Edward Marston - Fire and Sword

‘I beg of you to think again, my lord.’

‘I will only reach the same decision a second time.’

‘What is the point of bringing our army here if we are not prepared to fight?’ asked Vendome with exasperation. ‘Marlborough will not withdraw. He’ll not yield one inch. If we attack, he’s bound to close with us. Circumstances may not favour us again,’ he went on. ‘We must take advantage of them while we can.’

Burgundy paid him the courtesy of considering his advice. He surveyed the enemy through his telescope again then pulled out his saddle map. Opening it up, he indicated a point on the river.

‘We’ll withdraw,’ he said at length, ‘and head northwards towards Gavre, camping here.’ His finger tapped the map. ‘That will put the Scheldt between us and our enemy. There’ll be other opportunities for battle, my lord. For the moment, we need to pitch camp so that we can gather our strength and decide on our next move. There’s no hurry,’ he went on, complacently. ‘Their army and its reinforcements will not reach the Scheldt for some time yet.’

Nightfall found both armies sited beside a river. While the French were on the east bank of the Scheldt, the Allies had lit their campfires on the west bank of the Dender. The town of Oudenarde lay between them. Burgundy and Vendome were stationed a mere six miles north of it. Marlborough and Eugene were some fifteen miles to the south-east. Unlike the French commanders, they were in agreement with each other. Anticipating the possibility of a siege train being sent to Oudenarde, they decided to advance rapidly towards the town. In the dead of night, the ever reliable Cadogan was once again sent ahead with a force composed of eight squadrons, sixteen battalions, thirty-two regimental guns — lighter pieces attached to each battalion — and a bridging train.

Cadogan’s orders were explicit. He was to improve the road, allowing faster movement over it for those following, establish five pontoon bridges to the north of Oudenarde and build a protective bridgehead on the Scheldt. This, it was hoped, would allow the Allies to cross the river to the west bank before the French did so. Now attached to Marlborough’s staff, Daniel was with him when a first report came back from Cadogan.

‘He’s in sight of the river,’ said Marlborough with satisfaction.

‘At what time was the message sent, Your Grace?’ asked Daniel.

‘Nine o’clock this morning.’

‘They’ve moved fast.’

‘William Cadogan is not a man to dawdle. According to this,’ said Marlborough, holding up the missive, ‘the French camp is at Gavre. They’ll be crossing the Scheldt before long. We mustn’t keep them waiting.’

Daniel was soon in the saddle, riding with Marlborough at the head of forty squadrons, eager to join Cadogan’s advance guard before the French realised what their intentions were. By one o’clock in the afternoon, they were thundering across the wooden timbers of the pontoon bridges. Behind them, the infantry were already on the march from Lessines. Daniel was exhilarated. He was not only heartened to see Marlborough shaking off his physical debility and behaving with characteristic authority, he sensed that battle was finally at hand. The Allies would have an opportunity to avenge the loss of Bruges and Ghent, and the sword that Daniel had taken such pains to retrieve would be put to good use.

Vendome’s temper had not improved overnight. If anything, it was at an even higher pitch. When news of the enemy’s movements reached him, wrath crimsoned his cheeks and put murder in his eyes. He rounded on his commander-in-chief.

‘You assured me that the Allies wouldn’t reach the Scheldt for days,’ he said, accusingly. ‘While our men are still crossing the river as if they have all the time in the world, Marlborough’s soldiers are already here on the west bank.’

‘His speed took me by surprise,’ confessed Burgundy.

‘When you match yourself against Marlborough, you must always expect surprises. Otherwise, you’re doomed to fail.’

Burgundy was adamant. ‘There’s no chance of our failing when we have a much larger army,’ he asserted. ‘Evidently, a battle is imminent. We’ve been left with no alternative but to fight.’

‘We should have been in a position to dictate the terms of the encounter,’ complained Vendome, ‘and not have it forced upon us. If you’d listened to my advice at the start, the Allies would still be fretting outside the walls of Lessines.’

‘That’s all in the past,’ said Burgundy, dismissively. ‘We have to meet this new situation and do so with vigour.’

‘On that, at least, we can agree. We should attack at once.’

‘I think not, my lord Duke.’

‘All that we’re facing at the moment is the advance guard. If we fall upon them without delay, we can put them to flight then march on Oudenarde.’

‘I have a better strategy.’

‘Dear God!’ exclaimed Vendome. ‘Have you learnt nothing? Every second we delay gives the enemy time to bring more men across the river. We should strike now before reinforcements arrive. With deference to your position,’ he went on, trying to show a semblance of respect, ‘I submit that there is no better strategy.’

‘Then we must agree to differ,’ said Burgundy with muted anger. ‘I suggest that you calm down before you make a judgement. A cool head is required, my lord Duke.’

‘What use is a cool head without a detailed knowledge of warfare?’ said Vendome under his breath. Controlling himself with a conscious effort, he became apologetic. ‘Forgive my hasty words, my lord. The prospect of battle excites me somewhat. I implore you to follow my advice this time and act decisively.’

‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. Having inspected the terrain with care, I want the army to form into line of battle along the ridge to the north of the River Norken. From there, we’ll be able to see the spires of Oudenarde.’

‘The time to look at spires is when we’ve defeated the enemy,’ said Vendome, earnestly. ‘Strike now and we can rout them.’

‘You’ve heard my decision,’ declared Burgundy, ‘and it will stand. Like everyone else under my command, you must obey orders.’

Vendome scowled. There was nothing more to be said.

By the time that Marlborough and Eugene caught up with him, Cadogan had already had a brush with the cavalry of the French advance guard. Undaunted by larger enemy numbers, he hailed the arrival of the others and was eager to attack. His unassailable buoyancy raised the spirits of his men. After conversing with Cadogan about what had already occurred, Marlborough watched the enemy deploying along a low, partly wooded ridge that was punctuated by three small villages.

‘They’ve chosen well,’ he said with grudging admiration. ‘It’s a strong position.’

‘Do we still attack, Your Grace?’ asked Cadogan.

‘We came here to fight and that’s what we’ll do.’

‘There are many risks involved.’

Marlborough grinned. ‘That’s never stopped you before, William.’

‘And it won’t do this time,’ said Cadogan, heartily.

‘Now that we have them in our sights, we’ll offer them battle. We must do — nothing else will suffice. We need a victory to appease our critics. If it miscarries, I’m ready to shoulder the blame.’

Overhearing the exchange between the two men, Daniel was impressed. Both men were confident and clear-headed. Since most of the Allied army were still scrambling over the pontoons, their leaders would be courting danger with an attack. Simultaneously, however, they’d be signalling to the enemy that they felt capable of inflicting serious damage on them even with a depleted force. The boldness of the plan appealed to Daniel.