‘That sounds like an attractive prospect to me. I only wish it were truly like that but we both know that it isn’t. Since we’ve been involved in this war,’ Daniel told him, ‘every spring and summer has consisted of nothing but marches, sieges, skirmishes and occasional major battles. That’s the pattern we’ve been following.’
‘So when will we be on the move this time?’
‘We have to await orders.’
‘You must know what they’re going to be.’
‘I wish I did, Henry, but His Grace hasn’t confided in me as yet. There are a number of elements to be considered before any final decisions can be made. However,’ added Daniel, ‘I can tell you this. The likelihood is that we’ll have an opportunity to meet the French on the battlefield again. They’re eager to avenge their defeat at Ramillies with a decisive victory. That’s why they’ve mustered such a large army against us.’
‘We’ve beaten large armies before. The Frenchies hold no fears for me, Dan. I’ve killed too many of them. What I’m worried about are some of the people fighting on my side.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The heartless bastards who destroyed those farms,’ said Welbeck, bitterly. ‘They’re hiding somewhere in our ranks and that makes my blood boil.’
‘They won’t stay here indefinitely,’ decided Daniel. ‘I fancy that the temptation will be too strong. It won’t be long before we hear of a marauding band on the rampage again.’
The boy was ten, old enough to do his fair share of the chores on the little farm yet young enough to yearn for childish pleasures. When he’d finished work that afternoon, therefore, he ran off to the stream nearby to dangle his bare feet in the water while he carved a boat out of a piece of wood. Happily engaged with his knife, he didn’t even look up when he heard the clatter of hooves on the road behind him. After shaving the prow of his vessel, he held it up to examine it from every angle. Deciding that it was still not ready, he carved the stern into a more rounded shape then ran a finger over it. Primitive as it was, the boat felt smooth and capable of staying afloat. At the exact moment when he launched it on the water, however, shots rang out from the farm and he jumped to his feet in alarm.
He was less than forty yards away but shielded by the bushes growing along the bank of the stream. As he peered around them, he saw the most horrific sight. Three bodies lay on the ground. They belonged to his father and two elder brothers. Blood-curdling screams from the house were recognisably those of his mother and sister. His first instinct was to run to their defence, but what could he do against armed soldiers in red uniforms? There was an additional shock for the boy. He heard the crackle of fire and saw smoke rising from the barn. The next moment, he was forced to watch the livestock being driven off by some of the men. When the horses had been taken, the stables were set alight. His whole world was suddenly aflame.
If he couldn’t stop them, he thought, he could at least get close enough to see who they were. Keeping low, he crept furtively towards the farm. The raiders didn’t even look in his direction. They were too busy seizing what they wanted. The fire had taken a firm hold now and the crackle had turned into a deafening roar. The boy moved steadily forward until he hit a wall of blistering heat that stopped him dead. When he glanced at the farmhouse, telltale wisps of smoke were now coming through the windows. His mother and his sister had stopped screaming but they were still inside. Desperate to help them, he was held back by the billowing flames.
The attackers were pleased with their work and started to mount their horses. The last man to join them seemed to be their leader because he bellowed orders as he emerged from the farmhouse, doing up his belt. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he cackled happily before putting his foot in the stirrup and heaving himself up into the saddle. A sudden gust of wind then blew the flames away from the boy for a second. It was as if a curtain had been drawn back. What he saw, and what he would always remember, was the red beard and mad eyes of their leader, a big man with an evil laugh, who took one last look at the bonfire before giving the command to ride off with the day’s spoils. The wall of flame returned to block his vision and the boy could see no more.
Somewhere downstream, his boat sailed bravely on.
The Duke of Marlborough sat tight-lipped in consternation as Daniel delivered the report. Adam Cardonnel was the only other person in the tent and he was equally appalled at what he’d heard. Daniel tried to translate a garbled version of events into something more articulate. When the recitation was over, Marlborough wanted answers.
‘This happened this very afternoon, you say?’
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ replied Daniel.
‘And where exactly was the farm?’
‘It’s about ten miles west of here. If I may look over your shoulder for a moment,’ he said, standing behind Marlborough then pointing with his index finger at the map on the table, ‘it would be close to here.’
‘Then it’s on territory held by us,’ said Marlborough, worriedly. ‘Every farm on it has a right to our protection. The last thing we need to do is to turn the civilian population against us.’
‘Where did this information come from?’ asked Cardonnel.
‘The protest was made by another farmer,’ said Daniel. ‘I was there when he came into camp. He was too agitated to make much sense at first but I managed to tease the relevant details out of him. It seems that the boy ran four miles barefoot to the next farm to tell his tale. The lad was in a terrible state, and who can blame him? He lost his home, his parents and his siblings in one dreadful swoop. As soon as the farmer heard what had happened, he galloped here to demand that we punish the culprits.’
Cardonnel nodded. ‘I’d say that was a very legitimate demand.’
‘They’ll be punished,’ vowed Marlborough, frowning deeply. ‘I’ll supervise their execution myself. First, however, we have to identify them.’ He turned to Cardonnel. ‘Send word to every cavalry regiment, Adam. I want to know details of every patrol that rode out of here.’
‘I’ll draft letters immediately, Your Grace.’
‘Ask for a description of where the patrols went and the names of those men involved. We may have to do this by a process of elimination but we’ll catch them in the end. They’re not British soldiers — they’re vicious criminals.’
‘And they wear our uniforms,’ said Cardonnel, ruefully.
‘I’m not certain about that,’ Daniel put in.
‘You just told us that redcoats committed this atrocity.’
‘They did, but that doesn’t mean they belong to us. I’ve been thinking how difficult it would be for one of our patrols to rustle livestock then burn down a farm. Where would they keep the animals? They could hardly bring them back here to camp. Nor could they rely on being sent out on patrol again at a time of their choosing. Do you see the problem here?’ he went on. ‘The boy talked of nine or ten soldiers who raided the farm. When patrols are sent out, they vary greatly in size. It’s unlikely that the same group would be dispatched together each time.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Marlborough, grasping at the possibility that his men might not, after all, be responsible. ‘We may have a smattering of god-forsaken rogues in our midst but we also have thousands of honest, decent, responsible men who’d draw back at such horrors. If they had the faintest whiff of it, they’d report it to their superiors.’
Daniel became pensive. Cardonnel watched him carefully.
‘I know that look in your eye, Daniel,’ he said at length. ‘You’ve been meditating on this, haven’t you? I suspect you have a theory.’
‘As it happens,’ Daniel answered, ‘I have two.’
‘If either exonerates our soldiers, let’s hear it.’
‘The first theory does that. I believe that these redcoats might actually be French soldiers, deliberately wearing our uniforms to give the impression that we’ll slash and burn for the sheer love of it. It would be easy for them to get hold of uniforms,’ Daniel continued. ‘After any engagement, the battlefield is littered with them.’