Drums of War

Chapter Fifteen

It was almost a fortnight before Daniel Rawson was able to rejoin his regiment. In the interim, he'd been in The Hague with Amalia and her father, then had escorted them back home to Amsterdam. Daniel had been their guest for a couple of days. After his visit to Paris, he found it a treat to be in a city so clean and free from noisome smells. Not only were the streets washed regularly, they were also sprinkled with sand on occasion. What he did miss were the wide boulevards at the heart of the French capital. Amsterdam had narrow thoroughfares infested with fast- moving carriages and carts that could maim or even kill. It was a place where pedestrians had to be on constant guard.

The other advantage of the visit was that he was able to go back to the house where he and his mother had lived after their enforced flight from England twenty years earlier. In the wake of the battle of Sedgemoor, his life had suddenly been transformed. Daniel moved from a small farm to a large city, from rural tranquillity to a thriving port. Instead of speaking English, he grew up talking his mother's native language. Instead of envisaging his future as a farmer in Somerset, he nursed an ambition to join the Dutch army. It was only by a quirk of fate that, by doing so, he found himself back in the very country he'd deserted.

It was a wrench to take his leave of Amalia Janssen. Events had drawn them ineluctably together into a friendship that balanced the excitement of novelty against a feeling of permanence. Sad to part from her, he promised Amalia that he'd write whenever he could. The presence of Emanuel Janssen made it a less touching farewell than Daniel could have wished but the older man clearly approved of the friendship between the captain and his daughter. There was an unspoken commitment between Daniel and Amalia. It was sealed by a simple exchange of glances. Riding away from Amsterdam, his abiding memory of her was the night they'd shared in the privacy of the coach.

When he finally joined his regiment in winter quarters, he first reported to Marlborough's brother, General Churchill. Letters from The Hague had already informed Churchill of the captain's heroics in France but he insisted on a first-hand account. Daniel obliged readily though his version of events said nothing about an incipient romance with Amalia. Since the general was in regular correspondence with his brother, Daniel was given the latest news about the commander-in-chief, still courting allies in foreign capitals. The minute he was free to leave, he went off to find Henry Welbeck. The sergeant was in his tent. Daniel was shocked to hear what had happened.

'When was this?' he asked.

'Weeks ago, Dan.'

'How many lashes did the lad receive?'

'Eighty,' replied Welbeck.

'That was cruel.'

'It was typical of the major.'

'Did nobody intervene on his behalf?'

'Nobody had a loud enough voice.'

Daniel was deeply upset. 'If only I'd been here,' he said with compassion, 'I could have challenged Major Cracknell. At the very least, I might've got the number of lashes reduced.'

'I doubt it.'

'Why do you say that, Henry?'

'You and I are two of the reasons why the lad was punished so severely. The major is green with envy at your promotion, Dan. He'd do anything to strike back at you.'

Daniel had already discerned the connection to him. In having the hapless drummer flogged, the major would be hurting Welbeck and, by extension, the sergeant's best friend. Indirectly, Cracknell was trying to put salt on the tail of a bird whose fine plumage was now on display in Marlborough's personal staff. It grieved Daniel that Hillier had suffered additional pain because of him.

'How did he bear up?' he said.

'Very well, considering,' replied Welbeck. 'He didn't cry out or beg for mercy. Every inch of skin was stripped from his back but he didn't make a sound.' He gave a half-smile. 'I like to think that the brandy helped.'

'Did you give him that?'

'I slipped a bottle to his friend.'

'That was thoughtful.'

'He is my nephew, Dan.'

'You've remembered that at last, have you?'

Welbeck told him about all the other things that had occurred during his absence but they were eclipsed, in Daniel's mind, by what he'd heard about Hillier. He kept wondering if the flogging would break the drummer's spirit or simply deprive him of any interest in remaining in the army. Harsh discipline had turned many zealous soldiers into potential deserters. Daniel resolved to speak to him.

'What about you, Dan?' asked Welbeck. 'Where have you been all this time — or is it still a secret?'

'I've been to Paris,' said Daniel.

'To take tea with King Louis, I daresay.'

'No, Henry. In point of fact, the King hates the city and prefers to live well away from it in Versailles. He did invite me to dinner, as it happens, but I felt that I had to decline.'

Welbeck laughed. 'Tell the truth, you bugger.'

'The truth is that I was sent to rescue someone.'

Daniel gave him an abbreviated account of his time in France, concentrating on the escapes from the Bastille and from the three highwaymen. There was no mention of Amalia and Beatrix. It was an omission on which Welbeck soon pounced.

'What was her name?'

'Whose name?'

'Her name,' said the sergeant. 'I refuse to believe that Dan Rawson spent a week or so in France without meeting a woman.'

'I met two as it happened — Janssen's daughter and his servant.'

'Which one did you seduce first?'

'You're getting very coarse in your old age, Henry.'

'All right,' said Welbeck, searching for another way of asking his question, 'which one of them first studied the bedroom ceiling over your shoulder?'

'Neither of them,' said Daniel, firmly.

'You made them lie face down, did you?'

'I was too busy trying to save their lives to think about anything else. Besides, I had Emanuel Janssen and his assistant with me all the time. It was like being part of the family.'

'I still think there was a naked woman in the story.'

'You can think what you like, Henry. If you want a naked woman, I'll put in half a dozen for you. A dozen, if you prefer.'

'I've no need for them,' said Welbeck, tartly. 'They spell danger. Look what happened to Tom. He was so keen to see a pair of naked tits that he forgot he wasn't supposed to leave camp.'

'I'd like to speak to the lad.'

'Be warned, Dan. He's changed.'

'It takes a long time to recover from a flogging.'

'I'm not talking about the pain he's in. The change is inside his head. He seems to have gone off into a world of his own. If you want to know the truth,' Welbeck admitted, 'I'm worried about him.'

It was a paradox. In taking punishment on behalf of his friends, Tom Hillier had become their hero. At the very time when they wanted to show their gratitude by spending time with him, he preferred to be on his own. The flogging had isolated him in every sense. He was pleasant to Dobbs and the others but he avoided their company when he could. Being alone was his only solace. It gave him time and space to revalue what he'd suffered. The physical pain was constant. The regimental surgeon had offered him a salve for his wounds but the application of it was so agonising that he only endured it once. Various other remedies were suggested to him. None of them worked and even though the fire on his back gradually burnt less persistently, the inferno inside his head roared on with undiminished rage.

He was strolling beside the stream where he'd met his nemesis when Daniel came upon him. Hillier was astounded to see him.

'Good morning, Captain Rawson,' he said.

'How are you feeling, Tom?'

'It's getting better, sir.'

'I was shocked when your uncle told me what happened.'

'It was my own fault,' said Hillier, too embarrassed to meet his eye, 'and I've no quarrel with that. On this side of the stream, I'm abiding by army regulations. On the other bank — and that's where I was on the night — I was deemed to be absent without leave.' He pursed his lips. 'What a difference five yards of water can make to your life!'

'You went farther afield than five yards, I suspect,' said Daniel.

'I did, Captain.'

'I'm sorry that I wasn't here to help.'

'What could you have possibly done?'

'I could've remonstrated with Major Cracknell. I could've made sure that you were treated fairly from the moment of arrest.'

Hillier was moved. 'Why should you bother about me?'

'It's because you're a rarity, Tom. You're a willing recruit and we get few of them. Well, you've seen the character of the men we have. Some of them only agreed to join the army because it was a way out of prison. According to Sergeant Welbeck, the vast majority of our soldiers begin as rogues, vagabonds or drunkards. You don't fit into any of those categories. You wanted a career in the army.'

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

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

'That's no consolation, sir.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

'It is to me, sir.'

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

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

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

'Why didn't you listen to her?'

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

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

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

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

'The lieutenant can ill afford to lose it.'

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

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

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

'No, sir, I'm not.'

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

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

'Perhaps not but he certainly squirmed!

'You obviously took pleasure from that.'

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

'It was a vindictive punishment.'

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

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

'I deny that.'

'Your conduct has been malicious and unwarranted.'

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

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

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

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

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

'You deserve more than criticism.'

'Is that a threat, Captain Rawson?'

'Take it as you wish, sir.'

'You're talking to a superior officer.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'We did, sir,' said Daniel.

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

'I don't follow.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'I hold him in the highest esteem.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'What are they?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Yet they failed abysmally on the Moselle.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

'We leave on the morning tide, Amalia.'

'When will you be back?'

'Not until the spring,' he said.

'That's months away,' she protested.

'It will soon pass.'

'What will you do in England?'

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

'Will you promise to write?'

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

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

'You could always visit me in England.'

'Father needs me here,' she said, resignedly.

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

'Will you be staying in London?'

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

'Why?'

'I have to pay my respects, Amalia.'

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

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

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

Daniel reached out to brush the snowflakes from the headstone. His father's name had been chiselled in the stone along with the date of his death. Few people now remembered the blatant savagery of his execution and the public mortification attending it. His had been one of countless bodies that swung in the wind that summer. Nathan had met his end fearlessly. Daniel had been inspired by that. In his eyes, his father was no mere rebel but a hero prepared to fight for what he truly believed in. There was dignity in that.

He knelt beside the grave for a long time, pulling out weeds that had sprouted up since his last visit and clearing away the twigs that had been blown on to it. Before he rose to leave, he offered up his usual prayer for the salvation of his father's soul. A bond had been renewed. His visit to the past was over. Daniel rode slowly away from the village, his sorrow fringed with a strange feeling of pride. It stayed with him all the way back to London.

The Duke of Marlborough spent the winter months in the company of his beloved wife, Sarah, bemoaning his long absences and assuring her that the end of the war might be in sight if his calculations were proved to be correct. Details of his strategy were discussed at length with his inner circle, Daniel Rawson among them. Plans were put in place to guarantee that there would be adequate provisions for a large army on a longer march than had ever before been attempted during the war. Marlborough was brimming with confidence. He had the support of Queen Anne and of his close friend, Sidney Godolphin, Lord Treasurer and skilful manipulator of Parliament. Everything boded well for the new offensive.

Unfortunately, it was the French army that seized the initiative.

While the commander-in-chief of the Confederate armies was refining his strategy in England in April, 1706, a strong French force under Marshal Vendome defeated a Hapsburg army at Calcinato in northern Italy. Instead of deploying his armies in defensive positions as he was wont to do, Louis XIV elected to engage the enemy. Marlborough and his staff crossed to The Hague almost a week later to be met by delay, disappointment and confusion. The Dutch had welcomed the idea of reinforcing Italy from the north. Once they realised that Marlborough intended to go there in person, they feared that he'd weaken their defences in doing so and render them vulnerable to attack.

Dutch vacillation was followed by a blank refusal to cooperate from other quarters. The Danish, Hessian, Hanoverian and Prussian commanders reneged on their earlier undertakings and withheld their support. The prospect of taking the war to Italy frightened them. It was a crushing setback for Marlborough, made worse by the fact that the careful preparations needed for a sustained march were well short of completion. There had been a woeful lack of urgency in setting up depots. It was as bad as in the previous year. Marlborough was furious and dismayed. It was almost as if his allies were deliberately holding him back. Though he tried to rectify the situation with commendable energy, it was an impossible task. The strategy he'd nurtured for so many months was now in danger of falling apart.

The final crippling blow came early in May. With great secrecy, Marshal Villars and Marshal Marsin had prepared an offensive against the position held in Alsace by the Margrave of Baden. They took the Imperialist troops by surprise and captured Haguenau, forcing Baden's men to retreat in disarray across the Rhine. The fortress of Landau, which had changed hands many times, was under siege once more. The dramatic change in French tactics had been rewarded. In Alsace, as in northern Italy, signal victories had been secured. It was an ideal start to the new campaign. At the same time, it was a declaration of intention. France was on the attack.

Daniel was at his side when Marlborough received a dispatch, telling him of the Allied defeat in Alsace. All hope of marching to Italy vanished. His bold plan would never be put into operation. They were back where they had been the previous year, losing ground to the enemy and compelled to restrict their activities to the Low Countries. Overcoming his frustration, Marlborough adapted swiftly to the change of perspective. He even found cause for optimism.

'Our intelligence from Versailles was inaccurate,' he said. 'The King has realised that you can only win a battle if you engage with the enemy. If he's ready to sanction an attack, we don't have to provoke the French any longer. They'll come at us of their own volition.'

'That will make a change, Your Grace,' said Daniel.

'It's a very welcome change.'

'What's brought it about, do you think?'

'King Louis wished to remind the Dutch of his power,' said Cardonnel. 'We know from our spies that he secretly offered peace to the States-General during the winter. Naturally, he wishes it to be negotiated on his terms. By securing these early triumphs in Italy and Alsace, he's sending a message to The Hague.'

'Unfortunately,' said Daniel, 'many people will heed it. The closer the French encroach on us, the louder are the calls in Holland for a peace settlement.'

Marlborough was adamant. "The only way to achieve peace is to defeat the French,' he said. 'I firmly believe that we have the money, men and spirit to do it.'

'We're somewhat short of men, Your Grace,' Cardonnel told him. "The Hanoverians and Hessians have not yet arrived and the Danish cavalry will not be here for a week or more.'

'What about the Prussians?' asked Daniel.

'King Frederick is having another tantrum, alas. He's refusing to send his contingents until we've listened to his grievances.'

'I thought they'd all been remedied, sir.'

'Since our visit, he's invented some new ones.'

'His support is more trouble than it's worth.'

'Forget about the Prussians,' said Marlborough, shaking off his depression at the prospect of action. 'Forget about the Hanoverians and the Hessians. The time for talking is over at last. Everything points to the possibility of a battle against Marshal Villeroi. By the time it takes place, we'll have sufficient forces. We may have lost our chance of a telling attack in northern Italy but we've gained something in return. We now have an opportunity for a decisive engagement on our own doorstep, so to speak. I feel exhilarated, gentlemen,' he went on, raising a fist. 'For the first time since Blenheim, I feel that destiny is at hand. Nothing will content me more than to offer battle to the French. I have every confidence that we'll achieve a complete victory.'