Drums of War (16 page)

'Thanks.'

When
Daniel eventually limped away, he was equally satisfied and dismayed. He was
pleased to have the possibility of work at the Bastille but alarmed to hear how
some of the inmates were treated. There was no point in trying to liberate
Emanuel Janssen if the Dutchman was in no condition to walk out. In the brutal
regime of the prison, he might by now be barely alive. On the other hand, if
the intention had been to kill him, Janssen would already have been executed as
a spy. For some reason, he'd been spared. Daniel therefore consoled himself
with the thought that he might - if he was fortunate enough to secure
employment at the Bastille - find out exactly what that reason was.

When
business took him back to The Hague again, Willem Ketel made a point of calling
on his close friend. Johannes Mytens shook him warmly by the hand then
conducted him to the parlour. It was a large room with a polished oak floor and
solid oak furniture. Paintings by Rembrandt, Vermeer and Hobbema adorned three
walls. The fourth was covered by a magnificent tapestry depicting The Hague.
They went through the social niceties before turning to the subject that
exercised their minds most.

'What's
the feeling in the States-General?' asked Ketel.

Mytens
sounded weary. 'Most of us are as tired of this war as you are, Willem,' he
said. 'We've spent far too long fighting the French with no prospect of
ultimate victory. I freely admit that I was carried away by the rhetoric when
the Grand Alliance was first formed. With England, Prussia, Austria and others
to help us, I felt that we could defeat the French army at last. They've held
sway over Europe for far too long.'

'It's
easy to see why, Johannes. They've always had the finest soldiers and the most
astute commanders.'

'I'd
hoped that the Duke of Marlborough could match their commanders and, in all
fairness, from time to time he did.'

'It
was only because he was supported by able Dutch generals.'

'Marlborough
says that our generals held him back.'

'They
merely saved him from making rash decisions.'

'Our
soldiers are brave,' said Mytens, 'but the fact remains that we fight best at
sea. While our army is competent, our navy is our real strength. Unfortunately,
there's little chance of using them in this war. We're restricted largely to
land battles.'

'That's
one of my complaints. The English steal all the glory at sea.'

'I
don't see much glory,' said Ketel, removing his wig to scratch his head. 'I
know that they captured Gibraltar and withstood a French siege but what else
has the navy done? Those leaky, old, disease- ridden ships of theirs have spent
most of their time carrying soldiers to Portugal and Spain.'

'I
approved of the treaty with Portugal,' admitted Mytens, his jowls wobbling more
than ever. 'I accepted Marlborough's argument that he needed naval bases there.
He was eager for his men to cross the border into Spain supported by the
Portuguese army.'

'Never
trust the Portuguese, I say.'

'They've
been dubious allies, I grant you.'

'It's
a question of resources,' argued Ketel, replacing his wig. 'We need all the men
we have to defend our boundaries and to advance into French territory. Yet
Marlborough, our commander- in-chief, the self-proclaimed hero of Blenheim, the
man who boasts that he has a grand strategy, has diverted almost as many soldiers
to Spain.'

'His
mistake was in thinking that he could control operations in the peninsula from
here.'

'We're
all paying a high price for that mistake.'

'I
agree, Willem.'

'On
a single voyage from Lisbon to Valencia, we lost over four thousand men who could
have been put to better use in Flanders.'

Mytens
smiled. 'You're remarkably well-informed.'

'I'm
a merchant, Johannes. My success depends on knowing what happens where. When a
ship of mine puts into port, I always go out of my way to talk to the captain
to hear what news he has for me.' He sucked his teeth. 'And I have other
sources of information as well.'

'It's
no wonder that you've prospered.'

'There
are ways of making money out of war and I've used every one of them. I don't
deny it. That's what anyone in my position would do. But my prosperity -
our
prosperity as a nation - relies
on a long period of peace that allows us to invest our money prudently instead
of wasting it on a war we can never win.'

Mytens
clasped his hands across his paunch and gave a nod. 'We've had this
conversation before, Willem.'

'And
are you still of the same mind?'

'I
am. Marlborough must go.'

'But
whatever means necessary?'

'By
whatever
means,' repeated Mytens, firmly.

'Where
is he at the moment?'

'I
thought you'd know that. You seem to know everything else.'

'Is
he still in Flanders?'

'No,
Willem, he's on his way to Dusseldorf to wheedle more troops out of the Elector
Palatine. After that, he's visiting our other allies to get promises of men and
money out of them. Give the man his due,' he continued, 'Marlborough is a
sublime diplomat. That English charm of his works time and again.'

'And
it sends men off to pointless deaths on the battlefield.'

'Why
did you ask about his whereabouts?'

'I
wanted to make sure that he'd be out of the way.'

'Marlborough
won't be back here until December.'

'That
will give us ample time,' said Ketel. 'I hope to be bringing a friend to meet
you in due course, Johannes.'

'Is
it someone from Amsterdam?'

'No
- he comes from Paris.'

Mytens
was guarded. 'Who is the fellow?'

'You
don't need to know his name yet and you certainly don't need to feel perturbed.
My friend wants exactly what we want and that's a promise of peace and a rest
from this perpetual warfare.' He slipped a hand under his wig for another
scratch. 'If we can reach agreement with France, we all stand to benefit.'

'Marlborough
will oppose any peace manoeuvres.'

'He
won't be here to do so, will he?' said Ketel with a smile before turning to
look at the tapestry. 'I'd know the work of Emanuel Janssen anywhere. Whenever
I'm in this room, I always admire it.'

'I'm
not sure that I should keep it, Willem.'

'Nothing
would make me part with such a masterpiece.'

'Emanuel
Janssen is a traitor. He's working at Versailles.'

'King
Louis always had exquisite taste.'

'That
doesn't entitle him to lure away our best tapestry- maker. It's true,' said
Mytens, studying the tapestry, 'that it's a masterpiece but should I have it
hanging there when the man who created it is now in the pay of the enemy?'

'Leave
it where it is, Johannes,' urged Ketel. 'It deserves a place in any house.
Besides, Janssen may be in the pay of our enemy at the moment but that enemy
could soon become our friend.'

Daniel
rose early next morning and, after breakfast at the tavern, rode off to explore
the city carefully and to find the best way out of it for them. Because it
covered a relatively small area, it was densely populated. Straddling the
river, it was bounded on the north by the boulevards from Porte Saint-Antoine
to Porte Saint- Honore. Its southern border was the Boulevard Saint-Germain.
Paris was divided into 20
quartiers
and had something close to 500,000 inhabitants. Early in his reign - and he had
been on the throne for over four decades now - Louis XIV had instructed
Jean-Baptiste Colbert, his Superintendent of Finance, to create a capital city
worthy of the name. The enterprising Colbert did so by embarking on an
ambitious programme of building and he transformed Paris.

Working
people, along with the poor and sickly, were forced out to the suburbs so that
the centre of the city could be occupied by wide new thoroughfares, impressive
monuments, grandiose palaces, vast mansions and splendid gardens. New bridges
spanned the Seine and factories manufacturing glass and carpets were set up. It
was a compact, bustling city where beauty and ugliness lived cheek by jowl and
where fabulous riches contrasted with the most degrading poverty. Though Daniel
was bound to marvel at the superb architecture of buildings like the Invalides
hospital and the Hotel Colbert, he preferred Amsterdam in every way. The Dutch
city, the greatest port in the world, was altogether cleaner, healthier, safer,
more modest in its aspirations and, because of its plethora of lamps, the best
lit city in Europe.

Daniel
yearned to be there again, ideally in the company of Amalia Janssen. His orders
had been to take her father to The Hague but the Janssen family would in time
return to their home. He hoped that his friendship with Amalia would continue
and blossom. When it was known that the tapestry-maker had not after all
betrayed his country, he'd be acclaimed once more in Amsterdam. All that Daniel
had to do was to convey him there. The task seemed more difficult every time he
contemplated it but he responded to the challenge. Riding from gate to gate, he
saw how well-guarded all the exits were and was sure that those on duty had
descriptions of Amalia and her companions. It was Daniel who'd killed Jacques
Serval but the others would be regarded as confederates and punished
accordingly.

After
his tour of the city's portals, he returned to the tavern well before noon and
stabled his horse there. As midday was approaching, Daniel was lurking outside
the Bastille. Among the many faces coming towards him, he recognised those of
Philippe and Georges, the turnkeys with whom he'd been drinking the previous
night. They greeted him with a wave then escorted him to the main gate. Daniel
had put a stone in one shoe so that he was forced to limp as he walked. Having
passed himself off as a wounded French soldier, he had to keep up the pretence.
When the gate was opened, the gaolers went through it for another day's work.
Before they were allowed to go to their posts, their names were checked off in
turn. The man in charge of the list was tall, cadaverous and beady-eyed. He
wore a dark uniform. Philippe spoke to him and indicated Daniel. After
subjecting the newcomer to a long stare, the man flicked a hand to make him
stand aside. Philippe and Georges bade him a cheery farewell before going off
to one of the towers.

Daniel
waited until the incoming turnkeys had all been accounted for and those they'd
relieved had all departed. Only when his ledger had all the requisite ticks on
it did the emaciated man look up. Daniel felt the intensity of his scrutiny.
The man's eyes were so keen that they seemed to see right through the newcomer.

'What's
your name?' he demanded.

'Marcel
Daron, sir.'

'Do
you have papers?'

'Yes,
sir,' replied Daniel, taking them out and handing them over. He stood there for
several minutes while his papers were inspected. They were eventually handed
back to him. 'I was a soldier until I was wounded in battle,' he explained.
'They have no room in the army for invalids.'

'We
have no call for them here either. Our turnkeys must be fit and strong enough
to control unruly prisoners.'

'Apart
from my foot, I'm in good health, sir. Being a soldier has kept me strong. Put
me to the test, if you doubt it.'

The
man did so at once, shooting out a hand to grasp him by the neck and pulling
him close. Daniel's response was equally swift. He grabbed the man's wrist and
squeezed it tighter and tighter until he saw the pain clouding his eyes. Strong
though he was, the man was soon compelled to release his grip. Tucking the
ledger under one arm, he massaged his wrist with the other hand.

'You're
a powerful man, Marcel Daron.'

'You'll
not find me wanting, sir.'

'Have
you guarded prisoners before?'

'I
did so many times in the army.'

'Why
do you want to work here?'

'The
work appeals to me, sir.'

'But
why choose the Bastille?' asked the other. 'Why not go to the Chatelet or the
Eveque? They are always looking for new men.'

'I
heard that there might be a job for me here, sir.'

The
man sniffed then walked around him, as if examining livestock at a fair. He
opened his ledger and glanced down the list of names. The beady eyes shifted to
Daniel once more.

'Are
you afraid of the dark?' he asked.

'No,
sir.'

'Are
you frightened by rats and mice?'

'Nothing
frightens me,' said Daniel, levelly.

'Very
well,' decided the man after another prolonged survey of him. 'You can go on
duty tonight. There'll be a uniform waiting for you when you arrive. If you're
late, you'll be turned away.'