Daniel made sure that he was involved in it. Drawing his sword, he rode with the cavalry and felt the familiar surge of excitement. It never palled. He had first experienced the thrill when he was only a youth, fighting for King William III in the Dutch army. Now that he was in a British regiment, holding the rank of captain, the thrill was somehow intensified. Many soldiers were driven by a crude lust for blood. Others had enlisted out of blind patriotism. It was different for Daniel Rawson. He fought with a sense of mission and a kind of jubilation. War was his element.
The Allied force comprised 16 squadrons of British cavalry as well as the Hanoverian and Hessian horsemen of the advance guard. At their back were the infantry, drawn up in two lines near Elixhem, more troops arriving every minute. Facing them were 33 squadrons of French, Bavarian and Spanish horse with 11 battalions of foot. Though they had some triple-barrelled cannon at their disposal, there was little opportunity to use it. The battle was essentially a cavalry engagement with no quarter given. Both sides flung themselves at each other with determination, blood racing and sabres flashing.
In the first brush, Marlborough led the charge himself and Daniel rode alongside him. The first Bavarian line was routed, the Scots Greys going on to capture several cannon. When a second line of enemy cavalry approached, there was a renewed charge by the Allies with Marlborough once again leading by example. He and Daniel were everywhere, controlling their mounts with one hand while they hacked and thrust away with their swords. The earth was soon stained with gore and strewn with bodies. The frantic neighing of wounded horses added to the general cacophony. Because there was no large tract of open ground, most of the fighting took place along the narrow sunken lanes in the area. Daniel was embroiled in a series of individual duels. As one Bavarian fell from his saddle, another replaced him and Daniel had to hack him to death before taking on a third adversary. He was indefatigable. The weariness of the long march through the night was replaced by a frenetic energy.
Marlborough, too, was fighting with great vigour, scorning danger and inspiring his men. He almost paid the penalty for his audacity. Singling him out, a Bavarian trooper came at him and swung his sabre with murderous force. Had it made contact, the Allied army would have been mourning its commander-in-chief. As it was, the trooper put so much effort into his swing that, when his weapon missed its target, he lost his balance and fell to the ground. Cursing his misfortune, he quickly hauled himself up and tried to strike at Marlborough again but Daniel Rawson was now in his way. Parrying the sabre, Daniel kicked the man hard under the chin and sent him somersaulting backwards. Then he dismounted long enough to thrust his sword right through the man's heart, impaling him briefly on the ground. Back in the saddle, Daniel rejoined the ferocious melee with enthusiasm.
Though his men fought valiantly, Count Caraman, one of the enemy commanders, could see that there was no hope of victory. His second cavalry charge had failed and Allied infantry were arriving to swell the numbers against him. They were being demolished. A retreat was sounded. Daniel was able to knock one more Bavarian from his horse before the beaten cavalry turned tail. No signal was given for pursuit. The Allied army was left to savour its triumph. Marlborough was cheered to the echo by officers and troopers alike because they appreciated the significance of what he had done in crossing the Lines of Brabant at one of its strongest points. The defences were no longer an indestructible barrier. By skilful strategy, they had finally been smashed wide open.
The spoils of victory were heartening. French losses of almost 3000 dwarfed the number of Allied casualties. Many prisoners were taken, including the wounded French general, the Marquis dAlegre, along with cannon, colours, standards and kettledrums. Marlborough did not let his men rest. He ordered them to raze the barricades to the ground so that the French could never again hide behind them in complete safety and taunt him. The battle of Blenheim had shattered the myth of French invincibility. During the engagement at Elixhem, another telling blow had been inflicted on Louis XIV's army.
Daniel was always ready to give credit to an enemy. Their cavalry might have been chased from the field but the Bavarian infantry was not. Abandoned by their horse, the battalions withdrew by forming themselves into a hollow square. Even though they were surrounded by Allied horse and dragoons, they marched steadily on, maintaining their shape and sweeping the squadrons out of their way as they did so. Having fought exclusively in foot regiments throughout his career, Daniel was full of admiration for the discipline shown by the Bavarians. Not for the first time, he saw that well-drilled infantry could be a match for horse.
When he rode back to join Marlborough, he arrived in time to witness an argument. General Slangenberg had galloped ahead of the labouring Dutch columns to take part in the battle. He was aggrieved that it was all over and that Marlborough had not pressed home his advantage by harrying the enemy.
'We must pursue them,' he urged. 'This is nothing if we lie here.'
'I disagree, General,' said Marlborough, urbanely. 'In breaching the Lines, we've made a powerful statement this morning. It will make King Louis a very frightened man.'
'We achieve a greater victory if we deprive him of more soldiers.'
'My men are exhausted. They marched through the night.'
'So did we,' said Slangenberg, resentfully. 'Why was I not told that we were simply a decoy? We spent all that effort crossing the Mehaigne, only to be recalled by your orders. It was maddening.'
'The strategy worked, General,' said Marlborough. 'Surely that deserves congratulation even from you.'
'I congratulate nobody who gives up when the job is half- done.'
Slangenberg added some unflattering comments in Dutch and was amazed when Daniel answered him back in his native language.
'Pursuing the enemy is too dangerous,' he said, 'because we have no idea how close Marshal Villeroi is with his main army.'
The general blinked in annoyance. 'Who are you?'
'Captain Daniel Rawson, attached to His Grace's staff.'
'And working as his interpreter, I see.'
'Do you think you could speak in English?' said Marlborough, understanding nothing of the exchange.
'I'm sorry,' said Daniel. 'I was just explaining that Marshal Villeroi will have marched north as soon as he realised that he'd been duped. It would be folly to confront him when our men are so weary.'
'Captain Rawson is right. That's my view exactly and I suspect that it will accord with Marshal Overkirk's opinion. A long march over difficult terrain will not have whetted his appetite for pursuit of the enemy. We've achieved our objective, General, and must be satisfied with that.'
Slangenberg fumed for a few moments then swore in Dutch.
Daniel caught Marlborough's eye. 'I don't think I need to translate that, Your Grace,' he said. 'Do I?'
Having burst through the French defences, Marlborough steadily consolidated his position. Within a few days of the victory at Elixhem, the Allies had control of almost fifty miles of the Lines, including the towns of Aerschot, Diest and Leau. The success helped to atone for the disappointments in the Moselle valley. During a lull in activities, Daniel Rawson found time to return to his regiment and seek out Henry Welbeck in his tent. The sergeant had just finished dressing down two errant soldiers who crept away with their tails between their legs. Daniel saw the look of shame and anguish on their faces.