Edward Marston - Soldier of Fortune

Now that it was all over, he was able to visit the field hospital to check on Welbeck's condition. The sergeant had been very fortunate. A bullet had pierced his thigh but missed the bone. While he had lost a lot of blood, he was in no danger of sacrificing a limb. Despite being surrounded by wounded soldiers, Welbeck was almost cheerful.

'We beat them,' he said, grinning. 'We beat the bastards.'

'We did more than that, Henry. It's too early to give the full numbers yet but, according to what I've heard, we captured Marshal Tallard and his generals, over 1000 officers and almost all the soldiers left in Blenheim.'

'What about our casualties, Dan?'

'There could be as many as 12,000 killed or injured,' said Daniel sadly, 'and they included some good friends. But we accounted for over three times that number in the enemy ranks. We achieved a famous victory. Even you must be pleased to be part of it.'

'I was, Dan. Our men gave of their best.'

'That's what they were trained to do.'

'When the news reaches France, the King will fill his breeches.'

'I don't think they'll be in a hurry to tell him the truth of what happened here today. They'll delay the messengers as long as they can. Bad news upsets King Louis and this news is disastrous.' He studied his friend. 'You're looking better already. You've got some colour back in your face. What you need now is a long rest.'

'Does that mean you'll wait on me hand and foot?'

'I'd be glad to if I was here, Henry,' said Daniel, chuckling, 'but I'll be on my way back to England. I'll be helping to take the good news back home. They may be keeping the result of the battle from King Louis but Her Majesty will rejoice to hear it. I wanted to call on you before I left.'

'Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.'

'I'll see you when I return.'

'I may have retired from the army by then.'

'People like you never retire,' said Daniel, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Without the Sergeant Welbecks of this world, there'd be no such thing as a British army. You're part of its very backbone.'

'Then why don't they pay me more?' challenged Welbeck.

'Daniel laughed. 'I'll take the matter up with His Grace when I see him,' he joked. 'A review of sergeants' pay must be a priority. I'm sure he has nothing else to worry about just now.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Charles Catto had been utterly frustrated by the turn of events. Having tricked his way into the Confederate camp for the third time, he hoped that he simply had to wait until an opportunity arose to kill Daniel Rawson. Instead of that, the whole camp had suddenly erupted into action with the promise of a battle. All that Catto could do was to trail impotently in its wake. Primed by General Salignac, he had been able to provide Marlborough with information that, while not giving away too much, had been accurate and useful. It had established his credibility. Catto had shaved off his beard but left a neat moustache on his face. In uniform, and by adopting a strong French accent, he was a convincing impostor.

Yet his role as a deserter would be meaningless if it not enable him to fulfil his commitment. Catto's fear was that the battle of Blenheim would rob him of his prize and that Daniel would have been mown down with so many other British soldiers during the attack on the village. Having come so far, and taken such enormous pains along the way, he felt that it would be cruel to have Daniel snatched away from him by a nameless French musketeer. Catto was no longer working for General Salignac. When he heard that Blenheim had fallen, he knew that the general would have been taken prisoner and would therefore be inaccessible. Salignac's war was over.

Catto was on his own now. What drove him on was sheer hatred. Daniel Rawson had killed Frederic Seurel, and, in escaping from Augsburg, he had exposed Catto to the full wrath of Armand Salignac. Deprived of a large financial reward, Catto was fired by a sense of personal mission. He wanted to avenge the death of his friend and had taken on Seurel's name in order to do so. But his plans were shattered by the battle and he was in despair at the British victory. Before he had left Augsburg, Catto had seen Marshal Tallard arrive at the head of an army that was unmatched for its brilliance and its record of success in the field. Yet that same proud army had now been soundly defeated by a smaller force.

It was clear that Daniel Rawson would have contributed to that defeat and — were he still alive — he would thereby have given Catto an additional reason to kill him. The would-be assassin could not destroy an entire army but he could murder a man who, in his febrile mind, symbolised it. As he watched Confederate soldiers trudging back into camp, and as he saw orderlies carrying in the wounded, he prayed that Daniel would be among the survivors and not be one of the many thousands that littered the battlefield.

The first person with whom the Duke of Marlborough had wanted to share news of the triumph was his wife. Borrowing an old tavern bill from a member of his staff, he scrawled a message in pencil.

I have not time to say more, but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen and let her know that her army had this day a glorious victory. M. Tallard and two other generals are in my coach and I am pursuing the rest. The bearer, my aide de camp, Colonel Parke, will give her an account of what has passed and I shall do it in a day or so, by another, more at large.

It was on the following day that Daniel Rawson was summoned to Marlborough's quarters and entrusted with letters that gave a fuller account of the action and its consequences. After the long and intense battle, Daniel was still weary and the superficial wounds he had picked up still smarted. The honour of acting as a courier, however, was the perfect balm. From the moment he was given the despatches, his aches and pains seemed to fade away.

'Ride hard, Daniel,' said Marlborough. 'By the time you reach England, the Queen and Secretary Harley will know only the fact of our victory and be desperate for detail.'

'What about the Dutch, Your Grace?'

'Even they will rejoice at the news though Ell no doubt be pilloried for the scale of our losses. In Vienna, at least, there'll be no carping — except perhaps from the Margrave of Baden.'

'He'll be aggrieved that he was not here,' said Daniel.

'As it happens, we managed without him though our task would have been made easier by the presence of his men. But you must forgive me,' said Marlborough as a memory nudged him. 'I've not congratulated you properly on rescuing the colours of General Rowe's regiment from the enemy.'

Daniel was modest. 'That's nothing,' he said. 'All I captured were regimental colours — you captured a marshal's baton.'

'That was satisfying, I must admit.'

'What will happen to Marshal Tallard?'

'He'll be taken back to England with other prisoners of war.'

'You don't intend to exchange him, then?'

'Oh, no,' said Marlborough with conviction. 'I'm not letting him loose to threaten us again. The marshal has fought his last battle against us.'

'That's good to hear.'

'King Louis might not find it so pleasing.'

'I fancy not,' said Daniel. He patted the leather pouch containing the despatches. 'I'll deliver these in England.'

'Enjoy some rest while you're there. You've deserved it.'

'Thank you, Your Grace.'

'Do you intend to call at the Piper household?'

Marlborough's question had a studied casualness but it hit Daniel like a blow between the eyes. All that he could think about was carrying news of their victory back to England. Decisions about what happened afterwards had never even entered his mind. He was shocked to realise how easily he had forgotten Abigail Piper, and how irrelevant his friendship with her now seemed. On the other hand, he owed her consideration for the way she had followed him all the way into Germany. Daniel had obligations.