‘Do join us, Daniel,’ said Marlborough, pointing to a chair. ‘We’ve not drunk all of the brandy yet.’
Daniel sat down beside him. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’
‘We’ve met before, Captain Rawson,’ said Godolphin. ‘I hear nothing but good things of you.’
‘That’s very gratifying, my lord,’ said Daniel.
Marlborough rang a small bell and a servant appeared at once. He found a glass for the visitor and poured him some brandy before quitting the room. It was not the first time Marlborough had invited Daniel to join him at a table. Unlike some commanders, he didn’t distance himself from his officers in order to preserve his authority. He willingly sought their company.
‘Your good health!’ said Daniel, raising his glass to them then taking a first sip. ‘That’s very welcome after a long ride.’
‘Have you come from London?’ asked Godolphin.
‘Yes, my lord. My ship docked this morning.’
‘What sort of crossing did you have?’
‘A cold and cheerless one — we were caught in a squall.’
‘It’s not the ideal time of year to put to sea.’
‘I managed to get here in one piece,’ said Daniel before turning to Marlborough. ‘I have several letters and dispatches for you in my saddlebag, Your Grace.’
‘Then I must decline them,’ said Marlborough, holding up a palm. ‘They no longer hold any relevance for me.’
‘But I’ve brought reports of troop movements by the French.’
‘They’ve come to the wrong address.’
‘Your orders were to deliver everything to you in person.’
‘Things were different when I issued those orders.’
Daniel was bewildered. ‘In what way, Your Grace?’
‘During your absence, there have been some changes.’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Godolphin, ‘some very radical changes at that. It’s the reason you find us at leisure for once. We are no longer burdened by the affairs of state.’
‘I’m not sure that I understand, my lord,’ said Daniel.
‘Let me explain,’ volunteered Marlborough. ‘The Lord Treasurer no longer holds the office and I have ceased to be the captain general. A situation arose that made it necessary for us both to offer our resignations. In short, Daniel, you are answerable to me no more.’
Daniel was astounded. ‘This is dreadful news!’
‘That was our view initially. Now, however, having had the time to savour retirement, Sidney and I are coming to see its attractions.’
‘There’s no attraction whatsoever in it for the Allied forces,’ said Daniel, stoutly. ‘If I may be candid, it smacks of disaster. You are the one person in Europe capable of leading a coalition army against the French. Without you, we’ll be in a sorry state.’
‘It’s very kind of you to say so.’
‘Who created this situation of which you speak? It must be someone well versed in the black art of politics.’ Godolphin chuckled. ‘I apologise, my lord. I meant no offence to politicians.’
‘None was taken, Captain Rawson,’ said Godolphin. ‘Black art is an appropriate description. Parliament has rather more than its share of would-be sorcerers. They are always mixing potions designed to bring about one man’s rise and another’s downfall. His Grace and I have been victims of such sorcery. We are both ousted.’
‘This is madness,’ asserted Daniel, rising indignantly to his feet. ‘You’ve kept our army and our navy in fighting trim between you. His Grace has supplied the leadership while you, my lord, have helped to raise the money to make that leadership effective. To dispense with your services is an act of sheer lunacy. Have they forgotten Blenheim? Don’t they remember our victory at the Lines of Brabant? Does the name of Ramillies mean nothing to them?’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m sorry to speak out so boldly, Your Grace, but I’m only saying what every British soldier will say. To lose you is an absolute catastrophe.’
‘Kind words, Daniel,’ said Marlborough, ‘and inspired by your loyalty to me. Others, alas, have forsaken loyalty.’
‘Then they must be brought to their senses. This is a decision that must be reversed at the earliest opportunity. I refuse to believe that Her Majesty approved of your resignations.’
Godolphin winced slightly. ‘She did so with equanimity.’
‘And there the matter ends,’ said Marlborough, dismissively. ‘You’ve performed some remarkable deeds in your time, Daniel, but even you couldn’t make our beloved Queen change her mind on this issue.’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘Our time is over. We’ve learnt to accept that.’ He waved an arm. ‘Now why don’t you sit down again and drink some more of this exceptional brandy?’
CHAPTER THREE
The ride to Somerset was a journey into his past. It was a pilgrimage that Daniel made every time he was on English soil. Ordinarily, he’d be preoccupied with memories of his father and of the events that led to his untimely death at the end of a hangman’s rope. That tragedy had helped to mould Daniel’s character. On this occasion, however, he spared Nathan Rawson only a few random thoughts. Even the murder of the farmer and his family had been pushed from his mind for once. What simmered in Daniel’s brain as he rode along was the prospect of returning to the theatre of war without the Duke of Marlborough.
It was highly disturbing. Marlborough’s experience, stamina, tactical brilliance and ability to improvise during a battle had earned him a reputation unmatched in military circles. He was revered by his men who called him Corporal John because of his readiness to take notice of the lower ranks. At the same time, he was feared by French marshals and by other commanders who’d faced him in the field. He’d been such a dominating presence in European warfare for so long that he’d acquired almost legendary status. Yet that legend had now been discarded. Daniel could foresee the utter dismay in the Allied army when the word spread. By the same token, he could envisage the sheer delight among the enemy when they realised that their conqueror had relinquished his office. The whole balance of the war would shift in favour of the French. Daniel was troubled.
Reaching his destination, he dismounted and tethered his horse before he even realised where he was. The church tower cast a long, all-embracing shadow over him as if in reproach at his lack of due respect. He’d come to mourn a dead father not to bewail the loss of a living soldier. Daniel was sobered. With the image of Nathan Rawson before him, he went penitently into the churchyard and sought out his father’s grave. Kneeling beside it, he offered up a prayer and apologised for being so distracted. Then he began to clear some of the weeds that encroached on the little headstone.
He was still on his knees when he heard the excited voices of children. Daniel looked up to see a small boy being chased by an even smaller girl. They were running through the churchyard with such joyful irreverence that he was mildly shocked for a moment. He rose to admonish them but their father saved him the trouble. Calling the children over to him, he told them to play on the village green instead. As they raced off happily again, Daniel crossed over to the newcomer.
‘Is that you, Martin?’ he asked, peering intently at him.
‘Indeed, it is,’ replied Martin Rye with a surprised grin. ‘And unless my eyes fail me, I’m talking to Dan Rawson.’
‘Yes, it’s me.’ They shook hands warmly. ‘It’s good to see you again after all this time. You’re a married man now, I see.’
‘I’ve two lovely children to show for it. I couldn’t bring myself to punish them just now. After all, when we were their age, we used to play games here in the churchyard.’
Daniel smiled. ‘The verger chased us away many a time.’
It was over twenty years since he’d seen his old friend. Martin Rye was a boy from the village who’d worked on the Rawson farm for a short while. He’d grown up to be tall and sturdy. Apart from memories of childhood fun together, they shared something else. When the Monmouth rebellion had been crushed at Sedgemoor, Nathan Rawson had been a captain in the defeated army. Rye had two brothers who’d also responded to the call to arms and fought on the losing side. All three of them had been condemned to death at the Bloody Assizes.