Soldier of Fortune (25 page)

The
search was systematic and wide-ranging. Organised by Daniel Rawson, teams of
men scoured the camp in the fading light and looked into every tent and wagon.
To his credit, Sergeant Henry Welbeck suppressed any comments he might have
wished to make about the troublesome nature of women and joined in the hunt
with enthusiasm. Having investigated every inch of the route between the tent
where Abigail Piper had been staying and Daniel's quarters, they broadened the
search. When it failed to find any trace of the missing person, Daniel was
baffled.

'Somebody
must have seen her, Henry,' he
said to Welbeck. 'She was the sort of young lady to turn heads.'

'More
than heads, from what I gather,' murmured Welbeck.

'She
simply has to be here.'

'Well,
we can find neither hide nor hair of her, Dan. My guess is that she may no
longer be in the camp.'

'Where
else can she be?'

'I've
been thinking about that description you gave me of the man who may have
abducted her. The beard deceived me at the start until I realised that he might
have grown it since we last saw him.'

'Who?'

'That
skulking deserter,' said Welbeck. 'Private Will Curtis.'

Daniel
started. 'Would he be bold enough to sneak back into the camp?' he asked,
disturbed by the notion.

'He
was bold enough to try to behead you, Dan, and - if my guess is right - he was
daring enough to fire that shot at you. Curtis is as bold as brass. It was the
first thing I noticed about the bugger.'

They
were still speculating on what might have happened to Abigail when a corporal
brought a man over to them who wore the uniform of the Dutch army.

'This
is Private Berchem,' said the corporal. 'He's a blacksmith, sir. His English is
poor but he thinks he can help us.'

'Can
you?' asked Daniel, speaking to him in Dutch.

'I
hope so, sir,' replied the man. 'I was shoeing a horse when they went past me.
They were only yards away.'

'What
did you see?'

'I
saw a British soldier and a beautiful young lady. I wondered why they were so
close to the Dutch camp. The last time I saw them, they went towards a large
tent.'

'Did
you see them go into it?' pressed Daniel.

'No,
sir,' said the man. 'When you are hammering a horseshoe into place, you have to
keep your eyes on what you are doing. But I fancy that they might have gone
into the tent.'

'Could
you take us there now?'

The
Dutchman nodded. 'Yes, Captain.'

Welbeck
was exasperated. 'What the hell is the fellow saying?'

'I'll
tell you on the way,' said Daniel.

Understanding
the urgency of the situation, the Dutchman set a good pace. Daniel and Welbeck
walked beside him. After a few minutes, they came to the large tent being used
as a store.

'My
men have already looked in there,' said Welbeck. 'It's full of stuff we
captured at the Schellenburg. There's nobody in there.'

'Let's
take a second look,' said Daniel.

Opening
the flap, he peeped into the tent but it was too dark for him to see anything
properly. He borrowed Welbeck's lantern so that he could conduct a proper
search. The sergeant, meanwhile, turned back the flaps of the tent. At first,
Daniel found nothing of interest but he did not give up. Holding up the
lantern, he looked behind boxes, baggage and piles of equipment. When he shed
some light on a large wooden box, he saw something on the ground behind it. He
reached down swiftly to retrieve a lady's handkerchief. As he sniffed it, he
caught a faint whiff of the perfume that Abigail had worn on the occasions when
they had met in London.

'This
belonged to her,' he said. 'She was
here.'

'Are
you sure?' asked Welbeck.

'She
must have left the handkerchief deliberately. At least, we know where she was brought
when she left her quarters.'

'But
where is she now, Dan?'

'Abigail
must somehow have left the camp,' concluded Daniel, masking his anxiety. 'We
must speak to the pickets.
Someone
must have seen them leave. Once
we know the direction in which they went, we can continue the search on
horseback. Hurry,' he added as he rushed out of the tent. 'Every minute may be
crucial.'

There
had been no time for introductions. Frédéric Seurel was waiting for them with
the horses but he was only able to give Abigail Piper a brief glance before
they set off. Charles Catto rode on one horse with Abigail sitting astride
behind him. They cantered through the woods until they came out into the open.
Light was slowly being squeezed out of the sky but they could still pick out
the silhouette of a cottage that stood beside a fork in the road. Leading the
way, Seurel veered off along the track to the left and rode on for miles before
they came to a small village.

Candles
gave off a faint glow in the windows but the street was in dark shadow.
Reaching the inn on the far side of the village, they rode into the courtyard
at the rear. Seurel had already reserved rooms for them. A servant came out to
stable the horses while they entered the inn. Charles Catto took Abigail by the
arm.

'Remember
what I told you,' he said, as he guided her through the door. 'Behave yourself
or you'll regret it.'

'Where
is this place?' she asked.

'It's
a long way from the good Captain Rawson.'

They
came into the main room where a couple of local men were quaffing their ale at
a table. Catto exchanged a greeting with the landlord before taking Abigail
upstairs. Seurel followed and indicated their rooms. They went into the first
of them, a small, untidy, low-ceilinged chamber with a musty smell and
noticeable gaps between its oak floorboards. When Catto had lit some candles,
Abigail saw that it was a dingy room filled with ugly furniture. Taken there
against her will by two strangers, she looked at the little bed with trepidation.
It took on the air of an instrument of torture.

Seurel
was studying her for the first time, running lecherous eyes all over here and
grinning as he did so. He spoke in French.

'She's
very pretty, Charles,' he said, leering at her. 'We can take it in turns.'

'Keep
your hands off her,' warned Catto. 'She's a hostage and nothing more. I didn't
bring her here for your entertainment.'

'We
can't waste a chance like this.'

'You'll
do as I tell you.'

'I
need a woman to warm my bed at night.'

'Then
find yourself another one. Miss Piper is not for you.'

Seurel
was resentful. An argument soon flared up and both men raised their voices.
Conscious that they were talking about her, Abigail became increasingly
frightened. She knew very little French and they were talking so rapidly that
it was impossible to decipher more than a word or two. Nevertheless, she sensed
what the dispute was about and she shuddered as she glanced across at the bed.
At length and with ill grace, Seurel accepted that Catto's decision was final
and withdrew into a sullen silence.

'Frédéric
apologises for his display of bad temper,' said Catto.

'Why
did you bring me here?' she asked.

'We
needed somewhere to rest. You must get what sleep you can because we'll be
leaving before dawn.'

'Where
are we going?'

'We
have to find another hiding place, Miss Piper. You will be missed and a search
will take place. By the time the soldiers reach this inn, we must be miles away
from here.'

'My
maid will have realised by now that something must have happened to me,' she
said, 'and she will have raised the alarm. Captain Rawson will have hundreds of
soldiers at his command. There's no way that you can escape.'

'He
won't find us in the dark, though I daresay he'll try.'

'Those
sentries saw us leaving the camp.'

'I
know,' said Catto. 'They were consumed with jealousy. It's not everyone who has
the chance to take a stroll with a lovely young lady. You were born to attract
envy, Miss Piper. Look at Frédéric, for example. He's bubbling with envy at the
way I'm talking to you now.'

Abigail
turned to Seurel who was gazing at her with an intensity that worried her.
Though she hated being the prisoner of anyone, she preferred to have Catto as
her captor than his glowering companion. She felt it safer to keep one of them talking.

'You're
in the French army, aren't you?' she said.

'We
were,' replied Catto.

'Why
does an Englishman fight for the French?'

'You'll
have to ask the Duke of Marlborough that. He learnt his trade under a French
flag and so did I' He took off his hat and began to undo his coat. 'I can stop
pretending that I'm a British soldier now.'

'Captain
Rawson will catch you, whatever disguise you wear.'

'I
look forward to meeting him.'

'He's
probably leading a search party at this very moment.'

'I'm
sure that he is, Miss Piper,' said Catto easily, 'but he'll not come here. Do
you remember that cottage we passed near the fork in the road? Frédéric had the
forethought to bribe the old man who lives there. If he gets that far this
evening, Captain Rawson will be sent off in the wrong direction.'

Daniel
Rawson took a dozen riders with him, experienced men who were armed with
muskets. It had taken him some time to find sentries who had seen a British
soldier and a young lady strolling along the edge of the camp. They described
Abigail so accurately that it simply had to be her. Since she had monopolised
their attention, the details they were able to give about her companion were
decidedly sketchy. Daniel had heard enough to lead off his search party. Some
of his men carried torches but they could only create small circles of light in
the darkness that now enveloped the countryside.

At
the fork in the road, they paused to knock on the door of the cottage. The old
man was not pleased to see British soldiers. Daniel spoke to him in German and
asked if he had seen anyone riding past that evening. Given the chance to
mislead them, the old man nodded.

'There
were three of them, sir,' he said.

'Was
a woman among the three?' asked Daniel.

'Yes,
sir - there was one woman and two men.'

'Which
way did they go?'

The
old man pointed and they did not even stop to thank him. Cantering along the
road, they went on for over five miles but the search was in vain. They passed
several tracks down which fugitives could have turned and rode through woods in
which they could easily have hidden. In the end, Daniel accepted defeat.

'We'll
never find them in the dark,' he said, ruing the failure of the search. 'We'll
try again at first light.'

It
was unnerving. Abigail was trapped in a small room at night with two men, one
of whom would certainly have molested her had he not been prevented from doing
so by the other. Her situation was hopeless. She was in a foreign country with
no chance of immediate help. Having lost all appetite, she refused the offer of
food but had to watch the burly Frenchman as he gobbled his way through a meal
and swilled it down with tankards of ale. The man who had kidnapped her did at
least have an acquaintance with table manners. When they had finished eating,
they began to talk in French and she had to guess what they were saying by
their expressions.

'You
can sleep in the other room,' said Catto, putting his plate back on to the
tray. 'I'll stay in here.'

'So
that's your game is it? I sleep alone and you jump into bed with the girl. No,'
said Seurel, gesticulating, 'you're not getting away with that. If you have
her, then I have her as well.'

'Nobody
is having her, Frédéric.'

'Then
what use is she?'

'I
told you before - we can trade her.'

'We
can do a lot of other things with her as well,' said Seurel, running a hand
across his wet mouth as he stared fixedly at Abigail. 'She's young and ripe and
ready. Let me taste her. Let me teach you how a Frenchman pleasures a woman.'

'You're
not touching this one,' said Catto, standing up to confront him. 'The only
reason I'm staying is that someone has to guard her. I couldn't trust you to do
that.'

'Why
not?'

'Go
to the other room.'

'This
is not fair,' said Seurel, trying to sound reasonable. 'Both of us need sleep
and you won't get any if you're watching her all night. Why not share the
burden, Charles? You stand guard for a couple of hours then I'll take over.'

'We
both know what would happen in that event.'

'I
won't lay a finger on her, I swear it.'

'You
can't help yourself, Frédéric.'

Seurel
exploded. 'A man has his needs, for heaven's sake!'

'Miss
Piper deserves to be treated with respect.'

'That's
exactly what I'll do,' said Seurel, shooting her a glance. 'When I've had my
sport with her, I'll be sure to thank her politely.'

Catto
opened the door. 'Good night, Frédéric.'

'Just
let me have ten minutes alone with her.'

'Good
night!'

Abigail
watched the silent battle of wills. After glaring his defiance, Seurel finally
capitulated but he did not leave without one act of bravado. Before Catto could
stop him, he suddenly grabbed Abigail and stole a kiss from her. He left the
room laughing. Closing the door after him, Catto made a gesture of apology.
Abigail did not even see it. She was still recoiling from the foul taste of
Seurel's lips and the brutish feel of his hands. Catto resumed his seat.

'Try
to get some sleep,' he suggested.

'I'm
not tired,' she said, determined not to lie on the bed.

'You're
safe with me, Miss Piper.'

She
was scornful. 'Is this what you call being safe?'

'Would
you rather share the room with Frédéric?' Abigail shrank back defensively. 'No,
I thought not. I'm the lesser of two evils, I can assure you. Frédéric believes
that women only exist for one thing but I know that they have much else to
offer. Take your own case, for instance. You are a valuable asset. If I had
abducted your maid, there would be nothing like the hue and cry that your
disappearance will have provoked. You are a young lady of quality, Miss Piper.'

'Then
treat me as such and let me go,' she begged.

'All
in good time,' he told her. 'You'll certainly be released without harm -
provided that Captain Rawson does what he is told, that is. In the
circumstances, he will have no choice.'