Fire and Sword

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Reeling from the shock of the French victories, the Allied armies took time to recover. Their morale was visibly lowered. They’d been led for so many years by the outstanding military mind of his day and, as a consequence, enjoyed a magnificent record of success. The sudden reversal of fortunes called that success into question. Marlborough had failed them. There could be no equivocation about that. His prestige — so vital a factor in controlling an army of British, Dutch, Austrian, Hanoverian, Prussian and Danish soldiers — had been severely weakened.

Henry Welbeck was never a man to mince his words.

‘What’s got into the bloody man?’ he demanded. ‘We work our balls off to hold onto Bruges and Ghent then he hands them over to the French on a silver plate.’

‘That’s not what happened,’ said Daniel.

‘Well, that’s what it looks like to me, Dan. While we’re stuck here, waiting for signs of life from the enemy, they race off and capture two major towns. Why didn’t His Grace see it coming? Is he blind as well as fucking stupid?’

‘Moderate your language, Henry.’

‘I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.’

‘Nobody can accuse His Grace of stupidity,’ said Daniel, roused to defend Marlborough. ‘He’s a man of exceptional gifts who’s waged this war with exemplary skill.’

‘Until now, that is.’

‘Even the best horse stumbles. I concede that mistakes were made but let me say this in extenuation. His Grace has been ill since the start of this campaign. I’ve never seen him in such poor health. To his credit,’ Daniel went on, ‘he’s never simply taken to his bed and abandoned his responsibilities. He’s forced himself to press on and give us the leadership that we need.’

‘We don’t need a leader who gives territory away.’

‘You’re being far too harsh.’

‘I’m being honest, Dan,’ said Welbeck, fiercely. ‘Our captain general has lost his way and I’ve lost my faith in him.’

Daniel was upset to hear such biting criticism of Marlborough from someone as experienced as the sergeant. It was symptomatic of a deep malaise that had spread throughout the ranks. The Allied armies had met with setbacks before but they’d never been blamed on its commander-in-chief. This was different. Such was the scale of their loss that Marlborough was being singled out as the scapegoat. Daniel felt that it was unjust.

They were trying to hold their conversation above the turmoil all round them. The army was striking camp. Along with all the other regiments, the 24^th Foot would soon be on the march but they’d do so with a diminished confidence in their leader.

‘What are we going to give to the French next?’ asked Welbeck, cynically. ‘Are we going to sacrifice Brussels to them as well?’

‘We’re going to do what we always do — fight back hard.’

‘We have to find the enemy first.’

‘Our scouts are already at work, Henry.’

‘Where were they when the Frenchies made their dash for Bruges and Ghent? Why didn’t they raise the alarm?’

‘There’s no point in dwelling on the mistakes of the past.’

‘There’s every point, Dan. It’s the only way to stop the mistakes being repeated. Everyone in this army knows that forewarned is forearmed. Yet we had no bloody warning at all.’

‘The French deceived us,’ conceded Daniel. ‘They disguised their initial movements as large-scale foraging and we were thrown off the scent. They achieved a remarkable coup.’

‘In other words, they have better generals than we do.’

‘No, Henry, it simply means that they caught us napping this time. It won’t happen again.’

Welbeck was unconvinced. ‘I wish I could believe that.’

‘There’s something you’re forgetting,’ said Daniel. ‘I was inside the French camp only days ago. I know when an army is about to go on the march and I saw no sign of that whatsoever.’

‘That’s easy to explain,’ said Welbeck, bluntly. ‘You were too busy looking for your damn sword to notice anything else.’

The sergeant went off to yell at some soldiers who were too slow in taking down their tent. Wounded by the tart comment, Daniel had to admit that there was some truth in it. His single-minded pursuit of the sword had blinkered him. On his second visit to the camp, he should have taken more notice of what was going on there. He was still reflecting on his failure when Jonathan Ainley came up to him.

‘We’re on the move at long last,’ said the lieutenant.

‘It’s going to be a forced march. We can’t let the French outmanoeuvre us again. I hear that their main army has already crossed the River Dender and their pioneers will no doubt be breaking down the bridges at places like Alost and Ninove.’

‘What sort of a mood is His Grace in?’

‘I’m more concerned about his health,’ said Daniel. ‘His mood is as defiant as ever but he’s suffering from a fever as well as a migraine. His Grace is hardly in the best condition to wage a war.’

Marlborough put on his hat, straightened his back and adjusted his coat. He looked pale, drawn and in obvious pain. Alone with him in the tent, Cardonnel was anxious.

‘You shouldn’t push yourself like this, Your Grace,’ he said.

‘An army needs its captain general.’

‘Not if he’s indisposed. Your doctor advised complete rest.’

‘At a time like this,’ said Marlborough, ‘I can’t afford to rest.’

‘Your migraine has been worse than ever today.’

‘That’s why I’m so determined to strike back at those who gave it to me. Burgundy and Vendome are the authors of my headache.’

‘Too much activity will only make it worse, Your Grace.’

‘Then I’ll have to endure it.’

‘I think it’s time that you put your health first for once.’

‘Stop fussing over me,’ said Marlborough, good-humouredly. ‘You’re sounding like my dear wife. If I so much as cough, she thinks that I’m about to expire. Take heart, Adam,’ he went on, ‘I’m not nearly as bad as I must look.’

Though he recognised it as a patent lie, Cardonnel said nothing. Nobody had been in such constant contact with Marlborough as his secretary and he’d been able to gauge the steady deterioration of the other’s health. More worryingly, he’d also seen him sink lower and lower into melancholy. Physical exhaustion was matched by a mental fatigue that had taken its toll on Marlborough’s brimming confidence. There’d been moments when he’d lapsed into unqualified despair.

For his part, Marlborough steeled himself to withstand the drumming inside his head and the creeping heat that turned his body into a furnace. In the face of a daring French strategy, he’d been found wanting and that had inflicted a deep wound on his pride. Accustomed to receiving unstinting praise, he was now being roundly condemned in some quarters. Ordinarily, when he walked around his camp, he floated on a wave of respect and affection. Both, he feared, had been forfeited. Silent reproach from his officers could be borne far more easily than his loss of esteem among the common soldiers. Corporal John had to earn back their regard immediately.

As Marlborough was about to leave, Cardonnel had a request.

‘At the very least, travel in your coach,’ he said.

‘No, Adam,’ replied Marlborough, stoically. ‘I need to ride at the head of the army. I have to be seen.’

The hasty departure meant that Daniel had little time to take his leave of Amalia Janssen. While he was going in one direction, she was about to be taken back to Amsterdam with an armed guard.

‘When will I see you again?’ she asked.

‘It may not be for some time, Amalia,’ he warned.

‘Please write to me, if you can.’

‘I’ll endeavour to do so.’

She took his hands. ‘I’m sorry that I caused so much trouble.’

‘You caused none at all,’ he said.

‘I let myself be taken as a hostage, Daniel. That put your life in danger and I still shudder when I think about it.’

‘You didn’t get kidnapped deliberately.’

‘Nevertheless, I put you to a lot of trouble.’

Daniel smiled. ‘Coming to your rescue was no trouble at all, Amalia,’ he said. ‘My only regret is that I brought Mademoiselle Prunier with us. I should have left her with her paymasters.’ He looked over his shoulder as another regiment marched past. ‘I’ll have to go now. Think of me.’

‘Nothing could stop me doing that.’

‘Have a safe journey!’

‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I’m far more concerned about your safety than mine. You could be involved in a battle.’

‘I’m ready for it,’ he said, patting the sword that hung by his side. ‘Now that I have this back, I can’t wait for action in the field.’

Amalia trembled. ‘It worries me when you talk like that.’

‘Then don’t listen to what I say.’

‘You seem to welcome danger.’

‘The only thing I welcome is an end to this interminable war,’ he told her, ‘and I’m prepared to do anything I can to bring it about. Only then can I think about spending more time with you, Amalia.’

She squeezed his hands. ‘Good luck, Daniel!’

‘I was hoping for a farewell kiss.’

‘You don’t need to hope,’ she said with a laugh.

‘Thank you — this is the best way to part.’

Enfolding her in his arms, he gave her a long, lingering kiss, relishing every luscious second of it and ignoring the envious jeers of the soldiers who went swiftly past them.

One thing for which Marlborough’s soldiers were justly famed was their ability to put on a superb display of forced marching. They kept their shape, negotiated any undulations in their path with ease and maintained a considerable speed. Indeed, they moved so fast that they almost caught the French army in two separate columns halfway between Tubize and Ninove. In the event, all that the French rearguard lost was its baggage. The duc de Vendome saw it a reason for congratulation.

‘We fooled them again,’ he said, chortling. ‘We flourished our colours in the scrub and gave the impression that our entire army was about to give battle. That made them back off at once.’

‘Marlborough has been tricked once more,’ said Burgundy, sipping a celebratory glass of wine. ‘That won’t improve his temper.’

‘Or his health, for that matter — he’s a sick man.’

‘Is that what your intelligencer told you?’

‘Sophie Prunier — Madame Bouteron, I should say — met him in person. She said how old and ill he appeared.’

‘We’re not here to act as his physicians, my lord Duke. A sick commander is a serious handicap. We must exploit his weakness to the limit. The best way to do that, I feel, is to lay siege to Menin.’

‘That would take us farther west,’ argued Vendome, ‘and our real destination should be Oudenarde. Seize that and we’d have complete control of the central part of the Scheldt before the Allies have time to bring in reinforcements.’

‘I still favour Menin as our target.’

‘Then I beg you to reconsider, my lord. Our first task should be to occupy the river crossings at Lessines. That would prevent the enemy from getting over the river and severing our communications with Lille and Tournai.’

‘I’ve taken that into account.’

‘Then respond accordingly.’

‘You advice is welcome,’ said Burgundy with a lordly smile, ‘but I choose to disregard it in this instance.’

Vendome bristled. ‘Oudenarde has to take priority over Menin.’

‘That’s for me to decide.’

‘It’s the crucial fortress town on the Scheldt. Until we capture it, the Allies will always be masters of that stretch of the river.’

‘I know that, my lord,’ said Burgundy, irritably, ‘and I promise you that we’ll attack it in due course. Before that, however, I wish to invest Menin.’

‘That operation would divert too many of our men.’

‘Yet I find myself minded to attempt it.’

‘After we occupy the crossings at Lessines,’ insisted Vendome, ‘and after Oudenarde has fallen. Everything must be done in order. Even you must accept that.’

Burgundy was brusque. ‘I wish that you wouldn’t keep questioning my decisions, my lord Duke,’ he said.

‘If you made the right ones, there’d be no need to question them.’

‘I take that as an insult.’

‘It was not meant to be,’ said Vendome, trying to smother his rising fury under a pillow of politeness. ‘I defer to you at all times and, as we’ve shown, we can devise a strategy that’s both guileful and effective. On this point, however, there’s a diversity of opinion. May I suggest that you consult the other generals? I think you’ll find that they’ll agree to a man with me.’

‘I refuse to wage war by means of a show of hands,’ snapped Burgundy, putting his glass down on the table. ‘That has echoes of democracy about it and there’s nothing I abhor more than that. I don’t deny that most of the generals would side with you. It’s only natural that old friends will support you against someone less seasoned.’

‘They will see exactly what I see, my lord.’

‘Then they are looking in the wrong direction. What they should bear in mind is that I was appointed by His Majesty to lead this army and my orders are above reproach.’

‘I accept that,’ said Vendome in a voice that contained no hint whatsoever of acceptance. ‘I just ask you to depend for once on my experience in the field.’

‘Menin must come before Oudenarde.’

‘Is that a command or an opinion?’

Vendome met his gaze and there was a crackle of animosity in the air. Burgundy could not back down, yet, at the same time, he could not disregard the advice of a man who’d tussled so successfully with Marlborough in the past. Moving his glass aside, he looked down at the map that was laid out on the table. Oudenarde was less than twenty miles to the south-west of Ghent. Once taken, it would form a triangle with Bruges. Menin, by contrast, was farther to the west and north of Lille, a citadel so well fortified that it was the jewel of French fortresses. To take Menin would be to nullify any possibility of an attack on Lille from that direction. Burgundy made up his mind.

‘This decision needs to be referred,’ he said, settling for a compromise.

‘That would waste valuable time,’ protested Vendome.

‘We need royal approval here, my lord Duke. His Majesty will decide which we besiege first — Menin or Oudenarde.’

‘If we wait for His Majesty’s decision, it may be too late.’

‘Without it, we can do nothing.’

Vendome wanted to storm out of the tent in a rage but managed to maintain a measure of control. All that he could do was to wait and hope that his plan gained royal assent. He gave a rueful nod.

‘So be it, my lord,’ he said, darkly. ‘So be it.’

Now that the campaign had at last been set alight, Marlborough acted with speed and authority. Brigadier Chandos was sent post-haste to Oudenarde, travelling at night with sizeable reinforcements. The main army was still at Assche and it was there that Daniel Rawson attended a council of war as an interpreter. Aware of how feverish Marlborough was, he was amazed at the coherence of the plan that was outlined.

‘We must reach the river crossings at Lessines as soon as is humanly possible,’ declared Marlborough, brooking no dissension. ‘I’ve already ordered eight days of bread to be baked so that we’re not hindered by shortage of food. In the interests of speed, our baggage and transport must be reduced to an absolute minimum.’

‘What exactly does that mean, Your Grace?’ asked a voice.

‘If you want chapter and verse,’ said Marlborough, picking up a list, ‘I’ll give it. Generals of foot are permitted to retain three wagons and a coach.’ There was an audible gasp from around the table. ‘Other generals are allowed only two wagons and a coach. Brigadiers must manage with one of each and colonels with only a pair of wagons. Yes,’ he went on over the heavy murmur, ‘I know that it will lead to inconvenience but it can’t be avoided. If we lose the race to Lessines, then we’ll be trapped on this side of the river.’

Daniel was impressed by his masterly performance. It was just like old times. From where he was sitting, however, he couldn’t see the perspiration dribbling down Marlborough’s face or assess how weak he now was. When the meeting broke up, a number of generals clustered around their commander-in-chief to clarify certain points in his orders. Daniel had the opportunity to take Cardonnel aside.

‘What is the state of His Grace’s health?’ he asked, quietly.

‘It’s a cause for concern, Daniel.’

‘Concern is not alarm.’

‘We’ve not reached that stage yet, thank God,’ said Cardonnel. ‘His doctor bled him today and advised him to sweat out the fever. He’s suffering badly but will, as you saw, rise above any discomfort he may feel.’

‘His bravery is a lodestar for us all.’

Cardonnel grinned. ‘I’ve heard that said about you.’

Oh, I could never emulate His Grace,’ said Daniel with humility. ‘He can inspire a whole army. All that I can offer is the kind of blind courage that enables me to risk my life for the sake of a sword. I’m already beginning to feel ashamed of that episode.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I put my selfish needs before my duty to the army.’

‘You’ll discharge your duty much better if you have the right sword in your hand, Daniel.’

‘That’s true.’

‘And if you have any twinges of conscience, there’s a simple way to get rid of them. Distinguish yourself in battle and you’ll feel that you made amends.’

‘That depends if there is a battle,’ said Daniel. ‘We know that the French like to skirmish but will they meet us in a frontal attack? I must say, I have my doubts about that.’

‘I don’t,’ returned Cardonnel, ‘and, as you heard, His Grace is convinced that they are ready for battle this time. There’s far too much at stake for them to pull back now. They want to erase the memory of Ramillies. Our task is to renew it.’

When the Allies marched south to camp at Herfelingen, their spirits were raised by the appearance at last of Prince Eugene. Unfortunately, he only arrived with an advance guard, having pressed on four days ahead of his cavalry. The bulk of his men were still approaching Brussels. They were being shadowed by Marshal Berwick, the hero of Almanza, where he’d crushed the Allied forces with a combined French and Spanish army. Berwick’s orders were to watch Eugene’s forces until their intentions became clear.

At the sight of his tardy ally, Marlborough rallied at once and gave Eugene a cordial welcome. Prince Eugene’s bold leadership had earned him immense respect during the preceding years. He heard and readily agreed with Marlborough’s plan of action. When Cadogan set off for Lessines with an elite body of men, hand-picked for their valour and for their experience, Eugene wished them well. He followed with the main army which broke camp at two in the morning.

Night marches were familiar to Marlborough’s soldiers. They would never be popular but they usually achieved the desired result. So it was in this case. The French were heading for Lessines from the opposite side of the River Dender, bent on seizing the crossings and keeping the Allies at bay. They were mortified to learn that Cadogan and his men had been in the town since dawn and that the main army reached the river hours ahead of them. In all, Marlborough’s forces had covered an astonishing thirty miles in less than thirty-six hours. Their speed completely disrupted French plans.

Seeing what had happened, Vendome was puce with anger. He turned on Burgundy, riding beside him, and spat out the words.

‘They got here before us,’ he said with disgust.

‘We moved as fast as we could, my lord Duke.’

‘Had you listened to me, we’d have been here yesterday and in a position to keep them on the opposite bank. By seeking the authority of His Majesty before we acted, we squandered our opportunity.’

‘May I remind you,’ said Burgundy, piqued by his tone, ‘that His Majesty approved of my suggestion to invest Menin?’

‘He won’t approve of this catastrophe, my lord.’

‘I don’t view it as such.’

‘My advice was to secure the crossings here with all due haste and besiege Oudenarde. Neither objective is now possible.’

‘The siege of Oudenarde was not sanctioned by His Majesty,’ said Burgundy, taking refuge behind the authority of his grandfather. ‘You read his dispatch, my lord Duke. The most that he recommended was that we should blockade the town.’

‘It’s too late for that now as well. Their men are already pouring over the Dender in large numbers.’

‘In that case, we must withdraw.’

‘But we have a chance to force a battle,’ urged Vendome. ‘Their main army has not arrived in full yet and Prince Eugene’s cavalry are still days behind. This is a moment for us to strike.’

‘I think not,’ said Burgundy after using a telescope to review the strength and disposition of the Allied forces. ‘We’ll move north of Oudenarde and camp on the bank of the Scheldt.’

‘I beg of you to think again, my lord.’

‘I will only reach the same decision a second time.’

‘What is the point of bringing our army here if we are not prepared to fight?’ asked Vendome with exasperation. ‘Marlborough will not withdraw. He’ll not yield one inch. If we attack, he’s bound to close with us. Circumstances may not favour us again,’ he went on. ‘We must take advantage of them while we can.’

Burgundy paid him the courtesy of considering his advice. He surveyed the enemy through his telescope again then pulled out his saddle map. Opening it up, he indicated a point on the river.

‘We’ll withdraw,’ he said at length, ‘and head northwards towards Gavre, camping here.’ His finger tapped the map. ‘That will put the Scheldt between us and our enemy. There’ll be other opportunities for battle, my lord. For the moment, we need to pitch camp so that we can gather our strength and decide on our next move. There’s no hurry,’ he went on, complacently. ‘Their army and its reinforcements will not reach the Scheldt for some time yet.’

Nightfall found both armies sited beside a river. While the French were on the east bank of the Scheldt, the Allies had lit their campfires on the west bank of the Dender. The town of Oudenarde lay between them. Burgundy and Vendome were stationed a mere six miles north of it. Marlborough and Eugene were some fifteen miles to the south-east. Unlike the French commanders, they were in agreement with each other. Anticipating the possibility of a siege train being sent to Oudenarde, they decided to advance rapidly towards the town. In the dead of night, the ever reliable Cadogan was once again sent ahead with a force composed of eight squadrons, sixteen battalions, thirty-two regimental guns — lighter pieces attached to each battalion — and a bridging train.

Cadogan’s orders were explicit. He was to improve the road, allowing faster movement over it for those following, establish five pontoon bridges to the north of Oudenarde and build a protective bridgehead on the Scheldt. This, it was hoped, would allow the Allies to cross the river to the west bank before the French did so. Now attached to Marlborough’s staff, Daniel was with him when a first report came back from Cadogan.

‘He’s in sight of the river,’ said Marlborough with satisfaction.

‘At what time was the message sent, Your Grace?’ asked Daniel.

‘Nine o’clock this morning.’

‘They’ve moved fast.’

‘William Cadogan is not a man to dawdle. According to this,’ said Marlborough, holding up the missive, ‘the French camp is at Gavre. They’ll be crossing the Scheldt before long. We mustn’t keep them waiting.’

Daniel was soon in the saddle, riding with Marlborough at the head of forty squadrons, eager to join Cadogan’s advance guard before the French realised what their intentions were. By one o’clock in the afternoon, they were thundering across the wooden timbers of the pontoon bridges. Behind them, the infantry were already on the march from Lessines. Daniel was exhilarated. He was not only heartened to see Marlborough shaking off his physical debility and behaving with characteristic authority, he sensed that battle was finally at hand. The Allies would have an opportunity to avenge the loss of Bruges and Ghent, and the sword that Daniel had taken such pains to retrieve would be put to good use.

Vendome’s temper had not improved overnight. If anything, it was at an even higher pitch. When news of the enemy’s movements reached him, wrath crimsoned his cheeks and put murder in his eyes. He rounded on his commander-in-chief.

‘You assured me that the Allies wouldn’t reach the Scheldt for days,’ he said, accusingly. ‘While our men are still crossing the river as if they have all the time in the world, Marlborough’s soldiers are already here on the west bank.’

‘His speed took me by surprise,’ confessed Burgundy.

‘When you match yourself against Marlborough, you must always expect surprises. Otherwise, you’re doomed to fail.’

Burgundy was adamant. ‘There’s no chance of our failing when we have a much larger army,’ he asserted. ‘Evidently, a battle is imminent. We’ve been left with no alternative but to fight.’

‘We should have been in a position to dictate the terms of the encounter,’ complained Vendome, ‘and not have it forced upon us. If you’d listened to my advice at the start, the Allies would still be fretting outside the walls of Lessines.’

‘That’s all in the past,’ said Burgundy, dismissively. ‘We have to meet this new situation and do so with vigour.’

‘On that, at least, we can agree. We should attack at once.’

‘I think not, my lord Duke.’

‘All that we’re facing at the moment is the advance guard. If we fall upon them without delay, we can put them to flight then march on Oudenarde.’

‘I have a better strategy.’

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Vendome. ‘Have you learnt nothing? Every second we delay gives the enemy time to bring more men across the river. We should strike now before reinforcements arrive. With deference to your position,’ he went on, trying to show a semblance of respect, ‘I submit that there is no better strategy.’

‘Then we must agree to differ,’ said Burgundy with muted anger. ‘I suggest that you calm down before you make a judgement. A cool head is required, my lord Duke.’

‘What use is a cool head without a detailed knowledge of warfare?’ said Vendome under his breath. Controlling himself with a conscious effort, he became apologetic. ‘Forgive my hasty words, my lord. The prospect of battle excites me somewhat. I implore you to follow my advice this time and act decisively.’

‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. Having inspected the terrain with care, I want the army to form into line of battle along the ridge to the north of the River Norken. From there, we’ll be able to see the spires of Oudenarde.’

‘The time to look at spires is when we’ve defeated the enemy,’ said Vendome, earnestly. ‘Strike now and we can rout them.’

‘You’ve heard my decision,’ declared Burgundy, ‘and it will stand. Like everyone else under my command, you must obey orders.’

Vendome scowled. There was nothing more to be said.

By the time that Marlborough and Eugene caught up with him, Cadogan had already had a brush with the cavalry of the French advance guard. Undaunted by larger enemy numbers, he hailed the arrival of the others and was eager to attack. His unassailable buoyancy raised the spirits of his men. After conversing with Cadogan about what had already occurred, Marlborough watched the enemy deploying along a low, partly wooded ridge that was punctuated by three small villages.

‘They’ve chosen well,’ he said with grudging admiration. ‘It’s a strong position.’

‘Do we still attack, Your Grace?’ asked Cadogan.

‘We came here to fight and that’s what we’ll do.’

‘There are many risks involved.’

Marlborough grinned. ‘That’s never stopped you before, William.’

‘And it won’t do this time,’ said Cadogan, heartily.

‘Now that we have them in our sights, we’ll offer them battle. We must do — nothing else will suffice. We need a victory to appease our critics. If it miscarries, I’m ready to shoulder the blame.’

Overhearing the exchange between the two men, Daniel was impressed. Both men were confident and clear-headed. Since most of the Allied army were still scrambling over the pontoons, their leaders would be courting danger with an attack. Simultaneously, however, they’d be signalling to the enemy that they felt capable of inflicting serious damage on them even with a depleted force. The boldness of the plan appealed to Daniel.

Cadogan’s appetite for action had been whetted. He was keen to be in the field again. Ahead of him were seven enemy battalions, made up of Swiss mercenaries. Sent forward by Vendome, they had, by an oversight, never been recalled. Cadogan acted decisively. With the consent of Marlborough, he unleashed his attack on them with British redcoats to the front supported by Hanoverian cavalry to their flank and rear. When the two sides met, there was an ear-splitting cacophony of clashing blades and musket fire, supplemented by cries of agony from men and horses as they were shot, hacked or bayoneted to the ground. The popping of musketry became a roar and clouds of smoke marked the successive volleys. The Swiss had erected some rudimentary barricades but they failed to hold back the onslaught. Cadogan’s men were well trained, quick to respond to orders and merciless in combat. As soon as some of them fell, others stepped over their bodies to continue the fight with an iron determination.

The result was never in doubt. The Swiss brigades had been taken unawares. Their leaders had never imagined that Allied forces in such strength could be so close. Shocked and unprepared, they were no match for Cadogan’s infantry and were soon put under intolerable pressure by the surging waves of redcoats. Cadogan deployed his men with such skill and purpose that they overcame all opposition within an hour. As the Swiss retreated, the Hanoverian cavalry harried them ruthlessly. Daniel was thrilled at the early success. Cadogan had not merely vanquished the Swiss and taken masses of prisoners, he’d bought priceless time for reinforcements to catch up with them. It augured well for the battle ahead.

Burgundy was dismayed by what he saw. From his position on the ridge, he witnessed the complete destruction of his Swiss battalions. It made him think again about how to fight the battle. Vendome, who’d been an ardent advocate for striking hard at the enemy, now felt that it was too late to attack. Once again, he was overruled. On the orders of Burgundy, the French right wing began to pick its way down the slopes and over the River Norken, one of the many streams that crisscrossed the area. It was close countryside with ditches, marshes, bushes, hedgerows, copses, brambles and thick undergrowth hindering progress.

At approximately five o’clock, the right wing attacked Cadogan’s forces with ferocity, overlapping it to the west and threatening to engulf it. Some relief came from a battery posted by Marlborough to fire away incessantly at the advancing French hordes. To counter the threat of being enveloped, Cadogan changed his front to the left but his line remained thin and potentially fragile. Fortunately, the nature of the terrain left little scope for cavalry. At Blenheim and at Ramillies, they’d been offered a wide, open, uncluttered plain on which troops could be aligned in strict formation and cavalry charges used to effect. The battle of Oudenarde, it was now clear, would be decided by fierce, unrelenting, hand-to-hand fighting by the infantry.

Vendome led from the front with a verve that inspired his men. While Burgundy remained on the ridge with the left flank, his second-in-command was in the thick of the action, wielding a half-pike with unflagging power and driving his army on. He was quick to notice that the only open ground was to Cadogan’s left and that it was occupied by Prussian and Hanoverian horse with no supporting infantry. It was a weak point that needed to be exploited. Conscious of this, Vendome sent an urgent message to Burgundy, telling him to overwhelm the cavalry by launching the left wing. In doing so, the French would be able to attack Cadogan from both flanks and crack his army like a walnut.

Like much of Vendome’s sound advice, it was disregarded. Burgundy’s staff reported incorrectly to him that his troops would be hopelessly caught in a morass if they descended from the left. To the eternal chagrin of Vendome, therefore, thirty thousand soldiers remained as passive spectators on the high ground. Instead of being crushed by greater numbers, the Allied forces were being steadily replenished. Tragically for the French, the messenger sent to inform Vendome that the left wing would not come to his aid was killed before he even reached the general. The message was thus never received. Vendome fought on courageously, waiting in vain for the requested left wing to join in, betrayed by Burgundy’s inexperience and by the false information on which the commander-in-chief based his decision.

Daniel was encouraged by what he saw. The cultivated fields and the widespread thickets deterred a French cavalry that would have held a distinct advantage. Instead, it was the superior infantry of the Allies on which the result would rest. Marlborough ensured that the battle didn’t drift into utter confusion. He gave it shape and direction. Daniel was employed as a galloper, carrying messages to and fro between the various generals. Seeing that Vendome’s forces were putting Cadogan under severe pressure, Marlborough brought up twenty battalions under the Duke of Argyll and extended the Allied flank westwards. In spite of repeated French attacks, the line held out. The very real danger of being swamped by enemy numbers had passed.

No sooner had Daniel returned to Marlborough’s side than he was dispatched to bring some other reinforcements into action, riding across the battleground with sabres flashing murderously all round him and musket balls whistling past his ear. Eugene, meanwhile, was given command of the right flank, leaving Marlborough to operate on the left. Over to the west, the captain general observed a rim of higher ground swinging round the perimeter of the battle, largely free of vegetation and suitable for cavalry. It was time to use General Overkirk’s troops, a combined force of Dutch infantry and cavalry. They were sent wide and deep to the enemy rear. Though he, too, was a sick man, leading his troops from the comfort of his coach, Overkirk responded to the call, following orders to send some of his men in a tighter turn against the flank of the French infantry line.

Daniel was galloping all over the battlefield, carrying orders and using his sword to hack a way past any opposition. He brought news to Marlborough that Eugene was hard-pressed on the right flank and twenty battalions of infantry and seventeen squadrons of British cavalry were immediately dispatched to his aid. When he looked down from higher ground at the field of battle, Daniel marvelled at the way Marlborough had marshalled his men, rushing reinforcements to vulnerable points and searching out points of potential weakness. It was in sharp contradistinction to the role of the French commander-in-chief. Still on higher ground, well behind the front, Burgundy was a helpless bystander who made no meaningful contribution. Far below him, the indefatigable Vendome was flailing away with his half-pike, too engrossed in the battle to be able to impose any control over it. Marlborough looked up at the sky. Evening was closing in.

‘How much more light do we have, Daniel?’ he asked.

‘No more than an hour, Your Grace,’ replied Daniel.

‘Then there’s no time for delay.’ After scribbling some orders, he handed them to Daniel. ‘Take this to General Overkirk with all speed possible. He is to attack.’

Burgundy could not believe what he saw. Masses of Dutch infantry and cavalry seemed to appear from nowhere and surge down the slopes like a waterfall. French cavalry, aching with fatigue and thinned out by heavy losses, turned to face the newcomers but they were swept aside by Overkirk’s men who rode deeper and deeper into the French rear, spreading panic wherever they went. Keeping a much tighter line, another part of the Dutch forces descended on the French to effect a double encirclement of them. The noose was slowly but inexorably tightened. One of the largest French armies ever to take the field was being strangled into submission. Indeed, so tight was the encirclement that the Dutch were, at one point, inadvertently firing at each other.

In the arrogance of youth, Burgundy had been composing in his mind the report he’d expected to send to Versailles of a magnificent victory. Instead, he would have to describe a humiliating defeat and try to explain why his left flank — comprising fifty battalions and a hundred and thirty squadrons — was marooned on a ridge throughout the whole six hours of battle.

Daniel claimed his share of the action. As the French were driven from ditch to ditch, splashing madly through stream after stream in their headlong retreat, Daniel hacked and thrust away with his sword, killing four men outright and wounding several others. When his horse was brought down by a stray shot, he jumped clear and fought shoulder to shoulder with the advancing line of redcoats. The noise was deafening, the smoke blinding, the battlefield littered with dead and dying. It was a complete rout. French cavalry, infantry and dragoons were mixed higgledy-piggledy. Battalions and squadrons became so hopelessly entangled with each other that there was no sense of order or definition. They fled in desperation.

Somewhere in the vast melee, Henry Welbeck was still fighting as well, using a discarded half-pike like the sail of a windmill and exhorting his men to pepper the backsides of the retreating French with volleys of musket fire. Lieutenant Ainley was also in his element, leading fearlessly and fighting with a ferocity that belied his mild temperament. After killing and wounding indiscriminately, his men rounded up prisoners by the score. Along with all the other British regiments of foot, the 24^th had distinguished itself yet again.

As the rings of terror tightened even more around the enemy, the light gradually faded and the battle had perforce to be adjourned. Marlborough’s delight was edged with disappointment.

‘If we’d been so happy as to have two more hours of daylight,’ he said, ‘I believe we should have made an end of this war.’

As it was, unbeknown to him, the outcome had already been decided. His exhausted soldiers spent the night on the battlefield amid the butchered corpses of men and horses, sprinkled by gentle rain. Their captain general slept in the saddle, waking early in order to renew hostilities at dawn.

But there was no foe in sight.

The ridge above the River Norken was deserted. Burgundy and Vendome had limped ignominiously away to Ghent with the remnants of their shattered army. It was all over. When Marlborough and Prince Eugene entered Oudenarde itself and rode into the square, they were cheered to the echo by their soldiers. Thousands of French prisoners were being held in the town, including some six hundred officers. When the full numbers of dead, wounded, prisoners and deserters were known, it amounted to twenty thousand men. Forty French battalions had been smashed out of existence and others had suffered savage losses. Marlborough was exhausted but exultant. He dashed off a note for the Earl of Stair to deliver to Sidney Godolphin in London.

I must acknowledge the goodness of God in the success he was pleased to give us; for I believe Lord Stair will tell you they were in as strong a post as it is possible to be found; but you know when I left England I was positively resolved to endeavour by all means a battle, thinking nothing else would make the Queen’s business go well. This reason only made me venture a battle yesterday, otherwise I did give them too much advantage; but the good of the queen and my country shall always be preferred by me before any personal concern; for I am very sensible if I had miscarried, I should be blamed. I hope I have given such a blow to their foot, that they will not be able to fight any more this year. My head aches so terribly I must say no more.

Daniel stayed long enough in camp to see Matthew Searle, Edwin Lock, Hugh Davey and the other renegades hanged for their crimes. While the rest of the army were celebrating a glorious victory, eight men who could have taken part in it were dangling from the gallows. It was not a sight that Daniel enjoyed because it reminded him too much of the occasion when he watched his father being hanged with other rebels after the battle of Sedgemoor. He turned away from the scene. Welbeck was beside him.

‘The bastards got what they deserved,’ said the sergeant with grim satisfaction. ‘It’s as well that they’re so fond of fires because there’ll be plenty of them where they’re going.’

‘I didn’t think you believed in heaven and hell,’ said Daniel.

‘I don’t believe in heaven, Dan, but I know all about hell.’

‘Do you?’

‘It’s called army life.’

Daniel laughed. ‘Only you can be grumbling at a time like this,’ he said. ‘You helped to give the French another hiding and you’ve had the pleasure of seeing Searle and his men strung up. Yet you still can’t find a good word to say. I suppose you’ll even criticise His Grace for the way he led us into battle.’

‘No,’ said Welbeck, ‘I salute him, Dan, and I take back what I said about him earlier. He’s neither blind nor stupid. The way that he routed the enemy showed that he’s still at the height of his powers. And while we’re on the subject,’ he continued, ‘I’ll admit that I was wrong about Lieutenant Ainley as well. He’s not the complete idiot I took him for. Once the smell of battle got into his nostrils, he fought like a demon. I saw him scything his way through the French.’

‘I must make a note of the date and time of day,’ teased Daniel. ‘I’ve never heard you praise two of your superiors at the same time. Such a rare event needs to be commemorated.’

Welbeck grinned. ‘It won’t happen again, I can tell you.’

‘And you were wrong about heaven — it does exist, Henry.’

‘I’ve never seen it.’

‘Then you must have kept your eyes closed at Oudenarde. That’s my idea of heaven — a wondrous victory that reminds me why I joined the army in the first place.’

‘You only joined in order to use that bleeding sword of yours.’

After sharing a laugh, they exchanged farewells. News of their triumph had already been sent to The Hague. Daniel had been given the task of delivering a full account of the event to Grand Pensionary Heinsius. It was an honour he readily accepted because it would take him back to Holland and he didn’t intend its capital to be the only place that he visited.

Glancing out of the window, Beatrix was the first to see him and her cry of delight roused the whole house. When Daniel was admitted to the voorhuis, the welcoming committee comprised Amalia, Beatrix, Emanuel Janssen, Kees Dopff, the other weavers taken on by Janssen and the rest of the servants. Daniel only had eyes for Amalia. He greeted everyone individually but was pleased when all but one of them melted away into the house or the workshop. Left alone with Amalia, he was able to embrace her and kiss away the time they’d been apart.

‘What are you doing in Amsterdam?’ she asked.

‘I was hoping that you’d be thrilled to see me, Amalia.’

‘I’m overjoyed.’

‘His Grace instructed me to deliver dispatches to The Hague,’ he explained. ‘I think he knew that I’d relish the opportunity of paying a brief visit to you.’

‘We were so happy to hear what happened at Oudenarde,’ she said, stepping back to look him up and down. ‘What makes me even happier is that you seem to have come through the battle unscathed.’

‘Good fortune attended me yet again.’

‘Did you have no injuries at all?’

‘None that prevented me from coming here,’ he said. ‘My horse was shot from under me and I collected a few painful bruises as I fell. Otherwise — thank God — I escaped unharmed.’

‘Tell me all about it, Daniel.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘But I want to hear the details.’

‘Then you’ll have to find someone else who was there.’

She frowned. ‘Why are you being so unhelpful?’

‘Because I don’t want to waste the little time we have together, talking about a battle. It was fierce, hectic and very bloody, Amalia. My sword gave me good service. That’s all I’m prepared to say.’ He picked her up in his arms and twirled her around a couple of times. ‘Let me forget about the army for once in my life.’

‘But you’ve just helped to conquer the French.’

‘The only conquest I’m prepared to discuss is you.’

Face glowing, Amalia laughed with sheer joy.