Authors: Edward Marston
Nobody was willing to accept the invitation. Having seen Syme in action, they decided that discretion was the better part of valour. One advantage of the bout was that he was now fully accepted by his fellow voyagers. Some of them even restored his former rank and referred to him as ‘Major Syme’. He enjoyed their company and was happy to talk about his military experiences. It helped to while away the time afloat. When he returned to his cabin that night, he placed a row of weapons on the table so that he could examine them. Beside his sword were a dagger, two pistols and a short length of rope.
‘Well, Captain Rawson,’ he said, softly, ‘how would you like to die? I can disembowel you, stab you through the heart, shoot you between the eyes or strangle you with the rope. If you’d prefer, of course, I can kill you with my bare hands.’ He laughed quietly. ‘Yes, I’d enjoy that.’
Throughout the ranks of the Allies, there was general optimism about the siege. The steady pounding of their heavy guns resulted in cracks, then major fissures, then complete breaches in the outer works of Lille. Enemy soldiers were being killed or wounded. A few positions were being abandoned. Amid the garrison, spirits were low. Fearing that further resistance was pointless, some deserted and reported that Boufflers was already pulling back part of his artillery inside the citadel. It was the spur needed by the encircling army. On the evening of 7th September, a major assault was launched on the outer works, involving thousands of grenadiers supported by a dozen battalions. Having made gaping holes in the defences, they fully expected to sweep through them and drive the enemy back to the town itself.
But the attack did not go to plan. Resistance was ferocious and it took over half an hour to dislodge the soldiers in the outer works. As they pulled back, they continued to inflict casualties on the Allies with sustained and accurate fire. They also set off four massive mines that killed, wounded or blinded those rushing headlong after them. Among those who fell were six engineers charged with the task of directing workmen to take over the ravelins and make them fit for use by the Allies. Such was the intensity of the fighting, however, that the workmen lost their nerve and ran away under cover of the dwindling light. The ravelins – two embankments built at a salient angle – were never properly secured.
Even with Vauban’s plan of the fortifications at their disposal, the Allies were caught out by its geometrical complexity. It was a labyrinth of intersecting walls and
reentering
angles. Breaking through one of the outer works, the attackers would find themselves at the mercy of punitive volleys from different directions. The outer fortifications had been designed to help the retreat of the defenders while allowing them to harry the enemy. The noise was ear-splitting, the light uncertain and the stench of smoke all-pervading. While many French soldiers perished, Allied losses were frighteningly high. Their attack had been premature and unsuccessful. Some ground had been taken but there was no cause for congratulation.
Henry Welbeck was even more contemptuous than usual.
‘What lunatic devised that attack?’ he asked, scornfully. ‘I thought we had a plan of their defences.’
‘We do,’ replied Daniel. ‘I’m the person who supplied it.’
‘Well, I wish you’d supplied them with the intelligence to understand the plan. We were lured this way and that, Dan. Wherever we turned, we faced continuous fire. They seemed to be on all sides of us at the same time.’
‘That was the beauty of Vauban’s design.’
‘Beauty!’ Welbeck spat the word out like a hot coal. ‘Where was the beauty in that? It was one of the ugliest assaults I’ve ever been involved in. I lost some of my best men, and many of those who survived will never be able to bear arms again. We set out to claim some glory, not to be let down by the idiocy of our officers.’
‘You can’t blame it all on our deficiencies, Henry,’ said Daniel. ‘Give Boufflers and his men their due. They anticipated the attack and were ready for you.’
Daniel had been sent to the camp with despatches for Prince Eugene. Having delivered them, he sought out his regiment and asked his friend what had occurred. Shot through with colourful language, Welbeck’s account had ended with a gloomy warning. There was no longer any cause for optimism among the Allies. On the evidence of the recent engagement, the siege would take far longer than had been estimated. Lille was living up to its reputation of impregnability.
‘It was like dancing in front of a firing squad,’ complained Welbeck. ‘If they’d been able to see straight, the Frenchies could have mowed down even more of us. It was purgatory out there, Dan.’ He spat on the ground, then ran the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘Yet I suppose it had one thing in its favour.’
‘What was that?’
‘I was safe from
her
.’
Daniel grinned. ‘Are you talking about Rachel Rees?’
‘She’s the bane of my life.’
‘It’s your own fault for setting her heart aflame.’
‘I wish I could set that huge body of hers aflame as well,’ said Welbeck, darkly. ‘That would get rid of her for good. I could tie her to a stake and pile logs around her.’
‘Even you wouldn’t be that cruel,’ said Daniel, reproachfully. ‘Rachel deserves better treatment than that. Did she tell you that she’s had compensation for her losses?’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘It was well earned.’
Welbeck was enraged. ‘Where’s
my
compensation,’ he yelled, ‘that’s what I want to know? I need compensation for the loss of my privacy. Rachel follows me around day and night. The woman pops up everywhere. Then there’s the loss of my authority. When they see her badgering me, my men laugh out loud. I’ve had to hit so many of them that my knuckles are sore.’
‘Rachel can’t follow you into action, Henry.’
‘Thank heaven for that!’
‘And there’ll be a lot more of it to come.’
Welbeck rolled his eyes. ‘I hate sieges. Why can’t we resolve the whole thing with a decent battle then creep off to winter quarters?’
‘His Grace has offered them battle twice,’ said Daniel, ‘but they declined on both occasions, even though they outnumbered us. It begins to look as if their policy is to starve us of supplies.’
‘We can’t carry on without food and ammunition.’
‘The same goes for Marshal Boufflers. He may have repulsed the attack but it will have diminished his magazine. We have to make sure that no fresh supplies get through to him.’
‘We will, Dan. Lille is surrounded now.’ An idea put a smile on his face. ‘Is there any chance of sending Rachel into the town again?’
Daniel laughed. ‘Not a hope.’
‘I’d much rather have her there than here.’
‘Then why did you help to rescue her?’
Welbeck groaned. ‘I’ve been asking myself that ever since.’
‘Perhaps it’s time you let a woman into your life.’
‘I didn’t
let
her in – she jumped over the barricades.’
‘That’s the surprising thing,’ mused Daniel. ‘You’re as well defended as Lille. No other woman has ever got past your outer ramparts yet they don’t appear to exist for Rachel. She’s laid siege to you, Henry. She’s fired gifts at you from her cannon. Rachel Rees has entrenched herself around you and will wait patiently until you agree to surrender.’
‘Then she can wait for all bleeding eternity,’ said Welbeck with a dismissive gesture. ‘I wouldn’t touch that harpy for a king’s ransom. But tell me about the woman in
your
life, Dan,’ he added, keen to move away from the subject of Rachel Rees. ‘Have you heard from Miss Janssen recently?’
Daniel’s face clouded. ‘Not
from
her,’ he said, ‘but I’ve heard
of
Amalia and, to be truthful, I was rather concerned.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, her name was mentioned in a letter to His Grace.’
Daniel told him about the news concerning Amalia and how much it had upset him to hear that she was mourning a close friend. What puzzled him was that he couldn’t decide who that friend might be.
‘Was it a man or a woman?’ asked Welbeck.
‘The letter didn’t say.’
‘Is she still in England?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Does Miss Janssen have many close friends?’
‘No, Henry,’ said Daniel. ‘That’s the odd thing. She has a very small circle of friends and they’re almost exclusively female.’
‘That’s not entirely true, Dan.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well. I’d say that her best friend was a certain Captain Rawson of the 24
th
.’ Welbeck winked at him. ‘Do you happen to know if that handsome devil is still alive?’
Amalia Janssen had no complaints about their hospitality. They were well fed and living in extreme comfort. Sir John Rievers had been attentive to their needs, calling on them every day to see how they were and what they wanted. While she held to the belief that Daniel was still alive, Amalia was troubled by fleeting doubts. In the hope of banishing them, she decided to honour a promise she’d made to him to visit Somerset. When Sir John offered to accompany them, she politely declined, not wishing to trespass even more on his kindness. Amalia was also looking forward to an escape from the place where she’d received such appalling news. As long as their host was with them, she’d be reminded of that terrible moment.
Persistent drizzle turned the first day of their journey into a sodden and miserable affair. Amalia, her father and her maidservant spent most of the time huddled up in the coach. By prior agreement, Janssen and Beatrix never introduced the name of Daniel Rawson into the conversation and tried instead to divert Amalia with prattle on a variety of topics. If she herself talked of Daniel, the others voiced their conviction that the report of his death was unquestionably mistaken. Their allotted task was to bolster her morale.
When they finally got to Somerset, they were greeted by warm sunshine. Amalia took the improvement in the weather as a hopeful portent. The first place they visited was the farm where Daniel had been born and brought up. It was exactly as he’d described it to her and she tried to envisage him as a small boy, tending the stock, helping in the fields and adapting to the changing seasons. Amalia recalled that it was from the farm that Daniel had waved off his father as Captain Nathan Rawson went to join the doomed rebellion that cost him his life. Imagining the effect that the public execution of his father must have had on Daniel, she shuddered.
They went on to the village and took rooms at the largest of the three inns. While her father and Beatrix settled in, Amalia strolled up to the little church, its ancient walls sculpted by the passage of time and its graveyard filled with headstones that leant at different angles like petrified drunken revellers. She was shocked to remember that Daniel’s father had been buried hurriedly under a hedge after being cut down from the gallows and carried away in secret at night. It was only years later that Daniel had prevailed upon the vicar to re-inter Nathan Rawson with full burial rites. A tall, grey, moss-covered headstone now marked the place, his name chiselled proudly into it. There was no mention of his humiliating death after the battle of Sedgemoor. He was simply referred to as ‘Nathaniel Rawson – Soldier’.
Kneeling before the headstone, Amalia found tears coursing down her cheeks. At that moment, she realised something about Daniel. He lived in two parallel worlds. He was simultaneously English and Dutch. His father was buried in Somerset while his mother had been laid to rest in Amsterdam. From Nathan Rawson, he’d inherited an unquenchable desire to be a soldier that defied his mother’s plea for him to pursue a peaceable occupation. Daniel had been driven by an ambition that his father would have recognised and which made his mother weep. Amalia, too, had known the desperation of waiting for news from a battlefield and struggling to cope with uncertainty. She was struggling to do so at that very moment. Was Daniel alive or dead? Had he survived yet again or gone to join his father as one more tragic victim of warfare? Amalia tried hard to keep fear at bay. With great tenderness, she placed some flowers on the grave then closed her eyes and prayed with fervour that she would never have to kneel at the final resting place of Daniel Rawson – Soldier.
‘What did Henry have to say about me?’ she asked.
‘He said very little,’ replied Daniel, tactfully. ‘He’s preoccupied with what happened yesterday in that assault.’
‘Yes, I heard about that.’
‘Henry had to watch some of his men die and he hates that.’
‘I’m sure,’ said Rachel. ‘It shows what a dear man he is at heart.’
‘I suggest that you leave him in peace for a while.’
‘Yes, I will, Captain Rawson.’
Daniel had been about to leave the camp when he encountered Rachel Rees. Seated on her new cart, she was on her way to sell some of her wares. Daniel noticed how many provisions she had.
‘Where did you buy all those things?’ he said.
‘It’s only a question of knowing where to look.’
‘You wouldn’t have carried all that on the back of your donkey.’
‘I know.’
‘Are you pleased with your recompense?’
‘I’m delighted,’ she said. ‘I’m getting too old to sit astride a horse for any length of time. A cart makes life much easier. Mind you,’ she went on, ‘nothing could recompense me for the horrors I went through in Lille. Well, you saw that brute of a turnkey. Heaven knows what would have happened if you and Estelle hadn’t come along!’
‘He won’t ever bother a woman again,’ Daniel reminded her.
‘I know. But I’ll never forget the stink of his breath. But what about you and Henry?’ she went on. ‘What sort of reward did the pair of you get? After all, you were the real heroes, finding a way into Lille like that. I think you both deserve a promotion.’
‘I didn’t ask for it and Henry wouldn’t have accepted it. He has a very low opinion of officers. As for me, my reward is the honour of working as part of His Grace’s personal staff.’
‘Does that mean Henry got nothing at all?’