Authors: Edward Marston
Lille was the most complex of all of Vauban’s fortress cities. It consisted of zigzagging outer ramparts studded with massive jutting bastions that enclosed a broad moat drawing its water from the River Deûle. Within the moat itself were triangular island defences, from which defenders could fire at any attackers who’d managed to breach the outer walls. On the far side of the moat was another towering wall of ashlar, flanked at regular intervals by more bastions. From high and well-defended positions, the garrison could shoot at the enemy, treat them to an avalanche of stone or drench them in a waterfall of boiling oil. Daniel’s mind was like a sponge as he surveyed the scene. Every detail was sucked in.
Beyond the existing defences others were being constructed. To ensure a good view of any attackers, trees and copses within half a mile of the town were being cut down. Even from that distance Daniel could hear the thud of axes and the crash of timber. Once felled, the trunks were hauled off to form fresh palisades. Nothing was left to offer the enemy even the semblance of protection.
‘There you are,’ said Bernard, proudly. ‘We are completely safe.’
‘You could hold out for ever,’ said Daniel.
‘We can now.’ He gestured excitedly towards the horizon where clouds of dust were billowing. ‘Do you see them, Alain? They’re here at last. Marshal Boufflers is bringing reinforcements. With luck, he’ll bring enough money to pay the arrears of our troops as well. Even Martin will not be able to complain then. We are saved, my friend,’ he went on, slapping Daniel on the back. ‘The marshal has defended many towns that have been invested. He’s reckoned to be a genius at it. All at once the balance of power has shifted in our favour.’
Daniel was afraid that the man’s optimism was justified.
England was so dramatically different to Holland that the visitors gaped at it in wonder. They had never seen so many hills and woods and vast expanses of fertile land. Coming from a relatively flat and featureless country, they were amazed at the varying contours of the areas through which they travelled. It took them two days to reach Oxfordshire, another verdant county fed by sparkling rivers and containing quaint villages, fields of crops or livestock and occasional houses so grand that they took the newcomers’ breath away.
‘There’s another one,’ said Amalia, pointing.
‘It makes our own home seem so absurdly small,’ opined her father. ‘The estate must be huge.’
‘How many servants would a house like that need?’ asked Beatrix, counting the windows. ‘And how ever do they find their way around a place that big?’
Amalia giggled. ‘The only way to find out is to work there.’
‘No, thank you. I’m very happy where I am, Miss Amalia.’
‘That’s good because we’d never think of letting you go.’
Having marvelled at so many sights, they still had enough open-mouthed awe left to be completely overwhelmed by Blenheim Palace itself. The scale of it was immense. As their carriage rolled up the long,
arrow-straight
drive, they got some idea of the size and design of the place. Even in its still unfinished state it was truly inspiring, a home of baroque magnificence that was fit for royalty. A veritable army of stonemasons, carpenters and other tradesmen were crawling over what seemed to be miles of wooden scaffolding. Carts were bringing in fresh materials that were swiftly unloaded and stacked ready for use. There was a general sense of urgency. In the grounds, too, there was great activity as a host of gardeners worked manfully away to transform the landscape into a model of scenic beauty.
‘In some ways,’ said Janssen, ‘it’s even better than Versailles.’
Amalia was nervous. ‘I can’t believe that we’re guests here.’
‘I don’t belong in a place like this,’ said Beatrix, trembling.
‘It is rather daunting, I agree.’
‘I think it’s wonderful,’ said Janssen, studying it with the eye of an artist. ‘There’s a perfect blend of ornamentation and symmetry. The effect is astonishing.’
When they got close enough to see the architectural detail, they were deprived of speech. Janssen could create superlative designs on his tapestry but he lacked the vision to conjure a whole palace into being. Wherever they looked, there was something else to praise. It was only when they rolled into the Great Court with its view of the north front that they regained their voices.
‘I feel so
privileged
,’ said Amalia, eyes shining with delight.
‘How do you think
I
feel?’ asked her father. ‘My work is actually going to be on display here. What greater blessing could there be?’
Amalia could think of one and it involved Daniel Rawson. Before she could put her thoughts into words, however, she was diverted by an argument on the other side of the courtyard. A middle-aged man in fashionable attire and a periwig was being berated by a strikingly handsome woman in her late forties. When he indicated something on the plan he was holding, she shook her head decisively and continued her rant. Admitting defeat, the man eventually gave a polite bow and withdrew. Her gaze swept across the courtyard until it alighted on the three figures descending from the carriage. She crooked her finger to beckon them over to her.
Beatrix stayed beside the carriage while Amalia and her father set off on the long walk. Standing in the terrace above them, Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, was a commanding figure, poised, dignified, potent and immaculately dressed. Amalia felt that she was in the presence of a queen. After bowing to the duchess, Janssen performed the introductions.
‘I’ve brought the design of the tapestry with me, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘You may see it whenever you wish.’
‘Well, it won’t be for some time,’ said Sarah, tartly. ‘My attention is needed here. The moment I turn my back, they start to change things without my permission. I’ve just had to put that irritating architect in his place,’ she went on. ‘Mr Vanbrugh doesn’t seem to realise that we will have the palace we choose and not one that he foists upon us.’
‘Work seems to be proceeding apace,’ observed Janssen.
‘That’s only because I’m here. In fact, we’re months behind and everyone is trying to charge too much for their services.’ She fixed Janssen with a stare. ‘I hope that you don’t mean to exploit us, sir. We’ll pay a reasonable price for the tapestry, not an exorbitant one.’
‘As a matter of fact, Your Grace…’
‘Not now,’ she said, rudely interrupting him. ‘I’m far too busy here. I suggest that you drive to your accommodation in Woodstock while I go off and bang a few heads together. I’ll be in touch in due course. Good day to you both.’
Before they could open their mouths, she swept off. Amalia was deeply disappointed and her father was frankly insulted. Having come all that way to show his design to the Duchess of Marlborough, he was treated almost with disdain and made to feel like a fraudulent tradesman bent on making an undeserved profit from his work.
It was a bad omen.
Heavy rain on two successive nights forced Daniel to postpone his attempt. On the third night, it was completely dry and there was enough moonlight to aid him in what was going to be a hazardous undertaking. Having borrowed a rope from the
Coq d’Or
, he pressed Raymond Lizier into service. They padded through the town in the small hours.
Raymond was sceptical. ‘You’ll never climb up onto the roof of the town hall,’ he said. ‘It’s far too high.’
‘We shall see,’ said Daniel, confidently.
‘What am I to do, Monsieur?’
‘You’ll act as my lookout.’
‘There should be nobody abroad at this time of night.’
‘Just in case there is,’ said Daniel, ‘we must devise a signal. If you see someone coming, you must whistle three times.’
‘Will you hear me all the way up there?’
‘Oh, I think so. Sound carries.’
On their way to the town hall, they saw nobody at all, though they disturbed a cat that was sleeping in a doorway. After a screech of protest, it went off in search of another billet.
‘Why did you need such a long rope?’ asked Raymond.
‘It must span the distance I estimated.’
‘Are you going to toss it up to the roof?’
‘My arm is not strong enough for that,’ said Daniel, ‘so I’m going to need some help from the Almighty.’
‘Do you mean that you’re going to pray for a miracle?’
‘No, Raymond, I simply intend to go to church.’
The town hall was a looming silhouette against the sky. Guards were posted outside its main door. Daniel therefore led his accomplice to the rear of the building which was adjacent to a church. Raymond was still perplexed.
‘How will you get in?’ he said. ‘It’s locked at night.’
‘That’s why I took the precaution of acquiring a key,’ explained Daniel, taking it from his pocket. ‘Your mother was good enough to provide me with some wax so I slipped in here yesterday, made an impression of the key and had a duplicate made by a locksmith. It opens the door at the side.’
‘Do I come in there with you?’
‘No, Raymond. Stay here and keep watch.’
‘What about my signal?’
‘I’m hoping it won’t be necessary.’
Rope over his shoulder, Daniel went off round the side of the church, leaving Raymond mystified as to how entry to the town hall could be gained. Reaching the small side door, Daniel let himself in with the key and left the door unlocked. A dank smell greeted him. As a further precaution, he’d taken the trouble on his earlier visit to memorise the disposition of the seating in the nave so that he could move about in the dark without blundering into anything. He made his way to the bell tower and felt his way up the circular staircase. It was an odd sensation, groping the cold stone as he climbed upwards for minute after minute. It was like stumbling blindfold through a labyrinth. He eventually reached the bells themselves and collided heavily with one of them, embracing it immediately to stop it from moving, highly aware that there was no surer way to advertise his presence than by making a church bell ring out.
Taking out one of the candles he’d brought with him, Daniel used a tinder box to light it, then held the candle up so that he could carry out an inspection. There were five bells in all, each a different size and weight. Spiders and other insects had made the place their home and Daniel had to brush away cobwebs as he moved to the narrow door in the corner. It opened onto a wooden staircase that was almost vertical. Daniel shifted the rope to the other shoulder and began the ascent. At the very top of the staircase was a door bolted from the inside. Releasing the bolt, he went through the door and out onto the stone balcony at the base of the spire.
A sudden rush of air blew out the candle but he no longer needed it. He could see well enough in the moonlight to pick out his target with ease. His estimate had been sound. He was virtually level with the roof beams of the town hall. That meant the dormer windows were above him. Selecting the one directly opposite, he began to uncoil the rope. During his years as a boy on the farm, he’d often had to use a rope to catch a wayward animal and was proficient at making a noose. On this occasion, he had an advantage. His target was no elusive horse or recalcitrant bullock. It was a stationary object. All that he had to do was to throw the noose over it and pull the rope tight. It should be a fairly easy task.
Yet his first attempt failed miserably, falling well short. The second was only marginally better. What he hadn’t allowed for was the weight of the rope. It was much thicker and heavier than anything he’d used on the farm. As he reeled it in again, he resolved to throw it higher and harder. No matter how long it took him, he was determined to hit his target, a stone finial near a dormer window.
After his long wait in the gloom, Raymond Lizier was alerted by the sound of a noise high above his head. He looked up to see a rope slithering off the roof of the town hall before being hauled up to balcony at the base of the church spire. He couldn’t believe his eyes. When he realised what Daniel was trying to do, he thought it an act of madness that was doomed to fail. How could anyone secure a rope between church and town hall then climb across it? His fear now was not that anyone would come along to disturb them but that his friend would fall to a grotesque death. He tried to raise the alarm in order to stop Daniel from going ahead but his lips were too dry to produce a whistle. In any case, after a succession of failures, the rope finally looped itself around the finial and was pulled tight.
There was now a bridge between the two buildings, albeit a perilous one. Raymond’s stomach heaved. Having no head for heights, he wouldn’t have dared to go out on the balcony, let alone consider climbing across several yards of open space on a rope. Yet that was exactly what Daniel was proposing to do. Raymond wanted to call out and beg him not to take the risk but he was too late. To his utter amazement, a figure suddenly appeared above him.
The trick, Daniel knew, was not to look down. Since the rope was secured around solid stone at both ends, he was confident that it would bear his weight. He just wished that it had remained as tight as he’d tried to make it. Legs around the rope, he used both hands to move slowly backwards across the chasm. Because of the strain put on it, the tension of the rope eased slightly. Feeling it give at one point, Daniel had to stop and simply cling on for a moment. When he continued his snail’s pace climb, he reflected on what he was doing. Was it a case of bravery or lunacy? Why was he risking his life to get to something that might not even be there? What would Amalia think if he plunged to his death on a forlorn mission? Who could explain to her the irresistible urge that made him attempt such a dangerous exercise? And even if he did get safely to the other side, how would he return? Because of the angle of the rope, he was climbing upwards towards the dormer. Did he really want to put himself into such jeopardy for a second time?
The rope slackened again and his feet were almost dislodged. Clinging on desperately, he put in a last, urgent, muscle-aching effort and, to his relief, felt his hand touch a roof tile. Daniel was there. As he pulled himself to safety, he understood how a drowning man must feel when hauled out of the water just in time. He lay on the roof for some while in order to get his breath back and to let his legs and arms lose their stabbing pain. Then he used the rope once more to clamber up to the dormer window. The shutters were locked but he was able to force the latch by inserting the end of his dagger. Turning the weapon around, he smashed the window with the handle, then reached inside to undo the catch. Within seconds, he was inside the attic room.