Drums of War (13 page)

'Don't
admit that or you're likely to be interrogated.'

'Am
I?'

'Ronan
won't ask you any questions but his wife is a different matter. Charlotte is
French and can't be expected to show the same sympathy to foreigners.'

'I
understand.'

'Do
you like children?'

The
question surprised her. 'Yes, of course I do.'

'They
have a baby daughter,' said Daniel. 'I only caught a glimpse of her but she's a
gorgeous child. Ronan loves showing her off. Luckily, I'd had time to wash the
blood off my face before he handed her over to me or I'd have frightened her.'

'You
still haven't told me what happened with that man.'

'We
exchanged blows, Miss Janssen.'

'Won't
he run off and summon help?' she asked. When Daniel remained silent, she
gulped. 'You didn't
kill
him, did you?'

'I
stopped him from bothering you ever again.'

Amalia
reeled from the shock. 'No wonder you were covered in blood,' she said.
"This is terrible, Captain Rawson. I had no idea you'd have to go to that
extreme.'

'My
hand was forced.'

'I
can see now why we had to leave in a hurry.'

'It's
only a matter of time before the body is found,' said Daniel. 'When that
happens, the first place they'll go to is your house. We need to be as far away
as possible.'

'What
about my father?'

'We'll
talk about that later.'

'I
want to know now,' she insisted. 'Where is he?'

'Your
father is being held, Miss Janssen. He's in prison.'

Her
face fell. '
Prison
? What have they done to him? Is
he being fed? Has he been tortured? Father's not a strong man. Being locked up
will break him, Captain Rawson.' She tried to hold back tears. 'How can we
possibly reach him if he's held in prison?'

'There
has to be a way,' said Daniel, thoughtfully. 'All that I have to do is to find
out what it is.'

When
they finally reached their destination, they were given a cordial welcome by
Ronan Flynn and his wife. Charlotte had prepared a meal for them so they all
sat around the table together. Even Beatrix, who, as a servant, always ate
apart as a rule, was allowed to join them. Dopff was very impressed with the
cooking and went into an elaborate mime to congratulate Charlotte. There were
some awkward moments but the supper passed off without incident. Having always
had her own bedchamber, Amalia was unhappy that she had to share her bed with
Beatrix but accepted the situation without complaint. Dopff was content to
sleep in the bare attic as long as he could have the tapestry beside him.
Daniel agreed to spend the night downstairs.

The
visitors adapted slowly to a house that was very much smaller than the one
they'd just left and possessed none of its luxuries. They all seemed to be on
top of each other. When the women had finally retired, and when Dopff was
snoring in the attic, Flynn produced another flagon of wine so that he and
Daniel could talk over a cup of it in private. The first thing the Irishman did
was to clap his friend heartily on the shoulder.

'You
always
did
have an eye for the ladies, Dan,' he said. 'She's a
real beauty is that Amalia. If it wasn't for the fact that I have a lovely wife
waiting for me upstairs, I'd be very jealous.'

'I'm
simply here to look after her,' said Daniel.

'It
always starts that way.'

'I'm
serious, Ronan. The girl is young and innocent.'

Flynn
laughed. 'They're the best kind.'

'There's
nothing like that going on.'

'Well,
there damn well ought to be, man,' said Flynn, nudging him with an elbow. 'Look
at those eyes of hers. Think of that divine face. Saints in heaven, Amalia
could seduce the Pope!'

'She's
a frightened woman who needs protection.'

'Then
why aren't you in her bed, protecting her?'

Daniel
sipped his wine until Flynn had finished his jocular teasing. When they'd first
met, they'd been two of a kind, lusty young soldiers who fought bravely on the
battlefield and took their pleasures where they could find them. Flynn had now
settled down into family life but he had some warm memories. Daniel tried to
steer him away from them so that they could talk about something more serious.

'What
made you give up army life?' he asked.

'Old
age and the sight of Charlotte Rousset,' replied Flynn.

'Was
that her maiden name?'

'Yes,
Dan, but she didn't hold on to it much longer once I'd met her. I worship that
woman. She's changed my life and given me that little angel of a daughter. And
that's not all,' he went on. 'When her father heard that I had a little money
to invest, he took me into the family business. I'm a baker now,
un boulanger de Paris.
You tasted some of my bread
earlier on.'

'It
was delicious, Ronan.'

'The
only problem is that I have to be up so early to make sure the servant has lit
the ovens. Then we toil away while the city sleeps. When the bread is baked, I
help to deliver it with the horse and cart. We've a lot of customers and they
expect fresh bread every morning.'

'Which
do you prefer - being a soldier or being a baker?'

'If
you'd asked me twenty years ago, I'd have said that nothing could compare with
army life. It was tough, I grant you,' said Flynn, 'and it could wear you down
at times, but it was just the thing for a young fellow like me with fire in his
belly. I craved the excitement of it all. I loved the danger.'

'You
loved other things as well, as I recall,' said Daniel.

'That
was my downfall, Dan. It wasn't the women. I think every man has the right to
spread his love far and wide. No, it was the drink and the fighting. When I'd
had too much of the one, I couldn't get enough of the other.' He gave a rueful
laugh. 'I probably did more damage to my fellow-soldiers with my fists than I
ever did to the enemy with a musket. It's the reason I never rose higher than a
corporal. I had warning after warning but there was no heeding them when the
drink had a hold on me.'

'You
knocked out a captain, didn't you?'

'He
was a lieutenant, actually,' said Flynn, 'and he deserved every blow. But
striking an officer is a crime. When they'd finished flogging me, they threw me
out of the regiment altogether.'

'Is
that when you went over to the French?'

'No,
Dan, I had a spell of drifting all over the place, taking whatever job I could
lay my hands on. But I couldn't stay out of the war too long. I had friends in
an Irish regiment serving the French so I threw in my lot with them.' He looked
quizzically at Daniel. 'What about you? When we first met, we were both
black-hearted corporals. Then you got yourself promoted.'

'I
was lucky,' said Daniel, modestly.

'That's
nonsense, man! Luck doesn't come into it. I know what it takes to work your way
up and why so few people manage to do it. Captain Daniel Rawson, is it?' he
added with a twinkle. 'I like it, Dan. It has a ring to it.'

'Thank
you, Ronan.'

'It
also gives the game away. If someone like you tricks his way into Paris, then
it's to do with something more important than wishing three Dutch guests on the
Flynn household.'

'It
is,' confessed Daniel, 'but I'd rather not go into details.'

'It's
probably better if I don't hear them, Dan. I count myself a loyal Frenchman
now. On the other hand, I have to think of my wife and child. You and your
friends are welcome to stay here as long as you don't endanger us.'

'If
it reaches that point, Ronan, we'll move out immediately.'

'Then
I won't pry any further.'

He
poured them both a second cup of wine and they shared army reminiscences for a
while. When his friend was in a mellow mood, Daniel turned to another subject.

'What
do you know about the Bastille?' he asked.

'I
know that I'd much rather be outside its walls than inside.'

'It's
in the Rue Saint-Antoine, isn't it?'

'Yes,'
said Flynn, 'and I get quite close to it when I deliver my bread. It gives me
the shivers. My father-in-law would love to have the contract to provide bread
for the Bastille itself but one of his rivals has got that. Mind you,' he went
on, 'the bread probably only goes to the turnkeys. They starve any prisoners
locked away in there. What are you interested in the Bastille for?'

'I've
heard so many tales about it. If your delivery round takes you in that
direction, you must have a wide circle of customers.'

'They've
heard how tasty Flynn bread is. Strictly speaking, it's Rousset bread because
my father-in-law taught me everything I know. There's a real art to baking,
Dan. It took me a year to master it.'

'I'd
like to see you at work, Ronan.'

'You
won't get much sleep if you do that.'

'Who
cares?' said Daniel, intrigued by the fact that Flynn would be going close to
the Bastille. 'I'm used to broken nights. Would I be in the way if I came with
you to the bakery tomorrow?'

'No,'
said Flynn, 'you can help to load the cart.'

'In
that case, I'll snatch a few hours' sleep while I can.' He drank the last of
his wine. 'I can't thank you enough, Ronan. You helped us in our hour of need.
We simply couldn't have stayed where we were.'

When
the body of Jacques Serval was discovered that night, the police were informed
at once. While some of them removed the corpse, others rushed to the house
occupied by the Dutch visitors. Two constables were sent around to the rear of
the building to block off any attempt at escape then someone banged loudly on
the door. When there was no response, he pounded even harder with his fist.
Still nobody stirred within the house. Forced entry was required. Two of the
heftiest men threw their combined strength at the door until the lock gave way
and it swung open on its hinges. Policemen poured into the dark house with
lanterns and searched every room. When they met again in the hall, it was the
sergeant who summed up the situation.

'They've
gone,' he declared, purple with fury. 'We must catch them before they can leave
Paris.'

Tom
Hillier was disappointed. Army life was neither as thrilling nor as rewarding
as he thought it would be. He had left the safety of his farm and family back
in England in the hope of adventure abroad and it had not been forthcoming.
Expecting to take an active part in famous victories, he'd twice been denied
the chance to march into battle and had spent most of his time being drilled or
moving from place to place. The novelty of being in a foreign country had soon
worn off. He began to feel homesick. Of all the things that had disillusioned
him, the most painful was the way in which his uncle had effectively disowned
him. Though he'd only known Welbeck from the sergeant's letters, and from what
his mother had told him about her brother, Hillier had an image of him as a
hero and wanted to emulate his achievements. Yet he'd been rebuffed in the most
hurtful way.

Set
against the disappointments was one consolation. Having fought the drummer
who'd been teasing him remorselessly, he not only won the contest but made
himself a real friend in the process. In beating Hugh Dobbs, he'd earned his
respect. Dobbs was a sturdy, potato-faced youth of eighteen summers with a
roguish grin and a dislike of authority. He gave Hillier a lot of useful advice
about the technique of drumming and told him lively tales about the regiment's
involvement in the victory at Blenheim. Dobbs also acted as a kind of
unofficial biographer to Daniel Rawson and the new recruit never tired of
hearing tales of the captain's exploits. As they lay side by side that night in
the tent they shared with the other drummers, Dobbs resumed his narrative.

'Do
you know what else Captain Rawson did?'

'No,'
said Hillier, attentively.

'I
overheard Lieutenant Ainley talking about it,' said Dobbs, 'so it must be true.
When the captain was sent across the border to act as a spy, he captured some
dispatches from a French courier then dressed up in the man's uniform and
delivered them in person to Marshal Villeroi.'

Hillier
gaped. 'He rode into the French camp?'

'He
rode out again as well with Villeroi's dispatches to King Louis. Who else would
have the nerve to do that?'

'Who
else would take part in a Forlorn Hope?'

'Yes,'
said Dobbs, 'Captain Rawson has done that twice now. When we reached the Danube
last year, he joined in the Forlorn Hope at the Schellenberg. Most of the
others were killed on the slope but he survived to fight on.'