Soldier of Fortune (33 page)

Charles
Catto had been utterly frustrated by the turn of events. Having tricked his way
into the Confederate camp for the third time, he hoped that he simply had to
wait until an opportunity arose to kill Daniel Rawson. Instead of that, the
whole camp had suddenly erupted into action with the promise of a battle. All
that Catto could do was to trail impotently in its wake. Primed by General
Salignac, he had been able to provide Marlborough with information that, while
not giving away too much, had been accurate and useful. It had established his
credibility. Catto had shaved off his beard but left a neat moustache on his
face. In uniform, and by adopting a strong French accent, he was a convincing
impostor.

Yet
his role as a deserter would be meaningless if it not enable him to fulfil his
commitment. Catto's fear was that the battle of Blenheim would rob him of his
prize and that Daniel would have been mown down with so many other British
soldiers during the attack on the village. Having come so far, and taken such
enormous pains along the way, he felt that it would be cruel to have Daniel
snatched away from him by a nameless French musketeer. Catto was no longer working
for General Salignac. When he heard that Blenheim had fallen, he knew that the
general would have been taken prisoner and would therefore be inaccessible.
Salignac's war was over.

Catto
was on his own now. What drove him on was sheer hatred. Daniel Rawson had
killed Frédéric Seurel, and, in escaping from Augsburg, he had exposed Catto to
the full wrath of Armand Salignac. Deprived of a large financial reward, Catto
was fired by a sense of personal mission. He wanted to avenge the death of his
friend and had taken on Seurel's name in order to do so. But his plans were
shattered by the battle and he was in despair at the British victory. Before he
had left Augsburg, Catto had seen Marshal Tallard arrive at the head of an army
that was unmatched for its brilliance and its record of success in the field.
Yet that same proud army had now been soundly defeated by a smaller force.

It
was clear that Daniel Rawson would have contributed to that defeat and - were
he still alive - he would thereby have given Catto an additional reason to kill
him. The would-be assassin could not destroy an entire army but he could murder
a man who, in his febrile mind, symbolised it. As he watched Confederate
soldiers trudging back into camp, and as he saw orderlies carrying in the
wounded, he prayed that Daniel would be among the survivors and not be one of
the many thousands that littered the battlefield.

The
first person with whom the Duke of Marlborough had wanted to share news of the
triumph was his wife. Borrowing an old tavern bill from a member of his staff,
he scrawled a message in pencil.

I have not time
to say more, but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen and let her know
that her army had this day a glorious victory. M. Tallard and two other
generals are in my coach and I am pursuing the rest. The bearer, my aide de
camp, Colonel Parke, will give her an account of what has passed and I shall do
it in a day or so, by another, more at large.

It
was on the following day that Daniel Rawson was summoned to Marlborough's
quarters and entrusted with letters that gave a fuller account of the action
and its consequences. After the long and intense battle, Daniel was still weary
and the superficial wounds he had picked up still smarted. The honour of acting
as a courier, however, was the perfect balm. From the moment he was given the
despatches, his aches and pains seemed to fade away.

'Ride
hard, Daniel,' said Marlborough. 'By the time you reach England, the Queen and
Secretary Harley will know only the fact of our victory and be desperate for
detail.'

'What
about the Dutch, Your Grace?'

'Even
they will rejoice at the news though Ell no doubt be pilloried for the scale of
our losses. In Vienna, at least, there'll be no carping - except perhaps from
the Margrave of Baden.'

'He'll
be aggrieved that he was not here,' said Daniel.

'As
it happens, we managed without him though our task would have been made easier
by the presence of his men. But you must forgive me,' said Marlborough as a
memory nudged him. 'I've not congratulated you properly on rescuing the colours
of General Rowe's regiment from the enemy.'

Daniel
was modest. 'That's nothing,' he said. 'All I captured were regimental colours
- you captured a marshal's baton.'

'That
was satisfying, I must admit.'

'What
will happen to Marshal Tallard?'

'He'll
be taken back to England with other prisoners of war.'

'You
don't intend to exchange him, then?'

'Oh,
no,' said Marlborough with conviction. 'I'm not letting him loose to threaten
us again. The marshal has fought his last battle against us.'

'That's
good to hear.'

'King
Louis might not find it so pleasing.'

'I
fancy not,' said Daniel. He patted the leather pouch containing the despatches.
'I'll deliver these in England.'

'Enjoy
some rest while you're there. You've deserved it.'

'Thank
you, Your Grace.'

'Do
you intend to call at the Piper household?'

Marlborough's
question had a studied casualness but it hit Daniel like a blow between the
eyes. All that he could think about was carrying news of their victory back to
England. Decisions about what happened afterwards had never even entered his
mind. He was shocked to realise how easily he had forgotten Abigail Piper, and
how irrelevant his friendship with her now seemed. On the other hand, he owed
her consideration for the way she had followed him all the way into Germany.
Daniel had obligations.

'Yes,
Your Grace,' he replied. 'I will be calling at the house.'

The
sight revived Catto's spirits at once. When he saw Daniel leaving on horseback
with two companions, he knew that they must be acting as couriers. Catto's
vigil outside Marlborough's quarters had been repaid. He not only discovered
that Daniel was still alive but that he was leaving the protection of the camp
altogether. It would be much easier to track and kill him on the open road.
Though nominally still under guard, Catto had been able to move quite freely
around the camp. Leaving it might be more problematic. He needed a change of clothing,
a fast horse and an element of luck. The main thing was that Daniel had
survived. It was a portent.

The
clothing was easily acquired. Catto stole it from a washing line strung between
two wagons owned by camp followers. It was too large for him but suitably
nondescript. When he filched a hat from the inside of another wagon, he was
able to complete the metamorphosis from a French captain into a Dutch civilian.
The horse was taken from the stable area where the animals were tethered in
long lines. Many of them had collected cuts and gashes during cavalry charges.
Catto was careful to choose a horse that had come unharmed through the battle.
When nobody was watching, he led his mount quietly away and was almost clear
when he was challenged.

The
soldier was no more than seventeen but the hardship of army life had added
years to his face. Catto gave him a plausible excuse for taking the horse but
the soldier was suspicious. When he turned to call for help, he had a hand
clasped over his mouth and a dagger inserted into his back. Catto hid the dead
body under a pile of hay. It would be some time before it was discovered. As a
result of the battle, the camp was in a state of relative disorder and its
ranks had been noticeably thinned. Picking his spot, Catto was able to slip
past the sentries without being seen.

He
was confident of being able to follow Daniel. If the latter were carrying
despatches, he would be going to England or The Hague. Whichever his
destination, he would take the speediest way north. Catto simply had to stay on
the main road and maintain a good pace. Seven miles or so from the camp, he met
a farmer who told him that three British soldiers had galloped past him earlier
on. Now that his guess about Daniel's route had been confirmed, Catto rode on
with renewed zest, speculating on how he could best kill a man who had caused
him so much trouble.

It
was evening before he finally caught up with them. Daniel and the two
subalterns had stopped at an inn to rest their horses and refresh themselves.
Catto approached slowly, entering the courtyard with his hat pulled down over
his forehead. After tethering his horse, he peeped into the taproom and saw the
two subalterns sitting at a table with a drink in their hands. Daniel was not
there. When he walked around the outside of the inn, Catto understood why.
Instead of drinking with his companions, Daniel had strolled down to the edge
of a stream nearby and unbuttoned his uniform to let the breeze cool him down
after the sweaty ride.

Sensing
that he might never get a better chance, Catto moved with deliberation towards
his victim. Under his coat, he was gripping the handle of the dagger that had
already killed one British soldier that day. It was about to claim a more
important life. Daniel was gazing into the water, seemingly oblivious to all
else. In fact, it was the stream that alerted him to sudden danger. The ground
sloped sharply downward to the edge of the stream and, as Catto strode
purposefully on, his reflection appeared on the surface of the water.

It
was only there for a split-second but it was enough to goad Daniel into action.
Spinning around, he saw his attacker coming at him with the dagger raised to
strike. As Catto closed in on him and stabbed with his weapon, Daniel grabbed
his wrist and held it tight. The point of the dagger was only inches from his
chest but it did not get any closer. As the two men wrestled violently on the
bank, Daniel knocked off his attacker's hat and recognised him. It made him
fight even more strenuously. He had a score to settle with Charles Catto.

They
were well-matched. Daniel was the stronger of the two but Catto was the more
guileful. At the height of the struggle, he stuck out a foot and tripped Daniel
up. Though he fell backwards with Catto on top of him, Daniel did not release
his grip on the wrist. As he hit the ground, he twisted his hand as sharply as
he could then pulled the wrist towards him, embedding the dagger inches into
the grass. Before he could pull it out again, Catto was punched so hard in the
face that he was forced to release his weapon.

He
replied by punching Daniel and by trying to gouge his eye with a thumb. Then he
got both hands to Daniel's neck but he did not hold them there for long. Using
all his strength, Daniel heaved him off then rolled down the incline with him
until both men toppled into the water. It was a fight to the death now as they
grappled, punched, kicked and sought for any advantage. The two of them
vanished beneath the water, threshing about madly and creating a wide circle of
ripples. Catto drew on the memory of what had happened to Frédéric Seurel and
had a surge of energy. He began to get the upper hand.

Daniel,
however, had his own memories on which to call. He remembered the brutal death
of Lieutenant Hopwood, the abduction of Abigail Piper and the duel that was
heavily weighted in favour of General Salignac. He remembered the way that
Catto had taunted him while he was their captive. The man Daniel was fighting
was a traitor, an Englishman in league with the French. Catto was despicable.
Stirred by these thoughts as they flashed across his mind, Daniel felt an
uprush of power reinforced by a fierce pride. He was on his way to deliver
important despatches to Queen and to Parliament. Nobody was going to deprive
him of that honour.

Swinging
Catto over so that his back was on the bed of the stream, Daniel lifted his own
head above the surface and gulped in air before submerging again. The struggle
continued but Catto was weakening with every second. His lungs were on fire, his
body was aching from the punches he had taken and his limbs were no longer
under control. Daniel held him down firmly for another couple of minutes. After
one final, desperate attempt to break free, Catto went limp. It was all over.
Daniel surfaced and gasped in more air. As he looked down at Catto, he gave a
weary smile of celebration. He had finally got rid of the man who had been
hired to kill him.

When
she returned home, Abigail Piper had begun to see her wild adventure in a
different light. Infatuated with Daniel Rawson and buoyed up by the hope of
seeing him, she had somehow coped with all the adversity that beset her and
Emily Greene. Once back in England, however, the full danger of what she had
done became much clearer. Abigail was terrified by her own wilfulness. She had
put not only her own life at risk but that of her maid as well. Worst of all,
she had been responsible for handing Daniel over to his enemies and she could
never forgive herself for that. Viewed objectively, her visit to Germany had
bordered on catastrophe.

Her
despair had first manifested itself in a physical illness. Having held up
gamely all the way back, she had collapsed once she crossed the threshold of
her home. A fortnight in bed and regular attendance by a physician had
eventually recovered her but there was no cure for the demons in her mind.
Weeks after she was back on her feet again, Abigail was still obsessed with her
folly. As she sat in the garden with a book in her lap, she was not reading the
poetry it contained. She was still agonising over what had happened.

Her
sister, Dorothy, recognised the now familiar signs.

'You
must not keep blaming yourself, Abigail,' she said.

'But
I did something terrible.'

'It
was not intentional.'

'That
does not excuse it, Dorothy. I went hundreds of miles to see Daniel then ended
up by leading him to his death.'

'You
don't know that.'

'I
do,' insisted Abigail. 'Those men told me they'd been paid to kill him. They
used me to lure Daniel into their hands. Had I not been there, they could not
have done that.'

'Then
they'd have found some other way.'

'He
sacrificed himself for me.'

'I'd
expect nothing less of Captain Rawson,' said Dorothy softly.

It
was one of the few improvements to come out of the whole business. Abigail and
her elder sister had been brought closer. When she first heard that Dorothy had
written to Daniel, having earlier talked her out of doing so, Abigail had
resolved to take her sister to task. As it was, she had neither the strength
nor the urge to do so. During her sickness, she had been touched by the way
that Dorothy had cared for her. She had never once reprimanded her younger
sister or tried to coax details of her escapades from her. Dorothy had been a
model of sympathy and support. It was the reason Abigail felt able to confide
in her. There was no competition over Daniel any more.

'Will
I ever learn what happened to him?' Abigail wondered.

'It
might be better if you did not,' said Dorothy considerately, 'and I'm sure that
His Grace will keep any unsavoury details from you.'

'But
I'm involved. I'm entitled to the truth.'

'The
truth is that you were a young, headstrong girl who made a mistake in following
your heart. We've all done that, Abigail.'

'Not
with such disastrous consequences.'

'Stop
fearing the worst all the time.'

'What
else can I do?'

Glancing
down at her book, Abigail closed it shut and stood up. It was a beautiful day
to sit in the garden but her mind was in turmoil and she could take pleasure
from nothing. She was about to go back into the house when a servant came out.

'Captain
Rawson has called,' he said.

Abigail
almost fainted. 'Captain
Daniel
Rawson?'

Dorothy
helped her sister to resume her seat on the garden bench then she looked up at
the servant. 'We'll see Captain Rawson out here,' she said.

After
giving an obedient nod, the man retired. Abigail was dazed. Instead of feeling
joy and relief, she went completely numb. Seeing her sister's confusion,
Dorothy sat down and put an arm around her.

'Bear
up, Abigail,' she said happily, 'it's wonderful news.'

'Yes...
Yes, I suppose it is.'

'There's
no supposition about it. Captain Rawson is alive. You won't have his death on
your conscience any more.'

'That's
true,' agreed Abigail, realising it for the first time and letting a cautious
smile break through. 'Daniel is
alive.'
The smile was replaced by a
chevron of concern. 'But what if he's badly injured? What if those two men
inflicted terrible wounds on him?
That
would be my fault.'

'Don't
rush to embrace a problem that may not be there.'

'I'm
scared.'

'There's
no need to be.'

'What
am I to say to him, Dorothy?'

'Oh,'
said her sister, squeezing her shoulder affectionately before releasing her, 'I
think you'll find the right words somehow.'

They
had a moment to compose themselves before Daniel was shown out. He gave a
formal bow and they rose from the bench by way of acknowledgement. Daniel was
wearing a smart new uniform. Abigail searched for indications of terrible
injury but found none. Apart from a couple of lingering scars on his face, he
seemed to be in rude health. She gave a strained laugh.

'I
thought that you were dead,' she admitted.'

'There
were a few moments when I came close to death,' he said affably, 'but heaven is
not yet ready to receive me.'

'What
about those two men?'

'They
are no longer a threat to me.'

Abigail
was startled. 'Do you mean that you...?'

'Forget
about them,' he advised. 'They belong in the past.'

'What
brings you back to England?' asked Dorothy. 'I thought the campaign would go on
for months yet.'

'You've
obviously not heard the good tidings,' he said, 'and why should you? I've only
just come from delivering despatches to Her Majesty the Queen, to the Earl of
Godolphin and to Secretary Harley.' He spread his arms. 'We fought the enemy at
Blenheim and achieved a stunning victory. The whole of London will soon resound
with the news.' Dorothy let out a spontaneous cry of pleasure. Abigail clapped
her hands. 'Marshal Tallard is a prisoner of war and the French army has been
routed. Pardon me if I am still a little out of breath,' he went on, a hand to
his chest, 'but it took me eight days to get back to England and I had little
rest on the way.'

'Then
we are all the more grateful that you found the time to call on us,' said
Abigail. 'It was excessively kind of you.'

'I
wanted to make sure that you got back home safely.'

'Abigail
has told me what you did for her, Captain Rawson,' said Dorothy, 'and it was
the act of a true gentleman. I offer you profound thanks on behalf of the whole
family. However,' she added, looking first at Abigail then back at Daniel, 'at
this moment, I suspect that the only person you really wish to see is my
sister. Please excuse me.'

Dorothy
went back into the house and left them alone together. There was a prolonged
silence. Since she had never envisaged such a meeting taking place, Abigail was
hopelessly unprepared for it. For his part, Daniel had had neither time nor
inclination to rehearse any speech. Until he had handed over his dispatches,
Abigail Piper had not really existed. A blend of guilt, affection and curiosity
had guided his footsteps to her door. Yet both of them were certain about one
thing. Instead of being brought together by Abigail's pursuit of him, they had
been driven apart.

'Will
you be staying in London for long?' she asked at length.

'No,
Abigail, I have to ride to Somerset.'

'Are
you going to call on relatives?'

'I'll
be visiting my father's grave,' he told her. 'It's something I always do when I
return to England. I owe him a great debt. It was because of my father that I
joined the army.'

'That's
your world, isn't it, Daniel?'

'It
always will be.'

'I'm
sorry that I embarrassed you by stumbling into it.'

'You
caused no embarrassment, Abigail,' he said with a forgiving smile, 'and, if
anyone should be apologising, it's me. I'm sorry that I was not able to spend
more time with you in Germany but, as you saw, I was somewhat preoccupied.'

'I
can't believe that I was so reckless,' she said.

He
was tactful. 'I think we both profited from the experience.'

'I
learnt a lot about myself, Daniel, I know that. And it frightened me more than
I can say. I'd never
dream
of doing anything as selfish and
irresponsible as that again.'

'I
hope that it wasn't entirely a cause for regret,' he said gently. 'There must
have been some happy moments for you.'

'Oh,
there were - lots of them. Each one of them is faithfully recorded in my
diary.'

'Good.'

'And
now they'll be treasured,' she said. 'When I thought that you'd been killed
because of me, all that I could do was to grieve and rebuke myself. I didn't
have the heart even to open my diary and read about our time together. I was
wasting away with anguish. Now that you've come back, now that I've seen you
with my own eyes, a huge weight has been lifted from me. I can cherish fond
memories again.'

'I'll
do the same, Abigail.'

It
was the moment for a chaste kiss of farewell but it never came. Abigail was too
nervous to invite it and Daniel too afraid that it might be misconstrued. They
settled for a polite handshake.

'Will
you be returning here from Somerset?' she asked.

'Only
to take ship to Holland,' he replied. 'I have to rejoin my regiment. We may
have won a mighty battle but the war will continue. The French army will be
back again before too long.'

'And
Captain Daniel Rawson will be there to fight them.'

'I
have to be. It's my vocation.'

'I
discovered that when I came to Germany.'

'Your
friendship has been a delight to me, and, in a perverse way, I admire you for
what you did. It showed courage and madness. Those are the very qualities that
drove me into the army so we have an affinity. As you found out, however,' he
said with a shrug, 'I can never be more than a friend. You must take me as I
am, Abigail.'

'And
what is that?'

'A
soldier of fortune.'