Fire and Sword

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amalia Janssen had been so exhausted by the events of recent days that she slept without interruption for almost fourteen hours. She awoke with the delicious feeling that she was free, unharmed and completely safe. A letter from Marlborough had been dispatched to Amsterdam to assure her father that she was alive and it had been accompanied by a scribbled note from Amalia. Knowing how guilt-stricken Beatrix would be, she’d made a point of absolving her from any blame for the abduction. In making sure that her father and her servant would no longer fret over her disappearance, she’d removed a crushing weight from her mind. Unfortunately, it had been replaced by a lighter but not inconsiderable one.

‘When did Captain Rawson leave?’ asked Sophie Prunier.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Amalia.

‘Didn’t he bid you farewell?’

‘No, Sophie, he left Lieutenant Ainley to do that on his behalf. Daniel — Captain Rawson, I mean — knew that I’d try to persuade him to stay here.’

‘Would he have listened to you?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Yet he was not under orders to go, was he?’

‘No, it was his decision.’

‘The Duke of Marlborough called it a matter of honour.’

‘We might not think so,’ said Amalia, ‘but that’s how Captain Rawson would see it.’

The two women were pleased to be reunited and were sharing a late breakfast in the tent assigned to Amalia. Both of them had been able to wash off the filth collected during their escape and clean clothing had been found for them, albeit of a utilitarian kind. As they ate their meal, Amalia explained why Daniel’s sword had such a symbolic importance in his life. Sophie began to understand why he was driven to retrieve it.

‘Do you feel afraid for him?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I do — very afraid.’

‘It’s a reckless thing to do. I’m surprised that the Duke of Marlborough let him take the risk.’

‘His Grace knows what that sword means. After all, it was he who presented it to him. Captain Rawson was only ten when he used that sword to prevent his mother from being-’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Sophie, interrupting. ‘There’s no need to talk about that. It seems that British soldiers can be just as brutish as the French. It’s disgusting.’

Amalia was tentative. ‘Did you tell His Grace what happened?’

‘How could I? It was too embarrassing.’

‘Lieutenant Bouteron should be called to account.’

‘I’d sooner forget his foul name.’

‘He should be punished.’

‘It would be a case of his word against mine,’ said Sophie. ‘If I made a complaint, it would be heard by the duc de Vendome and he’ll always support his officers. That’s the tragedy of it all, Amalia. I have no recourse to justice. I have to bear my disgrace.’

‘It’s not a disgrace — it was forced upon you.’

‘I’d much rather pretend it never happened.’

‘Somebody should pay,’ insisted Amalia.

Sophie looked dejected. ‘I wish that they would.’

They ate on in silence for a while then Sophie brightened a little.

‘I never thought I’d get to meet the Duke of Marlborough,’ she said. ‘He’s so charming. I expected a much older man.’

‘His Grace is always very considerate.’

‘He and his secretary, Monsieur Cardonnel, were kind to me and I was surprised. When all is said and done,’ she said with a shrug, ‘I’m French. I’m one of the enemy.’

‘I only think of you as a good friend,’ said Amalia.

‘Thank you.’ Sophie reached across the table to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. ‘One day, perhaps, when this war is over, we shall be able to meet again — in Paris, perhaps.’

‘I’d prefer it to be in Amsterdam.’

‘Then that’s where it will be.’ They traded a warm smile. ‘You’re blessed to have a man like Captain Rawson in your life.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that, Sophie. I say it to myself every day. He’s been my saviour. This time, he was yours as well.’

‘In your place, I’d be very concerned about him.’

‘Oh, I am, Sophie.’

‘We both saw how many soldiers there are in that camp.’

‘He managed to reach us, nevertheless.’

‘But can he get in there all over again?’

‘I hope so,’ said Amalia, sounding far more confident than she actually felt. ‘This time, he only has himself to worry about. That should make it a lot easier.’

‘Yes, it should,’ agreed Sophie. ‘I’d just love to know how he’ll go about it. You’re as close to Captain Rawson as anybody. What sort of a plan do you think he’d have?’

‘It won’t work,’ said Henry Welbeck with categorical certainty.

‘I believe that it’s worth a try,’ said Daniel.

‘It could be suicide.’

‘That’s the talk of a defeatist and I’d never call you that, Henry. You’ve always believed that we could succeed in the past.’

‘Granted,’ said Welbeck, ‘but that was when we were surrounded by a British army and its allies. When we have sufficient numbers, we’re a match for anyone. This time, there are only two of us.’

‘I see that as an advantage.’

‘Well, I don’t, Dan.’

‘It’s so much easier for one person to remain hidden. You must see that, surely.’

‘All I see is that I may end up as the fox with a pack of slavering hounds on my trail — and I can’t run fast enough.’

‘You won’t have to run at all, Henry.’

‘I won’t?’

‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘You’ll be hiding up a tree.’

Welbeck quaked. ‘Hell and damnation!’ he yelled. ‘This gets worse and worse!’

They were about three miles from the French camp at a point where the road ran through the woods. Any traffic going to the camp would have to pass that way and Daniel was counting on deliveries of food or other supplies. What troubled Welbeck was that the plan had been made on the spur of the moment, as was Daniel’s habit when he needed to improvise. The sergeant lacked his friend’s ability to make things up as he went along. He liked order, control and the sense of being part of a huge military unit. Cut off from his regiment, he felt isolated. Welbeck was uncomfortable enough being so close to the French camp. The idea of implementing Daniel’s plan only brought him out in a cold sweat.

‘I have a better idea,’ he said.

‘And what’s that, Henry?’

‘I’ll buy you a new sword — two or three of the bloody things, if necessary. Now, please let’s be sensible and leave.’

‘Don’t you want the excitement of deceiving the enemy?’

‘We’ll talk about it when we get back to our camp.’

‘We’re staying here,’ said Daniel, ‘until the right chance comes. All that you have to do is to fire the pistol.’

‘Then what happens? Every one of the soldiers guarding the wagons will race to see who can hack me to pieces first.’

‘They won’t even notice you high up in a tree.’

‘And how am I supposed to get up there? I hate climbing.’

‘Then I’ll help you. We brought rope with us. I’ll climb up there first then haul you up after me.’ He touched Welbeck’s shoulder. ‘I can’t do this without you, Henry.’

‘In my view, you can’t do it at all.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘To begin with,’ said Welbeck, ‘you’ve forgotten our horses. As soon as they hear a pistol being discharged above their heads, they’ll probably bolt off through the trees.’

‘They won’t be anywhere near you,’ Daniel told him. ‘They won’t even be on this side of the road. If they were, they could easily be discovered. We’ll tether them deep in the woods on the other side so that you can collect them after we’ve gone.’

‘And what am I supposed to do then?’

‘Watch and pray, Henry. Think inspiring thoughts.’

‘The only thing that’s inspired me about this venture is that we finally caught those deserters. That’s the kind of work I like, Dan. Rounding up dirty renegades is what I do well.’

‘You can do anything well if you put your mind to it.’

‘Not if it involves climbing,’ protested Welbeck. ‘I like to fight with my feet on the ground, not perched up in a tree.’

‘You won’t have to fight at all,’ said Daniel. ‘You’re my decoy.’

After a lengthy argument, Welbeck was finally cajoled into taking part in the plan. They first took their horses into the woods on the opposite side of the road and tethered them in a clearing. Returning to the place from which they’d started, they searched for a hiding place. The trees were in full leaf and many had high branches strong enough to support a man’s weight. Daniel chose with care, shinning up a trunk with ease then throwing the rope over the sturdy bough on which he wanted his friend to sit. When the rope was tied in position, he used it to haul Welbeck up through the fretwork of branches. The sergeant was spluttering as he was pulled upward through the air and he didn’t dare to look down. He eventually reached safety and he put a hand to his chest. Sitting side by side astride the bough, they were like two birds of prey discussing what they’d managed to catch that day.

‘Don’t ever ask me to do that again, Dan,’ said Welbeck.

‘Why not?’

‘My heart won’t stand it.’

‘You’ll survive,’ said Daniel.

‘I don’t like it up here.’

‘It may not be for long.’

‘How do I get down?’

‘It’s easy,’ said Daniel, dropping the rope and sliding effortlessly down to the ground. ‘Pull it up out of sight.’ The rope vanished behind the leaves. ‘Well done, Henry,’ he called to the now invisible sergeant. ‘Make sure that you have the pistol ready.’

Welbeck took the weapon from the holster attached to his belt.

‘I may use this to kill myself,’ he warned.

‘Stand by — no more words.’

Daniel slipped quietly away and concealed himself behind some thickets on the other side of the road. It was a long wait and he began to fear that Welbeck would be unable to stay aloft indefinitely. The sergeant’s fear of heights could only worsen as time went by. Daniel was still wondering if anybody would come when he finally heard the distant rumble of wagons. A convoy was on its way and it was soon making so much noise that the sergeant was sure to hear it. There were twenty vehicles in all, packed with provisions and flanked by soldiers. As the first set of wheels rolled past him, Daniel was only a few feet away. A second cart passed, then a third, then a fourth. When over half of the convoy had gone, there was still no sound from Welbeck. Daniel felt certain that his friend must have sustained an injury, dropped the pistol or simply decided to abandon the plan.

Then, when it was almost too late, there was the sudden report of a gun, reverberating through the woods to the left. It caused immediate consternation, sending dozens of birds squawking into the sky. Horses neighed shrilly between the shafts and some tried to rear up on their back heels. There was great confusion. An order was barked and the convoy juddered to a halt. Soldiers drew their swords and spread out so that they could search the wood opposite. The sound had been deceptive. Some thought it came from the right, others from the left and others again from a point straight ahead. They kicked their horses forward. While the soldiers combed the woods, the drivers stayed on their carts, staring in dismay at the trees opposite and wondering if an ambush was imminent. Everyone had his back to the woods behind them.

The search was swift but methodical. They looked everywhere, using their swords to hack at bushes and shrubs. The one thing they never thought to do, however, was to look upwards so they never saw the chunky figure of Henry Welbeck, clinging on to the bough for dear life. At length, when they were convinced there was no danger, the soldiers trotted back to the convoy. One of them waved an arm to signal that there was no need for alarm.

‘It must have been a hunter!’ he shouted. ‘There’s nobody there now. Move on!’

Whips cracked and the vehicles creaked slowly into action again, rolling noisily towards the French camp. The interruption was over and all was well again. With their eyes fixed on the road ahead, nobody noticed that they now had a passenger. Daniel had crept under one of the wagons and was suspended between the axles.

Welbeck, meanwhile, had to solve the problem of how to descend from the tree without hurting himself. Daniel had made it look easy but his friend was much heavier and far less agile. After waiting until the noise of the convoy had faded away, Welbeck dropped the rope so that it dangled to the ground. Then he took a firm grip on it and rolled slowly off the bough, bringing both legs together around the rope. He was now hanging in mid-air and assaulted by fears that the bough might break, the rope might slip from his grasp or that he’d somehow lose consciousness and plunge to his death.

Lowering himself with painful slowness, he waited until he had gone down a few yards before swinging on the rope so that he could get within reach of the trunk of the tree. That promised solidity. It needed several attempts before his legs closed gratefully around the trunk and he was able to discard the rope altogether. Confidence restored, Welbeck climbed down through the lower branches until he could jump to the ground. Hurrying to the road, he saw that it was utterly deserted. He let out a cry of amazement.

‘Bugger me!’ he exclaimed. ‘The plan worked.’

Known for his considerate treatment of his men, Marlborough could be ruthless when time served. As soon as he heard that the deserters had been apprehended, he ordered a court martial and presided over it in person. Matthew Searle and his followers were arraigned on charges of desertion, arson, rape, theft and wilful murder. Because the evidence against them was overwhelming, the trial was short. It was time to pass judgement. Cowed and pathetic, they pleaded for mercy. Marlborough was outraged.

‘How dare you ask for mercy,’ he said with vehemence, ‘when you showed none to your unfortunate victims. How dare you have the audacity to imagine that you deserve anything but the death sentence for your appalling crimes. Had you repented of your desertion and returned immediately to this camp, I should have been inclined to be more lenient. But that was not the case here. Oh, no,’ he went on with controlled anger. ‘Wearing the uniform of the British army, you started a reign of terror that consisted of rape, theft, murder and the wanton destruction of property by fire. You brought untold shame upon us and that is unforgivable.’

He consulted briefly with the officers seated either side of him. They agreed wholeheartedly with what he proposed. Marlborough rose to his feet and looked hard at each man in turn before speaking.

‘You have been found guilty of heinous crimes,’ he declared, ‘and you’ve brought disgrace to the uniforms you once wore. The sentence of this court is that each and every one of you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead.’

‘No, no,’ cried Edwin Lock. ‘We’d rather be shot, Your Grace.’

‘It’s more honourable,’ said Searle.

‘For that reason alone, it’s denied you,’ said Marlborough. ‘You have no right to talk of honour. What you did was so dishonourable that it defies belief. How could British soldiers behave with such unconscionable barbarity? How could you sink so swiftly to the level of savages?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Take them away and hold them in custody until a gallows has been built.’

Now in chains, the prisoners were dragged away, two armed guards to each of them. Marlborough thanked the other members of the court martial and they began to disperse. Adam Cardonnel had been watching the whole event. He walked across to Marlborough.

‘You showed too much compassion, Your Grace,’ he said.

‘I certainly felt none, Adam.’

‘Hanging is too good for them. Those men were evil. They should have been burnt alive at the stake.’

‘That sentence is not permitted, alas,’ said Marlborough, sadly, ‘though I can see that it would be a form of poetic justice.’

‘What will happen now?’

‘Word must be sent out to other farms to assure them that the culprits have now been caught and will answer with their lives. We must try everything we can to win back their goodwill.’

‘It may already be too late for that, Your Grace.’

‘Then there’s the boy who survived the raid on his farm. When you write to the people who are looking after him, send them my personal apology. I hope they’ll take some consolation from the fact that the deserters will be put to death.’

‘When will the sentence be carried out?’

‘Not until Captain Rawson and Sergeant Welbeck have returned. According to the report, it was they who led the attack on the place where those vile men were hiding. We must wait,’ said Marlborough. ‘Rawson and Welbeck would hate to miss the occasion.’

‘You’re assuming that they will come back,’ said Cardonnel.

‘Do you harbour any doubts about that?’

‘One is bound to feel some qualms, Your Grace.’

‘I don’t,’ said Marlborough. ‘If I did I’d never have sanctioned the enterprise. To be candid, Daniel Rawson is one of the few people in the Confederate army who doesn’t give me qualms. Somehow — and some day — he’ll come safely back to us.’

It was not the most comfortable way to enter the camp. Hanging under the wagon, Daniel had had to put up with persistent noise, choking dust and an intense ache in every muscle. To add to his problems, one of the horses ahead of him rid itself of several pounds of manure and Daniel’s back grazed it as he passed over the stinking pile. It would have been easier for him to have sneaked into the rear of the wagon and hide among the provisions but he would certainly have been discovered that way. As it was, he was carried into the camp and was able to loosen his hold, drop to the ground and roll over swiftly before the horse pulling the next wagon trampled on him.

Getting to his feet, he stepped behind one of the tents so that he could gather his strength, dust himself off and take his bearings. He also spared a thought for Henry Welbeck, wondering if he’d managed to descend the tree without hurting himself. In Daniel’s view, the sergeant was the ideal person to take on such a hazardous errand. He’d always choose his friend before anyone. Welbeck was tough, reliable and a veritable tiger in combat. He’d also been desperately keen to help in the capture of the deserters and had acquitted himself well when they’d been arrested.

The sword took precedence now. Daniel knew that it was in the camp somewhere and that fact sent a thrill through his entire body. Making light of his aches and pains, he began his search. The first person he needed to speak to was Alphonse, the helpful young sutler who’d shown him around the camp. Daniel headed for the area where he was likely to find him. Alphonse was at work, seated on the ground while he repaired a shoe. When Daniel approached, the sutler didn’t recognise him at first because he was wearing different apparel. Then he looked at the newcomer more carefully.

‘It’s Gustave!’ he said, getting up to welcome him. ‘Where have you been? We thought something must have happened to you.’

‘I had to leave the camp for a while, Alphonse.’

‘Where did you go — and where are those horses of yours?’

‘I’ll tell you later.’ He glanced at the shoe. ‘I didn’t know that you were a cobbler.’

‘You have to learn all trades to make a living these days.’

‘I’m sure. Now, what I’m looking for is my wagon.’

Alphonse sighed. ‘I thought you might be.’

‘Where is it?’

‘I don’t know, Gustave.’

‘It seemed to vanish in the night.’

‘So did you, if it comes to that.’

‘Well, I’m back now and I want my wagon.’

‘Then you’ll have to speak to Victor’s wife,’ said Alphonse, ‘because she’s the one who took it.’

‘What possessed her to do that?’ asked Daniel.

‘Josette wanted revenge. You kicked her husband so hard that his balls swelled up and turned black. He couldn’t bear to let anyone touch them. Josette is a woman who likes her pleasures,’ he went on, ‘and you deprived her of them. She’s had long, cold nights with Victor. That made her angry.’

‘Where is she, Alphonse?’

‘Be nice to her. If you try to bully Josette, she’ll turn nasty.’

‘I just wish to get what’s mine,’ said Daniel.

Alphonse tossed the shoe, the hammer and the nails into the back of his wagon before zigzagging between the other vehicles. The woman they were after was not far away. Daniel had been warned that Josette was big but he’d not expected the gargantuan proportions that greeted him. She was a positive mountain of flesh with bulging arms, flabby legs, a massive belly and a bosom so large, heavy and volatile that it threatened to burst through her bodice. Being married to a blacksmith was appropriate inasmuch as her face had the gleaming hardness of something hammered out on an anvil. When the two men arrived, she was sitting on the ground and smoking a pipe.

‘Who’s this?’ she asked, giving Daniel a hostile glance.

‘This is Gustave, the man I told you about,’ said Alphonse.

She got to her feet at once. ‘So you’re the villain who kicked my husband, are you?’

‘It was only in self-defence,’ said Daniel.

‘Then I’ll knock your frigging teeth out in self-defence.’

‘Gustave is a friend,’ said Alphonse.

‘He’s no friend of mine.’

‘Victor forgave him for what happened.’

‘Well, I haven’t. Take him away before I hit him.’

‘I simply want to know where my wagon is,’ said Daniel, politely. ‘After what I did to Victor, you were right to take it. I deserved that. But I think that we’re even now.’

‘Oh, do you?’ she said, hands on her hips.

‘I did apologise to your husband.’

‘That means nothing to me.’

‘Listen,’ said Daniel, trying to mollify her, ‘I’ll be happy to let you have some of the goods in my wagon by way of compensation.’

‘We don’t need your charity!’ she snarled. ‘What I want is a proper husband not someone with a purple prick that hangs between his legs all night like a dead snake.’ Raising a fist, Josette advanced a few steps. ‘That was your doing!’

Daniel moved back and bumped into Victor, who came up behind him. The blacksmith was in an affable mood.

‘Are you brawling again, woman?’ he said to his wife with a laugh. ‘Who are you battering this time?’ He took a closer look at Daniel. ‘Why, it’s Gustave!’ he exclaimed, embracing him. ‘It’s good to see you again, my friend. We’d given you up for dead. Where have you been?’

‘I had to go away on business,’ explained Daniel. ‘When I tried to take my wagon with me, it had disappeared.’

‘That’s right. Josette took it — but only in jest.’

‘Jest!’ she howled. ‘I’ll tell you what my idea of a jest is. I’d like to bury this bastard up to his neck in horse dung and throw stones at his ugly face.’

Victor chuckled. ‘My wife has a bit of a temper, Gustave,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t take offence — it’s only her way. I’ll show you where the wagon is, if you wish.’

‘Yes, please,’ said Daniel. ‘I’d be very grateful.’

‘There might not be much left in it, mark you. This camp is full of scavengers. If it had stayed where it was, Alphonse could have kept an eye on it.’

‘That’s what I was doing,’ said Alphonse, ‘until Josette came.’

‘I should have torn that wagon to pieces,’ she growled.

‘I’m very glad that you didn’t,’ said Daniel. ‘Please take me to it, Victor.’

‘Get him out of here,’ roared Josette, ‘before I sit on his head and fart in his mouth.’ As the blacksmith led Daniel away, she fired a Parthian shot. ‘And I hope his rotten wagon has been stolen and used as firewood.’

Glad to get out of her reach, Daniel was disturbed by the news that the wagon might have been pillaged. His sword had been hidden under the seat and held in place with some nails. Most people who searched the wagon would not even see the weapon but there was always the possibility that someone might chance upon it.

‘Where did your wife drive it?’ asked Daniel.

‘Down by the stream,’ replied Victor. ‘It was all I could do to stop Josette from tipping it into the water. You upset her, Gustave.’

Daniel looked over his shoulder. ‘Yes, I gathered that.’

‘She likes to get her own back.’

They picked a way between the wagons until they came to a grassy incline. At the bottom of it, perched on the very edge of the stream, was the wagon taken from Ralph Higgins. There was no sign of the horse. When he saw what had happened, Daniel grimaced. Most of the canvas had been torn away from the hoops and the back of the wagon was almost empty. Whoever had stolen the provisions had been very thorough.

Daniel ran quickly down the hill and climbed onto the back of the wagon. Reaching under the seat, he felt for the sword but all that he found was a sharp nail that drew blood from his finger. Daniel was impervious to the pain. He was too numbed by a horrible realisation. His precious sword had gone. He might never find it again.

Still courting his commander’s favour, Captain Raoul Valeran delivered his report with the quiet smile of someone expecting praise for his efforts. Seated at a table in his tent, Vendome was leafing through some papers as he listened.

‘I believe that I’ve found how he got into the camp,’ said Valeran. ‘Posing as a sutler, he joined some wagons that came here a few days ago. I’ve spoken to some of the soldiers who guarded them.’

‘Do we know what name he used?’ asked Vendome.

‘It was Gustave Carraud.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘I made enquiries among the other sutlers, Your Grace. A man of that name came and went, leaving his wagon behind him.’

‘Why should he do that?’

‘I can only imagine that he had no need of it.’

‘Then how did he escape?’ pressed Vendome, looking up at him. ‘He could hardly have walked all the way back to the British camp, especially as he had two women with him.’

‘I have the answer to that,’ said Valeran, eager to impress. ‘It seems that he arrived here with two horses. They vanished at the same time as Captain Rawson and the women.’

‘I see. You’ve done well, Raoul. I congratulate you.’

Valeran beamed. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’

‘It’s a pity that your investigation into the burning down of that farm was not so fruitful. That crime remains unsolved. However,’ he continued as Valeran’s face crumpled, ‘you’ve made amends here. At least we now know how Captain Rawson entered the camp. What is not clear is how he left it during the night.’

‘That takes us into the realm of guesswork.’

‘Quite so,’ said Vendome, standing up. ‘I assume that you searched this wagon of his?’

‘I did, Your Grace,’ said Valeran, ‘though, by the time I got to it, most of its contents had been stolen. What was left behind, however, confirms my belief that Gustave Carraud was indeed Captain Rawson.’ Lifting up the sword that he was carrying, he showed it to Vendome. ‘This was concealed beneath the seat of the wagon.’

‘How interesting,’ said Vendome, taking the weapon and examining it. ‘This has seen good service, by the look of it. I think your supposition is correct — it must belong to Rawson. What use would a sutler have of an army sabre?’

‘That was exactly the question that I asked.’

‘Did you get a description of this Gustave Carraut?’

‘He’s a well-built man in his thirties who can fight like a demon.’

‘How did you find that out?’

‘He had a brawl with some of the other sutlers. I spoke to witnesses who saw him overpower them with relative ease. Evidently, he’s very fit and strong.’

‘That accords with what we already know of Captain Rawson.’ Vendome studied the sword again. ‘He’s fit, strong, daring and imaginative. He can pass himself off as a wine merchant or a sutler with equal facility. For all that, the captain is not infallible.’ He tapped the sword. ‘This proves it, Raoul.’

‘Does it, Your Grace?’

‘Most assuredly,’ said Vendome. ‘I don’t need to tell you how soldiers cherish their weapons. They grow to have a superstitious reliance on them.’

‘I’d certainly never part with my sword, Your Grace.’

‘I dare swear that Captain Rawson has the same attitude. He’d never have abandoned this unless he was forced to do so. That’s what I mean about his fallibility,’ said Vendome. ‘He made a mistake. I suspect that he’s the sort of man who’ll take steps to rectify it.’

Valeran was dubious. ‘Surely, he’d never try to retrieve it.’

‘I think that’s precisely what he might do, Raoul. Perhaps we don’t need Mademoiselle Janssen, after all.’ He brandished the sword in the air. ‘I could be holding a far better hostage in my hand.’