Fire and Sword

CHAPTER SIX

Lieutenant Jonathan Ainley was a tall, thin, pale-faced man with a long, beaky nose competing for facial dominance against an unusually large and dimpled chin that curved upwards. An efficient officer, he’d settled well into army life and learnt to accept its many shortcomings without complaint. Set against its defects, however, there were definite advantages. One of these was the warm camaraderie that existed and Ainley relished this aspect of his chosen lot. Drawing on their support, he was excessively friendly and obliging to all his fellow officers. In the case of Daniel Rawson, he hovered close to hero worship.

‘Tell me the story in your own words,’ he urged.

Daniel shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to tell, Jonathan.’

‘Nothing to tell?’ echoed Ainley. ‘If I’d abducted a French officer then used his uniform as a disguise, I’d be crowing about it from the rooftops.’

‘That’s perhaps why you’re not involved in espionage,’ said Daniel. ‘When you gather intelligence, discretion is everything. How did you come to hear about it?’

‘A little bird told me, Daniel.’

‘Then he’s been singing too loud. You might warn him that if I find out who he is, I’ll tie his beak shut.’

‘You’re among friends. Why not share your adventures?’

‘Loose tongues can cause trouble,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure that the major who loaned me his uniform has found that out by now. My guess is that he’s been severely punished.’

‘Whereas you should be feted for what you achieved.’

‘I did what I was told to do, Jonathan — no more, no less.’

‘You ought to take some pride in your exploits.’

‘Oh, I do,’ admitted Daniel, ‘but only in private.’

They were standing outside Ainley’s tent in the British camp, surrounded by activity and forced to raise their voices above the routine clamour. Drums were beating nearby as soldiers were being drilled. Supply wagons were rolling noisily past. Distant orders were being barked out. Artillery was arriving. Nobody took any notice of the light drizzle that started to fall. After the heavy rain that greeted the arrival of spring, it was a relief.

‘I’m surprised that His Grace could spare you,’ said Ainley. ‘You’re such an important member of his personal staff that he must want you constantly by his side.’

‘You overrate my importance, Jonathan,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m a very junior member of the staff. I’m far more useful if I gather intelligence than I would be if I sat in endless meetings with His Grace.’

‘I thought you acted as his interpreter.’

‘I do on occasion. My command of Dutch, French and German has been put to good use. But I’m not needed when Major General Cadogan is there, because he speaks all three languages.’

‘Heaven knows how he mastered Dutch. It’s so complicated.’

Daniel smiled. ‘That’s exactly what the Dutch say about English because they find it so fiendishly difficult to learn.’

‘All I’ve ever managed are a few phrases in French,’ said Ainley, scratching his chin. ‘Not that it matters, I suppose. On the battlefield, we speak the universal language of brute force.’

‘It is tempered with some subtler tones,’ replied Daniel.

He was about to explain what he meant when he spotted the unmistakable frame of Henry Welbeck coming towards him and hailed his friend with a wave. Since Daniel was in the company of another officer, the sergeant spoke with more formality.

‘Good morning, Captain,’ he said. ‘Good morning, Lieutenant.’ The two men exchanged greetings with him. ‘I was wondering if there was any news about those men who raided two farms then burnt them to the ground?’

‘I’ve heard nothing more,’ said Daniel.

‘Neither have I,’ added Ainley. ‘What I can tell you is that nobody has been arrested for those outrages. To all intents and purpose, the villains got away with it.’

‘Yes,’ said Welbeck, sourly, ‘and they did so in British uniforms. That’s what irks me. We rarely get permission to forage and, even if we do, we try to show respect to any civilians. Word must have spread by now. Every time people see redcoats coming towards them, they’ll shrink back in fear.’

‘The raiders will be caught sooner or later,’ said Daniel.

Ainley was doubtful. ‘I fear that they’ve gone to ground,’ he said. ‘They could take more chances during the winter when very few people were on the roads. They could strike then disappear very quickly. That’s no longer the situation.’

‘No,’ agreed Daniel. ‘There’s a lot more traffic about now and the evenings are drawing out. It’s not so easy to escape being seen.’

‘Those devils have probably returned to camp now,’ said Welbeck. ‘Without knowing it, one of our cavalry regiments is harbouring ruthless killers.’

‘Some people might say that all soldiers are ruthless killers,’ remarked Ainley with a half-laugh. ‘It’s an occupational necessity at times. However,’ he went on, ‘I’m sure that you didn’t come to talk to me, Sergeant. I’ll leave you to Captain Rawson.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Welbeck waited until Ainley was out of earshot before turning to Daniel. ‘How ever did that blinking idiot get to become a lieutenant?’

‘He did what most officers do, Henry — he bought a commission.’

‘You didn’t do that.’

‘No,’ said Daniel, ‘but, then, I could never have afforded it. If I hadn’t been promoted on merit, I’d still be stuck in the ranks being bullied by some black-hearted sergeant like you. As for Jonathan Ainley, he’s better than some I could name. He’s a competent officer and respected by his men.’

‘Well, he’ll get no respect from me.’

Daniel laughed. ‘None of us can expect plaudits from you, Henry,’ he said. ‘I sometimes think that you joined the army for the express purpose of despising its officers. According to you, we’re all complete dolts.’

‘There are a few exceptions.’

‘Does that mean we’re slowly winning you over?’

‘There’s not a chance of that, Dan,’ asserted Welbeck. ‘I’ve spent too many years taking stupid orders from well-bred fops who simply want to shoot game, drink wine and play cards all day.’

‘That sounds like an attractive prospect to me. I only wish it were truly like that but we both know that it isn’t. Since we’ve been involved in this war,’ Daniel told him, ‘every spring and summer has consisted of nothing but marches, sieges, skirmishes and occasional major battles. That’s the pattern we’ve been following.’

‘So when will we be on the move this time?’

‘We have to await orders.’

‘You must know what they’re going to be.’

‘I wish I did, Henry, but His Grace hasn’t confided in me as yet. There are a number of elements to be considered before any final decisions can be made. However,’ added Daniel, ‘I can tell you this. The likelihood is that we’ll have an opportunity to meet the French on the battlefield again. They’re eager to avenge their defeat at Ramillies with a decisive victory. That’s why they’ve mustered such a large army against us.’

‘We’ve beaten large armies before. The Frenchies hold no fears for me, Dan. I’ve killed too many of them. What I’m worried about are some of the people fighting on my side.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The heartless bastards who destroyed those farms,’ said Welbeck, bitterly. ‘They’re hiding somewhere in our ranks and that makes my blood boil.’

‘They won’t stay here indefinitely,’ decided Daniel. ‘I fancy that the temptation will be too strong. It won’t be long before we hear of a marauding band on the rampage again.’

The boy was ten, old enough to do his fair share of the chores on the little farm yet young enough to yearn for childish pleasures. When he’d finished work that afternoon, therefore, he ran off to the stream nearby to dangle his bare feet in the water while he carved a boat out of a piece of wood. Happily engaged with his knife, he didn’t even look up when he heard the clatter of hooves on the road behind him. After shaving the prow of his vessel, he held it up to examine it from every angle. Deciding that it was still not ready, he carved the stern into a more rounded shape then ran a finger over it. Primitive as it was, the boat felt smooth and capable of staying afloat. At the exact moment when he launched it on the water, however, shots rang out from the farm and he jumped to his feet in alarm.

He was less than forty yards away but shielded by the bushes growing along the bank of the stream. As he peered around them, he saw the most horrific sight. Three bodies lay on the ground. They belonged to his father and two elder brothers. Blood-curdling screams from the house were recognisably those of his mother and sister. His first instinct was to run to their defence, but what could he do against armed soldiers in red uniforms? There was an additional shock for the boy. He heard the crackle of fire and saw smoke rising from the barn. The next moment, he was forced to watch the livestock being driven off by some of the men. When the horses had been taken, the stables were set alight. His whole world was suddenly aflame.

If he couldn’t stop them, he thought, he could at least get close enough to see who they were. Keeping low, he crept furtively towards the farm. The raiders didn’t even look in his direction. They were too busy seizing what they wanted. The fire had taken a firm hold now and the crackle had turned into a deafening roar. The boy moved steadily forward until he hit a wall of blistering heat that stopped him dead. When he glanced at the farmhouse, telltale wisps of smoke were now coming through the windows. His mother and his sister had stopped screaming but they were still inside. Desperate to help them, he was held back by the billowing flames.

The attackers were pleased with their work and started to mount their horses. The last man to join them seemed to be their leader because he bellowed orders as he emerged from the farmhouse, doing up his belt. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he cackled happily before putting his foot in the stirrup and heaving himself up into the saddle. A sudden gust of wind then blew the flames away from the boy for a second. It was as if a curtain had been drawn back. What he saw, and what he would always remember, was the red beard and mad eyes of their leader, a big man with an evil laugh, who took one last look at the bonfire before giving the command to ride off with the day’s spoils. The wall of flame returned to block his vision and the boy could see no more.

Somewhere downstream, his boat sailed bravely on.

The Duke of Marlborough sat tight-lipped in consternation as Daniel delivered the report. Adam Cardonnel was the only other person in the tent and he was equally appalled at what he’d heard. Daniel tried to translate a garbled version of events into something more articulate. When the recitation was over, Marlborough wanted answers.

‘This happened this very afternoon, you say?’

‘Yes, Your Grace,’ replied Daniel.

‘And where exactly was the farm?’

‘It’s about ten miles west of here. If I may look over your shoulder for a moment,’ he said, standing behind Marlborough then pointing with his index finger at the map on the table, ‘it would be close to here.’

‘Then it’s on territory held by us,’ said Marlborough, worriedly. ‘Every farm on it has a right to our protection. The last thing we need to do is to turn the civilian population against us.’

‘Where did this information come from?’ asked Cardonnel.

‘The protest was made by another farmer,’ said Daniel. ‘I was there when he came into camp. He was too agitated to make much sense at first but I managed to tease the relevant details out of him. It seems that the boy ran four miles barefoot to the next farm to tell his tale. The lad was in a terrible state, and who can blame him? He lost his home, his parents and his siblings in one dreadful swoop. As soon as the farmer heard what had happened, he galloped here to demand that we punish the culprits.’

Cardonnel nodded. ‘I’d say that was a very legitimate demand.’

‘They’ll be punished,’ vowed Marlborough, frowning deeply. ‘I’ll supervise their execution myself. First, however, we have to identify them.’ He turned to Cardonnel. ‘Send word to every cavalry regiment, Adam. I want to know details of every patrol that rode out of here.’

‘I’ll draft letters immediately, Your Grace.’

‘Ask for a description of where the patrols went and the names of those men involved. We may have to do this by a process of elimination but we’ll catch them in the end. They’re not British soldiers — they’re vicious criminals.’

‘And they wear our uniforms,’ said Cardonnel, ruefully.

‘I’m not certain about that,’ Daniel put in.

‘You just told us that redcoats committed this atrocity.’

‘They did, but that doesn’t mean they belong to us. I’ve been thinking how difficult it would be for one of our patrols to rustle livestock then burn down a farm. Where would they keep the animals? They could hardly bring them back here to camp. Nor could they rely on being sent out on patrol again at a time of their choosing. Do you see the problem here?’ he went on. ‘The boy talked of nine or ten soldiers who raided the farm. When patrols are sent out, they vary greatly in size. It’s unlikely that the same group would be dispatched together each time.’

‘That’s true,’ agreed Marlborough, grasping at the possibility that his men might not, after all, be responsible. ‘We may have a smattering of god-forsaken rogues in our midst but we also have thousands of honest, decent, responsible men who’d draw back at such horrors. If they had the faintest whiff of it, they’d report it to their superiors.’

Daniel became pensive. Cardonnel watched him carefully.

‘I know that look in your eye, Daniel,’ he said at length. ‘You’ve been meditating on this, haven’t you? I suspect you have a theory.’

‘As it happens,’ Daniel answered, ‘I have two.’

‘If either exonerates our soldiers, let’s hear it.’

‘The first theory does that. I believe that these redcoats might actually be French soldiers, deliberately wearing our uniforms to give the impression that we’ll slash and burn for the sheer love of it. It would be easy for them to get hold of uniforms,’ Daniel continued. ‘After any engagement, the battlefield is littered with them.’

‘That sounds very plausible,’ said Marlborough, thoughtfully. ‘Burgundy and Vendome know that we don’t enjoy the unqualified support of the Flemish population. We’ve yet to win their loyalty, let alone their affection. What better way to stir up enmity against us than to portray us as callous murderers? Thank you, Daniel. Your theory has the ring of truth about it.’

‘Yet it is only a theory, Your Grace,’ Daniel reminded him.

‘And it’s partnered with another,’ noted Cardonnel.

‘This one is not so reassuring, I’m afraid,’ cautioned Daniel, ‘because it puts the onus back on us. It would be very comforting to think that French soldiers have carried out the three raids, thereby lifting suspicion off British soldiers. However…’

‘Go on,’ Marlborough encouraged.

‘I incline towards my second theory.’

‘Which is?’

‘That these men are deserters from our own ranks,’ said Daniel, ‘hiding behind our uniforms and initiating another attack whenever they want a fresh supply of food or some more excitement.’

‘Ha!’ cried Marlborough, smacking the table. ‘What excitement can there be in shooting unarmed men and raping their womenfolk? What kind of warped minds take delight in the wilful destruction of property? They behaved like wild animals. If they really are British renegades, there’s all the more reason to track them down.’ He turned to Cardonnel. ‘When you send those letters, Adam, ask for a list of any deserters from our cavalry regiments.’

‘I will, Your Grace,’ replied Cardonnel, reaching for pen and paper, ‘and I’ll do it promptly.’

‘They may not all be from the cavalry,’ said Daniel. ‘Some of them could equally well have fled from regiments of foot and stolen some horses. May I suggest that we examine the lists of all deserters?’

‘That’s a wise precaution,’ agreed Marlborough, studying the map. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll send out patrols to search for them. So far, there have been three raids. The victims have all been roughly in this area to the west,’ he went on, tapping the map with his finger. ‘That’s where the search must start. The attacks are obviously planned with care. They always choose small, isolated farms where they can expect little resistance.’ He sat back. ‘Where will they strike next, I wonder?’

‘We can only hazard a guess, Your Grace,’ said Daniel. ‘With your permission, I’ll pursue another line of enquiry. The third attack is very similar to the others but there’s a significant difference.’

‘What’s that, Daniel?’

‘We have a witness.’

‘He’s only a frightened ten-year-old boy.’

‘Nevertheless, he may have seen something that could help us. When the lad has had a little time to recover, I’d like to talk to him. He may, for instance, have heard those men speak.’

‘That would be valuable evidence,’ said Cardonnel. ‘At least, we’d know what language they used. It’s a good suggestion.’

‘I concur,’ added Marlborough. ‘Take a patrol with you.’

‘I’d prefer to go on my own, Your Grace,’ said Daniel.

‘Why is that?’

‘The boy has had enough of a scare already. If he sees another troop of redcoats descending on him, he’ll be terrified. I’ll go on my own and I won’t wear my uniform.’

‘That’s very sensible.’

‘I have to win the boy’s confidence somehow,’ said Daniel, ‘and that will be difficult. Might I suggest that any patrols sent out are kept well clear of this farm where the lad is now staying?’

‘I’ll ensure that they are, Daniel.’

‘Thank you, Your Grace. I’d like to think that this is all part of some French plot to discredit us in the eyes of the local people. In my heart, however,’ Daniel went on, sadly, ‘I have a lurking suspicion that the men we’re after served in the British army and ran from their colours. That, in itself, is a heinous crime. What they’ve done since, I’m afraid, is quite monstrous. They soiled our reputation and stirred up hatred against us.’ Daniel’s face hardened. ‘That’s unforgivable.’

The farmhouse stood beside a stream in the shadow of a hill that protected it from the worst of the weather. The summit commanded views in all directions. A lookout posted on it could see anyone approaching across the plain from miles away so they always had advance warning of company. It was a paradox. Men who made a living by burning down farmhouses had actually restored this one. When they first found the place, it was little more than a shell, its walls crumbling, its roof collapsed, its stone-flagged floors overgrown with weeds. After stealing tools, timber and tiles, they’d set about repairing their new home, building a snug refuge to see them through the winter. There’d been no shortage of wood for the fire.

The roof was now sound, the rooms swept clean, the shutters mended and new doors kept out the wind and rain. They’d even made some crude furniture. Anything else they’d needed, they’d simply looted. From the ruins of the barn, a new one had risen, stocked with hay and straw. Animals penned behind the farmhouse were killed and roasted when the need arose. A pig was turning on the spit today, the tempting aroma of pork wafting through the air. The men were already licking their lips.

There was another paradox. Soldiers who’d deserted from an army that imposed too much discipline on them had readily accepted an even stricter regimen. They knew that it was essential to follow orders now or forfeit their lives. There was, however, a difference. In the army, they were at the mercy of loathsome superiors against whom they had no redress. They were now part of a band that had elected their leader. Matthew Searle was one of them, a soldier from the rank and file, a strong-minded man who’d refused a chance to become a corporal out of sheer bloody-mindedness. Yet now he was wearing the uniform of a captain, albeit one that was stained with blood and ventilated by bullet holes. Searle was bold, cunning and decisive. He held the ragged band together by force of character.

Edwin Lock was a short, skinny, rat-faced man with bulging eyes and a twitching moustache. Sucking on his pipe, he sidled across to Searle, who was seated at the kitchen table, counting money.

‘I need to speak to you, Matt,’ he said.

‘Shut up,’ ordered Searle.

‘We’ve been talking, you see.’

‘I don’t care what you’ve been doing, Edwin. You can just hold your tongue until I finish. Open that big mouth of yours again and I’ll halve your share. Is that what you want?’

Lock held his peace and waited impatiently as Searle put the money into a series of piles. It was the life savings of the family who’d occupied the last farm they’d raided. At the time, it had seemed like a reasonable haul. Divided between ten of them, however, it looked less substantial. Searle was a natural democrat. He expected no privileges because of his position as leader. Ten equal amounts stood on the table. His arithmetic lesson was over.

‘Well?’ he asked, glancing up at Lock. ‘What have you got to say for yourself this time?’

‘It’s really what the others have got to say, Matt. They get bored out here without women.’

‘The town is only two hours away. All they have to do is to ride over there and they can buy the juiciest slit they want. They have the time and the money.’

‘Wouldn’t it be easier to have the women here?’ said Lock with a sly grin. ‘The girl in that last farm, for instance. Why did we have to kill her? She’d have given us sport for days out here.’

‘Yes,’ conceded Searle, ‘but you’d all have been fighting each other over whose turn it was next. I want none of that here, Edwin. If they want to dip their wick, the men can ride into town. The whores are cheap and succulent there.’

‘Then why don’t we pay for some of them to come here?’

‘No, I tell you.’

‘They could cook and sew for us as well.’

‘They’d be too busy on their backs,’ said Searle, stroking his red beard. ‘I love my fucking as much as the next man but I know the dangers of having women under our feet. They’re a terrible distraction and they’d expect to be pampered.’ Rising to his feet, he towered over Lock. ‘We’re on the run, Edwin. Never forget that. There’ll be patrols out looking for us and it may be necessary for us to find another place to hide. That’s why I keep a man on top of that hill in daylight hours. We must always be on our guard.’

‘Women would help to pass the time.’

‘They’d encumber us and there’s an end to it.’

‘We miss them, Matt. It’s one of the reasons we deserted.’

‘You’ll have your share of cunny before too long,’ promised Searle with a grin. ‘I’ve picked out the next farm already. I went over there last week to get the lie of the land. There’s a buxom wife, two daughters and two servants. That’s five lovely women between us. Pass the news around to the men. We’ll take our pleasure with them before we send them up to heaven in dancing flames.’

Lock was thrilled. ‘I like the sound of that,’ he said, panting. ‘British soldiers will have another victory to enjoy.’

‘Not this time, Edwin.’

‘No?’

‘This farm is in enemy territory so we’ll change sides. Look out those blue uniforms we collected,’ ordered Searle. ‘When we burn down the next farm and swive the women, we’ll be troopers in the French cavalry.’