5 A Very Murdering Battle (12 page)

‘You’ve had two of us.’

‘Do you like it here?’

‘Yes, I do.’

Welbeck was surprised at his answer. Earlier that day, he’d been regretting his decision to come to Amsterdam because he felt out of place. The chance of action, however, had exhilarated him and he felt quite comfortable joining in the celebrations with the rest of them. Beatrix was largely responsible for that. Every other person in the house had been unfailingly cordial towards him but it was Beatrix who’d shown most interest in him. Yet she was in no way intrusive. She simply appeared when he had need of a servant. In the course of his stay, his antipathy towards women had been slowly eroded. But for the crisis that had brought him there, the Janssen household was supremely contented and Beatrix occupied a prime place in it. While he had no wish to prolong a domestic existence, he’d been forced to admit that it had its appeal. And in Beatrix, he’d finally found a woman whose company he could endure without feeling threatened.

‘I hope you’ll stay as long as you wish, Sergeant,’ said Janssen.

‘Thank you – but I have to get back to my regiment.’

‘It’s been a pleasure to have you here.’

‘The pleasure has been mutual,’ said Welbeck.

‘I never thought to hear Henry saying that,’ teased Daniel, joining the two men. ‘You’ve tamed him at last. Until he came here, he was happiest when living under canvas. He’s at last discovered the joys of civilised life.’

‘Yet I still prefer to return to winter quarters, Dan.’

‘Tarry a little in Amsterdam.’

‘Yes,’ added Janssen. ‘My house is at your disposal.’

‘It’s a kind offer,’ said Welbeck, ‘but I’ve done what I was asked to do. It’s time to leave.’ He caught Beatrix’s eye and had a momentary pang of regret. ‘I’ll bid you all farewell in the morning.’

‘Remember that you’re always welcome here, Sergeant.’

‘I appreciate that.’

‘Actually,’ said Daniel, ‘I can’t let you ride back to winter quarters. There’s some unfinished business for us to complete first, Henry.’

‘Is there?’

‘The tapestry belongs to His Grace. We must deliver it to him.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Janssen. ‘I’ll write to tell him how it was retrieved and how much we owe to two of his finest soldiers. You can bear the letter with you.’

‘We’ll be glad to do so.’

Amalia was saddened. ‘Do you really have to go so soon, Daniel?’

‘I’m afraid so. His Grace has been waiting a long time for his tapestry.’

‘Let him wait a few more days at least.’

‘I’m sorry, Amalia. I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’

‘And so will I,’ said Janssen. ‘This is your second home.’

‘Then I’ll make sure that I don’t stay away from it for long,’ promised Daniel. ‘Tomorrow we’ll hire a cart to take the tapestry to The Hague. As soon as this cold spell ends, His Grace will want to take it back to England with him.’

Amalia was distressed. ‘I hope that you won’t go with him.’

‘That decision doesn’t lie in my hands, Amalia. I have to obey orders. Whatever His Grace has in mind for me, I must perforce do it. That’s how we first met, after all. On that occasion, too,’ Daniel recalled, ‘it was a tale of a tapestry, a rescue and a beautiful young lady. That’s why I feel so indebted to the British army.’

Marlborough pored over the map and wondered which would be the most likely theatre of war once the campaign season resumed. Though there was a desire on all sides to achieve an equitable peace settlement, he had grave doubts that it could be achieved. Negotiations had been opened time and again, only to falter when the terms on offer were rejected. France might be on its knees, but whenever there was a military threat it always showed remarkable resilience. He was confident that Louis XIV would be capable of raising yet another army and of finding a man worthy of leading it. With its wealth, driving ambition and expertise on the battlefield, France had dominated Europe for over forty years. In spite of major defeats inflicted by Marlborough, its army hadn’t lost its sense of entitlement. It still expected to win as of right.

A sudden pain shot through his head, forcing Marlborough to push the map aside and sit up. He feared the onset of yet another migraine but the pain faded away in minutes. Even though hostilities had temporarily ceased, there’d been no real improvement in his health. He was still racked by fatigue, dizzied by headaches and liable to bouts of fever. Inertia also took its toll, leaving him bored and fretful. In previous years, he’d spent the winter back in England, where a busy social round partially compensated for the lack of action in the field. Time spent with his family, friends and political allies always revived him for the struggles that lay ahead in a forthcoming campaign season. That was not the situation here. Though he and his retinue were living scot-free in a mansion, the delights of The Hague had long since started to pall. He felt increasingly homesick.

Cardonnel entered the room to find him in a familiar pose, both hands to his head as his elbows rested on the table. The secretary crossed over to him.

‘What ails you?’

‘
Everything
ails me, Adam,’ said Marlborough, looking up. ‘The war, the winter, the endless haggling with our partners in this venture and these splitting headaches sent to torment me.’ He lowered his hands. ‘And that’s only the beginning of it.’

‘Then let me give you some good news for once.’

‘Is there such a thing?’

‘A thaw is setting in. Reports suggest that the ports will soon be open again.’

‘You call that good news?’

‘Of course, Your Grace – it will enable us to sail to England.’

‘Where I will have to face the wrath of my dear wife,’ said Marlborough with a sigh. ‘Think of all the bile she’ll have stored up during the time when she was unable to write to me. I’ll be drowned in a veritable waterfall of it. I answer to Her Majesty yet my wife despises the woman. Each day brings a new perceived slight about which to complain. Nobody can hate with the passion of a woman.’

‘I’m sure that Her Grace will be delighted to see you again.’

‘But how long will that delight last?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘When she hears that our tapestry has been stolen, she’ll blame me for not having it guarded properly. Sarah has seen the design and met its creator, remember. Emanuel Janssen actually went to Blenheim Palace last year to view its progress.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘There’ll be a large blank wall where the Battle of Ramillies should be and my wife will not let me forget it.’

‘The tapestry may yet be recovered, Your Grace.’

‘Then why have we heard nothing from Amsterdam?’

‘I have no answer to that,’ admitted Cardonnel.

‘When was the last communication?’

‘It was over a week ago. Captain Rawson wrote to advise you that he’d sent for Sergeant Welbeck of the 24
^th
Foot to assist him. They make a formidable team, Your Grace, and have proved themselves time and again.’

‘Granted – yet I sense that they have at last failed.’

‘I remain more sanguine.’

Marlborough rose to his feet. ‘God bless you, Adam!’ he said, patting the other man’s arm. ‘You’re my saviour. Whenever I look into the pit of despair, you’re there to pull me back from the edge.’

‘It’s something I learnt from you, Your Grace. No matter how bad the omens, never give up. Stay true to yourself and you’ll win through.’

‘It’s a lesson I need to relearn for my own benefit. So,’ he went on, making an effort to strike a more cheerful note, ‘there’s a thaw setting in, is there? That should gladden the heart. The Dutch are staunch allies but I miss the company of my fellow countrymen. Compared to England, this is such a dull and prosaic nation. And even though I may fear the ferocity of my beloved wife, I yearn to be with her once more and to remind myself what a fortunate husband I am.’

‘Being at home again will surely improve your health.’

‘That will be an additional bonus.’

‘And you’ll be able to discuss your position with Her Majesty.’

Marlborough scowled. ‘I look for no favours from that quarter.’

There was a tap on the door and, in response to a barked command from Marlborough, it was opened by a uniformed lieutenant.

‘Apologies for this intrusion, Your Grace,’ he said, ‘but Captain Rawson presents his compliments and requests a meeting with you.’

‘Send him in,’ urged Marlborough, ‘send him in.’

‘I told you that he wouldn’t let you down,’ said Cardonnel as the man bowed himself out. ‘He’s here in person to trumpet his success.’

‘He could equally well have come to report failure, Adam. Unable to squeeze any money out of us, the thieves may have destroyed the tapestry out of sheer spite.’

‘I incline to a more optimistic view.’

Marlborough gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’m glad that one of us does.’

‘Failure isn’t a word in Captain Rawson’s lexicon.’

‘We shall see.’

There was a knock on the door. Daniel opened it, stepped into the room and exchanged greetings with them. His face was impassive.

‘The tapestry is no longer in Amsterdam,’ he announced.

‘I knew it,’ said Marlborough, gloomily. ‘Those devils have destroyed it.’

‘Let’s hear the full details,’ cautioned Cardonnel.

‘I’ll have them roasted alive for this.’

‘The tapestry is no longer in Amsterdam,’ repeated Daniel with a slow grin, ‘because it’s here in The Hague. At this very moment, Sergeant Welbeck – who helped me to retrieve it – is standing guard over it.’

‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Marlborough, embracing him. ‘This is joyous news.’

Cardonnel was laughing. ‘Allow me to congratulate you, Captain Rawson.’

‘Sergeant Welbeck deserves as much credit as I do,’ said Daniel, ‘and we owe a debt to the bravery of Aelbert Pienaar.’

He gave them a full account of the recovery of the tapestry and the capture of the thieves. Pienaar’s link with the brothel was the only important detail omitted. That information would never be shared with anyone else. Daniel stressed that the tapestry was unharmed, and was pleased to be handing it over into Marlborough’s custody.

‘There you are, Your Grace,’ Cardonnel pointed out. ‘It looks as if you’ve won the Battle of Ramillies for the second time.’

‘There won’t be a third time,’ vowed Marlborough. ‘As soon as humanly possible, it will travel to England with me – and you, Daniel, will accompany me to tell your tale to my wife.’

Daniel was dismayed. ‘Do you really
need
me, Your Grace?’

‘There’s always work for you at my side.’

‘I’d endorse that,’ said Cardonnel.

‘And I daresay that you’d like to be on English soil again.’

Daniel straightened his back. ‘Yes, I would.’

Concealing his misgivings, Daniel tried to sound pleased. Returning to England meant putting the North Sea between him and Amalia. There’d be no hope of seeing her again until Marlborough was ready to return to the Continent. It was disappointing and yet another illustration that his duties as a British officer surpassed all else. He didn’t relish the notion of writing to Amalia to inform her of his departure. Their time together in Amsterdam had been marred by the crisis over the stolen tapestry and he’d been hoping for a chance to make amends by visiting her again. It was not to be. Daniel would sail for England with Marlborough. The real Battle of Ramillies had kept him and Amalia far apart. Its depiction on the tapestry was about to do exactly the same thing.

The main advantage of a return to England was that it allowed Daniel to pay a visit to his father’s grave in Somerset. It was an event that always generated contradictory emotions. While he felt a surge of pride for a man he’d loved and admired, he was forced to remember the tragic circumstances of his death. Defeated and captured at the Battle of Sedgemoor, Captain Nathan Rawson had met the fate of so many other rebels and dangled from the gallows in front of a large crowd. A mere boy at the time, Daniel had never forgotten the sight. It was seared into his brain. Under cover of darkness, he’d helped to cut his father down and spirit him away to the parish church, where he was buried furtively in an unmarked grave. It was years before Daniel was able to return to the spot and arrange for his father’s remains to be exhumed then interred after a Christian burial service. That gave him a sense that justice had been done.

As he knelt beside the grave, he thought – not for the first time – how different it would all have been if the rebellion had succeeded. His father would have retired from the makeshift army gathered around the Duke of Monmouth and become a farmer once more. Daniel would have worked alongside him and, in time, have taken charge of their broad acres. By now, he’d certainly have been married and been blessed with children whom he could regale with stories of how their grandfather had been a military hero assisting the overthrow of an unpopular Stuart king. Daniel’s life, however, had taken a very different course. When their farm had been confiscated, he and his mother fled to Holland and he’d led an urban existence in Amsterdam until he was old enough to join the army. The new English king, William of Orange, achieved what the Monmouth Rebellion had failed to do and replaced a Roman Catholic monarch with a stern defender of Protestantism.

Daniel was bound to reflect on the fortunes of the man he now served. John Churchill had been one of the leaders of the royal army at Sedgemoor but deserted King James II during the extraordinary events of 1688. Though he fought in Ireland under the banner of William of Orange, capturing Cork and Kinsale, he never enjoyed his new master’s full confidence and had to watch Dutch officers of lesser ability promoted over him. The Earl of Marlborough, as he then was, suffered the unjust humiliation of being dismissed in 1692 and imprisoned briefly in the Tower. Yet here he was, years later, leading a vast coalition army as captain-general and towering above any other commander in Europe. Such were the changes brought about by the whirligig of time. Notwithstanding the fact that his father had fought against John Churchill, Daniel was proud to be part of Marlborough’s personal staff.

There were moments, however, when Daniel worried about him.

‘How was your journey?’ asked Marlborough.

‘It was uneventful, Your Grace,’ replied Daniel.

‘Then that sets it apart from almost every other journey you’ve made.’ He turned to his guest. ‘Look on the face of this fellow, Sidney. You’ll never have seen a more singular soldier. Every time that Captain Rawson is sent on an assignment, he’s confronted by the most appalling perils. Yet somehow he always survives. Extreme danger is his natural habitat.’

‘I’m familiar with the captain’s adventures,’ said Godolphin with an approving nod. ‘I’m told he’s become a legend in his regiment.’

‘He has – and with justification.’

‘Your Grace exaggerates,’ said Daniel, modestly.

‘I know your worth better than any man alive.’

Godolphin smiled. ‘It’s good to have such valiant men in our army. Valour is not a quality one often finds in politicians, alas.’

‘I agree, Sidney. By and large, you’re a rather insipid, overcautious breed. Though there are exceptions,’ he added with distaste. ‘We all know who those busy, conniving, power-hungry politicians are.’

The three men were at Holywell, the Hertfordshire residence favoured by Marlborough. It was in that same house, five years earlier, that Daniel had first met the Earl of Godolphin and found the Lord Treasurer a pleasant if rather uninspiring companion. Now well into his sixties, he’d been in a position to organise the finance of the war and had supported Marlborough loyally against his many critics. The two men were not simply bonded by close friendship. Marlborough’s daughter, Henrietta, was married to Godolphin’s son, Francis, thus uniting two highly influential families. Daniel noted that the burdens of office had gouged even deeper lines out of the Lord Treasurer’s face and made his shoulders stoop even more. But it was Marlborough’s appearance that alarmed Daniel. Looking ill and beleaguered, he seemed to have shrunk in size and lost any real authority from his voice.

‘We all hope for peace,’ Marlborough began, ‘but what will happen if the negotiations fail and we take up arms once more?’

‘Then we’ll lose even more friends in Parliament,’ warned Godolphin.

‘I didn’t know that we still had any.’

‘Don’t be so downhearted. There are still many who revere your name and boast of your triumphs. Set against them, however, is a growing number of mealy-mouthed individuals who deplore the cost of the war and demand a resolution to the conflict.’

‘Then perhaps they should join the army and fight for it,’ said Daniel.

Marlborough nodded. ‘You echo my sentiments, Daniel.’

‘It’s nothing short of cowardly to hide behind the barricades of Parliament while condemning men who bravely put their lives at risk. They should back us to the hilt, not quibble endlessly over money.’

‘Quibbling is in a politician’s nature,’ said Godolphin with a dry smile. ‘Not without reason, they argue, they’re entitled to see a return on the massive investment.’

‘Then let them repeat the names of Blenheim, Ramillies and Oudenarde,’ said Daniel with passion. ‘Are not they amazing profits? Add the successful siege of Lille to the list and you’ll see what a magnificent record His Grace has delivered.’

Godolphin held up both hands. ‘I need no convincing, Captain Rawson.’

‘Too many people do,’ complained Marlborough. ‘Unfortunately, one of them happens to be Her Majesty. She’s been listening to too many whispers.’

‘Have you spoken with her?’

‘I tried to, Sidney, but it was to no avail.’

‘She’s still distracted by the death of her husband.’

‘It was my dear wife who provided the distraction on this occasion. I simply had to mention Sarah’s name and Her Majesty became distant towards me. It was a most distressing interview.’

There was an air of defeatism about him that Daniel had never seen before. Working so closely with Marlborough, he was keenly aware of the great diplomatic and military skills he possessed. Given what the captain-general had achieved in all manner of adverse circumstances, Daniel believed that he should be greeted with an ovation every time he set foot in England. Instead, he was at the mercy of sniping politicians and a queen whose attitude towards him had become rather lukewarm. At the peak of his power, Marlborough had forged what amounted to a ministry with Godolphin, soldier and statesman in perfect harmony, one fighting a war while the other raised funds to support it. The partnership had lost its effectiveness and it saddened Daniel to see two such able men struggling to maintain their influence. He began to fear for the future.

‘What else did you do in Somerset?’ wondered Marlborough.

‘I visited our old farm,’ replied Daniel.

‘Has it changed in any way?’

‘It’s done so beyond all recognition. It’s much larger now and run very differently. They have less stock than we did and grow far more crops. My father would never have done that.’

‘Why not?’

‘He believed that sheep and cattle could be nursed through a bad winter, whereas an arable farm could be ruined by it. We grew enough to feed ourselves and our animals. What was left was sent to market. Our major source of income was our stock.’ Daniel smiled nostalgically. ‘There’s a real joy in animal husbandry.’

‘He has a farmer’s instincts,’ observed Godolphin. ‘If you’re not careful, you’ll lose one of your best soldiers to the land.’

Marlborough was melancholy. ‘We might all be turned out to pasture before long, Sidney,’ he said. ‘Daniel is clearly made of prime beef but what sort of price would a stringy old goat like me fetch at market?’

Godolphin laughed and Daniel felt obliged to smile. Deep down, however, he was disturbed. It hadn’t been a joke. Marlborough had spoken with calm sincerity.

Alone in the Janssen house, Nicholaes Geel was glad of Daniel’s departure. As long as he and Sergeant Welbeck had been there, Amalia was wholly preoccupied. She hardly noticed Geel and that pained him. Adding salt to the wound was the fact that Aelbert Pienaar was now being treated like a hero because of the way he’d assisted in the recovery of the tapestry. Amalia never passed the older man without giving him a word of praise. That rankled with Geel. But he continued to work sedulously and even joined in the general adulation of Pienaar. Gradually, he came to Amalia’s attention again and they began to have snatched conversations. While they meant nothing to her, they were manna to the lovelorn weaver. They kept hope alive. There was always the possibility – distant as it might be – that Daniel would come to grief on the field of battle or perish while spying behind enemy lines. Amalia would be utterly distraught, presenting him with the opportunity of being a sympathetic friend who would slowly edge his way into her affections.

When he arrived for work that morning, he had a chance meeting with her in the hall. Though they merely exchanged comments about the improvement in the weather, it was a significant conversation to him. Trying to prolong it, he was thwarted by the arrival of the mail. Beatrix was on hand to take it from the courier and to identify the sender of one letter.

‘It’s from Captain Rawson,’ she said, excitedly.

Amalia was thrilled. ‘Let me have it,’ she cried, taking it from her.

‘When is he coming back to Amsterdam?’

‘I haven’t even opened it yet, Beatrix.’

Geel looked on with despair seeping into his soul. Amalia had forgotten him.

‘Daniel’s been to see Blenheim,’ declared Amalia, reading the missive. ‘He thinks it will be sumptuous. That’s what we felt. We’d never seen anything so opulent.’

‘Did he meet Her Grace, the Duchess?’

‘There’s no mention of her.’ She turned to the second page. ‘Daniel has been to Somerset and visited his old farm. It brought back lots of memories for him.’

Amalia fell silent as she read two paragraphs written solely for her eyes. Geel winced as he saw how moved she was. He longed to be able to write something that would have the same effect on her but it was beyond him. He was no gallant soldier like Daniel. All that he could do was to weave tapestries. Yet it was a man with the same occupation who’d won the heart of Amalia’s mother and he’d heard many times from Janssen that his daughter had inherited her beauty from her mother. It was wrong to have such low self-esteem. Geel had qualities that could impress a woman but, unfortunately, Amalia wouldn’t spare them a glance while Daniel still lived.

‘Go on,’ encouraged Beatrix. ‘What else does Captain Rawson say?’

‘He sends you his warmest regards.’

The servant bubbled with joy. ‘How kind of him to remember me!’ she said. ‘Is Sergeant Welbeck with him?’

‘No, Beatrix, he went back to winter quarters.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘But the best news of all,’ continued Amalia, reaching the final paragraph, ‘is that Daniel will soon be sailing for Holland. He and His Grace have business in The Hague. Isn’t that wonderful? Daniel will be back at last.’

‘I rejoice in the news,’ said Beatrix, clapping her hands.

‘Yes,’ said Geel with false enthusiasm, ‘so do I.’

But the letter had just slipped a red-hot knife between his ribs.

It was demeaning. It upset Daniel that he felt the snub more keenly than Marlborough himself. At the formal peace negotiations held at The Hague, there were two British plenipotentiaries and – in spite of his central role in the war – Marlborough was only the junior partner. It angered Daniel that the Whig Junto ruling England had appointed its own man above the captain-general. Charles, Viscount Townshend, still in his thirties, had neither the military experience nor the long association with French diplomacy that Marlborough enjoyed, yet he was given the senior role. To all intents and purposes, Marlborough was effectively an observer at the various sessions. Daniel, whose fluency in Dutch and French earned him a position as an interpreter, had to watch him being consigned to a secondary role. It made Daniel resentful.

There was never a better time for the Allies to enforce their demands. The harsh winter that had crippled France had been followed by a continuously wet spring, causing further disaster to French agriculture. The country was on the verge of collapse. As a result, the Marquis de Torcy, its foreign minister, seemed ready to concede anything to bring a ruinously expensive war to an end. So confident was he of the outcome that Marlborough was able to write to Godolphin, assuring him that
‘M.Torcy has offered so much that I have no doubt it will end in a good peace’
. Daniel took the same view. The enemy had been beaten by a combination of superior military tactics and devastating weather. He fully expected that the War of the Spanish Succession would finally cease and that he would be able to see more of Amalia instead of having to prepare for yet another campaign season.

After long discussions, the Allies presented Torcy with their demands at the end of May. There were forty conditions in the catalogue and Louis XIV was given an ultimatum that he had to accept the formidable terms within a week or the war would resume. In a private moment with Daniel and Cardonnel, Marlborough was still anticipating success, in spite of the severity of the demands made on the French.

‘Louis will accept,’ he asserted. ‘He has no choice but to accept.’