Authors: Iain Gale
He walked softly across the wooden boards, holding his sword close to his side and pushed open the door.
‘Miss Weber. How charming.’
Louisa gave a start and turned abruptly.
‘Oh. Major Jennings. You gave me a fright. I am sorry. I was dreaming.’
‘Of course. So like a woman. I was wondering if you might have a glass of cognac? Or indeed any fortified wine? I have had a busy night. Writing reports and so on. It would settle my nerves. No time for those in command to indulge themselves with the men.’
Louisa flashed him a sympathetic smile.
‘Yes, Major. Of course. I think that we have some good French brandy. Allow me to get it for you.’
Moving further into the room, Jennings noticed Kretzmer asleep in the chair and instantly saw his opportunity. How very obliging, he thought, of the fat Bavarian.
Louisa had turned her back to him now and was stretching up to the high store cupboard where they kept the good stuff. After all the Major would pay. She sensed that he was suddenly closer and felt his breath on her neck as he spoke:
‘You will recall, my dear, our conversation earlier. Our bargain. Your safe conduct to the English army. We agreed on a sum, did we not?’
Louisa turned to face him and found it difficult to avoid contact. She held the bottle between them.
‘Your brandy, Major.’
Jennings backed off a short way.
‘You do recall though, Miss Weber … Louisa. The sum of which we spoke?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, Major. But since then, things have changed. Lieutenant Steel has promised to take me to your army. He says that it will not cost me anything. That he will protect me.’
It was the worst thing that she could have said, and it sealed her fate.
‘Mister Steel told you that, did he? Let me remind you, Miss Weber, that we struck a bargain and by my code of conduct, a bargain once made, cannot be undone. So, Miss. Unless you want us to leave you here to the tender mercies of the French, you’ll pay up.’
He paused and smiled at her.
‘Although, there is of course, another way. A way which would both save your hard-earned money and provide us both with a pleasurable diversion.’
Louisa blanched and looked at Jennings. Could he mean it? Was he really asking her to sell herself to him in exchange for their passage north?
‘Major. You cannot mean what I suppose you to, surely?’
Jennings nodded and smiled.
‘No. You cannot mean it.’
He was breathing harder now.
‘Oh, but I do, pretty Louisa. I do mean it. So very, very earnestly.’
He saw her look of utter revulsion.
‘What? No? Then, by God, I’ll have you for nothing.’
Louisa opened her mouth to scream, but before she was able to utter a sound, his hand, rough and stinking of wine and filth, had been clamped hard over her lips. She tried to bite him, but her teeth could not reach the flat of his palm. Jennings pushed his body hard up against her and growled into her face.
‘Now, my pretty girl. You and I are going to have some fun. And if you scream or try anything else silly, all I have to do is call to my Sergeant – you remember him, he’s outside now – and he’ll slit your father’s throat, from ear to ear. And I’ll blame it all on this one.’
He jerked his head in the direction of the sleeping Kretzmer. As he watched her eyes widen with terror at the realization that all was hopeless, Jennings instantly became yet more aroused and decided that it would be safe to remove his hand.
‘So tell me. Where’s your precious Mister Steel now? No? I’ll tell you. He’s fast asleep in the field with his men. He won’t hear you. He won’t help you now.’
Jennings stretched out his hand and inserted a finger in between the lace of the neckline of her white blouse and the soft flesh of her shoulder.
‘Now, Miss. If you please. Your shirt.’
Louisa shuddered and froze. Jennings moved his hand further in, beneath the material and lifted it off her body, pushing it down her arm, then did the same on the other side. Then, with one swift motion he pushed down with both hands and she was naked from the waist up, horribly exposed to his gaze. Not bad, he thought. For a peasant. Her hand reached for a knife which she had remembered lay on the table behind her. But his was faster. Their fingers collided and the blade clattered to the floor as Jennings caught her by the wrist and with his other hand slapped her hard across the face, making her whimper.
‘You stupid German cow. Remember what I said, Miss. One word. One more stupid thing like that and the old man dies. Now. Help me.’
He reached for her thighs. She struggled, instinct taking over from reason. But his grip was an iron vice.
‘My, you’re a game one.’
He was used to this, she thought, through the red mist of terror and outrage which clouded her reason – the natural reaction which had kicked in to make all that would now happen appear unreal. He knew what he was doing. Had done it before. How many times, she wondered? How many women?
Jennings fumbled beneath her skirts then, impatient, ripped them to one side. He probed clumsily with his fingers and finding what he wanted, quickly unbuttoned his breeches. Desperate, lest she should utter a sound and condemn her father, Louisa bit hard into her own hand. Jennings, smiling with pleasure and hatred as he pushed at her, grunted out staccato words:
‘Remember. Tell them I did this and I kill your father.’
After the horror and humiliation of what had just occurred, the act itself took less time and effort than she had imagined.
She felt Jennings shudder and relax and she recoiled from the stink of his foul breath as he nuzzled his head into her neck in a ghastly parody of genuine lovemaking. She felt unspeakably defiled and desperate to rid herself of this man. To somehow achieve the impossible and cleanse her sullied body.
Then it was over. Jennings straightened up, buttoned his breeches and adjusted his dress. His eye was caught by the gleam of candlelight upon the small knife that lay on the floor. Picking it up he looked down on the cowering, half-naked girl. It had been in his mind to slit her throat, but as he stood there another idea struck him. Something more deliciously cruel. He pocketed the knife and pointed to Kretzmer.
‘Now. Quickly. Help me with his breeches.’
Louisa stared. Surely the man was not so perverted that he intended to force her to couple with Kretzmer? She watched, traumatized, as the Major pulled the knife from his pocket and winced as he used it to make a careful, but not too deep cut in his own hand. Finished, he placed its sticky handle in Kretzmer’s palm, before withdrawing it and letting it fall again.
Then, and with no little effort, Jennings picked up the fat merchant, who all the time had remained comatose, and lifting him under his arms from the back, dragged him across the floor towards where Louisa stood, white, half-naked and trembling.
‘Come on, whore. Get on with it. Undo his buttons.’
Hardly aware now of her actions, Louisa reached out and deftly unbuttoned the front of the merchant’s breeches. As she finished and they fell from his corpulent form, Jennings pushed the man towards her, so that the two of them tumbled to the floor, sprawling, the half-naked girl pinned down under the Bavarian’s dead-weight. The impact brought Kretzmer
round to semi-consciousness and Jennings bent down and placed the man’s fat hands on Louisa’s breasts, smiling at her as he did so.
‘Thank you, my dear. I trust that you enjoyed that as much as I. Or did you not? And remember. One word of the truth and your father dies.’
He slapped Kretzmer on the face, hard, knocking him into consciousness. Bewildered, the merchant pressed down instinctively on his hands to raise himself off the floor and in doing so found that he was embracing Louisa. He was lost for words.
Jennings turned to the door and, making sure that the grotesque sexual vignette was still perfectly arranged on the floor, shouted into the night, at the top of his voice.
‘Guard. Guard. Quickly. To me. Assault. Alarm.’
And from the empty streets of the dead town there came at last the sound of soldiers, hurrying to the rescue.
Slaughter met Steel at the door of the inn. The Lieutenant’s eyes were wide with anger and fear.
‘Where is she? Is she all right?’
It was a stupid question and he regretted it instantly. The Sergeant gave him a gentle smile. He put a hand on his shoulder, half in comfort, half to prevent him from advancing any further before his mind had time to settle. He knew well what his officer was capable of and knew that in the heat of the moment the Bavarian would not stand a chance.
‘Come on, Jacob. Let me through. I must see her.’
‘Perhaps not just yet, Sir. She’ll be all right. She’s a tough girl.’
‘Jacob. I mean it. Let me pass. I’ve got Taylor with me.’
At the mention of the man’s name the Sergeant let his grip relax a little. Matt Taylor, a Corporal of the Grenadiers, had a little knowledge of medicine, chiefly of the herbal kind. Slaughter knew that Steel approved of that. Over the months, Taylor had become the elected apothecary of the company. It was only fitting, for before conviction for fraud had forced him into the ranks, he had served three years of a seven-year
apprenticeship to the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries in London and had studied botany at the Physick garden at Chelsea. Since then Taylor had used plants and roots to cure everything from colic and scurvy to toothache, the soldiers’ curse, and even the malaria which often followed from mosquito bites.
‘Very well, Sir. Come on, Matt.’
The three men walked quickly through the inn and into the back room. Jennings stood by the door, his back against the scene:
‘I did what I could, but it was too late. The brute had had his fun already. It was really all too sordid. Poor dear girl. Can you deal with it, Steel? Not my area I’m afraid.’
Jennings smiled and made his way towards the door of the inn. Steel froze in the entrance to the back room. The air stank of sex and sweat. Louisa sat in the far corner of the room, her ripped clothes pulled up around her, her face bruised, staring wildly. She was sobbing gently. Kretzmer was sitting in the chair in the opposite corner of the room. His hands and feet had been bound and a bruise that had half shut his eye and a cut on his cheek bore testimony to his treatment at the hands of his captors. Steel turned to Taylor:
‘Matt. See what you can do for her. Be gentle.’
He marvelled at his own stupidity. To have left the girl unguarded at night in the presence of so many men. The Grenadiers were not a concern, but why had he not considered the others? Jennings’ men or the waggoners and the cook. Why, had he not considered Kretzmer?
‘Christ, Jacob. I’m a bloody fool. We should have posted a guard on her. A deserted town and a company of redcoats. I’m a bloody fool. It’s my fault.’
‘If you think that, Sir, then you
are
a bloody fool. It’s no one’s fault. She’ll be all right. Matt’s with her now.’
Steel watched as the Corporal bent to talk to Louisa, whispering to her as you would to a frightened or wounded animal. He saw her initial terror turn gradually to calm and then stood to one side as Taylor brought her out of the room and carried her gently up the stairs. Taylor turned back to him:
‘It’s all right, Sir. You can leave her with me now. Get some sleep.’
Turning back to the room, Steel gazed at the Bavarian with utter revulsion. In other circumstances he would have killed the man out of hand and taken the consequences. But he knew that as it was, in front of the men and particularly in the presence of Jennings, who would use any opportunity now to bring about Steel’s ruination, he had to behave by the rules. And the rules stated that Kretzmer would be taken with them under guard back to the camp where he would be given a fair trial. Only then, if there was any justice in this world, would they be permitted to hang him. It would be a long wait.
Morning brought another bright day, the promise of unremitting heat and with it the sickening memory of the events of the previous evening. Steel climbed the stairs to Louisa’s room and knocked at the door. Slowly it opened and Taylor’s face appeared.
‘How is she?’
‘No better than you may imagine, Sir. He was that rough with her.’
‘Should I speak to her?’
‘I don’t see why not. I don’t have any German, Sir, but in the night she did say your name a few times. In the fever.’
‘Thank you, Taylor.’
Steel walked across to the bed where Louisa lay dressed in
a cotton nightshirt beneath fresh white sheets, her blonde hair framing her head like a halo. Taylor had done a good job of cleaning her up, although she still bore a heavy bruise where she had been hit hard on face and without looking too closely, Steel could see there were others on her neck. She opened her eyes, looked at first alarmed at the presence of another man in the room, but then realized who it was.
‘Oh. You. Lieutenant, I … Do you have him. Do you have …’
She stopped herself, quickly remembering what she must not say.
‘I’m sorry, Miss. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just that I. Forgive me, but I was genuinely concerned. I feel … responsible for this.’
She smiled. ‘You? How could you?’
‘I should have placed guards. Should have had men I trust within the inn. Who knows what might have happened had Major Jennings not come in when he did.’
At the mention of Jennings’ name Louisa’s eyes widened and her face, which up till now had been restored to colour, turned pale.
‘Are you feeling all right. Shall I call Corporal Taylor to return?’
‘No, No. I’ll be fine. He is a good man, Lieutenant. So gentle.’
‘I’m sorry. I did not mean to suggest that what has happened was of no consequence. It … matters to me very much indeed. It is just that if he hadn’t come in …’
‘Yes.’
She half-closed her eyes.
‘I know. But why? Why did he?’
Steel could see that she was confused. That would be Taylor’s potions, no doubt.
‘Herr Kretzmer will hang, Louisa. Have no doubt of that. We have him prisoner.’
She opened her eyes but did not smile. Saying nothing, she merely stared at the wall. Tears began to run down her face and Steel moved forward. He went to put an arm around her shoulders and then stopped himself.
‘I … I’m sorry. I was only going to …’
She smiled. ‘No. Please. I would like you to.’
Gently, Steel placed his arm in its filthy red sleeve upon her shoulder and thankfully she buried her head deep in his chest and began to sob. Steel held her closer and thought with revulsion of the last man to do so. An obscene excuse for a man.
She looked up at him.
‘Oh, Jack. I don’t know who to trust. He said he would kill my father and he will.’
‘He won’t. He can’t. How can he? We have him. Kretzmer can do you no more harm, Louisa. Trust me.’
‘He told me that too.’
‘Kretzmer? Yes, but I mean it.’
He looked at her and thought that he could see in her eyes, along with what he might now perceive as love, a nameless fear.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Louisa turned away and said nothing. How could she tell him about Jennings? As long as the man remained alive her father’s life would be in danger. And there was something else. She had felt something just now. Something she had not expected.
From the street outside they could hear the sound of the redcoats gathering up their kit and anything still to be had and which might be carried in the way of food and drink. The day was passing. There was more, much more to say, but now was not the moment.
‘We must leave here soon. You must go to your father. Can he manage it? Can you?’
‘I think so. I will look after him. Go and get your soldiers ready. I promise we’ll be ready within the hour.’
Puzzled and not a little shaken, Steel left the room, passing Taylor as he went. ‘Stay with her. Look after her and help her with the old man. Make sure they take what they need. And, Taylor, thank you.’
He wondered if the man had guessed at his growing attachment to the girl. Whether he would tell the others. Steel thought he knew him well enough to be sure that he would not. He walked down the stairs and out into the sunshine of the square. Much as it irked him, he had to acknowledge Jennings’ role in Louisa’s rescue. Slaughter had been first on the scene and there could be no doubting his word. He had discovered Kretzmer, his trousers around his ankles, standing above Louisa’s half-naked form. Jennings was holding him firm and there had evidently been a struggle. The Bavarian had a bloody nose and a cut lip and Jennings was bleeding from his hand, wounded, it seemed, by a knife that lay upon the floor. There was, of course, no question of Kretzmer’s guilt. The facts spoke for themselves.
They had bound Kretzmer’s hands with rope and placed him, for want of anything more secure, in his own carriage, tied to the door and with a gag knotted across his mouth to drown the tirade of protest with which he had assailed them since he had recovered from his encounter with the floor – and two subsequent punches from Jennings.
Steel watched the Major now, as he crossed the town square to inspect his men, an unlikely hero, followed by Stringer, the lapdog. It was seven o’clock in the morning. It was a great deal later than they would normally have started their
march to avoid the heat of the sun. But the events of the previous night had upset his intentions, and not just because of what had happened to Louisa. Contrary to his plan, most of the men had contrived to find rather more ale than he had intended and although only a few had actually been drunk, the rest did not find that the morning, with its various demands and duties, entirely suited their dulled senses.
Nevertheless, Steel had decided that they would leave within the next two hours. They might, he guessed, cover six miles in the day. He was about to rejoin the Grenadiers in the field when he thought the better of it. Time perhaps for one more thing. Something which he had not envisioned himself doing on this or any morning. Steel did not consider himself a religious man. Certainly he had grown up in a God-fearing Scottish Episcopalian household, where Sundays were observed and church attended. But he had not carried it through into adulthood. And yet, like all soldiers, when he was out on the battlefield and the air was thick with shot, Steel was inclined to believe that something or someone was keeping watch over him. His long-dead mother perhaps, or what other men might have called a guardian angel.
He pushed open the small five-foot-high entrance panel in the great church door and entered, his boots resounding on the polished stone floor. Sword rattling at his side, Steel walked towards the high altar and stopped the instant that his eyes caught the figure of the Madonna holding her son.
A woman and a dead man. He had seen it many times in the aftermath of battles, when a wife or a camp follower would find her husband or her lover on the field and, convulsed with grief, cradle him in just this way. He had heard the sobbing and knew the sound of the misery embodied now before him. The grief of all the world seemed bound up in this one image. He walked closer to the statue and tried to
remember what it was you were meant to do. He had forgotten how to pray. Kneel. Yes, that was it. Holding on to his sword, he bent one knee and lowered himself down slowly on to the cold floor and bowed his head. That felt right. And now, what to say, after so long? He began, half-whispering, half merely thinking aloud.
‘Dear God, if you do exist. Or whatever you might be. I am not asking for a miracle. Keep me safe in the battle that is surely to come, just as I know you will protect my men. And look down on Marlborough. Bless his victory and let us live. If I am to die, then let it be quick. Don’t let me be maimed or blinded. But most of all, if you do exist, I pray you, let us win.’
Steel heard the door creak open behind him and, worried lest one of his men should discover him, rose quickly, his scabbard scraping on the floor and filling the empty basilica with its echo. He turned to see Slaughter advancing towards him, grinning.
‘Sorry, Sir. I didn’t know you were a godly man.’
‘I’m not, Jacob. But there are times when anything is better than nothing, eh? Reckon we need a bit of luck at the moment. Right now I’d swear on a ruddy rabbit’s foot if you had one.’
‘Luck, Sir? Well, perhaps if that’s what you want to call it. I’d call it fate myself. Oh, I credit you there’s something bigger than us. Stands to reason. But all this?’ He pointed around the church at the paintings of the saints, the carved tombs and the side chapels.
‘All this is a bit too Papist for my liking, Mister Steel. Fate. That’s what it is. You’ve to make your own way in life. But fate’s what decides whether you live or die.’
Both men looked for a moment towards the altar. Steel broke the silence.
‘Ready then?’
‘As ever will be, Sir. Men are assembled in the square. Grumbling a bit, but that’s the ale, mostly. They’re happier than they were. The wagons are all rigged and ready to move. But it doesn’t seem right, Sir, having poor Miss Weber sitting with him. I mean, after what he did to her.’
‘No, Jacob, it doesn’t. But there is no room for her to travel with the driver and we must keep Kretzmer in a closed carriage. He knows he’s for the drop. If it were up to me I’d shoot him now. But that’s not the way. There’s nothing for it. The bastard can’t go in a flour wagon and he can’t very well travel with the wounded.’
He turned and together they walked down the nave. At the door, Slaughter turned his head back towards the altar, which was lit by a brilliant beam of sunshine through one of the clerestory windows. He spoke.
‘Funny, ain’t it, Sir. The power of that statue, if you get my meaning. I mean, what does it d’you think? What makes people come here from all over, just to make a wish on a piece of painted wood?’
‘I wish I knew, Jacob. I wonder if any of them ever come true.’
Steel watched the great bird circling in the sky above them. What, he wondered, would they look like from up there, this sorry column of men and wagons trailing back along the dusty road? Nothing of interest to a black kite, he was certain. The bird wheeled again, high into the blue, climbing free of earthly tethers. Steel longed for such freedom. Merely to be free of this tiresome command would be sufficient. It was two days now since they had left Sielenbach. They had continued south at first, before turning right, towards the east. Then, re-crossing the Paar at Dasingen, they had started
up the long, straight road north, which would take them back to the army.