Fire and Sword

CHAPTER NINE

It was a long ride and they didn’t reach their destination until evening shadows were lengthening. Waiting under cover of some trees, they watched until the farmyard was completely deserted. Through the open shutters, they could see candles burning.

Edwin Lock was impatient. He grabbed his cousin’s arm.

‘Let’s go, Matt,’ he urged.

‘It’s too early,’ decreed Searle.

‘But they’ll be eating their supper now. They’ll be off guard. Those four men left ages ago. We’ll soon deal with the ones still there. Then we can help ourselves to the women.’

‘I want the fat one,’ said Gregory Pyle, almost dribbling. ‘I saw her coming out of the byre with a pail of milk. She’s mine — I like plenty to hold on to.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ cautioned Searle.

‘But you promised, Matt.’

‘All I promised was that you’d get your turn.’

‘Then I want it with that fat milkmaid.’

‘This is not a common whorehouse, Gregory. You can’t pick and choose. We have to kill the men, grab what we want then get out of there as quickly as possible.’

‘What about me?’ asked Lock.

‘You set fire to the barn.’

His cousin pulled a face. ‘I did that last time.’

‘Then we know we can rely on you,’ said Searle. ‘When you’ve got a good blaze going, you check to see what livestock is worth rustling. They’ve still got some pigs left. We’ll have to slaughter them first. That’s another job for you, Edwin. The next thing we need is one of their horses. Hugh can take care of that. Tie the dead pigs together and sling them across the horse’s back.’

‘And where will you be all this time, Matt?’

‘Inside one of the women like me,’ said Pyle, sniggering.

‘You’ll obey orders,’ Searle told him, ‘or you’ll end up like Ianto Morgan. Each one of us must have a particular job and make sure we do it quickly. Edwin and Hugh know what they have to do — now for the rest of you.’

Searle had planned the attack in advance. He gave his men their orders and reminded them that the village was only two miles away. When the fire was at its height, it would be seen from a long distance and help would soon arrive. They had to be well clear before anyone came galloping out from the village. Searle was wearing the uniform of a lieutenant in the dragoons. Like the ones donned by his men, it had been stolen from a corpse left behind after a skirmish. He ran a finger around the inside of the collar.

‘I don’t know how anyone managed to wear this,’ he complained. ‘It’s so tight, it’s almost strangling me.’

‘You’ve been demoted, Matt,’ said Hugh Davey.

‘What are you on about?’

‘Last time you were a captain in the British army.’

Searle grinned. ‘Yes…that uniform could have been made for me. I know what it feels like to be an officer now.’

‘I hate officers,’ said Davey. ‘All they do is piss on the likes of us. I wasn’t putting up with it any more.’

‘That’s why you joined me, Hugh,’ said Searle. ‘I may make the decisions about where we strike but we have equal shares after that. Whatever the haul tonight, we’ll all get the same amount.’

Lock grinned. ‘That goes for the women as well.’

There was general laughter. They carried on bantering until the shutters were eventually closed and the occupants of the house had all rolled off to bed. At a signal from Searle, they came out of hiding and trotted towards the farm. Dismounting well before they actually reached it, they led their horses forward then tethered them to some bushes. They had an array of weapons, mostly filched from dead French soldiers. Some had pistols, others had muskets and a couple of them preferred daggers. When they reached the farmhouse, Searle waved them to their positions. Lock and Davey stayed outside while three of them went to the rear entrance of the building. Searle led two of the others to the front.

Using the element of surprise, they suddenly forced their way in and went charging upstairs, flinging open the doors of the bedrooms without ceremony. One of the farmer’s sons was shot dead but another was only wounded and leapt naked from the bed to grapple with his attacker. A third son was stabbed to death but the farmer himself was unharmed. When Gregory Pyle fired a musket at him in the dark, he killed the man’s wife instead and found himself wrestled to the floor. The other women screamed at the top of their voices.

Searle took it upon himself to finish off the two male victims still alive, cutting the throat of the one who’d been wounded so that his own man was released. Though he repeatedly stabbed the enraged farmer who was on top of Pyle, he was too late to save his friend from having the life strangled out of him. With their bloodlust sated, three of the other raiders chose a woman apiece and hurled them down onto their respective beds. Searle, meanwhile, hurried downstairs again, lighting a candle before searching for the place where the money was kept. Outside in the yard, Lock had set the barn ablaze and was trying to catch one of the squealing pigs in the sty. The creature kept slipping from his grasp and Lock had difficulty staying on his feet in the slimy, dung-covered sty. Davey harnessed one of the animals in the stables and brought it out to act as a packhorse.

Things were not going well. On their previous raids, there’d been little resistance. The men were killed instantly and the women ravished. This time they had casualties. Pyle was dead and Regan, the man who’d grappled with the wounded son of the farmer, was badly bruised. When he tried to overpower one of the women, she fought back so hard that he could not subdue her. Searle was having no success downstairs. Though he searched every nook and cranny, he could find neither money nor any other valuables. He dashed back upstairs to continue the search there, using the candle to illumine each room and going past beds on which frantic women were trying to push their attackers away. None was submitting without a fight, shrieking, biting and using their nails to scratch.

Through a gap in the shutters, Searle could see the flames from the barn as the fire really got a purchase. It would soon be spotted by someone in the village. Flying into a panic, his search became even more frenzied. He ran into the main bedchamber, stepped over the corpses of Gregory Pyle and the farmer then flung open the door of the little wardrobe. Nothing of value was in it or in the wooden chest under the window. Searle even dragged the dead body of the farmer’s wife off the bed so that he could lift up the mattress. No money was hidden beneath it. Panic mounting, he searched every inch of the room but to no avail. In his frustration, he kicked the farmer hard and swore under his breath. Then he used the candle to set light to anything that would burn.

When Searle went back to the top of the stairs, Lock and Davey were pounding up them, their faces gleaming with hope.

‘Where are the women, Matt?’ asked Lock.

‘You’re too late,’ snapped Searle. ‘We’re leaving.’

‘But we haven’t had our turn yet,’ wailed Davey.

‘Get outside before I kick you back downstairs. Things have gone wrong. We have to get out of here.’

Protesting aloud, the two men retreated down the steps. Five minutes later, the whole band was riding away with the blood-covered carcases of the pigs slung across the packhorse. Behind them, in the burning farmhouse, nobody had been left alive.

Since the 24^th had borne the brunt of the attack, Daniel was called upon to deliver a report on the skirmish. He was in Marlborough’s quarters in the new camp. Adam Cardonnel was also present. Daniel’s summary was succinct and lucid.

‘That’s my opinion, Your Grace,’ he concluded. ‘I think that it was a foraging party. They saw us coming and couldn’t resist the opportunity to give us a bloody nose.’

‘What were our casualties?’

‘Eight men were killed and almost thirty wounded.’

‘That’s rather more than a bloody nose,’ said Marlborough. ‘How many of the attackers fell?’

‘Only three of them,’ replied Daniel, ‘because they had the cover of the rocks. However, several were wounded. We captured a handful of them. The rest got away.’

Marlborough was philosophical. ‘It was ever thus,’ he observed. ‘The French are always inclined to turn tail and run. We seem to have spent most of this war looking at their retreating backs. This incident was highly regrettable,’ he went on, shrugging it off, ‘but of no real moment. There’ll no doubt be others like it during the campaign.’

Daniel thought that their commander looked better than he had done for some time. He knew that Cardonnel was worried about him and had noticed the signs of weariness and pessimism. Customarily, Marlborough radiated a quiet confidence, something he imparted to the ranks as well as to his officers. Corporal John knew how to raise the morale of his troops, though he had yet to do so in the current campaign. The best judge of his condition was his secretary and, from Cardonnel’s face and manner, Daniel could see that he was less concerned about Marlborough. It was reassuring.

While he had his commander’s ear, Daniel returned to the topic that preoccupied him. The memory of Jules, the boy whose whole family had been butchered, was never far from his mind.

‘Are patrols still searching for those renegades?’ he asked.

‘They are, Daniel,’ answered Marlborough. ‘In spite of everything else that needs to be done, I’m resolved to hunt them down.’

‘I think we’ve identified their leader.’

‘Who is he?’ asked Cardonnel.

‘Matthew Searle of the 5^th Regiment of horse,’ said Daniel. ‘When he deserted, he took a few other malcontents with him as well as some spare horses. He must have gathered the rest of his band after he left camp. One of them was Private Edwin Lock of the 24^th.’

‘How can you be so certain of that?’

‘It turns out that Lock was Searle’s cousin. The two of them deserted on the same day — I checked up from that list you compiled. It has to be more than coincidence.’

‘I agree,’ said Cardonnel.

‘It’s a small mercy, I know,’ Marlborough put in, ‘but at least we’ve had no reports of further outrages.’

‘None that have reached us,’ said Daniel, ‘but then, we’ve moved well away from that area. Searle and his men could still be on the rampage. Given what we know of these renegades, I fancy that they’ll continue their raids until they’re stopped.’

‘They will be, Daniel, I promise you.’

‘I’d like to be there when that happens.’

‘We can’t waste your talents on a routine patrol.’

‘My talents would be put to good use, Your Grace,’ said Daniel. ‘I’d be helping to catch some very dangerous men. Every time they strike, they sew even more hatred of us in the minds of the local people. That irks me.’

‘It irks me as well,’ said Marlborough. ‘I want the French army to fear the sight of redcoats, but not the ordinary folk of Flanders. We need them to accept us.’

‘They won’t do that if these men are allowed to run amok.’

‘This means a lot to you, Daniel, doesn’t it?’ said Cardonnel. ‘You have a personal interest in this.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why is that?’

‘I heard what that lad had been through,’ said Daniel, ‘and it was harrowing. He may have survived but he’ll have nightmares about the raid for the rest of his life. When he heard that I was a British soldier, he flung himself at me like a terrier.’

‘Boys of that age act impulsively,’ noted Marlborough with a half-smile. ‘I once met a young lad named Daniel Rawson with the same kind of raw courage. Whatever happened to him, I wonder?’

‘I heard a rumour that he’d joined the army,’ said Cardonnel.

‘He showed great pluck. We should harness that.’

‘My situation was slightly different,’ said Daniel. ‘Though I lived on a farm, I’d always wanted to be a soldier like my father. I don’t think that Jules will ever end up wearing a uniform he despises. He just wants to be a farmer and live in peace.’

‘We’re striving to achieve that peace,’ Marlborough pointed out, ‘though it obviously doesn’t seem so to this unfortunate lad. Much as I sympathise with your motives, Daniel, I can’t let you ride off with one of the patrols. You must stay with us. We’re striking camp again.’

‘Already, Your Grace?’

‘In response to our move here, the French have shifted their base eastwards over the River Senne. Reports put them at Braine-l’Alleud.’

Daniel knew his geography. ‘That would mean Louvain was under threat,’ he said.

‘Precisely — that’s why we must block their approach. We’ll march through Brussels and set up camp at Terbanck, immediately south of Louvain.’

‘That’s more or less what we did last year, Your Grace.’

‘Yes,’ said Marlborough, sadly, ‘and we may very well find ourselves repeating the manoeuvre again next year. We’re playing a form of chess, Daniel. When they move a piece on the board, we have to counter it at once — until, that is, we can seize the initiative.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. What I do know is that King Louis didn’t send such a huge army to the Spanish Netherlands in order for them to sit on their hands indefinitely. Sooner or later, they mean to strike. That’s why you’re of more use to us here than chasing a band of deserters. Who knows?’ he added. ‘They may not even be here any more. They could have returned to England.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Daniel with feeling. ‘They’re still here — I know it.’

Vendome was in the middle of a meal when the report was handed to him. He read it while chewing a mouthful of chicken. Captain Valeran, celebrating his recent promotion, was dining alone with him in the privacy of the tent. Vendome passed the report across to his favourite then turned to the messenger.

‘When did this happen?’ he asked.

‘A few days ago, Your Grace,’ replied the man.

‘How can they be sure that French soldiers were involved?’

‘One of them was killed and left behind. When the fire had died down, they found that his uniform had been burnt to a cinder but the buttons had survived and so had his musket. The buttons and the weapon were both ours. They confirmed that the raid was carried out by French soldiers.’

‘That’s dreadful!’ exclaimed Valeran.

‘It’s more than that, Raoul,’ said Vendome, angrily. ‘It’s utterly barbaric. I want the culprits identified and brought to me. If they’re so fond of flames, I’ll have them cooked over a slow fire.’

‘The raid was a long way away from here.’

‘That makes no difference. It occurred on territory we hold and which we should therefore safeguard.’

He dismissed the messenger with a flick of the hand and the man left the tent. Taking another bite out of the chicken, Vendome brooded, ignoring the gravy that dripped onto his lapel. Valeran passed the report back to him.

‘What are you going to do, Your Grace?’

‘I’ll make every effort to find them as quickly as possible. And I’ll need someone to return to that village.’

‘Why?’

‘They have to be pacified and recompensed,’ said Vendome. ‘No soldiers under my command should ever behave this way. When foraging is required, it’s sometimes necessary to use a little force but there’s never any call for a massacre like this.’

‘The whole farm was razed to the ground.’

‘Speak to the four men who used to work there.’

Valeran was taken aback. ‘You want me to go there?’

‘It’s a sign of how much trust I put in you,’ said Vendome, swilling down his food with some wine. ‘Find out more details of what went on and assure those four men that we’ll make some kind of restitution. We can’t afford to rebuild the whole farm, of course, but a gesture on our part will show them how seriously we take this whole business. Leave with a patrol first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘Yes, Your Grace,’ said Valeran without enthusiasm.

‘But be sure to hurry back — I’ll miss you.’

The captain rallied immediately.

‘What’s his name, Henry?’ asked Daniel.

‘Ralph Higgins.’

‘And who is he?’

‘One of the sutlers,’ said Welbeck. ‘At least, that’s what he claims to be. I think he’s here for another reason altogether.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘It concerns you, Dan.’

When he received the note from his friend, Daniel had hurried across to the area of the camp occupied by the 24^th Foot. Knowing that he would not be summoned on a trivial matter, he met Welbeck outside the sergeant’s tent. Daniel was curious.

‘What’s the fellow doing among the 24^th?’

‘Pretending to sell provisions to the men,’ said Welbeck. ‘He sought me out because someone told him that I was a close friend of a certain Captain Rawson.’

‘Go on.’

‘Higgins was very plausible. He gave me some free tobacco to make me well disposed towards him. He’s an affable devil, I’ll give him that, and I was happy to chat with him for a while. Then he started to ask questions about you, Dan, far too many questions. That’s what aroused my suspicions. I think he’s a French spy.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He’s being held inside.’

‘Then I’ll go in and introduce myself,’ said Daniel.

Crossing to the tent, Daniel pulled back the flap and stepped inside. Welbeck followed him. Ralph Higgins was seated on a stool with an armed soldier beside him. Higgins leapt to his feet at once. He was a tall, well-built man in his thirties with curly brown hair above a swarthy face that wore an expression of mingled surprise and pain. ‘Could someone tell me what’s going on?’ he begged.

‘That’s exactly what we want to ask you,’ said Welbeck.

Higgins spread his arms. ‘I’m a sutler. I follow the army and sell to the soldiers. It’s how I make my living.’

‘Then why did you show such an interest in me?’ asked Daniel. ‘According to Sergeant Welbeck, you peppered him with questions about me. Are you intending to write a biography?’

‘Are you the famous Captain Rawson?’ asked Higgins, beaming. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, sir,’ he went on, offering his hand and giving Daniel a warm handshake. ‘You’re something of a legend in the 24^th, I hear.’

‘And from whom did you hear that?’

‘From just about everyone I’ve spoken to. The first person to mention your name was Lieutenant Ainley.’ The sutler laughed. ‘If ever you do want a biographer, sir, he’s the man for you. It was the lieutenant who told me that Sergeant Welbeck was your good friend.’

‘That’s right,’ said Welbeck, gruffly. ‘I was put on this earth to make sure that no harm comes to Captain Rawson. If I sense any danger — and you reek of it — then I become very suspicious.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ said Higgins, amiably. ‘In fact, I was very much counting on it.’

Welbeck blinked. ‘Were you?’

‘How else could I get to meet Captain Rawson? Now that he’s a member of the Duke’s personal staff, he’s out of reach of humble folk like me. The only way to approach him was through you.’

Welbeck was indignant. ‘Are you saying that I was used?’

‘I meant no harm by it, Sergeant.’

‘And why should you want to meet me?’ asked Daniel.

‘First of all, I wanted to see if you were human.’

‘Oh, I’m very human, Mr Higgins, and I’m full of human failings. For instance, I’m very short-tempered when I find that someone is trying to waste my time.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Higgins with a placatory gesture, ‘I don’t mean to take up your time. I wanted to put a proposition to you, Captain Rawson. The truth of it is that I’m not only a sutler,’ he went on, slipping a hand into his pocket to take out a sheet of paper. ‘I’m something of an artist, as you can see.’

Unfolding the paper, he showed them a portrait he’d drawn. It was only a pencil sketch but it had discernible talent. They were both able to recognise the face smiling up at them.

‘That’s Lieutenant Ainley,’ said Welbeck.

‘It’s a good likeness,’ admitted Daniel.

‘This is only a preliminary drawing,’ explained Higgins. ‘I’ll use it to do a portrait in colour. I’m not a real artist like van Dyck, mark you. A sketch like this only takes me five minutes and I have the painting finished in little more than an hour.’

‘Why are you telling me this, Mr Higgins?’

‘I’m coming to that.’ He glanced at the soldier beside him. ‘Is there any chance that you can get rid of my guard? He intimidates me. I’m not going to run away.’ Welbeck gave a nod and the soldier left the tent. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. Having him stand over me was rather unnerving.’ He smiled hopefully at Daniel. ‘I wondered if I could possibly have the honour of painting a portrait of you, Captain Rawson?’

‘I can’t think why you’d want to do that,’ said Daniel.

‘Then you haven’t heard Lieutenant Ainley in full flow. He idolises you. He was telling me what you did at Blenheim and how you rescued someone from the Bastille in Paris.’

‘I shouldn’t believe everything he says.’

‘Are you interested in my offer?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Higgins. I must decline. I’m not vain enough to want my portrait painted.’

‘In the time we’ve been talking, I could have done the sketch.’

‘Not without my permission,’ said Daniel, ‘and I’d never give that. It’s a tempting notion but I suggest that you choose someone else. If you can produce these things so swiftly, you must have had a lot of customers.’

‘Oh, I have,’ said Higgins, ruefully. ‘Some of the ugliest men in the army have wanted a pretty painting of themselves. I have to show them what they want to see so I make hideous, old faces look young and handsome. Then, of course,’ he added, dropping his voice and rolling his eyes. ‘There are the other drawings.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Welbeck.

‘You know what soldiers are like, Sergeant. Most of them dream of nothing but drink and women. I sell them both. The beer is in the back of my wagon and the women are on sheets of paper like this.’

‘You’re talking about naked women, aren’t you?’

‘I have to meet a demand.’ His eyes flicked to Daniel. ‘Do you think that you could persuade the captain to sit for me? I won’t charge him a penny for the portrait. It will be a pleasure to paint.’

‘Captain Rawson makes his own decisions.’

‘And you’ve already heard what I think,’ said Daniel, pleasantly.

‘Well, he hasn’t heard what I think,’ warned Welbeck, squaring up to Higgins. ‘I think you have a nerve, coming here like this and using me as bait. It’s unforgivable. If I catch you anywhere near the 24^th again, I’ll kick seven barrels of shit out of you and shove your bleeding sketches down your lying throat. Do you understand?’

‘I apologise profusely, Sergeant,’ said Higgins, composing his features into a mask of contrition. ‘By way of recompense, I’ll happily do a portrait of you as well.’

‘No, you won’t, you cheating, two-faced scoundrel!’

‘Don’t yell at him, Sergeant,’ said Daniel, reproachfully. ‘Mr Higgins came here in good faith and he had a reasonable proposal to put to me.’

‘Only after he tricked me into getting you here,’ said Welbeck.

‘That’s as may be. No real hurt was intended.’

‘Yes, it was — my pride has been wounded.’

‘I had no alternative,’ argued Higgins.

‘In that case,’ returned Welbeck, holding up a fist, ‘I’ll have no alternative but to punch the living daylights out of you.’

‘There’s no need for that,’ said Daniel, stepping between them to protect the sutler. ‘I’m certain that Mr Higgins won’t rely on a device like this again. I suggest that we let him get back to his wagon.’

Higgins was relieved. ‘Thank you, Captain,’ he said. ‘Can’t I make you reconsider my offer?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Would you like to hear my offer again?’ shouted Welbeck, waving a fist in his face. ‘Now, get out before I throw you out.’

Still muttering apologies, Higgins retreated from the tent. Welbeck was livid. He was about to speak when Daniel silenced him with a wave. He peeped out through the gap between the tent flaps.

‘He’s gone,’ noted Daniel. ‘I thought he’d stay to eavesdrop.’

‘You should have let me teach him a lesson.’

‘That will come later, Henry.’

‘I hate being deceived like that.’

‘You should be grateful to Ralph Higgins.’

‘Why…for wasting our time like that? Using me like that makes me seethe. Left to myself, I’d have tipped him headfirst into the deepest latrine.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you over here for no reason, Dan. I was wrong about the man.’

‘But you weren’t — he’s a spy.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I have done a little spying myself, you know,’ said Daniel, smiling, ‘and I know that the first thing you need is a glib tongue. Higgins certainly had that. In offering to do a portrait of me, he gave himself away.’

‘Did he?’

‘Who do you imagine would have got that portrait?’

‘I thought he’d do it for you, Dan?’

‘I might have been given the painted version but the original sketch would have been sent off to the enemy. Somebody has designs on me, Henry, and they need to know what I look like.’

Welbeck was lost. ‘If you think he’s a spy, why let him go?’

‘I wanted to test my theory,’ said Daniel. ‘Find six men and we’ll guard the road out of here. When Higgins drives his wagon towards us, we’ll stop him and take him into custody.’

‘How do you know that that’s what he’ll do?’

‘Because,’ said Daniel with a soft chuckle, ‘it’s exactly what I’d do in his shoes.’

Seated in his wagon, Ralph Higgins worked swiftly. After drawing the sketch of Daniel Rawson from memory, he put it on top of the letter he’d just written and folded the two pages tightly until he could insert them into a pouch of tobacco. He then jumped down from the wagon. A soldier who’d been watching strolled casually over to him.

‘Ah, good afternoon, Corporal,’ greeted Higgins.

‘I’ve come for my tobacco,’ said the man.

‘It’s all ready for you.’ Handing him the pouch, Higgins spoke in an undertone. ‘Have this delivered at once. It’s important.’ He took some money from his customer. ‘Thank you, Corporal. It’s always a pleasure to do business with you.’

As soon as the soldier had gone, Higgins clambered up onto the seat of his wagon and picked up the reins. Feeling the flick of leather, the horse responded by pulling the vehicle away. It went past the other sutlers and the baggage wagons until it came to the road out of the camp. Nobody challenged him. Higgins was free. He allowed himself a congratulatory smirk. It soon froze on his face. Six armed soldiers suddenly emerged from the trees to block his way, muskets trained on him. Henry Welbeck was with them.

‘Stop there or we’ll shoot the horse dead,’ he called out.

Higgins was perplexed. ‘What’s the meaning of this, Sergeant?’ he asked, innocently. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘Yes, you have,’ said Daniel, coming into view from behind a large bush. ‘You made a fatal mistake. There’s something I require from you, Mr Higgins,’ he added. ‘Hand it over, please.’

‘Hand what over, Captain?’

‘The codebook you use to send reports to your masters in the French camp.’

‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Higgins tried to bluff his way out of the situation but he soon realised that it was futile. He’d been found out. As a last resort, he reached inside the wagon for the pistol he kept hidden there. Welbeck gave him no time to use it. Jumping forward, he grabbed the sutler by the leg and yanked him off the seat. As Higgins hit the ground, he groaned in agony and the weapon was discharged harmlessly into the air. Daniel went and stood over him.

‘Now, then,’ he said, politely. ‘Will you tell me where your codebook is or must I ask Sergeant Welbeck to jog your memory?’

Ralph Higgins quailed. He was trapped.