Soldier of Fortune (15 page)

The Confederate
army continued its march south. Crossing the River Neckar, a tributary of the
Rhine, they were joined by the expected reinforcements from Denmark and
Prussia, thereby adding 14,000 soldiers to the army and instilling fresh
confidence in it as a result. French spies watched the army's progress and sent
regular reports to the King in Versailles as well as to his two leading
commanders, Marshal Camille d'Hostun, Comte de Tallard and Marshal Francois
Villeroi, a royal favourite but an uninspiring soldier. Early fears that
Marlborough intended to invade Alsace had proved groundless as had the anxiety
over a potential attack on the French fortress of Landau. When these objectives
were discounted, observers concluded that the armies of the Grand Alliance were
doing something considered to be unthinkable. They were heading for the Danube.

It was not a
forced march but neither was it leisurely. Marching early each morning, they
went on for three or four days then rested for a day. They were travelling
through the countries of allies who had been forewarned of their approach.
Commissaries had therefore been appointed to see to the needs of both men and
horses. Whenever they reached the site of their next camp, everything was in
readiness. All that the soldiers had to do was to pitch their tents, boil their
kettles and sit down to rest. They were in good heart

Louis XIV
received news of developments in a towering rage.

'Marlborough had
this planned in advance,' he roared at the group of advisers gathered around
him at Versailles. 'Why did we know nothing about it?'

'The Duke has
been very guileful,' ventured one man, electing to speak on behalf of the
others.

'That's no
excuse. We have enough spies in his army. Surely, one of them could have found
out what his true intentions were. How can we stop him if we do not know where
he is going?'

'But we
do
know, Your
Majesty. His destination is the Danube.'

'What does he
propose to do on the way?' demanded the king.

'That remains to
be seen.'

'I can't wait
for it to be seen, man. I want it anticipated now. What's the point of military
advisers if they haven't the intelligence or the foresight to give me good
counsel? Not one of you guessed what Marlborough's strategy was,' he said,
glaring accusingly around the group. 'Not one of you ever mentioned the
possibility of a march to the Danube. French armies should dictate events as
they've always done in the past, not be forced to respond to them as we're
doing now.'

'Marlborough has
finally shown his hand, Your Majesty,' said the spokesman, an elderly man with
a pock-marked face, 'and we can therefore take appropriate action.'

'What do you
believe that should be?'

'Strengthen our
army between them and their destination.'

'We can't just
build a barrier against their approach,' said Louis. 'There's always the chance
they can march around it. Just look how steadily they are moving - almost 250
miles in a bare five weeks. Each time they reach camp,' he added irritably,
'they find food, drink and all other necessaries awaiting them. In short, they
are expected - by everyone except
us,
damn it!'

The advisers
exchanged nervous glances. They were used to making decisions about a French
army whose power and expertise had made it universally feared. Since they were
not acquainted with major failures and setbacks, they did not instantly know
how to deal with them. Their spokesman was tentative.

'What would you
suggest, Your Majesty?' he asked.

'I'd suggest
that I need some new advisers.' There was a flurry of protest from the others
but he waved them into silence. 'My strategy is this. We must separate
Marlborough from his ally, Prince Eugene of Savoy. To that end, I will send
Marshal Villeroi, with 40 battalions and 70 squadrons to keep Eugene occupied.'

'A wise
decision,' said the spokesmen amid a chorus of approval from the others. 'What
of Marshal Tallard?'

'He'll take an
army of 40 battalions and 50 squadrons through the Black Forest to join Marshal
Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria.' He saw the reservation in the man's eyes.
'Do you have any objection that that?'

'Not in the
least, Your Majesty.'

'Tell the truth,
man. I sense reluctance.'

'It's consent
tempered by a slight anxiety,' explained the man. 'The Black Forest is a
mountainous area. Our army would have to march through hostile territory under
the most difficult conditions.'

'It's the most
direct route.'

'Then you must prepare
for losses along the way.'

'Don't tell me
about losses,' snapped Louis, smacking the arm of his chair. 'I've controlled
my armies for decades now so I know all about the losses they are bound to
sustain. Marshal Marsin and the Elector need reinforcements and that's what
they will get.'

The man nodded
obsequiously. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

'Whatever
happens, Marlborough must not be allowed to cross the Danube. That's an article
of faith with me.'

'The best place
to cross is Donauworth,' said another of the advisers, 'where the Wornitz river
meets the Danube. 'I've
been there, Your Majesty. It's guarded by a fortified hill
called the Schellenberg and that's almost impossible to storm. Of one thing I
believe we can be assured,' he continued, looking around his colleagues with a
smug smile. 'The Allied armies will never be permitted to cross the Danube.'

'We must cross
the Danube,' said Marlborough, poring over the map laid out on a table in his
tent.

'It will not be
easy, Your Grace,' warned Eugene. 'Marshal Marsin and the Elector have
established a camp in Dillingen - right here.' His finger prodded the map. 'A
smaller force is guarding Donauworth and the heights above it. Even as we
speak, they will be improving fortifications on the Schellenberg.'

'We shall have
to take the hill.'

'You'll have to
pay a high price in blood to do so.'

'It will be
worth it.'

'I agree,' said
Eugene. 'It is bold, brave and unexpected. The French never dreamt you would
come this far into Germany. You have kept them guessing at every point, Your
Grace. That's the mark of a great commander.'

Prince Eugene of
Savoy spoke with authority, having been a keen student of military history. He
was a slim, pale, almost effeminate man of forty with protruding front teeth
and a misshapen nose. Notwithstanding his ugliness and his unwillingness to
wash as often as he should, he was a skilful general. The irony was that he had
been brought up in the French court where his ambitions to be a soldier were
ridiculed by King Louis who decreed that the puny youth of sixteen, as he had
once been, should enter the church.

Forced to
receive a tonsure and wear a cassock, Eugene sought succour in the work of
Plutarch and others who wrote about heroes of the Ancient World. He remained in
France until he could endure the king's arrogance no more, seeking a military
career elsewhere and vowing that he would only ever return at the head of an
army. An unlikely soldier, he nevertheless turned out to have great skill in
the field and his support was prized by Marlborough. Had he been allowed to
join the French army, as he had once wished, Eugene would now be fighting
against the Grand Alliance. In treating him with such disdain, Louis XIV had
created a dangerous enemy with an army of 28,000 men at his back.

'What are my
orders, Your Grace?' asked Eugene.

'Marshal Tallard
is coming through the Black Forest,' said Marlborough, 'and he will meet up
with Marshal Villeroi's army. We need you to guard the Lines at Stollhoffen
against their advance.'

'Consider it
done.'

'Thank you, my
friend. I cannot tell you how delighted we are to have you as our ally. Your
successes against the Turks have earned you many plaudits. Three years ago, you
also had notable victories at Carpi and Chiari against superior French armies.'

'I lost the
battle of Cremona,' confessed Eugene, 'but I fought the French to a draw at
Luzzara. They are not as invincible as they like to believe.'

'I know,' said
Marlborough, looking up. 'They are rightly proud of their military achievements
but pride can lead to complacency. We must exploit their self-satisfaction.'

'How many men do
you have at your disposal?'

'The best part
of 80,000 - on the long march here, we lost only a thousand or more to
sickness. That was a blessing.'

'The French will
lose many men as they come through the Black Forest. The mountains always claim
some victims.'

'Their horses
are suffering as well,' Marlborough told him. 'The latest intelligence is that
a virulent disease has spread among them. If many of their horses die, they
will be slowed down.'

'We will be
waiting for them at the Lines of Stollhoffen,' said Eugene, a broad grin
revealing the rest of his teeth. He brushed back his unkempt fair hair. 'We'll
test the French to the utmost.'

'May good
fortune attend you,' said Marlborough, exchanging a warm handshake with him.
'The next time we meet, it will be near the Danube.' He studied Eugene
quizzically. 'Do you have no qualms about fighting a country in which you spent
so much time?'

Eugene became
serious. 'None at all, Your Grace,' he said. 'King Louis treated my mother
shabbily and mocked me with the name of
le petit abbe.
He will soon
see that I am no little priest.' He rested a hand on his sword. 'I'll make him
rue the day that he made me quit France to follow my true calling as a
soldier.'

Daniel Rawson
had always enjoyed being in a camp preparing itself for action. The sense of
expectation was exciting. He found the sight of men being drilled, weapons being
cleaned or sharpened, and artillery being made ready, thrilling even after all
his years in the army. Additional soldiers were coming in every day. They had
met the Margrave of Baden and the Austrian army at Launsheim and there was a
steady trickle of recruits. After their unfortunate experience with the man
calling himself Will Curtis, the British army questioned any newcomers very
closely, especially if they were deserters from the French or Bavarian forces.
Once accepted into the ranks, they were still watched in case they turned out
to be enemy spies.

Characteristically
forthright, Sergeant Henry Welbeck expressed misgivings about what awaited
them. He and Daniel were watching a small detachment of Dutch soldiers arriving
in camp.

'What are those
moon-faced fools grinning at?' he asked with scorn. 'Don't they know they are
on their way to their death?'

'Death or
glory,' corrected Daniel.

'There's not
much chance of glory, Dan. The rumour is that we're going to cross the Danube.
If we try to do that, most of us will end up as corpses floating on the water.'

'Your job is to
inspire your men. If you tell them we're facing defeat before battle even
commences, you plant seeds of doubt in their minds. They
have
to believe
victory is possible, Henry.'

'I'm not sure
that I do.'

'You refused to
believe that we'd get this far,' Daniel reminded him. 'Yet we've managed it
without too many problems.'

'Then your
memory is very different from mine,' said Welbeck tartly. 'What about the days
when it rained so hard, we could hardly see a hand in front of our faces? What
about those mountains we had to climb? And what about Lieutenant Hopwood being
murdered in your tent - that's what I'd call a real problem.'

'I haven't
forgotten that,' said Daniel soulfully. 'I still feel guilty. Richard Hopwood
died in place of me.'

'Then his
sacrifice was not in vain. We need you, Dan.'

'We needed the
lieutenant as well. I know he was untried but he had some fire in his belly. He
wanted
to fight the
French. When they see urgency and commitment in an officer, the men respect him
all the more. Richard Hopwood will be mourned.'

'Do you think
we'll ever find his killer?'

'We must,'
replied Daniel. 'It's a sacred duty.'

'It will be like
finding a pin's head in a cart-load of hay.'

'I have a
feeling it will be a lot easier than that, Henry.'

'We'll never see
Will Curtis again.'

'He'll be back
one day. If he's clever enough to get inside our camp the way he did, he won't
give up. Sooner or later, he'll make a second attempt at killing me.'

'Why?'

Daniel smiled.
'I'll remember to ask him before I shoot him.'

'Take care,
Dan,' said Welbeck with gruff affection. 'If anything happened to you, I'd miss
you a lot. You're an ugly bugger but I'd still prefer to see your head staying
on your shoulders.'

'Thank you.'

'I must go. Bear
in mind what I said.'

'Do the same for
me,' said Daniel. 'Remember what I said about imparting confidence to the men.
Glow with optimism, Henry. We could be on the verge of a tremendous victory.'

'Oh, I agree,'
said Welbeck gloomily. 'But will either of us still be alive to celebrate it?'

Daniel watched
him go, knowing full well that his friend would not pass on his private fears
to his men. Soldiers drilled by Sergeant Henry Welbeck were among the
best-disciplined
in the British army. Daniel knew they would acquit themselves
well in combat. How the Dutch, Danish, Prussians, Italians, Austrians and other
nationalities in the allied force would behave in action was an open question.
As he considered it, Daniel's eye fell on the new arrivals. Like the main army,
they had made the long and arduous journey from Holland. They looked exhausted
and bedraggled.

Two wagons
rolled in at the rear of the column and came to a halt. Daniel could not
understand why they had sought out the British section of the camp instead of
that of their countrymen. The answer came in the shape of two female figures
who were helped down from the second wagon. One of them spotted Daniel
immediately.

'Captain
Rawson!' she called, waving joyfully.

It was Abigail
Piper.