Steel, impressed by the man’s sang-froid, although bemused by his apparent indifference, turned to the Prussian captain who was standing with him.
‘Captain Emsdorf, take your company together with the Danes and the Dutch to the east, near where we beached. I shall be fighting with the remainder of the battalion on the south side of the town. Good luck.’
The Prussian clicked to attention and hurried away. Steel was about to assemble the three other companies when above the sound of the guns to the south another noise rent the night.
‘What the devil was that?’
The officers stared in the direction from which the noise had come, to the northwest, and as they did so it came again. All recognized it.
‘Muskets,’ said Steel. ‘Christ almighty, they’ve got round to the rear of the town.’
Maclean barked an order and pointed to the direction of the firing. ‘Sar’nt Davidson, get your men over there. Hurry, man. Steel, you’d best follow him.’
A half-troop of dragoons ran across the square and vanished down a side alley towards the guns. Steel’s first thought was for Henrietta. Maclean, believing that an order given was an order obeyed, did not bother to check whether Steel was carrying out his command, and Steel made use of the moment. Looking across the square he saw Simpson standing with Williams. He ran over to him.
‘Simpson, you must tell me where my wife is. I beg you. Now, man. She will need my help.’
‘Very well, but where d’you suppose I will find Malbec?’
‘It’s my guess that he’s either down at the south entrance with the main body of the enemy or that it’s him who’s making all that bloody noise over there. Probably the latter.’ He pointed in the direction of the new musketry, to the northwest. ‘You might try either. He’ll be with his regiment. You can tell them by their fur caps. Take Williams and a half-company of my men. Now, where is she?’
‘She has rooms in a tavern in the north of the town. The Swan. And Jack, remember what I said. Be careful. I say, you’re hit.’
‘Don’t worry about me. Just find Malbec. I’ll join you when I can. Save some of him for me if you can bear it.’ He turned to Hansam. ‘Henry, you have the company. I’m taking Sar’nt Slaughter and Number 1 platoon off on an errand. I don’t suppose we shall be long. And Henry, make sure Williams stays with Captain Simpson. Let’s try to keep him alive.’
Maclean had still not realized that Steel had not done as ordered, but just to make sure that he wasn’t disturbed Steel set off with the platoon across the square towards the guns, before doubling back up a side street towards the north. He found the inn in a back street, almost at the water line. From his left he could hear the sound of isolated musketry, and it was getting closer. The Swan was hardly salubrious, and certainly, he thought, not up to his wife’s demanding standards. He pushed open the door and, peering into the smoky fug, was surprised to find townspeople drinking, apparently oblivious to the battle raging around their homes. Or more likely, it struck him, drinking to escape it. He saw a staircase in the corner and turned to Slaughter.
‘Jacob, stay here with the men. Don’t hesitate to shoot if there’s any trouble. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Pushing his way with his good arm through the half-drunken crowd, Steel climbed quickly to the first floor. It was his experience that the finest rooms in such a place always lay at the far end of the corridor, and sure enough, moving quickly down its length, he pushed open the final door to reveal a simple sitting room with a settle, two chairs and a table on which lay the remains of the morning’s breakfast. Henrietta’s simple young maid Maria was standing in the corner rummaging through the contents of a tapestry bag. As he entered she looked up in alarm. Steel walked across to the inner door, leading to the bedroom.
‘Wait a minute. You can’t go in there. That’s Lady Henrietta’s bedroom. And she’s alone.’
‘So much the better. Marie, d’you not recognize me? It’s Captain Steel, girl. I’m her husband.’
The maid nodded and stared. Then thought again. ‘But, sir, you are not the man … her man. I …’
Steel’s heart sank. The stupid girl had told him what Simpson could not. It was true, then. No idle gossip. He pushed open the bedroom door. Henrietta was sitting with her back to him at a small dressing table, combing her hair in the mirror. She was naked. As he entered she screamed, then turning and seeing his face reached for the gown which lay on the bed and covered herself.
‘Oh, Jack. Good God.’
‘You did not expect me?’
‘No. How could I?’
‘You thought that I might be someone else, perhaps?’
She saw it in his eyes. ‘You know? Oh Jack, I am so very, very sorry. I did not intend it to be this way.’
‘You thought you’d escape back to England and send me a message?’
‘Yes. No. I mean, I did not intend for you to find me here.’
‘Clearly. Why, Henrietta? How could you? What of our marriage vows? Do they mean nothing to you? You swore to love me. That you loved me. What of that, Henrietta? Is that for nothing? How could this happen?’
She looked down at the floor, said nothing for a moment, then: ‘I, I don’t really know. It just happened. He found me in Brussels and I was lonely. And you were gone and I was lonely. And …’
‘And so you climbed into his bed. Is that it? From boredom?’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Well, deny it then. Deny that you slept with him when I can see the evidence of it only too clearly.’
He looked down at the crumpled clothes that lay strewn across the floor: an officer’s cotton shirt, a petticoat, silk stockings and garters, clearly discarded in haste.
‘Jack, do not leap to assumptions. You’re wounded. Let me help.’
He stepped away from her. ‘No. It’s nothing. Assumptions?’ He picked up the shirt on the tip of his sword and flung it on the bed. ‘I don’t need assumptions. There is no leap to make.’
She saw how deeply he was hurt, and knew it was hopeless. So she moved to the offensive. ‘Well, what else could I do? He was so kind and you had been gone so long and I was frightened.’
‘And fear, as we all know, breeds betrayal. Who is he? Tell me his name.’
‘He’s a major, if you must know. You will know all soon enough anyway. I’m going to divorce you, Jack. I intend to marry him.’
Steel said nothing but was quietly thoughtful. ‘You’re sure. Of that? I mean? Perhaps –’
‘No. You and I know that you don’t mean that, Jack. It’s over.’
Steel turned away and walked across to the window. He looked out into the darkness, his mind addled with shattered dreams, confused with the suddness. After a few moments he turned back to her. ‘Very well. If that is truly your desire.’
Unable to meet his eyes, she continued to stare at the floor. After a while she spoke. ‘His name is Maclean. Lachlan Maclean.’
Steel nodded. ‘I’ve met him. He commands the defences. He seems a good enough soldier. A brave man, certainly. Do you love him?’
‘Yes. At least, I think so.’
Steel laughed. ‘As you once thought you loved me?’
She looked away. ‘Jack, please don’t be like this. How can I answer that? I know it’s hard for you.’
Steel did not reply. Instead he moved towards the door and then turned. ‘I’d better go now before I do or say anything foolish. But I should like to talk to you again. Stay here, and if you hear anything try to hide yourself. I’ll send someone to protect you as soon as I can.’
Steel left the room and gently closed the door, and as Marie watched him, terrified, he walked down the corridor. Nothing had changed in the inn, and he could see that Slaughter and the men still stood by the door. But in those few minutes in that room something had changed within Steel and it seemed wrong that the world should not mirror that transformation. He felt curiously numb, as if his universe had been frozen in time and yet at the same time as if it had fragmented, blown into so many tiny pieces, as if some gigantic shell-burst had ripped out his heart and scattered it to the winds.
Hs shoulder was starting to throb now. He prayed that it was not infected with a fragment of cloth from his coat, as so often happened. Well, that was for later. Now he had other business in hand. Instinctively, he knew what to do. He ran down the staircase, pushed across to Slaughter and nodded to one of the men.
‘You. Macdonald. Up there, in the back room. My wife’s in there. Keep a watch on her. I’ll be back later. Come on, Jacob. We’ve got a battle to win.’
Tom Williams was not enjoying his new role babysitting Simpson. The man might, as Steel had said, be out of practice with a sword, but, thought Williams, he was no stranger to bravery. It was almost as if he wanted to die, and in the last few minutes Williams had saved his life three times. Simpson would insist on throwing himself into the hottest areas of the combat, there to be engulfed by Frenchmen. With Hansam’s half-company and the men of Orkney’s regiment that had come ashore with them, they were defending the barricade on the southernmost street of the town. It seemed clear that Major Maclean had been right. The moon had slipped out now from behind the cloud which had covered it earlier and shone down on the prospect of more than two thousand French infantry advancing steadily up the slope towards them. Williams calculated the odds against them and wondered where Steel might be. He would know what to do. It was not that Hansam was not a good officer. Williams had the utmost respect for him. It was simply that Steel had a knack of knowing what might get them out of a scrape. Mind you, this was beginning to look like something more than a scrape. He heard an officer’s voice.
‘Here they come again. Officers take posts. Look to your front.’
Major Maclean was with them now, along with four of his dragoons. He seemed to Williams to have something of Steel about him – a coolness in battle that he himself could only hope one day to possess.
As they watched the French advance, Hansam gave the order: ‘Make ready. Present.’
As the guns opened fire Williams saw the major talking to his sergeant and by chance caught a few words: ‘Milady … danger … inn.’ As he watched, the major yelled something at his men and then turned and ran away up one of the back lanes which led off the street. Williams was intrigued. Surely such a man was no coward? He could only conjecture what his behaviour might mean. Finding Simpson standing waiting for the French, he realized that his agile mind might shed some light on the matter and began to tell him what he had just heard.
Simpson had known that Steel would be right. He might not have made the best of spies, and his courtly manners left a little to be desired, but on a battlefield it did not take much to realize that Steel was your man. Simpson had taken his advice and marched to the sound of the guns, and there he had found Malbec. It was almost as if the man wanted to show himself.
And so he did. For the truth was that Malbec had already spotted Simpson. At first he could not quite believe it. For two weeks he and his men had sought the spy with no success. They had tracked him through the back streets of Paris, had even raided the Cour des Miracles and barely escaped with their lives. Then his posting had come through and he had returned to his regiment, but he had known Simpson was out there somewhere. The other British spy was out there too, the Irish officer. He had sworn that some day he would find them. But this – this was too good to be true, an opportunity not to be wasted. The problem was how to get the spy where he wanted him. And the answer was a trick as old as time. He would use himself as bait to lure him in. All that was needed was a little bravado.
Close by, to the left of the attackers, two houses were burning, set afire by French shells, casting a lurid orange glow over the scene. His head framed against the leaping flames, Malbec stood high on the makeshift ramparts of the town’s west entrance road and waved his sword around his head, yelling encouragement to his men: ‘On, on, children of France. On for your King and for glory.’
A musket ball flew past his right ear and another touched his hat, making a neat round hole. He jumped down onto the cobbles and found himself confronted by a Dutch infantryman who attempted to impale him on a bayonet, but Malbec was too fast for him and, parrying away the thrust, pressed home with a counter-thrust which pierced the man’s heart. He looked up and was pleased to see, some twenty yards away, that Simpson had not moved and was engaged in a fight with three of his grenadiers. He was fighting alongside a group of British grenadiers, and as Malbec watched he saw one of them, a young ensign, shout something in Simpson’s ear. Within seconds the spy had turned and was running back up the street away from the fight. Malbec did not stop to wonder why, but leaving his men in the care of his second-in-command he fought his way out of the mêlée and ducked up a side street in pursuit.