Soldier of Fortune

CHAPTER TWO

Holywell was the favourite residence of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. Situated near St Albans in Hertfordshire, it was a place of refuge from the rigours of waging a war, a country home where he and his wife, Sarah, could enjoy the domestic life that his military duties so frequently interrupted. When they first took full possession of the estate, they had rebuilt the house and laid out the gardens and walks, planting fruit trees in abundance and creating floral colour everywhere. While he was abroad, Holywell was rarely far from of his mind and Marlborough was always sending gifts back to the house. As he and his guest dined that day, they had eaten off china shipped home by him years earlier from The Hague. They were now sharing a post-prandial drink.

'I begin to think they do not want us to win this confounded war,' complained Marlborough, toying with a glass of brandy. 'Every time I am in a position to deliver a telling blow, I am held back by the Dutch. I vow, Sidney, there have been many occasions when I've been sorely tempted to resign my command and be done with it all.'

'Far too much is at stake for you to do that,' said his companion seriously. 'The only way we will ever defeat King Louis is by having you to lead the armies of the Grand Alliance. With English, Dutch and Austrian troops at your disposal — not to mention practical support from elsewhere in Europe — you could conceivably mount a decisive assault on the enemy.'

'I could — but only if I am given a free hand.'

'I do my best to keep Parliament off your back, John.'

'They still hamper me dreadfully.'

'That's the penalty you pay for having a Tory government,' said the other with a shrug. 'The awful truth is that my fellow Tories do not believe in armed intervention on the Continent. Oh, they are happy enough to commit our naval resources to the war but they baulk at the notion of sending more troops and equipment to the Netherlands. They constantly bicker about cost.'

'Then someone should point out the cost of not engaging fully in this war,' observed Marlborough tartly. 'Do they actually want a Frenchman on the Spanish throne? Are they content to stand by while Louis XIV annexes Spain before threatening every country on their respective boundaries? It's madness!' he argued, smacking the table with a palm for emphasis. 'Politicians must be made to confront the enormity of the danger we face,'

'I'm a politician, John.'

Marlborough grinned. 'No, Sidney,' he said with affection, 'you're that contradiction in terms — a wise politician.'

Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, acknowledged the compliment with a smile. As Lord Treasurer, he was effectively Queen Anne's leading minister, and he brought acuity, experience and a tireless energy to the role. Five years older than his host, he was now well into his fifties and time had etched deep lines into his face. Though he kept it well-hidden, Godolphin harboured a secret sorrow, still mourning the death of his wife, Margaret, who had died in childbirth within a year of the marriage. Their baby son, Francis, had survived and grown up to wed Marlborough's daughter, Henrietta, thus bringing the two fathers even closer together.

It was a friendship that excited great envy and spite. Cynics always claimed that Godolphin's advancement was entirely due to his connection with the Marlborough family. Not only was the Duke much admired by the Queen, but his wife, Sarah, was her unrivalled favourite and thus able to exert immense influence at Court. Those who claimed that Godolphin owed his position to the triumvirate of Duke, Duchess and Queen ignored the fact that he had held high office under three successive kings and, over the years, acquired all the attributes of a statesman.

Marlborough was never flamboyant but, beside the sober garb of Godolphin, his own attire looked positively ostentatious. The Lord Treasurer was a quiet man in every respect, astute, thoughtful and in the habit of measuring his words carefully before he spoke. He had unquestioning faith in his friend's military capabilities and diplomatic skills. For his part, the Duke of Marlborough trusted Godolphin completely, relying heavily on his amity and good counsel.

'I am too old to lead an army into battle, Sidney,' he said.

'Nonsense!' protested the other. 'You will never be too old. There's no better captain-general in Europe. You've proved that time and again, John.'

'I've tried to prove it,' said Marlborough, 'but I've been dogged from the outset by Dutch circumspection. My hands are tied by the States-General. Instead of trusting me to take every decision in the field, they attached two Deputies to me to dissuade me from what they consider to be rash action. These men are civilians, for heaven's sake — what do they know about warfare?'

'Last year must have been very disappointing for you.'

'It was so frustrating, Sidney. I drew up a plan for converging movements on Antwerp, while troops would also move against Ostend in the north-west and against the Lines of Brabant.'

'Yes, it was a typically ambitious plan of yours.'

'Much too ambitious for our Dutch allies,' said Marlborough, taking a sip of his brandy. 'Instead of obeying my orders, General Cohorn went off on a foraging expedition, would you believe! That was the first of two failed attempts I made to bring Villeroi to battle before Antwerp. How on earth can we defeat the French if we do not fight them toe to toe in a proper engagement?'

'Did you make that point to Grand Pensionary Heinsius?'

'I did more than that, Sidney. I gave him an ultimatum. I told him that I would never again take the field with such obstacles in my way and be forced to depend on the unanimous consent of his generals. Heinsius needs to knock a few senior heads together in the Dutch army,' added Marlborough soulfully. 'I would rather die than put up with anything like that again.'

'That should bring Heinsius to his senses,' said Godolphin. 'If we lose the Duke of Marlborough, we lose the war and the Spanish Succession will go unchallenged. France will be victorious yet again.'

He was about to expand on his comment when there was a tap on the door and a liveried servant stepped into the dining room.

'Excuse me, Your Grace,' he said. 'You have a visitor.'

'I was not expecting one,' returned Marlborough.

'The gentleman says he is here on urgent business.'

'Did he give you a name?'

'Yes, Your Grace — Captain Daniel Rawson.'

'Then bring him in at once,' said Marlborough, getting quickly to his feet and sending the man out with a dismissive wave. 'I've been waiting for Rawson to turn up.'

'Who is he?' asked Godolphin.

'Remarkable fellow — I first met him after Sedgemoor when he was a lad of ten. His father had fought with the rebels and one of my men felt that he was entitled to violate the boy's mother by way of punishment. Daniel Rawson saved her honour by killing him.'

Godolphin blinked. 'A boy of ten killed a soldier?'

'Yes — with the man's own sword. I presented it to him as a gift. He's learnt to use it well, believe me. After his father was hanged, he and his mother fled to Amsterdam. Three years later, he returned here in the army of William of Orange.'

'So he was involved in the Glorious Revolution, was he?'

'From that point on, Daniel Rawson and I have always fought on the same side. I followed his career with interest. He was far too good a soldier to waste his talents in the Dutch army so I persuaded him to join a British regiment.' The servant showed in the visitor. 'Ah, here he is! Good to see you, Daniel.'

'Thank you, Your Grace,' said Daniel.

'Allow me to present the Earl of Godolphin.'

Daniel gave a respectful bow. 'It's an honour to meet you, my lord. I apologise for interrupting your meal.'

'Not at all,' said Godolphin, rising from the table and running an approving eye over the visitor. 'I hear good things of you, Rawson, and praise from the commander-in-chief is praise indeed.' He glanced from one to the other. 'I'll leave you alone, gentlemen. I can see that you have need of private conference.'

'Don't let us frighten you away, Sidney,' said Marlborough. 'You're welcome to stay and hear what Daniel has to say.'

'After a splendid meal like that, what I most require is a walk in your delightful garden. At my time of life, a man must pay particular attention to his constitution. Pray excuse me.'

Godolphin left the room in a flurry of farewells. Marlborough came across to give Daniel a proper greeting by shaking his hand then he waved him to a chair and sat opposite him. He noted the dust on his clothing and the perspiration on his brow.

'You look as if you've been riding hard, Daniel.'

'I bring news that could brook no delay, Your Grace.'

'Then it must be from The Hague.'

'No,' said Daniel, 'it comes from Paris.'

'Paris!' exclaimed Marlborough. 'What were you doing there?'

'What else but gathering intelligence?'

'Go on.'

'It's as you feared, Your Grace,' said Daniel. 'They mean to strike at the heart of the Empire. When they won the battle of Speyerbach, they gained the fortress of Landau and seized two places on the Rhine that guarantee them secure crossings.'

'The towns of Brisach and Kehl,' noted Marlborough.

'In short, the French now have ready access to their allies in Bavaria. Marshal Tallard means to exploit that advantage.'

'That's precisely what I would do in his position.'

'Vienna is their target. If they take that and put the Emperor to flight, it will be almost impossible to dislodge them.'

'Then we must ensure that they never get close to the Imperial capital,' said Marlborough firmly. 'How much did you glean in Paris?'

'A fair amount, Your Grace.'

'Tell me all.'

Clearing his throat, Daniel delivered his report. He had committed all the details to memory, knowing the folly of writing it all down and carrying incriminating documents on a mission behind enemy lines. If he were stopped and searched, such material would bring arrest, torture and probable execution. Locked inside his brain, the information was wholly safe. Marlborough was an attentive listener, letting him give his account in full before asking any questions. When Daniel had at last finished, he earned a broad grin of admiration from the Duke.

'How ever did you find all this out?' asked Marlborough.

'I chose my source carefully.'

'I'd be tempted to say that it was General Salignac himself for you seem so well-informed about his movements.'

'I spoke to someone very close to the general,' said Daniel.

'Then it must have been his mistress. In my experience, French officers rarely confide in their wives. It's when they lay their heads on the pillows of their paramours that they become more talkative.' He raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Am I right?'

'Both right and wrong, Your Grace,' replied Daniel with a twinkle in his eye. 'The lady in question was once the general's mistress but is now his wife, a position with which she is not entirely happy. What she has gained in respectability, she has lost in other ways. In brief, she craves attention. I was able to provide it.'

Marlborough laughed. 'You always were a ladies' man and this is not the first time we've profited from the fact. I congratulate you, Daniel. You've learnt more from an hour in the arms of a woman than my other spies in Paris have learnt in a month.'

'Each man has his own methods of garnering information.'

'Yours is by far the most pleasurable.'

'I endeavour to give as well as to receive pleasure, Your Grace.'

'As any gentleman would,' said Marlborough. 'What you have told me confirms decisions I had already made. My plan of action must be an audacious one because audacity is the only way to succeed against the French. When I reach Holland again, I'll acquaint Grand Pensionary Heinsius with the notion that the army will head for the Moselle. I know that he favours the move.'

'He might do so,' remarked the other, 'but there's not enough daring in such a manoeuvre for the Duke of Marlborough. I fancy that you have something else up your sleeve as well.'

'You're a shrewd man, Daniel.'

'I have the advantage of having served under your command.'

'Then you'll know how I like to keep my true intentions to myself and reserve the element of surprise. At this point in time, only the Queen, the Lord Treasurer, whom you just met, and Count Wratislaw, the Austrian minister, are aware of my design.'

'Apart from the Duchess, that is.'

'No,' said Marlborough guardedly, 'I've not even told my wife what I have in mind. All that she knows is that I intend to go higher into Germany — which, of course, is the truth.'

'But not the whole truth, I suspect,' said Daniel

'Wait and see.'

Daniel inclined his head. 'I'm at your command, Your Grace.'

'Then my orders are that you get some food and drink inside you,' said Marlborough, indicating the table. 'If you've ridden all the way from Dover, you must be starving as well as exhausted. You can speak to our cook and order anything you wish.'

'That's very kind of you.'

'It's scant reward for what you learnt in Paris.'

'Will I have time for any leisure, Your Grace?'

'Yes, Daniel. We'll sail from Harwich at the end of next week. That will give you almost eleven days.' His smile was warm. 'Do you think you could find a way to amuse yourself in London for that length of time?'

Daniel chuckled. 'I'm certain that I can.'

'Then enjoy yourself while you can because there'll be little opportunity for dalliance once the army is on the march once more.'

'I know.'

'When hostilities do resume,' warned Marlborough, 'you'll have to take great care not to meet General Salignac on the battlefield.'

'Why is that, Your Grace?' 'Put yourself in his place, man. He'll be eager to wreak a terrible revenge on the person who seduced his wife.'

'I have no worries at all on that score.'

'Really?'

'No,' said Daniel. 'The general has absolutely no idea who I am.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Using their forged passports, the two men boarded the ship at Calais.

'We'll never find him,' moaned Seurel. 'It's a waste of time.'

'We must find him,' said Catto, speaking in faultless French. 'We've tracked him this far and we'll pick up his trail in England. The general will not condone failure, Frederic. If we go back empty-handed, we'll pay dearly.'

'How do we know that he crossed the Channel?'

'I've described him to three different port officials and they remembered him clearly. Daniel Rawson may not have used his real name but he definitely sailed from Calais.'

'How could you describe him when you've never even seen him?'

'The general's wife has seen him,' said Catto with a snigger, 'and she was in a position to note the most private details about the man. We not only know exactly what he looks like, we have his name and his occupation.'

'Didn't Madame Salignac say he was a merchant?'

'That was only a ruse. What merchant takes a beautiful woman to bed in order to ask about her husband's movements in the army?'

'I see what you mean.'

'As soon as he realised what had been going on, the general knew who Daniel Rawson really was — a British spy!'

Seurel cackled. 'A lucky one at that — I wouldn't mind spying on Madame Salignac. She'd set any man's blood racing.'

'Nobody would ever get close enough to her again,' said Catto. 'The general has seen to that. His wife might as well be in a convent.'

'Mon dieu! What a terrible waste!'

Frederic Seurel made a vivid gesture with both hands to reinforce his meaning. He was a short, ugly, thickset man in his forties with dark hair and beard. He had been an accomplished thief in his youth but a harsh prison sentence had made him resolve to respect the law in future. Hardened by ten years in the French army, he had been invalided out when badly wounded in the thigh. He still walked with a pronounced limp.

Charles Catto, by contrast, was a tall, slender, lithe man in his early thirties with fair hair, a conventionally handsome face and a plausible manner. Born and brought up in England, he preferred to fight in a French regiment and it was there that he had caught the eye of General Armand Salignac. Because he was so alert, reliable and resourceful, Catto had been employed by the general in all sorts of secret missions, with an unbroken record of success. None of his assignments, however, had had the importance attached to the present one. Catto and Seurel had been left in no doubt about that.

There was a burst of activity aboard. Urged on by a stentorian voice, the crew hoisted the canvas, pulled up the gangplank, cast off and made ready to sail on the morning tide. Seurel was uneasy.

'I hate being at sea,' he said.

'Think of the benefits, Frederic.'

'What benefits? Feeling sick, unable to touch food, spewing up my guts time and again? Where is the benefit in all that, Charles?'

'At the end of our voyage,' said Catto. 'We catch our prize.'

'I wonder.'

'Trust me. I know how to stalk a man.'

'We don't even know that he is in England,' said Seurel.

'Yes, we do.'

'How?'

'A spy will always run back to his paymaster,' said Catto, 'to pass on what information he has found out. My guess is that Daniel Rawson will have headed straight for the Duke of Marlborough. We know for certain that the Duke is still in England. He won't sail for Holland until next week at the earliest.'

Seurel was startled. 'Are you sure of that, Charles?'

'We have our own spies.'

'Yes, you've been one of them in the past.'

'I'm pleased to say that I have,' admitted Catto proudly. 'I've enlisted in more than one British regiment in order to gauge its strength and ferret out its marching orders. If they ever caught up with me — and I'll make sure they don't — I'd be shot as a deserter.'

'You're like me,' said Seurel, spitting over the bulwark then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 'You enjoy danger.'

'I thrive on it.'

The wind was freshening now and filling the sails. As the ship gradually picked up speed, it began to tilt and ride over the waves. A rhythmical creak set in as the timbers met the relentless force of the sea. Catto was interested to watch the sailors going about their duties but Seurel pulled a face and rubbed his queasy stomach. He tried to take his mind off his discomfort by renewing the conversation.

'There's something I never understand about you, Charles,' he said, brow furrowing. 'Why does an Englishman fight for France?'

'I prefer to be on the winning side.'

'Is that the only reason?'

'No, Frederic,' replied the other. 'The French army has been the finest in the world for a very long time and it is a privilege to serve under its flag. What really appeals to me, however, is that I can fight alongside men of my own religion.'

'You are a Roman Catholic?' said Seurel in surprise.

'I joined the army for the pleasure of killing Protestants.'

'So did I. Each bullet I fired was in the name of the Pope.'

'My family was as devout as any in Rome. It did not make us welcome in England. We were persecuted because of our beliefs. My grandfather died in prison, my father was driven into exile when King William sat on the throne. Who can ever forget what that butcher did to the Catholics in Ireland?' he asked with sudden vehemence. 'Those who talked of toleration showed precious little of it during his reign. We were glad to leave England. We settled in Beauvais and I grew up there. I look upon France as my home.'

'Me, too,' said Seurel. 'I wish I was there now.'

'We're still in French waters.'

'I like to have solid ground beneath my feet.'

'You'll have that soon enough,' Catto assured him. 'As for the benefits I mentioned, just remember how much we'll be paid for this little adventure.'

'Only if we catch up with Daniel Rawson.'

'We will, I promise you.' 'What if he has left England?'

'We follow him wherever he goes, Frederic.' He patted his purse. 'We are well-provided with funds. He can run but he will never escape us. Sooner or later, we'll find him.' 'And then?'

'We obey the general's orders to the letter. We kill Daniel Rawson and take him certain proof of the man's death.' 'To do that, we'd have to carry his dead body back with us.' 'There's a much easier way than that, Frederic.' Seurel looked blank. 'Is there?'

'We simply cut off his head,' said Catto. 'That will suffice.'