4 Under Siege (4 page)

A slow smile spread across Daniel’s face. ‘Who knows?’ he said as an image began to form in his mind. ‘When do I have to leave?’

‘Go in your own time,’ said Marlborough.

‘Then I’ll wait a day or two, Your Grace. And I’ll not be travelling as a wine merchant this time. I fancy that another occupation will serve me better.’ He finished his drink and stood up. ‘I’ll be grateful for those details about Monsieur Lizier.’

‘I have them right here,’ said Cardonnel, handing him a piece of paper. ‘Commit everything to memory then burn it.’

‘I will.’

Daniel glanced at the name and the address, wondering how a mere tavern keeper would be able to assist him in such a testing assignment. On the other hand, he’d taken on harder tasks without help from anyone. That gave him confidence, and the notion that he might somehow be able to gain an advantage for the besieging army brought out his sense of duty. The more he considered it, the more he began to look forward to the adventure.

He was about to take his leave when Marlborough picked up a letter that lay on the table amid a pile of documents. He unfolded it.

‘This came today from my wife,’ he said, ‘and contains news that may be of interest to you, Daniel. It seems that Emanuel Janssen and his beautiful daughter are to sail to England. They’ve been invited to view progress on the building of Blenheim Palace. Janssen’s tapestry of Ramillies will hang there one day.’

Daniel needed a few seconds to assimilate the news. He was sad that Amalia would be moving further away from him but his sadness was tempered by the thought of how much she would relish the visit. He rejoiced in her good fortune, hoping that some time in the country where he’d been brought up would give her a better understanding of him. His only regret was that he would not be there to act as her guide. When he imagined how she must have reacted to the invitation, he had to suppress a chuckle. Back in Amsterdam, inside the house he’d been to little more than a week ago, Amalia Janssen would be caught up in a positive whirl of anticipatory delight.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Amalia, but it’s impossible. I just
couldn’t
go.’

‘But you must, Beatrix. Your passage is booked.’

‘Take one of the other servants.’

‘You’re far more than a servant to me,’ said Amalia, ‘and you know it. I couldn’t conceive of going all that way without you.’

‘My mind is made up. I’ll not stir from here.’

‘But a great honour has been bestowed on us.’

‘On you, perhaps,’ said Beatrix, ‘but not on me.’

‘We’ll have the privilege of meeting a duchess and seeing one of the grandest houses in the whole of England. Well,’ Amalia corrected herself, ‘what there is of it, anyway.’

‘Tell me all about it when you get back.’

‘Don’t be so stubborn, you’re coming with us.’

‘I can’t, I won’t, I mustn’t. Please don’t keep on at me.’

‘At least tell me
why
you’re so afraid to go.’

‘You’ll only laugh at me, if I do, Miss Amalia.’

‘That’s ridiculous. I never mock you. Now – what is it, Beatrix?’

Beatrix Udderzook was a plump, flabby-faced woman in her thirties, with a look of solid reliability that belied her nervousness. She was both maidservant and best friend to Amalia, sharing the joys and disappointments of many years with her. Though there was no great distance between their ages, Beatrix also acted as surrogate mother, guarding and guiding Amalia through life. The maidservant had still not forgiven herself for allowing Amalia to be abducted right under her nose. Beatrix was still tortured by guilt over the incident.

‘I had a dream last night,’ she said, fearfully.

‘There’s nothing unusual in that.’

‘I dreamt that I was about to drown in the sea.’

‘We all have dreams like that,’ said Amalia.

‘This was so
real
, Miss Amalia,’ said Beatrix. ‘In fact, I don’t think it was a dream at all. It was a premonition. That’s why I daren’t leave dry land.’

‘And were you the only person to drown?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about the rest of us?’

‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

‘Well,’ said Amalia, teasingly, ‘if
you
are to drown when you sail to England, so are the rest of us. The only way you could perish is if the ship went down with all its crew and passengers. Yet
I
didn’t have a premonition that that would happen and nor did Father, as far as I know. Neither did anyone else who’ll be boarding that vessel or none of them would dare to go to sea.’ She took Beatrix by the shoulders. ‘It was just a silly dream, that’s all.’

Beatrix trembled. ‘It scared me so much.’

‘I’m often frightened by bad dreams. Then I wake up and realise that I haven’t been harmed in any way so I dismiss them as nightmares.’ She kissed the maidservant on the cheek. ‘I
need
you to come with us, Beatrix. Don’t you want to see England? Don’t you want to be able to boast to the others that you met the Duchess of Marlborough?’

‘Yes, I do,’ conceded Beatrix.

‘Who will look after me if you’re not there?’

‘The master will do that.’

‘Father will be too busy to act as my chaperone all the time. I need the company of a woman. Oh,’ said Amalia, earnestly, ‘
please
tell me you’ll come with us.’

Beatrix was undecided. Torn between duty to Amalia and fear of the consequences, she chewed her lip and pondered. For her part, Amalia was deeply upset at the idea of travelling without her. None of the other servants had endured as many hardships with her as Beatrix, and none deserved to enjoy the privilege now being offered. Since the invitation had arrived, Amalia had been transported with delight. She always moved about the house with the grace of a dancer but now she seemed to be floating on air. She’d blithely assumed that Beatrix would be as thrilled as she and her father. Instead, the maidservant was refusing to step aboard a ship.

‘That’s it, then,’ said Amalia, changing tack. ‘I’ll tell Father that we must decline the invitation. It will upset the duchess but that can’t be helped. She, of course, will inform her husband of our decision and the duke will surely pass on the news to Captain Rawson.’ She shook her head in mock desolation. ‘He’ll be very hurt by the tidings. He made me promise that, if ever I went to England, I should visit the farm where he was brought up. That is now out of the question, for we’ll never get a second invitation. Father must write today,’ she added, as if about to leave. ‘He must explain that it’s impossible for any of us to go because one of the servants had a bad dream.’

‘That would be terrible,’ wailed Beatrix, close to tears. ‘It’s an honour for you and your father. You
must
go, Miss Amalia. I can’t spoil your visit. It would be on my conscience for the rest of my life.’

‘And supposing
we
drown while you sit safely here?’

‘What a dreadful thought!’

‘It’s one that would never enter my head because I have more faith in our sailors than you. We’re a trading nation, Beatrix. Ships come and go every day without sinking. The Dutch are amongst the finest mariners in the world.’

‘I know that.’

‘Then put your trust in them. It’s summer, the best possible time to go on a voyage. There’s nothing whatsoever to stop us arriving safely in England.’

‘What about sailing back?’

Amalia laughed. ‘You’re determined to drown one way or another, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘But it’s simply not going to happen. Don’t take my word for it. Go down to the harbour and talk to the sailors. They’ll reassure you. Or sail up and down the canal a few times to get over your fears.’

Beatrix was still reluctant to go. At the same time, she didn’t wish to be responsible for the whole venture being abandoned. The mention of Daniel Rawson had weighed with her. When Amalia and her father had been rescued from France, Beatrix had been with them. She was eternally grateful to Daniel for saving their lives and had grown very fond of him. Wanting to keep his friendship, she feared that she might lose it if he heard that she was to blame for the failure to get to England. Pressure on her was steadily growing until she could resist it no longer.

‘Very well,’ she consented. ‘I’ll go, after all.’

‘That’s marvellous!’ said Amalia, embracing her.

‘As long as I don’t have that same dream again.’

‘Dream instead about riding through England. Have some happy dreams for a change. Oh, Beatrix, we’re going to have the most wonderful time of our lives!’

New recruits were needed all the time in the British army to replace those who’d been killed or wounded so badly that they were effectively discharged. Few men actually volunteered for service so they had to be forced to risk their lives in a war against the French by a combination of money, bullying, trickery and false promises. Magistrates were useful recruiting sergeants, sending criminals off to the army instead of letting them fill up the prisons back in England. What people like Henry Welbeck often ended up with, therefore, were thieves, forgers, drunks and other highly unsuitable new recruits. His task was to transform them into part of a disciplined fighting force. As he surveyed the latest batch, he could see that he would have to work exceptionally hard this time. Eight ragged individuals stood resentfully before him.

‘I’m Sergeant Welbeck,’ he barked, ‘and I’m the only person who can save you from being killed by the French. You must obey me or I’ll tear you apart limb by limb and feed your carcasses to the crows. Is that understood?’

Most of them were already afraid of him, avoiding his gaze as he ran his eyes along the line. He was met by only one challenging stare. It came from a tall, gangly man in his thirties with unkempt hair, a tufted beard and a broken nose. Welbeck stepped up to him.

‘Did you want to say something?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Sergeant – where are the women?’

‘Silence!’ bawled Welbeck as the others burst out laughing. He stood very close to the man who’d just spoken. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ben Plummer, Sergeant.’

‘Then let me tell you something, Ben Plummer. This is the British army. There
are
no women. You’re here to fight for glory not to dip your wick in some pox-ridden trull.’

‘I only choose the ones without pox,’ said Plummer, gaining another laugh from the others. ‘I have standards, Sergeant.’

‘So do I,’ said Welbeck, warningly, ‘and something tells me that you are going to fall well below them. Why did you join the army?’

‘It was the only way to stay out of prison.’

‘And why would you have been sent there?’

‘I was charged with running a disorderly house, Sergeant.’

Welbeck’s eyes blazed. ‘Well, lads,’ he said, ‘do you see what we have here? Ben Plummer was a pimp, an ugly scab on society, a man who made his odious living by leading poor women astray. You can bid farewell to all that, Benjamin. The army is no disorderly house. Order reigns supreme here. Remember that. When I give an order, you obey it. Is that clear, you lousy, rotten pimp? Speak up, man – is it?’

Plummer was bold. Folding his arms, he gave Welbeck a smile that comprised insolence, defiance and disrespect in equal measure. It did not stay on his face for long. Welbeck hit him with a fearful punch that dislodged his front teeth and sent him sprawling to the ground. Blood oozed from his mouth. The sergeant indicated two of the men.

‘Pick him up!’ he yelled. ‘Pick up that pimp so that I can hit him harder this time.’ They dragged Plummer to his feet but all the fight had gone out of him. Welbeck grabbed him by the throat. ‘Are you ready to obey orders now?’ he barked. Plummer nodded and brought up a hand to stem the flow of blood from his mouth. ‘That’s better.’ He stood back to look along the line. ‘Would anyone else like my services as a dentist? I remove teeth free.’ There were some nervous grins. ‘Good. I think we’re making progress. At the moment, you look like the sweepings of the vilest slums in England but that will change. I’m going to turn you into soldiers.’ He raised his voice. ‘Private Hain!’

A soldier marched out from behind a nearby tent. Dressed as an infantryman, he was wearing a tricorned hat, leather shoes, white breeches and gaiters, and a red coat embellished with the linings and facings of the 24
^th
Regiment of Foot. On his back were a knapsack, cooking pot and cloak. He stood to attention in front of the men, looking immaculate beside him.

‘Believe it or not,’ said Welbeck, ‘Private Hain was just like you when he first came to me. He was caught stealing horses and decided that army life was preferable to being hanged from the nearest tree. He had even more to say for himself than Ben Plummer here. Isn’t that true, Private Hain?’

‘Yes, it is, Sergeant.’

‘You were rowdy and disobedient.’

‘Yes, I was, Sergeant.’

‘And what are you now?’

‘I like to think that I’m a good soldier, sir.’

‘Thanks to me, you’re a very good soldier. Look at him, all of you. That’s what you’ll all strive to be. I’ll wave my magic wand and turn you all into good soldiers just like Private Hain. Note him well. He wears cross-belts and carries a flintlock and a bayonet. He also has twenty-four cartridges, giving him two dozen chances to kill a Frenchie. In all, he is carrying fifty pounds and that requires him to be fit. How did you come to be so fit, Private Hain?’

‘You drilled us every day, Sergeant.’

‘And what did I teach you?’

‘You taught us how to march properly and how to conduct ourselves bravely in battle. You instructed us in how to fire two shots a minute, Sergeant.’

‘I taught you how to kill the enemy before they kill you. That’s what the rest of you, including Plummer, must learn. Let me give you three words to remember – listen, learn, obey. What are they?’

‘Listen, learn, obey, Sergeant,’ mumbled the others.

‘I want to hear our pimp say it on his own.’

Plummer was still in pain. ‘Listen, learn, obey,’ he said.

‘Forget all about women – especially the kind
you
employed. They don’t exist here. I, on the other hand, do exist and I’ll take very good care of you. Oh, and before you even think of running away,’ he said with a grin, ‘I should warn you that deserters are always caught and hanged. Oddly enough, they never try to desert us after that.’