all the soldiers left in Blenheim.'

'What about our casualties, Dan?'

'There could be as many as 12,000 killed or injured,' said Daniel sadly, 'and they included some good friends. But we accounted for over three times that number in the enemy ranks. We achieved a famous victory. Even you must be pleased to be part of it.'

'I was, Dan. Our men gave of their best.'

'That's what they were trained to do.'

'When the news reaches France, the King will fill his breeches.'

'I don't think they'll be in a hurry to tell him the truth of what happened here today. They'll delay the messengers as long as they can. Bad news upsets King Louis and this news is disastrous.' He studied his friend. 'You're looking better already. You've got some colour back in your face. What you need now is a long rest.'

'Does that mean you'll wait on me hand and foot?'

'I'd be glad to if I was here, Henry,' said Daniel, chuckling, 'but I'll be on my way back to England. I'll be helping to take the good news back home. They may be keeping the result of the battle from King Louis but Her Majesty will rejoice to hear it. I wanted to call on you before I left.'

'Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.'

'I'll see you when I return.'

'I may have retired from the army by then.'

'People like you never retire,' said Daniel, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Without the Sergeant Welbecks of this world, there'd be no such thing as a British army. You're part of its very backbone.'

'Then why don't they pay me more?' challenged Welbeck.

'Daniel laughed. 'I'll take the matter up with His Grace when I see him,' he joked. 'A review of sergeants' pay must be a priority. I'm sure he has nothing else to worry about just now.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Charles Catto had been utterly frustrated by the turn of events. Having tricked his way into the Confederate camp for the third time, he hoped that he simply had to wait until an opportunity arose to kill Daniel Rawson. Instead of that, the whole camp had suddenly erupted into action with the promise of a battle. All that Catto could do was to trail impotently in its wake. Primed by General Salignac, he had been able to provide Marlborough with information that, while not giving away too much, had been accurate and useful. It had established his credibility. Catto had shaved off his beard but left a neat moustache on his face. In uniform, and by adopting a strong French accent, he was a convincing impostor.

Yet his role as a deserter would be meaningless if it not enable him to fulfil his commitment. Catto's fear was that the battle of Blenheim would rob him of his prize and that Daniel would have been mown down with so many other British soldiers during the attack on the village. Having come so far, and taken such enormous pains along the way, he felt that it would be cruel to have Daniel snatched away from him by a nameless French musketeer. Catto was no longer working for General Salignac. When he heard that Blenheim had fallen, he knew that the general would have been taken prisoner and would therefore be inaccessible. Salignac's war was over.

Catto was on his own now. What drove him on was sheer hatred. Daniel Rawson had killed Frederic Seurel, and, in escaping from Augsburg, he had exposed Catto to the full wrath of Armand Salignac. Deprived of a large financial reward, Catto was fired by a sense of personal mission. He wanted to avenge the death of his friend and had taken on Seurel's name in order to do so. But his plans were shattered by the battle and he was in despair at the British victory. Before he had left Augsburg, Catto had seen Marshal Tallard arrive at the head of an army that was unmatched for its brilliance and its record of success in the field. Yet that same proud army had now been soundly defeated by a smaller force.

It was clear that Daniel Rawson would have contributed to that defeat and — were he still alive — he would thereby have given Catto an additional reason to kill him. The would-be assassin could not destroy an entire army but he could murder a man who, in his febrile mind, symbolised it. As he watched Confederate soldiers trudging back into camp, and as he saw orderlies carrying in the wounded, he prayed that Daniel would be among the survivors and not be one of the many thousands that littered the battlefield.

The first person with whom the Duke of Marlborough had wanted to share news of the triumph was his wife. Borrowing an old tavern bill from a member of his staff, he scrawled a message in pencil.

I have not time to say more, but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen and let her know that her army had this day a glorious victory. M. Tallard and two other generals are in my coach and I am pursuing the rest. The bearer, my aide de camp, Colonel Parke, will give her an account of what has passed and I shall do it in a day or so, by another, more at large.

It was on the following day that Daniel Rawson was summoned to Marlborough's quarters and entrusted with letters that gave a fuller account of the action and its consequences. After the long and intense battle, Daniel was still weary and the superficial wounds he had picked up still smarted. The honour of acting as a courier, however, was the perfect balm. From the moment he was given the despatches, his aches and pains seemed to fade away.

'Ride hard, Daniel,' said Marlborough. 'By the time you reach England, the Queen and Secretary Harley will know only the fact of our victory and be desperate for detail.'

'What about the Dutch, Your Grace?'

'Even they will rejoice at the news though Ell no doubt be pilloried for the scale of our losses. In Vienna, at least, there'll be no carping — except perhaps from the Margrave of Baden.'

'He'll be aggrieved that he was not here,' said Daniel.

'As it happens, we managed without him though our task would have been made easier by the presence of his men. But you must forgive me,' said Marlborough as a memory nudged him. 'I've not congratulated you properly on rescuing the colours of General Rowe's regiment from the enemy.'

Daniel was modest. 'That's nothing,' he said. 'All I captured were regimental colours — you captured a marshal's baton.'

'That was satisfying, I must admit.'

'What will happen to Marshal Tallard?'

'He'll be taken back to England with other prisoners of war.'

'You don't intend to exchange him, then?'

'Oh, no,' said Marlborough with conviction. 'I'm not letting him loose to threaten us again. The marshal has fought his last battle against us.'

'That's good to hear.'

'King Louis might not find it so pleasing.'

'I fancy not,' said Daniel. He patted the leather pouch containing the despatches. 'I'll deliver these in England.'

'Enjoy some rest while you're there. You've deserved it.'

'Thank you, Your Grace.'

'Do you intend to call at the Piper household?'

Marlborough's question had a studied casualness but it hit Daniel like a blow between the eyes. All that he could think about was carrying news of their victory back to England. Decisions about what happened afterwards had never even entered his mind. He was shocked to realise how easily he had forgotten Abigail Piper, and how irrelevant his friendship with her now seemed. On the other hand, he owed her consideration for the way she had followed him all the way into Germany. Daniel had obligations.

'Yes, Your Grace,' he replied. 'I will be calling at the house.'

The sight revived Catto's spirits at once. When he saw Daniel leaving on horseback with two companions, he knew that they must be acting as couriers. Catto's vigil outside Marlborough's quarters had been repaid. He not only discovered that Daniel was still alive but that he was leaving the protection of the camp altogether. It would be much easier to track and kill him on the open road. Though nominally still under guard, Catto had been able to move quite freely around the camp. Leaving it might be more problematic. He needed a change of clothing, a fast horse and an element of luck. The main thing was that Daniel had survived. It was a portent.

The clothing was easily acquired. Catto stole it from a washing line strung between two wagons owned by camp followers. It was too large for him but suitably nondescript. When he filched a hat from the inside of another wagon, he was able to complete the metamorphosis from a French captain into a Dutch civilian. The horse was taken from the stable area where the animals were tethered in long lines. Many of them had collected cuts and gashes during cavalry charges. Catto was careful to choose a horse that had come unharmed through the battle. When nobody was watching, he led his mount quietly away and was almost clear when he was challenged.

The soldier was no more than seventeen but the hardship of army life had added years to his face. Catto gave him a plausible excuse for taking the horse but the soldier was suspicious. When he turned to call for help, he had a hand clasped over his mouth and a dagger inserted into his back. Catto hid the dead body under a pile of hay. It would be some time before it was discovered. As a result of the battle, the camp was in a state of relative disorder and its ranks had been noticeably thinned. Picking his spot, Catto was able to slip past the sentries without being seen.

He was confident of being able to follow Daniel. If the latter were carrying despatches, he would be going to England or The Hague. Whichever his destination, he would take the speediest way north. Catto simply had to stay on the main road and maintain a good pace. Seven miles or so from the camp, he met a farmer who told him that three British soldiers had galloped past him earlier on. Now that his guess about Daniel's route had been confirmed, Catto rode on with renewed zest, speculating on how he could best kill a man who had caused him so much trouble.

It was evening before he finally caught up with them. Daniel and the two subalterns had stopped at an inn to rest their horses and refresh themselves. Catto approached slowly, entering the courtyard with his hat pulled down over his forehead. After tethering his horse, he peeped into the taproom and saw the two subalterns sitting at a table with a drink in their hands. Daniel was not there. When he walked around the outside of the inn, Catto understood why. Instead of drinking with his companions, Daniel had strolled down to the edge of a stream nearby and unbuttoned his uniform to let the breeze cool him down after the sweaty ride.

Sensing that he might never get a better chance, Catto moved with deliberation towards his victim. Under his coat, he was gripping the handle of the dagger that had already killed one British soldier that day. It was about to claim a more important life. Daniel was gazing into the water, seemingly oblivious to all else. In fact, it was the stream that alerted him to sudden danger. The ground sloped sharply downward to the edge of the stream and, as Catto strode purposefully on, his reflection appeared on the surface of the water.

It was only there for a split-second but it was enough to goad Daniel into action. Spinning around, he saw his attacker coming at him with the dagger raised to strike. As Catto closed in on him and stabbed with his weapon, Daniel grabbed his wrist and held it tight. The point of the dagger was only inches from his chest but it did not get any closer. As the two men wrestled violently on the bank, Daniel knocked off his attacker's hat and recognised him. It made him fight even more strenuously. He had a score to settle with Charles Catto.

They were well-matched. Daniel was the stronger of the two but Catto was the more guileful. At the height of the struggle, he stuck out a foot and tripped Daniel up. Though he fell backwards with Catto on top of him, Daniel did not release his grip on the wrist. As he hit the ground, he twisted his hand as sharply as he could then pulled the wrist towards him, embedding the dagger inches into the grass. Before he could pull it out again, Catto was punched so hard in the face that he was forced to release his weapon.

He replied by punching Daniel and by trying to gouge his eye with a thumb. Then he got both hands to Daniel's neck but he did not hold them there for long. Using all his strength, Daniel heaved him off then rolled down the incline with him until both men toppled into the water. It was a fight to the death now as they grappled, punched, kicked and sought for any advantage. The two of them vanished beneath the water, threshing about madly and creating a wide circle of ripples. Catto drew on the memory of what had happened to Frederic Seurel and had a surge of energy. He began to get the upper hand.

Daniel, however, had his own memories on which to call. He remembered the brutal death of Lieutenant Hopwood, the abduction of Abigail Piper and the duel that was heavily weighted in favour of General Salignac. He remembered the way that Catto had taunted him while he was their captive. The man Daniel was fighting was a traitor, an Englishman in league with the French. Catto was despicable. Stirred by these thoughts as they flashed across his mind, Daniel felt an uprush of power reinforced by a fierce pride. He was on his way to deliver important despatches to Queen and to Parliament. Nobody was going to deprive him of that honour.

Swinging Catto over so that his back was on the bed of the stream, Daniel lifted his own head above the surface and gulped in air before submerging again. The struggle continued but Catto was weakening with every second. His lungs were on fire, his body was aching from the punches he had taken and his limbs were no longer under control. Daniel held him down firmly for another couple of minutes. After one final, desperate attempt to break free, Catto went limp. It was all over. Daniel surfaced and gasped in more air. As he looked down at Catto, he gave a weary smile of celebration. He had finally got rid of the man who had been hired to kill him.

When she returned home, Abigail Piper had begun to see her wild adventure in a different light. Infatuated with Daniel Rawson and buoyed up by the hope of seeing him, she had somehow coped with all the adversity that beset her and Emily Greene. Once back in England, however, the full danger of what she had done became much clearer. Abigail was terrified by her own wilfulness. She had put not only her own life at risk but that of her maid as well. Worst of all, she had been responsible for handing Daniel over to his enemies and she could never forgive herself for that. Viewed objectively, her visit to Germany had bordered on catastrophe.

Her despair had first manifested itself in a physical illness. Having held up gamely all the way back, she had collapsed once she crossed the threshold of her home. A fortnight in bed and regular attendance by a physician had eventually recovered her but there was no cure for the demons in her mind. Weeks after she was back on her feet again, Abigail was still obsessed with her folly. As she sat in the garden with a book in her lap, she was not reading the poetry it contained. She was still agonising over what had happened.

Her sister, Dorothy, recognised the now familiar signs.

'You must not keep blaming yourself, Abigail,' she said.

'But I did something terrible.'

'It was not intentional.'

'That does not excuse it, Dorothy. I went hundreds of miles to see Daniel then ended up by leading him to his death.'

'You don't know that.'

'I do,' insisted Abigail. 'Those men told me they'd been paid to kill him. They used me to lure Daniel into their hands. Had I not been there, they could not have done that.'

'Then they'd have found some other way.'

'He sacrificed himself for me.'

'I'd expect nothing less of Captain Rawson,' said Dorothy softly.

It was one of the few improvements to come out of the whole business. Abigail and her elder sister had been brought closer. When she first heard that Dorothy had written to Daniel, having earlier talked her out of doing so, Abigail had resolved to take her sister to task. As it was, she had neither the strength nor the urge to do so. During her sickness, she had been touched by the way that Dorothy had cared for her. She had never once reprimanded her younger sister or tried to coax details of her escapades from her. Dorothy had been a model of sympathy and support. It was the reason Abigail felt able to confide in her. There was no competition over Daniel any more.

'Will I ever learn what happened to him?' Abigail wondered.

'It might be better if you did not,' said Dorothy considerately, 'and I'm sure that His Grace will keep any unsavoury details from you.'

'But I'm involved. I'm entitled to the truth.'

'The truth is that you were a young, headstrong girl who made a mistake in following your heart. We've all done that, Abigail.'

'Not with such disastrous consequences.'

'Stop fearing the worst all the time.'

'What else can I do?'

Glancing down at her book, Abigail closed it shut and stood up. It was a beautiful day to sit in the garden but her mind was in turmoil and she could take pleasure from nothing. She was about to go back into the house when a servant came out.

'Captain Rawson has called,' he said.

Abigail almost fainted. 'Captain Daniel Rawson?'

Dorothy helped her sister to resume her seat on the garden bench then she looked up at the servant. 'We'll see Captain Rawson out here,' she said.

After giving an obedient nod, the man retired. Abigail was dazed. Instead of feeling joy and relief, she went completely numb. Seeing her sister's confusion, Dorothy sat down and put an arm around her.

'Bear up, Abigail,' she said happily, 'it's wonderful news.'

'Yes… Yes, I suppose it is.'

'There's no supposition about it. Captain Rawson is alive. You won't have his death on your conscience any more.'

'That's true,' agreed Abigail, realising it for the first time and letting a cautious smile break through. 'Daniel is alive.' The smile was replaced by a chevron of concern. 'But what if he's badly injured? What if those two men inflicted terrible wounds on him? That would be my fault.'

'Don't rush to embrace a problem that may not be there.'

'I'm scared.'

'There's no need to be.'

'What am I to say to him, Dorothy?'

'Oh,' said her sister, squeezing her shoulder affectionately before releasing her, 'I think you'll find the right words somehow.'

They had a moment to compose themselves before Daniel was shown out. He gave a formal bow and they rose from the bench by way of acknowledgement. Daniel was wearing a smart new uniform. Abigail searched for indications of terrible injury but found none. Apart from a couple of lingering scars on his face, he seemed to be in rude health. She gave a strained laugh.

'I thought that you were dead,' she admitted.'

'There were a few moments when I came close to death,' he said affably, 'but heaven is not yet ready to receive me.'

'What about those two men?'

'They are no longer a threat to me.'

Abigail was startled. 'Do you mean that you…?'

'Forget about them,' he advised. 'They belong in the past.'

'What brings you back to England?' asked Dorothy. 'I thought the campaign would go on for months yet.'

'You've obviously not heard the good tidings,' he said, 'and why should you? I've only just come from delivering despatches to Her Majesty the Queen, to the Earl of Godolphin and to Secretary Harley.' He spread his arms. 'We fought the enemy at Blenheim and achieved a stunning victory. The whole of London will soon resound with the news.' Dorothy let out a spontaneous cry of pleasure. Abigail clapped her hands. 'Marshal Tallard is a prisoner of war and the French army has been routed. Pardon me if I am still a little out of breath,' he went on, a hand to his chest, 'but it took me eight days to get back to England and I had little rest on the way.'

'Then we are all the more grateful that you found the time to call on us,' said Abigail. 'It was excessively kind of you.'

'I wanted to make sure that you got back home safely.'

'Abigail has told me what you did for her, Captain Rawson,' said Dorothy, 'and it was the act of a true gentleman. I offer you profound thanks on behalf of the whole family. However,' she added, looking first at Abigail then back at Daniel, 'at this moment, I suspect that the only person you really wish to see is my sister. Please excuse me.'

Dorothy went back into the house and left them alone together. There was a prolonged silence. Since she had never envisaged such a meeting taking place, Abigail was hopelessly unprepared for it. For his part, Daniel had had neither time nor inclination to rehearse any speech. Until he had handed over his dispatches, Abigail Piper had not really existed. A blend of guilt, affection and curiosity had guided his footsteps to her door. Yet both of them were certain about one thing. Instead of being brought together by Abigail's pursuit of him, they had been driven apart.

'Will you be staying in London for long?' she asked at length.

'No, Abigail, I have to ride to Somerset.'

'Are you going to call on relatives?'

'I'll be visiting my father's grave,' he told her. 'It's something I always do when I return to England. I owe him a great debt. It was because of my father that I joined the army.'

'That's your world, isn't it, Daniel?'

'It always will be.'

'I'm sorry that I embarrassed you by stumbling into it.'

'You caused no embarrassment, Abigail,' he said with a forgiving smile, 'and, if anyone should be apologising, it's me. I'm sorry that I was not able to spend more time with you in Germany but, as you saw, I was somewhat preoccupied.'

'I can't believe that I was so reckless,' she said.

He was tactful. 'I think we both profited from the experience.'

'I learnt a lot about myself, Daniel, I know that. And it frightened me more than I can say. I'd never dream of doing anything as selfish and irresponsible as that again.'

'I hope that it wasn't entirely a cause for regret,' he said gently. 'There must have been some happy moments for you.'

'Oh, there were — lots of them. Each one of them is faithfully recorded in my diary.'

'Good.'

'And now they'll be treasured,' she said. 'When I thought that you'd been killed because of me, all that I could do was to grieve and rebuke myself. I didn't have the heart even to open my diary and read about our time together. I was wasting away with anguish. Now that you've come back, now that I've seen you with my own eyes, a huge weight has been lifted from me. I can cherish fond memories again.'

'I'll do the same, Abigail.'

It was the moment for a chaste kiss of farewell but it never came. Abigail was too nervous to invite it and Daniel too afraid that it might be misconstrued. They settled for a polite handshake.

'Will you be returning here from Somerset?' she asked.

'Only to take ship to Holland,' he replied. 'I have to rejoin my regiment. We may have won a mighty battle but the war will continue. The French army will be back again before too long.'

'And Captain Daniel Rawson will be there to fight them.'

'I have to be. It's my vocation.'

'I discovered that when I came to Germany.'

'Your friendship has been a delight to me, and, in a perverse way, I admire you for what you did. It showed courage and madness. Those are the very qualities that drove me into the army so we have an affinity. As you found out, however,' he said with a shrug, 'I can never be more than a friend. You must take me as I am, Abigail.'

'And what is that?'

'A soldier of fortune.'