Drums of War

'He's telling the truth,' announced Georges.

'Then he can pull up a seat and join us,' said the wart-faced man. When Daniel ordered a flagon of wine, he got a slap on the back. 'You can come here any time you wish, Marcel.'

As the wine flowed, Daniel spent the first few minutes getting to know their names and finding out how long they'd worked at the prison. All of them grumbled about their work but none actually talked about giving it up.

'Long hours and poor pay,' said Georges. "That's all we get at the Bastille. Then there's the stink, of course. The straw's never changed in some cells. I'd hate to be locked up in those shit- holes.'

'What sort of prisoners are they?' asked Daniel.

'There's only one kind, Marcel. Whatever they're like when they go in there, they soon end up the same. It doesn't matter what they did to get locked away. All we see is a lot of miserable, godforsaken wretches, crawling slowly towards death.'

'Our work is boring,' said Philippe, the man with the warts. 'We lock them up, we feed them and, if they're very lucky, we take them out for exercise. Most of them never leave their cells. And if they try to complain, we have some fun knocking them about.'

Georges smirked. 'That's what I enjoy,' he said. 'When one of them dared to throw food at me today, I beat him black and blue. That'll teach him.'

They were an uncouth bunch and, in the normal course of events, nothing would have induced Daniel to befriend them. Since he wanted to penetrate the Bastille, however, he would have to do so as part of its large staff. The men laughed, sang, joked and boasted about the way they mistreated the prisoners. At the end of the evening, Philippe wrapped an arm around Daniel's shoulders and grinned at him.

'Do you still want to be a turnkey, Marcel?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Daniel. 'I guarded prisoners in the army. I liked it.'

'Meet me outside the main gate at noon tomorrow. I'll take you along to meet someone. I can't promise anything, mind you,' he added, drunkenly, 'but I'll put in a good word for you.'

'Thanks.'

When Daniel eventually limped away, he was equally satisfied and dismayed. He was pleased to have the possibility of work at the Bastille but alarmed to hear how some of the inmates were treated. There was no point in trying to liberate Emanuel Janssen if the Dutchman was in no condition to walk out. In the brutal regime of the prison, he might by now be barely alive. On the other hand, if the intention had been to kill him, Janssen would already have been executed as a spy. For some reason, he'd been spared. Daniel therefore consoled himself with the thought that he might — if he was fortunate enough to secure employment at the Bastille — find out exactly what that reason was.

Chapter Nine

When business took him back to The Hague again, Willem Ketel made a point of calling on his close friend. Johannes Mytens shook him warmly by the hand then conducted him to the parlour. It was a large room with a polished oak floor and solid oak furniture. Paintings by Rembrandt, Vermeer and Hobbema adorned three walls. The fourth was covered by a magnificent tapestry depicting The Hague. They went through the social niceties before turning to the subject that exercised their minds most.

'What's the feeling in the States-General?' asked Ketel.

Mytens sounded weary. 'Most of us are as tired of this war as you are, Willem,' he said. 'We've spent far too long fighting the French with no prospect of ultimate victory. I freely admit that I was carried away by the rhetoric when the Grand Alliance was first formed. With England, Prussia, Austria and others to help us, I felt that we could defeat the French army at last. They've held sway over Europe for far too long.'

'It's easy to see why, Johannes. They've always had the finest soldiers and the most astute commanders.'

'I'd hoped that the Duke of Marlborough could match their commanders and, in all fairness, from time to time he did.'

'It was only because he was supported by able Dutch generals.'

'Marlborough says that our generals held him back.'

'They merely saved him from making rash decisions.'

'Our soldiers are brave,' said Mytens, 'but the fact remains that we fight best at sea. While our army is competent, our navy is our real strength. Unfortunately, there's little chance of using them in this war. We're restricted largely to land battles.'

'That's one of my complaints. The English steal all the glory at sea.'

'I don't see much glory,' said Ketel, removing his wig to scratch his head. 'I know that they captured Gibraltar and withstood a French siege but what else has the navy done? Those leaky, old, disease- ridden ships of theirs have spent most of their time carrying soldiers to Portugal and Spain.'

'I approved of the treaty with Portugal,' admitted Mytens, his jowls wobbling more than ever. 'I accepted Marlborough's argument that he needed naval bases there. He was eager for his men to cross the border into Spain supported by the Portuguese army.'

'Never trust the Portuguese, I say.'

'They've been dubious allies, I grant you.'

'It's a question of resources,' argued Ketel, replacing his wig. 'We need all the men we have to defend our boundaries and to advance into French territory. Yet Marlborough, our commander- in-chief, the self-proclaimed hero of Blenheim, the man who boasts that he has a grand strategy, has diverted almost as many soldiers to Spain.'

'His mistake was in thinking that he could control operations in the peninsula from here.'

'We're all paying a high price for that mistake.'

'I agree, Willem.'

'On a single voyage from Lisbon to Valencia, we lost over four thousand men who could have been put to better use in Flanders.'

Mytens smiled. 'You're remarkably well-informed.'

'I'm a merchant, Johannes. My success depends on knowing what happens where. When a ship of mine puts into port, I always go out of my way to talk to the captain to hear what news he has for me.' He sucked his teeth. 'And I have other sources of information as well.'

'It's no wonder that you've prospered.'

'There are ways of making money out of war and I've used every one of them. I don't deny it. That's what anyone in my position would do. But my prosperity — our prosperity as a nation — relies on a long period of peace that allows us to invest our money prudently instead of wasting it on a war we can never win.'

Mytens clasped his hands across his paunch and gave a nod. 'We've had this conversation before, Willem.'

'And are you still of the same mind?'

'I am. Marlborough must go.'

'But whatever means necessary?'

'By whatever means,' repeated Mytens, firmly.

'Where is he at the moment?'

'I thought you'd know that. You seem to know everything else.'

'Is he still in Flanders?'

'No, Willem, he's on his way to Dusseldorf to wheedle more troops out of the Elector Palatine. After that, he's visiting our other allies to get promises of men and money out of them. Give the man his due,' he continued, 'Marlborough is a sublime diplomat. That English charm of his works time and again.'

'And it sends men off to pointless deaths on the battlefield.'

'Why did you ask about his whereabouts?'

'I wanted to make sure that he'd be out of the way.'

'Marlborough won't be back here until December.'

'That will give us ample time,' said Ketel. 'I hope to be bringing a friend to meet you in due course, Johannes.'