Fire and Sword Page 14

  Amalia was in dire trouble.

  Flanked by two guards, Amalia Janssen stood in trepidation while Vendôme ran a searching eye over her. His scrutiny made her blood run cold. Being abducted and smuggled out of Holland had been a frightening experience but her captors had treated her with a measure of respect. She got little of that from Vendôme. His gaze was so direct and penetrating that it was almost as if he were slowly undressing her until she was stark naked before him. Bound and defenceless, Amalia felt abused. She turned her face away in embarrassment.

  Vendôme nodded so one of the men removed the gag from her mouth and the rope that pinioned her hands behind her back. Amalia rubbed her wrists. During her stay in Paris, she’d learnt a fair amount of French but was far from fluent. When Vendôme spoke rapidly to the two guards, she could only pick out certain words. The two men withdrew and she was left alone in the tent with Vendôme. After circling her to appraise her from every angle, he came back to face her, lifting her chin with a finger so that she was forced to look into a pair of dark, burning, uncompromising eyes.

  ‘Captain Rawson is a fortunate man,’ he began, slowly. ‘I’m sure that he realises that. He wrote you a very touching letter.’

  ‘That was private,’ she said.

  ‘You no longer have any privacy, mademoiselle. You left it behind you in Amsterdam.’ He saw her glancing around. ‘And before you think of trying to run away, let me warn you that guards are posted outside. There’s no escape.’ He beamed at her. ‘You’re mine.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘I want you to tell me about Captain Rawson.’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Then you have a very short memory,’ he chided. ‘Have you so soon forgotten your rescue from Paris? Don’t you remember how the captain managed to release your father from the Bastille? That was a remarkable achievement. I look forward to hearing how it was done.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Your father must have told you. Emanuel Janssen is one of the very few people who escaped from the Bastille. I’m certain that he must have boasted to you about it.’ Amalia remained silent. ‘Well? What did he tell you?’ Biting her lip, she let her head fall to her chest. ‘You’re not in a very talkative mood yet, I see,’ he continued. ‘That’s understandable. You’re still shocked at being kidnapped. You need time to grow accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked, raising her head.

  ‘You’re in our camp at Braine l’Alleud and I,’ he said, proudly, ‘am the duc de Vendôme, commander of the French army.’

  Amalia trembled. Because of his aristocratic bearing, she knew that he must hold a high rank but it never occurred to her that she was talking to a duke. Vendôme was so slovenly. He looked nothing like the magnificent grandees she’d once seen on parade at Versailles. She couldn’t imagine why she’d been plucked from the streets of Amsterdam to stand before one of the most celebrated commanders in the French army. He noted her confusion.

  ‘You’ll have plenty of time to think about it, mademoiselle.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You have no idea why you’re here, do you?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s because I want to witness a reunion.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I wish to be there when you and Captain Rawson meet again.’

  She was still bewildered. ‘How can you do that?’

  ‘He’s probably read that letter he wrote to you by now. I had it sent to him. By all accounts, he’s an astute man. He’ll know that you’d never have returned something that was so precious to you. The captain will reach the obvious conclusion – his beloved is in danger.’

  Vendôme spoke too quickly for her to translate every word but Amalia caught the gist of what he was telling her. She was being used as bait. In order to lure Daniel to the French camp, Amalia was to be held hostage. Her brain was swimming and her heart fluttering. She was consumed by feelings of guilt. Because of her, Daniel would now be imperilled. Because she’d been so unguarded as to let herself be captured, his life might be at risk. It was a devastating thought. Stifling a sob, Amalia brought both hands up to her face.

  ‘I see that you’ve finally comprehended,’ said Vendôme, gloating. ‘Since you won’t tell me how your father escaped from the Bastille, I shall have to wait until I can put the question to Captain Rawson.’

  Daniel had hoped in vain that there was another explanation. It was conceivable that his letter to Amalia had been stolen from her or even intercepted before it ever reached Amsterdam. Deep down, however, he knew that he was grasping at straws and, when news came from her stricken father, the truth was unavoidable. Emanuel Janssen’s letter told of his daughter’s abduction and of the inabilities of the Dutch authorities to find any trace of her. That confirmed it. Amalia was in enemy hands. She was being held in the French camp.

  ‘We can’t be absolutely certain of that,’ said Marlborough.

  ‘I think we can, Your Grace,’ insisted Daniel.

  ‘Amalia could be held anywhere in French territory. She may even have been taken back to Paris.’

  ‘I think that highly improbable. The only use that Amalia has for them is to act as an enticement for me. They’d hardly want to draw me all the way to the French capital.’

  ‘That’s a fair point, Daniel,’ said Cardonnel. ‘They went to great trouble to arrange the kidnap. It must have taken a lot of planning. Why go to such lengths?’

  ‘They want me very much,’ replied Daniel.

  ‘I can’t think why.’

  ‘I can,’ said Marlborough. ‘It might well have something to do with Daniel’s kidnap of Major Crevel. That must have rankled with the French high command. They may even be aware of his part in the liberation of Emanuel Janssen from the Bastille.’

  ‘How could they know that, Your Grace?’

  ‘Ralph Higgins will have told them,’ decided Daniel. ‘Before we caught him, he’d set himself the task of finding out as much as he could about me. I know for a fact that he was aware of my work in the Bastille. The information was volunteered to Higgins.’

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Cardonnel.

  ‘I go to Amalia’s rescue.’

  ‘But you’d never succeed – they’d be expecting you.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Marlborough, ‘I’m not willing to let one of my most able officers fall into their hands. This requires thought.’

  The three of them were in the captain general’s tent. Now that he was convinced of Amalia’s whereabouts, Daniel wanted to get to her as soon as possible. The others were more circumspect.

  ‘There may be another way out of this,’ suggested Cardonnel. ‘We could request that Miss Janssen is exchanged for one of our French prisoners.’

  ‘They’d never agree to that,’ said Daniel.

  ‘They might do if the request came directly from me,’ argued Marlborough. ‘And we do have some high-ranking officers in custody.’

  ‘It would be pointless even to make the offer, Your Grace. The only person for whom they’d exchange Amalia is me. It’s only a matter of time before they propose it.’

  ‘We can’t just surrender you, Daniel.’

  ‘You won’t have to – I’ll devise a plan.

  Cardonnel was sceptical. ‘How can you rescue someone when she’s surrounded by a massive French army?’

  ‘There has to be a way.’

  ‘If anyone can find it,’ Marlborough commented, ‘then Daniel is the man to do it. On the other hand, this may pose rather more of a challenge than the Bastille. How many men will you need?’

  ‘I won’t need any, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough gaped. ‘You’ll go alone?’

  ‘I went alone to Paris.’

  ‘That was different. You could hide among the civilian populace there. It won’t be so easy to get inside the French camp.’

  ‘I think it will,’ said Daniel, confidently. ‘Though he didn’t realise it, so
meone has given me a good idea how to go about it.’

  ‘Really?’ said Cardonnel. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Ralph Higgins.’

  * * *

  Amalia was in despair. She wasn’t only afraid of what might happen to her. It was Daniel’s situation that troubled her even more. The love that had brought them together might well turn out to be fatal. She sensed that he couldn’t resist a rescue attempt and that a trap would be laid for him. One or both of them could be put to death. Amalia believed that she’d been safe in Amsterdam but war had suddenly taken on a frightening immediacy for her. She also feared for Beatrix and for her father. When she was hurled into the coach, Amalia had heard the scream of pain from her servant. Had Beatrix been badly hurt or even killed? Either way, Emanuel Janssen would be deeply upset but he’d reserve even more anxiety for his daughter. Amalia was his only child and, since his wife had passed away, he’d grown very close to her, cherishing her, nurturing her and planning for her future. She knew how mortified he’d be by the turn of events.

  Thinking about others helped to distract her from contemplating her own predicament. Her confrontation with Vendôme had been truly harrowing. Amalia had never been looked at in such an unashamedly lecherous way. The memory of it was enough to give her a hot flush. She was at the mercy of a man who might have dark designs on her and she was completely vulnerable. Though she was no longer bound and gagged, she was being held in a tent with guards outside. Escape seemed impossible. Against two armed men, she stood no chance. Against the lustful Vendôme – should he take advantage of her – she’d have no defence. Amalia had never felt so alone in all her life.

  When she heard raised voices outside the tent, she drew back instinctively, afraid that someone was coming to get her. In fact, the guards were not interested in Amalia. They’d taken charge of someone else. The tent flap was opened and an attractive young woman was pushed roughly into the tent. Her hair was tousled, her dress torn and her arms wrapped protectively across her chest. Her large, brown eyes were pools of dread until they noticed Amalia. The newcomer stared at her in surprise.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  Councils of war with his Dutch allies were often tedious affairs and the Duke of Marlborough approached them without enthusiasm, knowing that any strategy he recommended was likely to be criticised, amended and delayed. On this occasion, however, he found the Dutch generals in a more cooperative mood. This was largely due to the influence of their commander-in-chief, General Overkirk, who could always be relied upon to support Marlborough. When the meeting broke after comparatively short deliberation, Adam Cardonnel was pleased. He watched the last of them leave the tent.

  ‘Why can’t it be like that every time?’ he asked. ‘Everybody was of the same mind for once.’

  ‘It makes things so much easier,’ said Marlborough. ‘I was bracing myself for endless arguments over some trivial detail. Yet here we are with the whole matter settled.’

  ‘Then we need to deal with the correspondence, Your Grace.’

  Marlborough grimaced. ‘Must we?’

  ‘I know we’re both tired but it has to be done.’

  ‘You’re right, Adam. Grand Pensionary Heinsius will expect an account of the latest developments – not that there’s much to report. Then there are dispatches to be sent to England.’

  ‘I think that we need to respond to General Vendôme first.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You were too engrossed in the council of war to see the letter that was passed to me. It bears Vendôme’s seal.’

  ‘Then let me see it,’ said Marlborough, taking it from him.

  ‘I think we both know what it will contain.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said the other, opening the letter and reading it. ‘An exchange is being offered.’

  ‘We can have Amalia Janssen in return for Captain Rawson.’

  ‘Yes, Adam – Daniel warned us that the offer would be made.’

  ‘What do we do, Your Grace?’

  ‘Well, we certainly won’t comply with the request.’

  ‘It’s impossible to do so,’ said Marlborough. ‘Daniel has already left camp.’ After thinking it through, he handed the letter to his secretary. ‘That must be our response,’ he went on. ‘Tell Vendôme that we can’t consider his offer because Captain Rawson is unavailable. That will at least buy us some time.’

  ‘At least we know for certain where Miss Janssen is.’

  Marlborough sighed. ‘I just hope that no harm has come to her.’

  ‘I was tricked,’ said Sophie Prunier, mournfully. ‘One of the officers befriended me and invited me to look at the camp. He was charming until we actually got here. Then I realised my mistake.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Amalia.

  ‘I was taken to see the duc de Vendôme.’

  ‘Yes, I met him as well.’

  ‘Then you’ll know what a beast the man is,’ Sophie told her. ‘It was he who tore my dress. The handsome young lieutenant who brought me here was acting on his commander’s orders. He had to provide a woman – and it turned out to be me.’

  ‘That’s disgusting!’

  ‘I come from a good family. They’d be horrified if they knew that I’d ended up here.’

  ‘Didn’t you tell them that you were visiting the camp?’

  Sophie looked sheepish. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘My parents are away. They would have objected and I was so pleased to be asked. I’d always wanted to see inside an army camp. How was I to know that it was all a ruse?’

  ‘The way you were deceived was cruel,’ said Amalia.

  Sympathy welled up inside her. The sudden and unheralded arrival of Sophie Prunier had done something remarkable. It had taken Amalia’s mind off her own troubles. Instead, she was caught up in the plight of the Frenchwoman. Though she could not understand every word that Sophie said, there was no mistaking the look of fear on her face or the horror in her voice. Amalia had been abducted as a means of ensnaring Daniel Rawson. Sophie, on the other hand, was being held captive until Vendôme chose to send for her. Having been alone with him, Amalia sensed that he’d be ruthless and malevolent.

  ‘My uncle was once the Mayor of Mons,’ resumed Sophie. ‘When the army passed through, he invited some of the officers to dinner. That’s how I came to meet Lieutenant Bouteron. He was so kind and attentive to me. It’s only now that I realise why.’ Taking out a handkerchief, she used it to wipe away her tears. ‘But I’m so selfish, Amalia,’ she said. ‘All that I can think about are my own troubles. You’re a prisoner as well. Who enticed you here?’

  ‘I was kidnapped.’

  Sophie was startled. ‘That must have been terrifying for you.’

  ‘It was, Sophie.’

  ‘What exactly happened?’

  ‘To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.’

  Amalia told her about the incident and about how she’d been smuggled out of the country by her abductors. Since she’d been bound, gagged and blindfolded most of the time, she was never quite sure where they were or how they’d eluded border patrols. The only violence she encountered was during the kidnap. From that point on, Amalia had not been maltreated in any way. It was a concession that helped to make her ordeal bearable.

  ‘Oh, you poor thing!’ said Sophie, putting a tender arm around her. ‘You’ve suffered far more than I have. I’m only here because of my own stupidity. Against your will, you were dragged here all the way from Amsterdam.’

  ‘My father will be sick with worry.’

  ‘I still don’t see why they picked on you, Amalia.’

  ‘It’s not me they want. They’re trying to capture a friend of mine in the British army. I’m simply a worm on the hook. When he knows where I am, you see, he’ll try to rescue me.’

  ‘How on earth could your friend do that?’ said Sophie, mystified. ‘Lieutenant Bouteron told me that they have 100,000 soldiers here. No man has a chance against those odds.’

  ‘No ordinary man,
perhaps,’ agreed Amalia, warmed by the thought. ‘But then, Captain Rawson is far from ordinary.’

  Shedding his uniform once more, Daniel had put on the coarser attire of a sutler, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that concealed some of his face. He borrowed the wagon that had once belonged to Ralph Higgins. Instead of travelling in a direct line to the French camp, thereby signalling his starting point, he went in a wide arc so that he could reach Braine l’Alleud from the south-west. His route took him past the ruins of the farm where he’d once hidden from a French patrol in a pigsty. The sight of the blackened remains served to stir up his anger at those responsible and to reinforce his determination to hunt them down.

  For the moment, however, he had other concerns. Travelling alone through a country ravaged by war was always hazardous. Daniel had a dagger hidden beneath his coat and his sword was within easy reach under the seat. He hoped that he’d have to use neither of the weapons. The first part of the journey was uneventful. He even sold a few items in a village he passed through. It was when he was back out in open country that he encountered trouble. As the road dipped down an incline, a small forest appeared on his left. Out of the trees, moving at a leisurely pace, came two riders. When they got close, they waved their hands in a friendly greeting. Daniel replied with a smile and brought the wagon to a halt.

  The bigger and older of the two men did the talking.

  ‘Good day to you, friend,’ he said, speaking in French.

  ‘And good day to both of you,’ replied Daniel.

  ‘How far do you mean to travel?’

  ‘I’ll be on this road for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Then you need to be warned,’ said the man. ‘You could be in danger if you don’t turn off.’

  ‘That’s right,’ added his companion. ‘There’s a band of redcoats somewhere ahead of you. We’ve seen them twice now. There’s a rumour that they burnt down a farm. They’d certainly have no hesitation in stealing your wagon.’