Daniel let him babble on, only half-listening to Alphonse’s mixture of advice, reminiscence and crude humour. Eyes now accustomed to the darkness, Daniel kept looking for the most likely place where Amalia might be detained. There were guards outside Vendome’s quarters but few other people were about. What he was looking for was another tent protected by armed guards but none presented itself. He and Alphonse were about to move on when two figures emerged like ghosts out of the murky heart of the camp. A woman was being hustled along by a soldier with a musket. Daniel’s stomach lurched. Suspecting that it was Amalia, he instinctively took a few steps forward before checking himself. To attack her escort now would be foolish. He’d be giving himself away. He and Amalia were certain to be caught. Alarmed as he was at the way she was being manhandled, Daniel had to bide his time.
As the couple approached a tent in the shadows, another guard came out of it. He and the first man pushed the woman inside then remained where they were on sentry duty. Daniel was at once angry and grateful, incensed by the rough treatment he’d witnessed yet indebted to the soldiers for the guidance they’d given. The trip around the camp with Alphonse had yielded a bonus.
He knew where Amalia was being held.
In fact, the woman he’d seen only in outline had been Sophie Prunier. Thrust into the tent, she had difficulty staying upright at first and Amalia had to steady her. Something had clearly happened. Sophie had a hunted look to her. Sinking down on to a stool, she put her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. Amalia didn’t disturb her. The other woman patently wanted to be alone with her thoughts. To ask her to describe her ordeal would be unkind and improper. When she was ready to talk, she would. Amalia therefore kept a silent vigil beside her, noting the way that she hunched her shoulders and kept her face hidden. Sophie had been away from the tent for some time so her fellow prisoner was bound to speculate on where she’d been. Having met Lieutenant Bouteron — albeit fleetingly — Amalia was in a position to make a judgement. Compared to Vendome, he was definitely the lesser of two evils.
It was well over twenty minutes before Sophie lowered her hands and sat up. She was too embarrassed to meet Amalia’s gaze. All she did was to mumble a few words.
‘Please don’t ask me.’
‘No,’ said Amalia. ‘I promise.’
‘I’m so tired, so very tired.’
‘Then you must rest.’
It was difficult to tell if Sophie was genuinely fatigued or simply unable to bear the weight of humiliation. At all events, she stretched herself out on one of the camp beds and turned her face away. Amalia placed a blanket gently over her. Nothing more was said. Sophie either fell asleep or went off into a reverie. Amalia decided to get what rest she could while she still had the opportunity. There was always the possibility that she, too, might be hauled out during the night to satisfy someone’s lust. As she lay on the other camp bed, she pulled the blanket up over her head in the vain hope that it might shield her from her worst fears. They continued to gnaw at her brain.
Amalia had lost all track of time. She would never know if it was an hour or two before she finally dozed off. What was certain was that sleep did nothing to soothe her troubled mind. It confronted her with new and more hideous terrors. Twisting and turning on the camp bed, she was lucky not to fall off. At one point in her nightmare, she felt as if someone was trying to cut open her skull with a sharp knife. Amalia could hear the bone being sawn through by the blade. A hand then closed over her mouth and she came awake with a start to discover a figure bending over her in the darkness. Thinking that someone had come to kill her, she fought back with her puny strength.
‘It’s me, Amalia,’ whispered Daniel. ‘Don’t struggle.’
She almost cried with relief. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I cut through the canvas.’
‘So that was the noise I heard. I thought my head was being split open by someone.’ She sat up and embraced him. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you, Daniel.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he said. ‘I’ve come to rescue you.’
‘What about Sophie?’
‘Who is she?’
‘She’s my friend,’ said Amalia, indicating the other bed. ‘We can’t leave without her.’
Speaking softly into his ear, she gave him a terse account of what Sophie Prunier was doing there. Daniel was forced to make a hasty decision. Crossing to the other bed, he put one hand over Sophie’s mouth and used the other to rouse her. When the woman’s eyes blinked open, Amalia reassured her that she was in no danger. Introduced to Daniel and offered the chance of escape, Sophie took time to come fully awake and make up her mind. She kept glancing nervously in the direction of the two guards outside the tent.
‘Would you rather stay here?’ asked Amalia.
‘No,’ said Sophie, getting up. ‘I’ll come.’
‘Hold on for a moment,’ said Daniel.
The women watched while he put a stool on each of the camp beds and covered it with the blanket to make it look as if someone was still there. Then he blew out all but one of the candles. In the dark, all that could be seen were the lumps in the two beds. Daniel believed they’d be enough to deceive anyone who happened to glance in.
He led the way through the slit in the rear of the tent then folded it back in position. Signalling for them to stay low and keep silent, Daniel set off and took them on a meandering path through the camp, skirting any signs of activity. Amalia and Sophie obeyed every order. When he dived full length on the grass and told them to follow suit, they did so without hesitation. Nor did they object to crawling through a hedge then wading up to their knees through a stream. It seemed to take an age to reach the perimeter of the camp. In order to elude the picquets, they had to go down on their stomachs again and inch their way along the ground as soundlessly as possible. By the time they reached the safety of a stand of trees, Amalia and Sophie were soaked, filthy and trembling with fright.
Daniel tried to instil confidence in them by stressing that the worst was over. Under the cover of the trees, he was able to lead them to the place where he’d earlier concealed the two horses he’d brought into the camp. They were sufficiently far away from danger to be able to speak to each other at last.
‘I know that Amalia can ride,’ he said. ‘What about you, Sophie?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I learnt to ride as a girl.’
‘Mount up and follow this road until you come to an old mill. It’s quite dilapidated but a useful place to hide. I noticed it on the way here. Wait for me at the mill.’
‘Where will you be?’ asked Amalia, worried.
‘I have to retrieve my wagon,’ he explained. ‘If I can get that out of the camp, you’ll be able to travel in a little more comfort.’
‘What if we get lost?’
‘Stay on this road and there’s no chance of that, Amalia.’
‘How long will you be?’
‘That will depend on how lucky I am. I should be no more than an hour. If I’m not there by dawn, ride off without me.’
Amalia was aghast. ‘We can’t do that, Daniel.’
‘Do you want to be recaptured?’
‘No, no…it’s frightening in there.’
‘Then do as I say,’ he went on, handing her his map. ‘There’s a road that runs north from the mill. When you have enough light, you’ll see from the map that it will take you to Terbanck where our army is camped. I’ll follow you somehow.’
‘I still can’t believe that you got here, Captain Rawson,’ said Sophie, unable to understand his conversation with Amalia in Dutch. ‘How did you get inside the camp?’
‘I’ll tell you that in due course,’ he replied, speaking in French. ‘Ride off to the old mill with Amalia. There’s food and wine in the saddlebags to sustain you.’