Drums of War

Fine weather and an early start allowed them to make good speed on the following day. Janssen rode well and Amalia proved herself a capable horsewoman, handling a spirited mount without undue difficulty. Dopff, too, was developing into an able coachman though he still had trouble controlling the horse's speed. Daniel kept leaving the others so that he could ride ahead and act as a scout. There was nothing to delay them this time. Hours passed by without incident. During a period of rest, Janssen took him aside.

'I still haven't told you what I found out,' he said.

'Then do so now.'

'It's become a little confused in my mind, I fear. During those weeks in the Bastille, I rather lost my bearings.'

'I can understand why,' said Daniel.

'Where shall I start?'

'Go back to the time when you were last in touch with Pierre Lefeaux. All the intelligence you sent him would have reached us. What else is there to add?'

'I overheard a conversation between the king and one of his advisers. They were talking about next year's campaigns.'

'That sounds promising. What exactly was said?'

Janssen's account was rambling but full of interesting detail. It led on to other intelligence that he'd gleaned. Daniel was patient, drawing the information slowly out of him and sifting it as he did so. Until his arrest, the tapestry-maker had been an assiduous spy. His weakness was an inability to distinguish fact from anecdote. Much of what he said was of no military value to the Allies but it was offset by some significant intelligence. At the end of their conversation, Janssen sought information of another kind.

'Tell me what happened to Pierre Lefeaux,' he requested. 'When I mentioned his name before, I sensed that you were not telling me the whole truth.'

'Monsieur Lefeaux is no longer able to help us,' said Daniel, his face impassive. 'That's all you need to know.'

'Has he been arrested as well?'

'It amounts to that.'

'You're holding something back from me,' said Janssen. 'Pierre and his wife were dear friends of mine. I'm entitled to be told what became of them. Is Pierre still alive?'

'No,' confessed Daniel.

'What happened to him?'

'He was executed.'

'What about his wife?'

'She met the same fate.'

Janssen reeled as if from a blow. "This is my fault,' he said, eyes filled with contrition. 'I must have blundered in some way and caused their deaths. I'll never forgive myself for that.'

'I suspect that it may have been the other way round,' said Daniel, sadly. 'Monsieur Lefeaux was probably caught first and your name was beaten out of him. There was clear evidence he'd been tortured. The French police are searching for our agents all the time. You've no need to feel any guilt.'

'I'm bound to, Daniel,' said Janssen. 'All I ever wanted to do with my life was to weave tapestries and bring up my daughter. It was madness for me to go to Paris in the first place.'

'I disagree. The rewards have been considerable.'

'Forgive me if I fail to see any of them. As a result of what I did, two good people were put to death, I was imprisoned and Amalia and the others were locked in a nightmare. I know how close you are to the Duke,' he went on, taking Daniel by the shoulders. 'Can you please ask him when this damnable war will end?'

Major Simon Cracknell kept him waiting. Ordinarily, he would have no dealings with anyone caught absent without leave but, when the name of Tom Hillier passed before him, he took a keen interest. The young drummer was kept under guard all morning. It was only after he'd washed his luncheon down with a glass of wine that the major chose to send for the miscreant. With a guard at his side, Hillier came into the major's tent looking exhausted and fearful. The major made him stand there in silence for a few minutes while he pretended to read the report on the table in front of him.

'Well?' he said at length, looking up. 'What do you have to say for yourself?'

'I would like to make an unreserved apology, sir.'

'To whom?'

'To you, Major.'

'Any apology needs to be directed at the British army for breaking its regulations. You're well aware of them by now.'

'I am, sir,' admitted Hillier.

'So why did you flout them?'

'It was a mistake.'

'It was a very bad mistake,' said Cracknell, 'but I want to know what lies behind it. What possessed you to go absent without leave?'

'It was only for a short time.'

'One minute is too long. Regulations are there to be obeyed. You seem unable to grasp that fact.' He flicked a glance at the report. 'What were the names of the others?'

'I was on my own, sir.'

'Don't lie to me.'

'I went for a walk in the night and strayed outside the boundary. That's all that happened, Major.'

'Then perhaps you'll explain why this report differs from your account. According to this, you were part of a group. Instead of going for a walk, you were actually caught running as hard as you could.'

'I was eager to return to camp, sir.'

'You should never have left it in the first place.'

'I accept that, Major.'

'Give me the names of your companions.'

'I had none,' said Hillier, determined not to give his friends away. 'I was alone.'

'And where had you been during the night?'

'I told you, Major. I went for a stroll.'

'And did that stroll, by any chance, take you towards the town?'

'No, sir.'

'Are you telling me that you didn't leave camp in order to roister in a tavern or dip your prick in some greasy whore?'

Hillier blushed. 'I went nowhere near the town, sir.'

'What about your friends?'

'There were no friends, Major.'

'In some respects,' said Cracknell, 'I suppose that's correct. When you fell over in the stream, none of your so-called friends stopped to help you up. They thought only of themselves. That being the case, you've no need to be misled by false loyalty. They left you to face the punishment they should all share.'

'There was nobody else involved, Major,' insisted Hillier.

The officer sat back in his chair. 'What view do you think your uncle would take of all this?'

'That's not for me to say, sir.'

'Sergeant Welbeck will be very disappointed to hear that a nephew of his sneaked off to wallow in some filthy brothel. He'll be even more upset to hear that you don't have the courage to name the others who took part in the sorry escapade. You'd never have done this on your own, would you? I think you were led astray by them.'

'I went of my own accord, Major.'

'Are you willing to suffer while the other culprits go free?'

Hillier made no reply. Getting to his feet, Cracknell walked across to stand in front of him and fix him with a cold stare. Wanting to blink and swallow hard, the drummer steeled himself to do neither. Whatever else he did, he resolved not to show weakness. The major was intent on humbling him. Self- respect made Hillier stand there without flinching.

'This is your last chance,' said Cracknell, making each word feel like a pinprick. 'Name your companions or I'll be forced to increase the severity of the punishment.' Hillier said nothing. Losing his patience, the major waved a hand. 'Take him away and stand guard over him. He's to be allowed neither food nor water.'

Welbeck was giving instructions to a corporal when he saw his visitor. Hugh Dobbs was hurrying towards him between the parallel lines of tents. His manner was furtive and his expression doleful. Welbeck dismissed the corporal with a peremptory nod then folded his arms, breathing in deeply through his nose.