Rules of War (29 page)

Quickly now, they slipped into the passageway through the parapet, directly beneath the feet of the patrolling sentries, and emerged in the ditch between the inner and outer defences. This, Steel was only too well aware, would be their most vulnerable moment. Instinctively they pressed themselves flat against the wall and began to edge gingerly around, still further to the north. They had not gone more than thirty yards when Fabritius turned left and broke into a run, glancing behind to make sure the others were still with him. Steel followed with Henrietta while Slaughter brought up the rear. Their footfalls made scarcely a sound. There were no cobbles here, for the ditch between the two walls was sown with short-mown grass to allow the crossfire from defending cannon to cut down any attacking force that made it thus far. This night though, thought Steel, for once, Vauban's cunning had turned in favour of King Louis' enemies. They were quickly across the ditch and up against
the far wall. Now was the moment at which any sentry, glancing casually in the moonlight across towards the allied camp, would without doubt catch sight of them. Steel imagined the sudden shout, the levelled muskets and the shots. But none came. Instead he heard Fabritius' soft voice, hissing a whispered direction.

‘Sir. Here, Captain.'

Steel peered towards the Belgian and saw that he was motioning them to join him in a wide tunnel built through the rock. It was a sturdy brick and stone structure, beautifully made to Vauban's precise instructions and lit from above by slits cut into the roof. Together, they advanced into its semi-darkness and as they reached the end Steel strained his eyes to see anything other than the flat brick wall of a dead end. He turned to Fabritius and was about to say something when the man advanced towards the wall and swept away a tangle of rushes and foliage. Steel saw that beneath was a small wooden door, set into the outer rampart and framed with brickwork. Confident that his countrymen had done their work, Fabritius grasped the black iron handle and turned it. Slowly the door opened and they found themselves peering into a darker blackness than that which surrounded them. They were inside in an instant and Slaughter, being careful not to make a sound, closed the door behind them. Then, darkness. Steel could see nothing. Neither was this the sort of darkness of a house at night when one's eyes gradually become accustomed to the shadow until a room can emerge quite clearly. This was darkness beyond imagining. And it was hot.

The tunnel had been designed as a sally-port, a route out of the fortress along which defenders might pass to make a surprise attack upon any besieging force. There had been no thought given to ventilation beyond the first twenty or so
yards and those shafts were long since blocked by foliage and masonry. Steel heard Henrietta gasp.

‘Jack? Captain Steel? Are you there? I can't see a thing.'

‘Here, My Lady. We're all here. All right, Sarn't? Mister Fabritius?'

‘Sir.'

‘Good, Captain. I think we should move. There is not much air in here, I think.'

‘Yes, you're right. Let's get on. Careful, My Lady. Here, take my hand.' Steel extended his arm in the direction he judged Henrietta to be and made contact with her waist. He passed his arm around it and squeezed. ‘You'll be all right now, My Lady. Stay with me, ma'am.'

Each of them using one hand to feel the wall of the tunnel, they all began to walk as fast as they could given the conditions, towards where they presumed they must eventually find the door that would lead them out of the fortress. From time to time Steel gave a gentle squeeze to Henrietta's waist. Up ahead he could hear Fabritius' boots against the hard earth of the tunnel floor. They seemed to be descending very gradually now, down a shallow slope. It was taking them, he presumed, directly on to the dunes. They had gone some two hundred yards when Steel became aware that he could no longer hear Slaughter behind him.

He turned sharply in the pitch-black and looked without success back down the way they had come. ‘Jacob? Are you with me?'

Nothing. Then, from ten, perhaps twenty yards to their rear he heard a quiet voice.

Letting go of Henrietta, Steel retraced his steps. He could hear Slaughter now.

‘No. No, I tell you. I'll never go down into that place. Never. You can't force me to. I won't go down.'

‘Jacob? Are you all right? What's wrong?'

The voice fell silent and Steel approached until he was standing almost immediately over the figure of the sergeant, who was evidently sitting with his knees drawn up and his back against one of the tunnel walls. Even in the blackness, Steel recognized the smell of fear. He crouched down and found the man's arm.

‘Jacob, don't worry. We're going to get out of here soon. We're almost at the door and then there'll be as much air as you can breathe and we'll be out in the open and among friends. Come on, man. This isn't like you.'

But he knew that it was. For all his bravery on the battlefield, his calmness and control and his huge physical presence, the sergeant had one secret fear. He could not abide enclosed spaces. He had discovered it as a lad when they had forced him to go down one of the newly opened coal mines in his native County Durham. It was the reason that he had run away to join the colours. To be here now, thought Steel, must be pure hell for him.

Slaughter mumbled, ‘Sorry, sir. It's just the dark and the walls. And the heat, sir. I can't go on.'

‘You must go on, Jacob. People are depending on you. What would your lads say if they saw you like this, eh? Think of that. Come on. I'll keep hold of your arm. Come with me.'

Taking care not to move too fast, Steel gently brought Slaughter to his feet and began to walk with him down towards the others.

Fabritius heard them: ‘All right, Captain?'

‘It's fine. My sergeant just caught his head on the roof. Fellow's just too tall. Fine for a Grenadier, rotten in a tunnel. Let's get on.'

They began moving. Steel had found Henrietta again and with his left hand in hers and his right keeping a firm grip
on Slaughter's trembling forearm, they moved slightly faster than before. After a few yards, Steel became aware that the air had turned foul with the unmistakable smell of human excrement. The stench came from a neighbouring sewer whose thin lining had long worn away and was leeching its contents into the soil.

Slaughter pulled up: ‘That's it, Mister Steel. That's it. I've had enough. I ain't going on any further into this hot, stinkin' hellhole. Let me out. I'm going back.'

Steel increased his hold on Slaughter's arm and spoke in a whisper. ‘Stay with me, Jacob. We're going to be fine. I'm sure it's not far now. Come on man, ten yards. I'm sure.'

Fabritius had gone on ahead and Henrietta, desperate to be clear of the stench, went after him, pulling Steel on. He hoped that he was right and the end would come soon. And then he saw it, the merest glimmer of light – no more than a pinprick. They had all seen it now and the smell of the sea was overwhelming. There was no door, but what had originally been an open hole, cleverly concealed by a fold in the ground, had become covered over the decades with foliage and tree roots to create a natural barrier. Steel moved ahead and with care drew his sword.

‘Stand back, all of you.'

With a great stroke he cut at the roots and was surprised at how easily his blade sliced through them. Two, three, four more cuts and they could see the sky. A few more and he had cleared a hole wide enough for a man's arm. Slaughter stepped forward and took hold of the sword hilt.

‘If you don't mind, sir, I'll give you a hand.'

Within minutes the two of them had cleared a hole sufficient to pass through and then they were free. Together they half-ran, half-tumbled down the dunes at the foot of the outer ramparts of the fortifications which towered forty feet
above their heads, a sheer wall of stone, shining in the moonlight. Steel bent over and caught his breath. Henrietta was lying on a dune, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of her gasps. Beyond her he could see both Fabritius and the huge frame of Slaughter gratefully taking in lungfuls of the salty air. Never, he thought, had any air ever tasted quite so sweet.

Over the dunes and along the far shore, the sun was cresting the eastern horizon and through the camp, as the women roused themselves and hands fell to milking cows and kneading bread, a pack of officers' hunting hounds had already begun to give tongue to the new day as Steel got to his feet and pulled the muslin shirt over his head. His muscles were still horribly stiff, his bruised bones ached and the scars on his back were only just starting to heal. He thought that one of his ribs might have been broken during the ordeal with Trouin and had decided to keep Louise Huber's bandages on for the time being, just in case. He pulled on the brocaded blue waistcoat somewhat gingerly, waiting for the impact against any still-open wounds and knew he had been right to be cautious. For there were some, and the sharp pain began to bite into him as he fastened the buttons. He looked down at Henrietta, asleep under the blanket and pulled on first his trousers and then his boots before reaching for the heavy red coat which hung on the hook above him.

She stirred: ‘Jack, is that you?'

He bent down to kiss her forehead: ‘Hush, my darling. Sleep now. I won't be long, I promise. I've been called for by Duke. I'll see you in the morning.'

Eyes still closed, she smiled and turned deeper into the blankets. Steel straightened up and, being careful not to rattle the blade in the scabbard, picked up his sword with care and
moved towards the door. He turned one more time, took in the pure beauty of the sleeping form in his bed and then, snatching up his hat from the table, stepped outside into the pale dawn and went to rid the world of René Duglay-Trouin.

Using the small, sharp knife that he kept for just such a purpose, Marlborough sliced through the soft flesh of a ripe pomegranate and popped a sliver into his mouth before wiping his lips upon a white napkin. He ate thoughtfully, then spoke as he cut again into the fruit: ‘You say that you have discovered a way into the town, Captain Steel? You're certain it is viable?'

‘Quite certain, Your Grace. It is a small sally-port on the northwestern side of the defences, so small as to be hardly detectable. It was by way of that gate that we effected our escape.'

Marlborough, swallowing another piece of fruit, smiled at him: ‘Yes. That was well done, your rescue of Lady Henrietta. Her Majesty will be most grateful for that. Very good, Steel. So, to the sally-port. You're sure it is disused?'

‘Quite so, My Lord. We had to cut our way out. But it is quite as serviceable as when first built by Vauban.'

The duke laughed. ‘I do declare, you are a constant joy to me, Captain Steel. Not only do you find us a secret means by which to enter the citadel, but you do so by way of employing
one of Marshal Vauban's own defensive stratagems, just the sort of feature which so often frustrates our conduct of a siege.' He chuckled and turned to Hawkins, who was standing close by in the commanding officer's ornate campaign tent, eating a peach. ‘Don't you love the irony, Hawkins? The great master's genius is going to prove his countrymen's own undoing.'

The colonel, with juice dripping down his chin and his mouth full of fruit, was unable to answer and merely nodded his head and narrowed his eyes in approval.

Marlborough became abruptly serious and looked hard at Steel: ‘In earnest though, you have done well, Captain. I gather from Colonel Hawkins that Lady Henrietta is safe and no worse for her dreadful experiences.'

‘Yes, sir. She is quite safe now. I have undertaken to safeguard her personally.'

Marlborough raised an eyebrow and wiped his sticky hands on the napkin. ‘Oh have you, Steel? How very noble of you.' His tone and the pause that followed unnerved Steel a little. Marlborough's laugh broke the tension. ‘No matter. I trust that you know what you are about, Captain Steel. But you might take a care to remember who it was that recommended you at court for this duty. Eh, Hawkins? D'you hear that? Captain Steel is taking personal care of Lady Henrietta. He might have a care, d'you not think?'

Hawkins, who, after finishing the peach had just helped himself to a little more of the excellent ham on which he had breakfasted, grinned. ‘Oh, he might have a care, Your Grace. Indeed. But then I am sure that Captain Steel is always careful in such matters. Are you not, Jack?'

Steel shook his head: ‘I mean, sir, merely that I intend no harm to come to her.'

‘Very good, Steel. As you will. But be careful whom you
make your enemies. In particular at court. Our gracious sovereign is a woman – remember that. For women have more influence in the conduct of this war than you may know, Steel.' He paused: ‘There was some talk of torture, was there not? Her Ladyship was not at all harmed? You are sure of that?'

‘Not at all, Your Grace. Merely gravely insulted.'

‘I guessed as much. And yourself? We were quite beside ourselves with worry. Poor Colonel Hawkins was most distressed.'

‘I suffered a little, sir.'

‘But you are quite fit now, I trust. Fit enough to lead the assault?'

‘As fit as I'll ever be, Your Grace. Am I to take it then that I shall have the honour of leading the initial party, sir? To open the way? I have a personal score to settle, and a debt to repay.'

Marlborough looked at him: ‘You really are a most extraordinary man, Steel. Most of my officers, as brave as ever they might be, would be thankful to have escaped with their lives from such a place as you have lately quit. Yet you insist on returning. More than that, on leading the attack. You say you have a score to settle. May I enquire as to what, exactly?'

‘Your Grace, I intend to deal personally with the pirate, Trouin. He murdered a friend of mine and insulted another.'

‘You know, Steel, you must never allow vengeance to rob you of your senses. It is an intoxicating demon. Are you certain that you wish to do this?'

‘I have never been more resolved on any matter, Your Grace.'

‘Nevertheless, be careful not to place yourself in any unnecessary danger, Steel. I should not like to lose you. Least of all to an act of revenge. It would however, be most
propitious should you find yourself in such a position to dispose of Mister Trouin. From what Colonel Hawkins tells me, we cannot allow him to escape.'

He looked down at the map spread before him on the table and traced with his finger a route along the sand north of the dunes which then cut across and entered the town at the place Steel had told him they would find the sally-port. Then he pointed in turn to the small oblong blocks, each of them signifying the position of a battalion that had been drawn up in line to the west of the marshes and muttered each of their names silently as if to remind himself just how strong his army was. The army that would follow Steel into the town.

He looked up at Steel: ‘Very well, Captain. You shall lead the assault. Take fifty men – no more. Grenadiers, your own fellows. Choose them well. Take them along the beach and across the dunes and into the town by way of your secret gate. Once inside, you must find a means of opening one of the main gates. After that whatever you do is your decision. You may have a battalion of Dutch to your rear as support should anything go amiss. Aside from that you are on your own. Do I make myself clear?'

‘Quite clear, Your Grace. And thank you.'

‘Don't thank me, Steel. I'm sending you back into hell.'

Major Claude Malbec stood in the private office of Ostend's troubled governor and looked down through the iron crossbars of the window on to the morning bustle. In the square of the Grote Markt, beneath the bomb-damaged bulk of the town hall, the traders had set up their stalls, despite the events of the previous few days and people had come to buy as they always did. But there was something not right about the scene, he thought. The townsfolk seemed to have an air of apprehension. They walked not with their usual confidence
but with their shoulders hunched and their heads downcast. And from time to time through their midst a cart would pass, its covered contents denoting that another body had been found in the rubble.

For the last fifteen minutes Governor de la Motte had endured Malbec's bitter tirade against him, his administration and the man's own junior officer, who, it appeared, had helped some precious prisoners to escape. He wondered when the major would finish and allow him to get on with his breakfast of the precious salted ham and black bread which lay untouched on his sideboard. But as Malbec turned from the window his expression told de la Motte that his stomach would have to wait a while longer.

‘What was the boy thinking? Damn him for an insubordinate pup. I'll have him hanged for treachery.'

‘Isn't that a little excessive, Major? After all, he is an officer. And in any case, his mother is a favourite of the king. We can only guess at who his father might be. I hardly think you'd get away with it. Look on the bright side, Major. As I understand it, the lieutenant prevented further acts of atrocity by Captain Trouin.'

‘That's all very well, Governor, but the man is merely a junior officer. He had no right to take such a decision, nor to make such an attack. He might as you say have prevented Trouin from further acts of apparent indecency. But what's that compared to letting British spies escape and handing over our hostage? It's madness. Worse than that, it goes against all the principles of war.'

‘It does?'

‘Governor, I am a soldier. I have always been a soldier. I am not a diplomat, I am not a politician. I am a simple soldier. Allow me my modicum of expertise in that domain. It is unmilitary. It goes against all the rules. Whatever Trouin
was up to there is simply no excuse for delivering spies back to the enemy. They should have been shot. And now that honour devolves upon Lieutenant Lejeune.'

‘Major, take care. You cannot have him executed. It would benefit no one. Haven't we got enough to worry about?' He paused and eyed the ham. ‘Have you had breakfast?'

Malbec did not hear him: ‘When I find him I've a good mind to string him up myself, by God. No court-martial – just give me the rope.'

De la Motte sighed: ‘Major, please. I am sure that Lieutenant Lejeune had his reasons. It was surely a courageous thing that he did, you must agree with that. You and I are well aware that for some weeks now Captain Trouin has been abusing his position of power. He may be the king's own appointee, but this time surely he has overstepped the mark once too often.'

Malbec threw up his hands in despair. ‘And so now he is held here in the king's prison. And what will you do now, Governor? Keep him there until Paris sends a wagon for him and he is taken back to be tried for his crimes by the king himself? But … Oh, no. Wait a minute, I quite forgot. Trouin is the king's man, his favourite. D'you suppose that Louis will take your word for it? You may be destined for the block over this matter, but personally I intend to disentangle myself from this mess. I grant you that to kill Lejeune would be foolish. He has too many friends at court. But have you thought of us? How does it look for me? For you? I am Lejeune's superior and you command the entire town. The responsibility for the Englishmen's escape is ours. What will our fate be now? If we survive this siege, once Trouin reports to the king, what is our destiny? And who's to say in any case that we will survive the fight? With the girl gone, there's nothing to stop their precious Marlbrook from telling his
men to open fire again – nothing whatsoever. These English have no scruples, I tell you, and I should know. They don't care about women and children, about how many of them will die as long as they get their precious town. I tell you, we'll all be blown to atoms. And all because of Lejeune.'

Suddenly the governor found that he had lost his appetite. He frowned: ‘The girl may still be in the town for all we know.'

‘Don't delude yourself, de la Motte. She's back in their lines all right. Our one precious lifeline, gone. I hope the lieutenant's satisfied. In fact, de la Motte, I'm glad that I can't hang him. He'll be able now to hear the screams of the women and children when the English open fire again. And he'll know that he caused that suffering.'

De la Motte had turned pale. ‘Do you really think the English will bombard us again?'

‘It's beyond a doubt. Why shouldn't they? They've nothing to lose. And they've no conscience. As a people, you know, they're morally bankrupt.'

‘Then surely we must surrender, declare the town an open city. Trouin can't stop us doing that.'

Malbec stared at him, wide-eyed: ‘Surrender to the English? Are you mad? I have never surrendered a command and I do not intend to start now on the provocation of a junior officer. No, Governor. We will not surrender. We shall sit this one out. We'll watch the people die. And when the English come, as they are sure to come at some point, after their guns have run out of ammunition, then what's left of us will be ready for them behind our own cannon. They'll still have to storm the defences. And then we'll have them. We'll take more than a few to hell with us, de la Motte. I assure you of that.' He crossed to the window and looked out beyond the square, over the defences. ‘Marshal Vauban knew exactly what he was doing here. Every one of those bastions gives
covering fire to another. There's no single place in the ramparts that doesn't have at least four cannon raking it. We've more than enough food, you know that well enough, and fresh water. Sooner or later they're bound to run out of bombs. Perhaps we should send Trouin out to frighten off their fleet. Yes, that might really be a plan.'

Malbec's talk of ‘taking a few to hell' had made de la Motte feel decidedly queasy. Breakfast was now a forgotten thought. He pushed his waiting plate to one side.

‘You really want me to release him? Captain Trouin? You know that he's bound to go after Lejeune?'

‘Well, that would be an end to one problem. One king's man ridding us of another. What a nice touch! Though I would be sorry for the lieutenant to miss the women's screams. Still, it would be justice. Yes, we must release Trouin. Can there be any question about it? Besides, we need his band of cut-throats. You know, de la Motte, we're going to need every man we can get. There's a whole army out there, sixty thousand men, and the only way we're going to stop them taking this place is to blast them off the face of the earth.' He smiled: ‘And that, with Captain Trouin's help, is exactly what I intend to do.'

Steel watched with amusement as Henry Hansam stood with one stockinged foot on a patch of grass and emptied out his right boot, cursing as he did so.

‘Damned sand, gets in everywhere. I'll be pleased when we take our leave of this place, Jack, sea breeze or no blessed sea breeze.'

Steel finished adjusting his sword belt and slung his fusil across his shoulder, having ensured that it was loaded.

‘You'll get your wish soon enough, Henry. What time d'you have?'

Hansam finished pulling on his boot and delved into his waistcoat pocket for his watch. ‘Eight minutes before two o'clock, Jack. Not long to go now.'

‘Just long enough for a few words, perhaps. D'you think?'

Hansam nodded. Steel turned to Slaughter: ‘Sarn't, have the men gather round me. And have them stand easy.'

The company was positioned at its jumping-off point, in a low clump of sand dunes some half a mile from the town's ramparts, out of view of the sentries and sheltered from the wind. Steel stepped up on to a large stone from one of a trio of long-ruined houses and looked down at the assembled company. Fifty men, Marlborough had told him and that was precisely the number he would take. He had ordered Slaughter to ensure that all the veterans were with his party. Men like Dan Cussiter, a corporal now, and Matt Taylor, the self-appointed company apothecary. Dependable fighters like Mackay, Tarling and Milligan. Henderson, the Borders lad, Jock Miller from Dumfries and the lanky athlete Jeremiah Thorogood, the best cricketer the regiment could field. And the rest of them. Against his better judgement too, Steel had agreed at their insistence to take both Hansam and Williams. The remaining few men he had left in the care of number four company's commanding officer, Robert Melville, with the instruction that should the company return in insufficient numbers to form, they were to be taken into his command. For this was as dangerous a task as Steel and his men had ever been charged to perform and he knew that their chances of coming through must be less than fifty per cent. He knew too though that of all the men in Marlborough's army there were none better suited to the challenge. He took off his tricorne hat and placed it under his arm and began: ‘Men. Today, we have been given the great honour of leading the assault and ending this siege.' A
quiet hurrah came from the left. Steel smiled and nodded his head towards it. ‘Thank you, McLaurence. You all know as well as I do what that means. Some of you fought with me at the Schellenberg and at Blenheim. Others went into the attack with us at Ramillies. You all of you know what it is to assault a fortified position. What it means to be the “forlorn hope”. But this is an assault unlike any you will have attempted before. We must be secret, we must be silent and we must be swift. Every man must look out for himself, and for his comrades too. I've been in this town and I've met this enemy, and I can tell you now from that acquaintance, this day will not be easy. But we have been chosen by the duke himself and we must honour that choice. The fate of the war rests now in our hands, lads. Remember that and go to it with a will. And remember above all else, you are Grenadiers.'