Soldier of Fortune

'What are my orders, Your Grace?' asked Eugene.

'Marshal Tallard is coming through the Black Forest,' said Marlborough, 'and he will meet up with Marshal Villeroi's army. We need you to guard the Lines at Stollhoffen against their advance.'

'Consider it done.'

'Thank you, my friend. I cannot tell you how delighted we are to have you as our ally. Your successes against the Turks have earned you many plaudits. Three years ago, you also had notable victories at Carpi and Chiari against superior French armies.'

'I lost the battle of Cremona,' confessed Eugene, 'but I fought the French to a draw at Luzzara. They are not as invincible as they like to believe.'

'I know,' said Marlborough, looking up. 'They are rightly proud of their military achievements but pride can lead to complacency. We must exploit their self-satisfaction.'

'How many men do you have at your disposal?'

'The best part of 80,000 — on the long march here, we lost only a thousand or more to sickness. That was a blessing.'

'The French will lose many men as they come through the Black Forest. The mountains always claim some victims.'

'Their horses are suffering as well,' Marlborough told him. 'The latest intelligence is that a virulent disease has spread among them. If many of their horses die, they will be slowed down.'

'We will be waiting for them at the Lines of Stollhoffen,' said Eugene, a broad grin revealing the rest of his teeth. He brushed back his unkempt fair hair. 'We'll test the French to the utmost.'

'May good fortune attend you,' said Marlborough, exchanging a warm handshake with him. 'The next time we meet, it will be near the Danube.' He studied Eugene quizzically. 'Do you have no qualms about fighting a country in which you spent so much time?'

Eugene became serious. 'None at all, Your Grace,' he said. 'King Louis treated my mother shabbily and mocked me with the name of le petit abbe. He will soon see that I am no little priest.' He rested a hand on his sword. 'I'll make him rue the day that he made me quit France to follow my true calling as a soldier.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Daniel Rawson had always enjoyed being in a camp preparing itself for action. The sense of expectation was exciting. He found the sight of men being drilled, weapons being cleaned or sharpened, and artillery being made ready, thrilling even after all his years in the army. Additional soldiers were coming in every day. They had met the Margrave of Baden and the Austrian army at Launsheim and there was a steady trickle of recruits. After their unfortunate experience with the man calling himself Will Curtis, the British army questioned any newcomers very closely, especially if they were deserters from the French or Bavarian forces. Once accepted into the ranks, they were still watched in case they turned out to be enemy spies.

Characteristically forthright, Sergeant Henry Welbeck expressed misgivings about what awaited them. He and Daniel were watching a small detachment of Dutch soldiers arriving in camp.

'What are those moon-faced fools grinning at?' he asked with scorn. 'Don't they know they are on their way to their death?'

'Death or glory,' corrected Daniel.

'There's not much chance of glory, Dan. The rumour is that we're going to cross the Danube. If we try to do that, most of us will end up as corpses floating on the water.'

'Your job is to inspire your men. If you tell them we're facing defeat before battle even commences, you plant seeds of doubt in their minds. They have to believe victory is possible, Henry.'

'I'm not sure that I do.'

'You refused to believe that we'd get this far,' Daniel reminded him. 'Yet we've managed it without too many problems.'

'Then your memory is very different from mine,' said Welbeck tartly. 'What about the days when it rained so hard, we could hardly see a hand in front of our faces? What about those mountains we had to climb? And what about Lieutenant Hopwood being murdered in your tent — that's what I'd call a real problem.'

'I haven't forgotten that,' said Daniel soulfully. 'I still feel guilty. Richard Hopwood died in place of me.'

'Then his sacrifice was not in vain. We need you, Dan.'

'We needed the lieutenant as well. I know he was untried but he had some fire in his belly. He wanted to fight the French. When they see urgency and commitment in an officer, the men respect him all the more. Richard Hopwood will be mourned.'

'Do you think we'll ever find his killer?'

'We must,' replied Daniel. 'It's a sacred duty.'

'It will be like finding a pin's head in a cart-load of hay.'

'I have a feeling it will be a lot easier than that, Henry.'

'We'll never see Will Curtis again.'

'He'll be back one day. If he's clever enough to get inside our camp the way he did, he won't give up. Sooner or later, he'll make a second attempt at killing me.'

'Why?'

Daniel smiled. 'I'll remember to ask him before I shoot him.'

'Take care, Dan,' said Welbeck with gruff affection. 'If anything happened to you, I'd miss you a lot. You're an ugly bugger but I'd still prefer to see your head staying on your shoulders.'

'Thank you.'

'I must go. Bear in mind what I said.'

'Do the same for me,' said Daniel. 'Remember what I said about imparting confidence to the men. Glow with optimism, Henry. We could be on the verge of a tremendous victory.'

'Oh, I agree,' said Welbeck gloomily. 'But will either of us still be alive to celebrate it?'

Daniel watched him go, knowing full well that his friend would not pass on his private fears to his men. Soldiers drilled by Sergeant Henry Welbeck were among the best-disciplined in the British army. Daniel knew they would acquit themselves well in combat. How the Dutch, Danish, Prussians, Italians, Austrians and other nationalities in the allied force would behave in action was an open question. As he considered it, Daniel's eye fell on the new arrivals. Like the main army, they had made the long and arduous journey from Holland. They looked exhausted and bedraggled.

Two wagons rolled in at the rear of the column and came to a halt. Daniel could not understand why they had sought out the British section of the camp instead of that of their countrymen. The answer came in the shape of two female figures who were helped down from the second wagon. One of them spotted Daniel immediately.

'Captain Rawson!' she called, waving joyfully.

It was Abigail Piper.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When she came hurrying towards him, Daniel Rawson did not know whether to be pleased or disturbed by her arrival. He was relieved to see that she was alive and apparently uninjured but troubled that she would expect much more from him than he was able to give. Her face was shining with such exultation that he could not resist giving her a warm smile in return and offering both his hands. Instead of seizing them in a gesture of greeting, however, she flung herself against him and forced him into a full embrace. Watching soldiers made ribald comments and Daniel felt self-conscious.

'How nice to see you again, Abigail,' he said, gently detaching himself from her. 'I'd heard that you sailed for Holland but I never imagined that you'd catch up with us.'

'I can do anything when I set my mind to it.'

'So I see.'