Soldier of Fortune

CHAPTER TEN

There was still plenty of work left for the Confederate army. They had captured the fort on the Schellenberg but the town of Donauworth remained intact and well-defended. It had to be taken because it would block the road to Vienna and stop Marlborough's forces moving deep into the rich countryside of Bavaria, threatening its towns and villages on the way. When the fleeing garrison from the hill had been hunted down by the cavalry, the remnants of the assault force regrouped to count the cost of their victory and to tend the wounded. Captain Daniel Rawson returned to take charge of his battalion. His orders were to join the attack on the town.

It had been a disastrous engagement for Count d'Arco. His corps had been utterly destroyed and many of his finest officers had been killed. When he saw that his cause was hopeless, he had fled to the town and had some difficulty persuading the garrison commander to let him in. The report that he gave to the Elector of Bavaria was laced with sorrow and apology. Though his men had withstood the early assaults with characteristic valour, they had succumbed in the end to superior numbers and a flanking movement by Baden's men.

The Elector was shocked. In the fierce engagement, his army had lost some of its best soldiers and been significantly weakened. The Elector himself was now in danger. In the interest of personal safety, he and Marshal Marsin were forced to retreat ignominiously to a fortified camp at Augsburg in order to wait for Marshal Tallard.

The Duke of Marlborough was deeply saddened by the severe losses he had sustained but accepted that they were an unfortunate necessity. Having seized the initiative, he was quick to press home his advantage. He knew that, before quitting the town, the enemy would try to lay waste to Donauworth so that its usefulness as a base for the Confederate army would be drastically reduced. His artillery was therefore repositioned and his battalions redeployed. Throughout the evening and into the night, there was a constant exchange of fire as Marlborough's men slowly tightened their grip on Donauworth.

It fell to Colonel du Bordet to destroy the town and he ordered his men to put straw into the houses so that they could be burnt to the ground. Time, however, was against him. When reports came in that the Allied army had breached the defences and was fighting its way through the suburbs, the French colonel feared that their retreat would be cut off. An immediate evacuation ensued. Fire raged through some houses but the rest were abandoned before they could even be torched. The first thing that the incoming troops did was to help the beleaguered townspeople put out the flames. By four o'clock in the morning, Donauworth was in the hands of the Confederate army.

Daniel Rawson had been one of the first officers to lead his men into the town. Having helped to douse the fires and chase the last few French soldiers out of Donauworth, he was able to take stock of what they had actually gained by the seizure of the town apart from a strategic position on the Danube. Back in the camp, he passed on full details to his commander in the latter's quarters. Daniel still bore the scars of battle and his long red coat was scuffed and torn.

'It was an excellent haul, Your Grace,' he said cheerfully. 'We've secured three cannon, muskets, ammunition, utensils, 3000 sacks of flour and oats and everything you'd expect to find in an army camp. Most of the officers left their baggage behind as well. As for the river, we now have a dozen pontoon bridges at our disposal. The last French regiment in the town fled across one of them like frightened rabbits.'

'This is all very heartening,' said Marlborough, taking the inventory from him so that he could inspect it. 'I've waited a long time to put a French army to flight.'

'I fancy that the Bavarians can run even faster.'

'Those who escaped will be back, Daniel. When they've licked their wounds, they'll join up with Marshal Tallard and seek revenge. Talking of wounds,' he added, peering closely at Daniel's bloodstained face, 'you look as if you've picked up a few of them yourself.'

'My injuries can wait for attention, Your Grace. I was not going to leave the fray until we'd taken both the hill and the town. Besides,' he went on, gritting his teeth, 'the surgeons have enough on their hands at the moment. Some of our men have crippling injuries.'

Marlborough nodded gravely. 'The worst cases will be taken back to our hospital at Nordlingen though many may not survive the journey. I don't relish passing on details of casualties to Parliament and to the States-General in Holland,' he confided. 'Public opinion in both countries will be outraged by the size of our losses.'

'Given the situation, they were unavoidable.'

'Politicians never understand a military situation, Daniel. They view everything in terms of numbers lost and costs incurred. I'll come in for sharp criticism, especially in Holland.'

'That may be so,' said Daniel, 'but the Emperor will have the sense to appreciate the importance of this victory. The Imperial capital is now protected from French and Bavarian advance.'

'That was a major objective of the enterprise. Emperor Leopold will also be pleased to hear how well Louis of Baden and his men conducted themselves. In scaling the hill and attacking the left flank, they did us good service.'

'Your strategy was sound, Your Grace. You struck when they least expected it. Had you postponed the assault by a day, the outcome might have been very different.'

'Either way, I would have been left with a lot of letters to write.'

'Of course,' said Daniel, taking the hint. 'I'll hold you up no longer but I felt that you might wish to include some of the details of that inventory in any correspondence.'

'I most certainly will. Before you go,' said Marlborough as his visitor was about to leave, 'I meant to ask you about Abigail Piper. Is she still resolved to stay?'

'I'm afraid that she is.'

'I did my best to persuade her to return home.'

'So did I, Your Grace, but she's an obstinate young lady.'

'Love can instil the most extraordinary tenacity.'

'True,' said Daniel, 'but even her tenacity might wilt if Abigail knew that I came very close to dying right beside her. It seems that I'm fighting a war on two fronts.'

He told Marlborough about his stroll along the bank of a stream with Abigail and how she had saved him from being shot by fainting in his arms at the critical moment. Marlborough was aghast.

'Why didn't you tell me this before?' he asked.

'You were preoccupied with other matters, Your Grace. I'm not vain enough to think that my personal problems take precedence over the storming of the Schellenberg and the capture of the town. When you are concerned with the deployment in battle of thousands of men, the troubles of one are immaterial. In any case,' he continued with a grin, 'I've long believed that I have a staunch friend in heaven. If I can survive that Forlorn Hope with only a few scratches, I have no worries about a lone assassin.'

'You should do, Daniel — he may strike again.'

'I hope that he will.'

'Have men about you at all times.'

'From now on, I'll have eyes in the back of my head.'

'Whoever he is, this man is clearly determined to kill you.'

'I'm equally determined to take his life first.'

'And you say that Abigail is not aware of this attack on you?'

'No, Your Grace,' said Daniel. 'And there's no reason why she should be. She's had to face enough shock and upset already. The ugly truth must be kept from her.'

Abigail Piper turned pale when she heard the news. She made Emily Greene repeat the details again. Abigail was dazed.

'Where did you learn all this?' she asked.

'I spoke to a woman whose husband was on sentry duty at the time,' said Emily. 'He heard the shot and ran to see who had fired it. He saw you lying on the grass beside Captain Rawson.'

'I fainted. It seems that Captain Rawson caught me.'

'At first, the sentries thought that you'd been shot,' said Emily, 'but the captain explained what had happened. He sent two men across the stream and ordered a search party on horseback.'

'Did they find anyone?'

'No, Miss Abigail.'

'Who could have done such a terrible thing?'

'They have no idea.'

'I could have been killed,' said Abigail, shuddering at the idea.

'I don't think the shot was aimed at you, Miss Abigail. The target was Captain Rawson. With respect, you would be no loss to the army but the captain would. According to the woman, her husband was certain that the attacker was trying to kill a British officer.'

Abigail gasped. 'That's even worse!' she cried. 'I'd rather have died myself than live without him. This is appalling, Emily. I knew nothing about any of this.'

'Perhaps the captain felt that it was better that way.'

'He should have told me.'

'He didn't wish to alarm you, Miss Abigail.'

The suggestion did not reassure Abigail. If anything, it made her feel even more distressed. She believed that Daniel

Rawson had kept the facts from her because he perceived her as too weak and fragile to cope with such grim tidings. Instead of sharing his worries with her, he had kept them to himself. Abigail had been deliberately kept in the dark and that hurt her. Daniel was under threat. Her pleasant stroll with him now took on a more sinister and disturbing aspect.

It was the morning after the battle and the two women were standing outside the tent in which they had spent the night. Most of the camp followers slept in the back of wagons or rigged up some rudimentary cover. Abigail and her maid were more fortunate because Marlborough had arranged for them to have a small tent. Though they were miles away from the battle, the women had heard all too clearly the booming of the cannon, the popping of musketry and the constant roll of drums. News of victory had been brought back but it was offset by reports of heavy losses. Abigail had lain awake all night, praying that Daniel Rawson was not among the fallen.

Already tired and distraught, she was close to despair when she was told about the attempt on Daniel's life. While she had been imploring him to withdraw from the Forlorn Hope, he had almost been killed by a sniper in the bushes. Clutching her hands tightly together, she walked up and down as she tried to absorb what she had been told. Emily took a more practical view.

'We shouldn't be here, Miss Abigail,' she said firmly.

'We have to be here, Emily.'

'If that's your wish, then I'll obey you as I've always done. But I've been talking to the others. They belong here. They know what to expect and are hardened by experience.'

'We, too, have shown endurance.'

'It's not the same,' said Emily. 'We're outsiders.'

'The other ladies have been very kind to us.'

'That's because they all pull together in adversity. They're used to supporting each other. I've been talking to some of them, Miss Abigail. Their stories are heart-breaking.'

'I know that army life can be testing.'

'It's an ordeal. You deserve better.'

'I still prefer to stay, Emily.'

'Then I'll stay with you,' said the other with resignation. There was some commotion off to their right and they traded an anxious glance. 'What's that noise?'

'Let's go and find out,' decided Abigail.

Picking their way through the tents, they came to an avenue down which a long column of wagons rumbled. Blood-curdling moans were coming from wounded soldiers brought back from the battlefield and the sound was swelled by wailing women who had just discovered that their husbands had lost limbs or had their faces shot off. Abigail and Emily were transfixed by the gruesome sight. Medical provisions were primitive and the most that surgeons had been able to do was to amputate arms and legs before gangrene set in, or to bandage hideous wounds without being able to stem the bleeding.

It was a scene of undiluted horror. Gallant soldiers who had marched off proudly into battle were now little more than bundles of bones in ragged uniforms, crying out pitifully for someone to relieve their agony. There were so many of them. The column stretched back out of sight. Abigail stood there and gaped as an endless stream of human misery went past. She blenched when she saw a man waving a bandaged stump of an arm at her and was sickened when she observed another who had lost both legs at the knees. Wherever she looked, there was some new assault on her sensibilities. It was like viewing an endless parade of corpses.

Yet she could not tear herself away. Afraid that Daniel Rawson might be part of the mournful traffic to Nordlingen, she forced herself to look into every wagon, revolted by the sight of so much blood and shocked by the fact that some of the men had already expired from their injuries. The cloying stench of death and the stink of putrifying wounds invaded her nostrils and made her retch with nausea. As she checked yet another cargo of mutilated soldiers, a skinny hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

'Give me a kiss, darling!' begged a desperate man whose head and body were swathed in blood-soaked bandages. 'I need something to keep out this terrible pain.'

But even as he spoke, his strength waned visibly and he lost his grip on Abigail. His fingers fell away, leaving a bloody imprint on the sleeve of her dress. She jumped back in alarm. Emily had already seen more than enough.

'Come away, Miss Abigail,' she said. 'You shouldn't look.'

Abigail was trembling. 'I hadn't realised it would be like this.'

'Turn your back on it.'

'I have to see if Captain Rawson has been wounded.'

'If he has, you'll be told soon enough. He'd not want you to see him in the state these poor men are in. Most of them are nearer to death than life. Could you stand to see the captain like that?'

'No,' said Abigail, closing her eyes. 'It would be intolerable.'

'Then let me take you away,' suggested Emily, holding her by the arm and leading her off. 'You may not think it to look at them but those are the lucky ones.'

'Lucky!'

'They survived the battle.'

'But what kind of lives do they face with injuries like that?' asked Abigail as she envisaged their bleak futures. 'And what kind of burden will they be on their wives and children?'

'Women who marry soldiers know where it may all end. If they don't have to watch their man being buried, they may well have to care for an invalid. That's their lot and they put up with it because they have no other expectation. I told you before,' said Emily, 'they belong here and we don't. I think we should go home.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Sergeant Henry Welbeck had fought with his usual blend of skill and ferocity when they stormed the hill. Now that the battle was over, it was time for recriminations. Alone with Daniel Rawson, he felt able to express his complaints in language he would never dare to use to any other officer. Daniel's tent gave him the freedom of privacy.

'It was bloody madness, Dan!' he bellowed. 'Sending us up that hill was the worst fucking thing that Corporal John has done.'

'The end justifies the means, Henry.'

'He always used to care for his men.'

'He still does,' said Daniel, 'but there was no way that he could protect them yesterday. They had to be ordered into battle.'

'But why did it have to be British bloody soldiers who died? Aren't there enough Dutch and Danish and Austrian troops to send off to their deaths? Why did we have to provide the Forlorn Hope?' he went on. 'More to the point, why did you take leave of your bloody senses and volunteer to join it?'

'I wanted to be in the thick of the action.'

'Well, you came very close to being in an early grave. I had to organise the burial details. Do you know how many of my men I saw being dropped into the ground — what was left of them, that is. Going up that hill was nothing short of suicide.'

'What else could we have done, Henry?'

'We could've had a good night's rest, for a start.'

Daniel laughed. 'Have you ever rested on eve of a battle?'

'You know what I mean, Dan. We'd marched all day. We were in no condition to give of our best. Yet that's what His Grace, the Duke of Bloody Marlborough, expected us to do.'

'I saw nobody shirking on the battlefield.'

'It was needless fucking slaughter.'

'They had far more casualties,' said Daniel.

Welbeck glowered. 'Is that supposed to make me feel better?'

'We won, Henry. That's all that matters.'

'Thank you for telling me,' said the other sarcastically.

Daniel was sitting on a camp stool but his friend was striding restlessly to and fro. Both of them had picked up their share of grazes and bruises during the battle. Welbeck had been stabbed in the arm by an enemy bayonet and the wound was heavily bandaged. He had also acquired a black eye. Daniel's face had been washed but his scars and bruises remained and his lower lip was swollen. The gash on his back had been cleaned and dressed. Now that the thrill of battle had gone, he could feel every bruise and abrasion but, in view of their victory, it was an almost satisfying pain.

'At least, you were there,' said Welbeck, stopping beside him. 'I heard that someone tried to kill you.'

'Thousands of French and Bavarians tried to kill me, Henry.' 'I'm talking about what happened in this camp.'

'Ah, yes — that.'

Welbeck was scornful. 'Listen to the man!' he said. 'Someone fires a shot at him and all he can say is "Ah, yes — that." If it had been me, I'd be furious.'

'You always are, Henry.'

'What exactly happened?'

Daniel gave him a brief account of the walk beside the stream. When he was told that Abigail Piper had fainted in Daniel's arms, the sergeant emitted a howl of contempt.

'Bloody women!' he exclaimed. 'She distracted you, Dan.'

'I should have been more careful, I agree.'

'From the way you tell it, I could almost believe she led you to that particular spot so that an accomplice could take a shot at you.'

'That's arrant nonsense,' said Daniel hotly. 'Abigail loves me. She'd rather take a bullet herself than see me killed. No, Henry, it was pure coincidence that we were on the edge of the camp like that.'

'It was no coincidence that the man who fired the pistol was there. He was lying in wait, Dan. And although you didn't see so much as a glimpse of his arse as he ran away, I reckon I could put a name to the bastard.'

'Can you?'

'Of course — it was Will Curtis, as he used to call himself.'

'You could be right,' said Daniel, mulling it over. 'He crossed my mind as well. He or his accomplice failed to kill me in this very tent so he had a second attempt.'

'He would have known how we pitched our camp and where to find the British contingent. It has to be Will Curtis.'

'But why single out me, Henry?'

'Haven't you worked that out yet?'

'I'm not that important to the army.'

'This is nothing to do with army matters,' said Welbeck, hands on his hips. 'You've been sewing wild oats in someone else's field, Dan Rawson. That's my guess, anyway. This is the work of some bloody woman — or of her husband, anyway. You've upset him by tupping his wife. He's after your balls.'

It was a sobering thought and it brought Daniel to his feet. Until now, he had forgotten all about Berenice Salignac and their time together in Paris. She suddenly came rushing back into his mind, accompanied by the spectre of her husband.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

It was a risk that could pay handsome dividends. Having grown a beard, Charles Catto completed his disguise by winding a bandage around his head so that it half-covered an eye. He had kept the uniform in which he had fled the camp and put it on once more. If he were caught, he expected no mercy but then he would get none from General Salignac if he failed. Trapped between menacing alternatives, he chose the one that was at hand.

'How do I look, Frederic?' he asked.

'Like someone I ought to kill,' replied Seurel, studying him through narrowed lids. 'What happens if someone recognises you?'

'Then he'll have excellent eyesight.'

'You're taking a big chance, Charles.'

'There's a big reward if I succeed,' said Catto. 'I'll keep well away from the men I met when I enlisted, especially that crusty Sergeant Welbeck. He's the one person who might pick me out.'

'What do I do?'

'Wait until I return.'

'And if you don't get back?'

'Then you'll know I was caught. That's highly unlikely, however,' said Catto. 'You know what armies are like after a battle. All they want to do is to rest, nurse their wounds, mourn their dead comrades and boast about what they did to secure the victory. None of them will even remember their brief acquaintance with Private Will Curtis.'

'How will you get into the camp?'

'Leave that to me, Frederic.'

'As long as you don't kill Captain Rawson,' said Seurel with a warning growl. 'He's all mine.'

'I don't expect to get anywhere near the captain this time.'

'Then why are you going to the British camp?'

'For the best possible reason,' said Catto suavely, adjusting the bandage over his eyebrow before putting on his tricorn hat. 'I'm going to meet a beautiful young lady.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Abigail Piper had been shaken to the core by what she had seen. To be so close to so many grotesque injuries had been a revelation to her. Tales of military heroism heard at the dinner table were always exciting but they never dwelt on the savagery and anguish of a battle. They never mentioned the consequences. Abigail felt the need to be alone. Emily Greene was happy to go off and talk to some of the other women, leaving her mistress in their tent. There was one consolation for Abigail. A scribbled note from Daniel Rawson had assured her that he was alive and well. She had gone dizzy with relief.

Perched on a stool in her tent, she now began for the first time to question her actions in sailing after the army. Daniel had given her no encouragement to do so and had seemed faintly embarrassed by her arrival. They were meeting in the wrong place at the wrong time. As long as he was engaged in the campaign, she now understood, there would never be a right time. Abigail was in the way. It was a painful truth but it had to be acknowledged. With disarming politeness, the Duke of Marlborough had made the same point to her.

She was still locked in thought when a voice interrupted her.

'Abigail,' said Daniel from outside the tent. 'Are you there?'

'Yes, yes,' she answered, leaping up and opening the flap to let him in. 'I've been hoping against hope that you would come, Daniel.'

Expecting an embrace, she was instead checked by his battered appearance. The cuts, grazes, and swollen lip disfigured his face. A dark bruise coloured his forehead. She stepped back in dismay.

'I'm sorry that I don't look my best,' he apologised.

'I thought that you'd be unharmed.'

'It's asking too much to avoid any injury in a battle. The wonder is that I'm still standing. The Forlorn Hope was indeed forlorn. Most of my comrades were killed outright.'

'I pleaded with you not to join them.'

'I'm always going to chase glory, Abigail, and I love the sensation of leading an attack on the enemy. It sets the blood racing in a way that nothing else could.'

'I'm so glad that you came safely through the battle,' she said. 'I know that hundreds of our men died and I saw how badly wounded some of the survivors were. Had you been among them, I'd have been inconsolable.' She searched his eyes for a full minute before continuing. 'Why didn't you tell me, Daniel?'

'Tell you what?'

'About what happened when we went for that walk together.'

'I did tell you,' he said. 'You fainted and I carried you away.'

'That isn't true. Emily spoke to one of the women here. Her husband was on picket duty and heard a shot being fired. When he ran to find out what was going on, he saw you on the ground beside me as if you were taking cover from something. The reason you picked me up,' she said, 'was that you wanted to carry me to safety.'

'Yes,' he confessed. 'That was exactly the reason.'

'So why did you mention none of this to me?'

'I didn't want to frighten you, Abigail.'

'If someone is set on killing you, I want to know why.'

'It's usually because they belong to an opposing army,' he said with a carefree smile, 'and I don't blame them for that. It's what they're trained to do. A red coat is a tempting target.'

'But when we stopped beside that stream,' she argued, 'there were other soldiers in red coats not far away. Why was the shot fired at you and not at one of them?'

'I can't answer that.'

'In other words, you won't tell me.'

'The truth of it is, I don't know.'

'You must have some suspicion.'

'Oh, I do,' he said, 'but suspicion is nothing without proof.'

'Tell me what you suspect.'

'This is not your concern, Abigail.'

'Any danger you face is my concern,' she countered, 'and since I was there at the time, I think I deserve to be told why someone fired a shot at you?'

'All that I can do is to hazard a guess.' 'Go on.'

'It's pure speculation, Abigail.'

'I'd still like to hear it.'

He collected his thoughts. 'I was in Paris a few months ago to gather intelligence,' he explained. 'That meant winning the confidence of people who would have been very angry when they learnt that I was, in fact, a spy. It's possible — only possible — that someone felt the urge to kill me because I'd betrayed them.'

'Is this the first time there's been an attempt like this?'

'No,' he admitted. 'There was an incident some while ago.'

'What happened?'

'I escaped the attacker,' he said evasively. 'And I did the same again when we took that walk. If there's a third attempt, I'll catch the man behind it. I'm on guard now.'

'This is dreadful!' she said. 'Someone is lying in wait for you.'

'There's nowhere safer to be than in the middle of thousands of armed soldiers,' he claimed, hiding from her the fact that the would-be assassin had actually contrived to get inside the camp on the first occasion. 'I have no fears for myself. My concern was for you, Abigail. What I heard was a pistol shot. It's difficult to be accurate over that distance with such a weapon. The bullet intended for me might easily have hit you instead.'

'I was so scared when I realised that.'

'There was no need for you ever to know.'

'But there was,' she retorted. 'I hate being treated like a child who's too young and frail to be told the truth. Knowing the facts may hurt me but I'd much rather that than be kept ignorant of them.' 'Everything is now in the open,' he said.

'And you swear that you'll take extra care from now on?'

'I'll take every precaution.'

'Thank you, Daniel.'

Abigail was disappointed. Having fretted so long over the possibility that he had been killed or wounded in battle, she had hoped that any reunion between them would have more urgency and passion. Daniel had been profoundly altered by combat. It was not merely his physical appearance that had changed but his manner. He was still storming the Schellenberg and fighting his way over the walls of Donauworth. He was still mourning the dead. Since his arrival, Daniel had been never less than affable but never more than courteous. Even though he stood only a foot away from him, Abigail could not reach him in the way she desired. It all served to reinforce the decision that she had made.

'I've finally accepted the truth,' she said with a wan smile.

'What truth?'

'This is no place for me, Daniel. We can't be together here.'

'I could have told you that before you set out from England.'

'I had to come and I don't regret that I did so. It's taught me a great deal about you and about army life. Most important of all, I think, it's taught me a lot about myself.'

'You should be proud of what you did,' he said encouragingly. 'It took immense willpower — and a touch of folly.'

'All I can see at the moment is the folly.'

'You have nothing to be ashamed of, Abigail. I admire the spirit you've shown and I'm grateful that you had such a reliable helpmeet in Emily. I do hope that Sir Nicholas can find it in his heart to forgive her for joining you on your wild adventure.'

'He made a point of saying so in his letter,' she said. 'I've read it several times now and it always brings me to tears. Father is so kind and understanding. He knows that Emily did not lead me astray. In a sense, she's the victim of my recklessness. When we get back home, her position will be safe.'

'I'm pleased to hear it.'

'And you'll be pleased to see me go as well, won't you?'

'Pleased and displeased,' he said frankly. 'I'm happy that you are leaving a theatre of war where even fiercer fighting may soon take place but I'm sorry to see you go, Abigail. I'll miss you.'

'I'd stay if you asked me to, Daniel,' she offered gamely.

'No, no, I certainly won't do that. You've made a wise decision and I applaud it. His Grace will do likewise and supply you with an escort all the way back to Holland.'

'After the setbacks on the way here, that will be a blessing.'

'When will you go?'

'Tomorrow or the day after,' she said, 'all being well.'

'We're in enemy territory but we've scattered their army far and wide so you should encounter no real obstacles.'

'That's reassuring to hear.'

'I'll make His Grace aware of your intentions.'

'I'll hope to see him before I go,' she said. 'I know that he's very busy at the moment but I'd like the opportunity to apologise to him for popping up the way that I did. In retrospect, I can see that it was highly inconvenient for him. Also, of course, I wish to bid him a proper farewell.' Uncertainty crept into her voice. 'Will there be any chance my doing the same for you?'

Daniel was torn between desire and relief, wanting to embrace her yet glad that she was returning home. Their friendship could only ever develop in England where Abigail was in her own environment and where he had the leisure for a dalliance. On a military campaign, she was an incongruity and her presence in the camp was bound to hamper Daniel. As long as she was there, his guilt would continue to trouble him and he would feel responsible for her. Abigail was gazing up at him with large, adoring, questioning eyes.

Daniel wanted to leave her on a note of promise. Instead of taking her in his arms, he settled for leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

'Yes, Abigail,' he said. 'When the time comes, we'll exchange proper farewells. I'll insist upon it.' She laughed gratefully. 'Until then, get plenty of rest while you can, happy in the knowledge that you have thousands of soldiers to guard you.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Darkness was falling as he dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to Frederic Seurel who remained in the saddle of his own mount. The two men were in a copse that shielded them from the pickets on the fringe of the camp. Charles Catto took his bearings before turning back to his companion to issue an order.

'Meet me here at the same time tomorrow.'

Seurel was worried. 'What if you don't come back?

'Oh, I'll come back,' said Catto with supreme confidence. 'Have no qualms on that score, Frederic. I'll come back and I won't be alone.'