Drums of War

He looked up at the imposing towers, wondering in which one of them Janssen was being kept. Daniel would never have the time or opportunity to search them all in rotation. He had to find another way to locate the tapestry-maker. He remembered the ledger that the duty sergeant used to check people in and out. That would surely contain the names and whereabouts of prisoners as well. Daniel had to gain access to it somehow. For the time being, however, he had to content himself with what he'd so far achieved. He was inside the Bastille and he'd acquired a convincing disguise. Further progress would have to wait. What he needed most now was fresh air, the chance to wash and a reviving sleep.

Major Simon Cracknell came into Tom Hillier's life when he least expected it. The drummer had been on the edge of the camp with Hugh Dobbs, throwing missiles playfully at him and trying to dodge the ones that were aimed at him. Twigs, clumps of grass and handfuls of earth flew through the air until Cracknell suddenly appeared. Both of the youths immediately dropped their next missile and stood self-consciously to attention.

'Is this how you spend your time?' said the major, looking at the dirty marks on their uniforms. 'You should be ashamed of yourselves.'

'We're sorry, Major,' said Dobbs.

'How long have you been in the army?'

'Four years, sir.'

'Then you should have grown out of these childish games.'

'We were doing no harm, sir.'

'Yes, you were,' said Cracknell. 'Apart from anything else, you were soiling your uniforms. This regiment prides itself on its appearance and your coats are covered in filth. What the devil did the pair of you think you were doing?'

'It won't happen again, Major,' said Dobbs. 'Tom and I didn't mean to get dirty. It was just horseplay.'

'Disappear and clean up that uniform. No, not you, Hillier,' said Cracknell as he tried to leave with Dobbs. 'I want to speak to you.'

'Yes, Major,' said Hillier, stopping in his tracks.

'What do you have to say for yourself?'

'I apologise, sir.'

'How often does this kind of thing happen?'

'It's the first time, sir.'

'Don't tell lies, boy!'

'Hugh Dobbs and I have never done this before.'

'Then what's this I hear about your getting into a fight?'

Hillier was startled. 'That was nothing, sir,' he said, guiltily.

'It's evidence of gross indiscipline and I deplore it.' He stood very close to the young drummer. 'Do you know who I am?'

'I think that you must be Major Cracknell, sir.'

'And how did you decide that, I wonder?' said the officer, leaning over to whisper in his ear. 'Could it be that your uncle told you about me, perhaps?'

'I have no uncle in this regiment, sir.'

'What else is Sergeant Welbeck?'

'The sergeant made it clear to me that family ties have no place in the army, sir. I've accepted that I'm no longer his nephew.'

'And yet he goes out of his way to warn you about me.'

'Sergeant Welbeck has no reason to speak to me, sir.'

'I don't believe that,' said Cracknell. 'The fact is that you know who I am so it's time you discovered what I am as well. I loathe horseplay of any kind, Hillier. I hate indiscipline. In my view — and it's been informed by years in this regiment — transgressors need to be taught a lesson they won't forget.'

'Yes, Major.'

'Do you like being a drummer?'

'I like it well enough, sir.'

'Do you enjoy marching with the others?'

'I do, sir.'

'Well, you're going to do some marching on your own now. Do you see that wagon?' asked Cracknell, pointing a finger.

'I want you to find your drum and meet me there as quickly as you can.'

'Yes, Major,' said Hillier before running off.

It was the best part of a hundred yards to the wagon indicated. By the time that Cracknell had reached it, Hillier came panting up with his drum. He awaited instructions.

'You won't need the drumsticks,' said Cracknell.

'Then how shall I play it, sir?'

'You're not going to play it. You're going to hold it high above your head with both hands then you march from here all the way to where we were standing a while ago. When you reach that point,' said Cracknell, 'you simply turn round and march straight back here.'

'Yes, Major.'

'You'll keep going to and fro until I stop you. Is that understood, Tom Hillier?'

'Yes, Major.'

'Then let me see that drum held at arm's length.'

Hillier obeyed. Tucking the drumsticks into his belt, he held the drum above his head and set off, certain that the punishment would continue for a long time. As he marched across the grass, he knew that Major Cracknell would be watching him with grim satisfaction.

Refreshed by a morning's sleep, Daniel changed into the attire he'd worn on his arrival in Paris and rode off to the Flynn household. They were all pleased to see him again. Amalia's face brightened instantly, Beatrix burst into tears and Dopff grinned from ear to ear. It was Ronan Flynn who led the questioning.

'The Prodigal Son has returned,' he said, jocularly. 'Kill the fatted calf, Charlotte. We must celebrate.' He embraced Daniel warmly. 'Where have you been, man?'

'I've been attending to business,' replied Daniel.

'Here in Paris?'

'Yes, Ronan.'

'Then why didn't you stay with us?'

'You already had plenty of guests.'

'Isn't our floor good enough for you to sleep on?' teased Flynn.

'It's a wonderful floor,' said Daniel, 'and I have fond memories of it. With me out of the way, however, there was more room for the rest of you. Is all well here?'

There was a long pause filled by an exchange of glances between the others. Something was evidently amiss. Flynn broke the tension by offering Daniel a drink and the atmosphere became more convivial. Beatrix and Dopff soon drifted out of the room but it was a long time before Daniel was able to talk to Amalia alone. Flynn and his wife took the baby upstairs for her afternoon sleep, leaving the couple to speak in private. Amalia was desperate for good news.

'What have you found out, Daniel?' she asked.

'The situation is not as hopeless as it seemed.'

'But you told me Father was imprisoned in the Bastille.'

'Yes,' said Daniel, 'he is. Don't ask me how — it would take too long to explain — but I'm trying to get in touch with him.'

'Has he been badly treated?'

'I won't know until I can reach him, Amalia, and that may take days. I don't think you can stay here for that long. I have the feeling that you're not as welcome here as you were.'

'They've been very kind to us and I can't thank them enough. It must have been a shock for them to have us arrive on their doorstep the way that we did. But,' Amalia went on, 'we've been here for three nights now and I can see that Charlotte feels that we're in the way. We're starting to become a real burden.'

'I'll find somewhere else for you all to stay.'

'We have plenty of money, Daniel. That's one thing we don't have to worry about. There must be a tavern where we could hire some rooms.'

'There are dozens of them,' he told her. 'On the night that we fled across the city, however, I wanted you to be somewhere I knew was completely safe. That's why I thought of Ronan Flynn.'

Amalia smiled softly. 'He told me what you did for him when he was in the army,' she said. 'You rescued him from the enemy.'

'It was a long time ago.'

'It's still fresh in his mind. Now you're doing the same for us. If we do ever manage to get back home, then I'll never forget it, Daniel. You've been our guardian angel.'

She reached out a hand and he squeezed it gently, resisting the desire to bring it to his lips so that he could kiss it. Instead, he held on to her hand and Amalia made no effort to withdraw it. Searching each other's eyes, they realised the depth of their mutual affection. It was not the time to put feelings into words. In any case, Flynn chose that moment to come downstairs. The Irishman saw the way that their hands suddenly parted.