Soldier of Fortune

'At least, you were there,' said Welbeck, stopping beside him. 'I heard that someone tried to kill you.'

'Thousands of French and Bavarians tried to kill me, Henry.' 'I'm talking about what happened in this camp.'

'Ah, yes — that.'

Welbeck was scornful. 'Listen to the man!' he said. 'Someone fires a shot at him and all he can say is "Ah, yes — that." If it had been me, I'd be furious.'

'You always are, Henry.'

'What exactly happened?'

Daniel gave him a brief account of the walk beside the stream. When he was told that Abigail Piper had fainted in Daniel's arms, the sergeant emitted a howl of contempt.

'Bloody women!' he exclaimed. 'She distracted you, Dan.'

'I should have been more careful, I agree.'

'From the way you tell it, I could almost believe she led you to that particular spot so that an accomplice could take a shot at you.'

'That's arrant nonsense,' said Daniel hotly. 'Abigail loves me. She'd rather take a bullet herself than see me killed. No, Henry, it was pure coincidence that we were on the edge of the camp like that.'

'It was no coincidence that the man who fired the pistol was there. He was lying in wait, Dan. And although you didn't see so much as a glimpse of his arse as he ran away, I reckon I could put a name to the bastard.'

'Can you?'

'Of course — it was Will Curtis, as he used to call himself.'

'You could be right,' said Daniel, mulling it over. 'He crossed my mind as well. He or his accomplice failed to kill me in this very tent so he had a second attempt.'

'He would have known how we pitched our camp and where to find the British contingent. It has to be Will Curtis.'

'But why single out me, Henry?'

'Haven't you worked that out yet?'

'I'm not that important to the army.'

'This is nothing to do with army matters,' said Welbeck, hands on his hips. 'You've been sewing wild oats in someone else's field, Dan Rawson. That's my guess, anyway. This is the work of some bloody woman — or of her husband, anyway. You've upset him by tupping his wife. He's after your balls.'

It was a sobering thought and it brought Daniel to his feet. Until now, he had forgotten all about Berenice Salignac and their time together in Paris. She suddenly came rushing back into his mind, accompanied by the spectre of her husband.

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

It was a risk that could pay handsome dividends. Having grown a beard, Charles Catto completed his disguise by winding a bandage around his head so that it half-covered an eye. He had kept the uniform in which he had fled the camp and put it on once more. If he were caught, he expected no mercy but then he would get none from General Salignac if he failed. Trapped between menacing alternatives, he chose the one that was at hand.

'How do I look, Frederic?' he asked.

'Like someone I ought to kill,' replied Seurel, studying him through narrowed lids. 'What happens if someone recognises you?'

'Then he'll have excellent eyesight.'

'You're taking a big chance, Charles.'

'There's a big reward if I succeed,' said Catto. 'I'll keep well away from the men I met when I enlisted, especially that crusty Sergeant Welbeck. He's the one person who might pick me out.'

'What do I do?'

'Wait until I return.'

'And if you don't get back?'

'Then you'll know I was caught. That's highly unlikely, however,' said Catto. 'You know what armies are like after a battle. All they want to do is to rest, nurse their wounds, mourn their dead comrades and boast about what they did to secure the victory. None of them will even remember their brief acquaintance with Private Will Curtis.'

'How will you get into the camp?'

'Leave that to me, Frederic.'

'As long as you don't kill Captain Rawson,' said Seurel with a warning growl. 'He's all mine.'

'I don't expect to get anywhere near the captain this time.'

'Then why are you going to the British camp?'

'For the best possible reason,' said Catto suavely, adjusting the bandage over his eyebrow before putting on his tricorn hat. 'I'm going to meet a beautiful young lady.'

Edward Marston

Soldier of Fortune

Abigail Piper had been shaken to the core by what she had seen. To be so close to so many grotesque injuries had been a revelation to her. Tales of military heroism heard at the dinner table were always exciting but they never dwelt on the savagery and anguish of a battle. They never mentioned the consequences. Abigail felt the need to be alone. Emily Greene was happy to go off and talk to some of the other women, leaving her mistress in their tent. There was one consolation for Abigail. A scribbled note from Daniel Rawson had assured her that he was alive and well. She had gone dizzy with relief.

Perched on a stool in her tent, she now began for the first time to question her actions in sailing after the army. Daniel had given her no encouragement to do so and had seemed faintly embarrassed by her arrival. They were meeting in the wrong place at the wrong time. As long as he was engaged in the campaign, she now understood, there would never be a right time. Abigail was in the way. It was a painful truth but it had to be acknowledged. With disarming politeness, the Duke of Marlborough had made the same point to her.

She was still locked in thought when a voice interrupted her.

'Abigail,' said Daniel from outside the tent. 'Are you there?'

'Yes, yes,' she answered, leaping up and opening the flap to let him in. 'I've been hoping against hope that you would come, Daniel.'

Expecting an embrace, she was instead checked by his battered appearance. The cuts, grazes, and swollen lip disfigured his face. A dark bruise coloured his forehead. She stepped back in dismay.

'I'm sorry that I don't look my best,' he apologised.

'I thought that you'd be unharmed.'

'It's asking too much to avoid any injury in a battle. The wonder is that I'm still standing. The Forlorn Hope was indeed forlorn. Most of my comrades were killed outright.'

'I pleaded with you not to join them.'

'I'm always going to chase glory, Abigail, and I love the sensation of leading an attack on the enemy. It sets the blood racing in a way that nothing else could.'

'I'm so glad that you came safely through the battle,' she said. 'I know that hundreds of our men died and I saw how badly wounded some of the survivors were. Had you been among them, I'd have been inconsolable.' She searched his eyes for a full minute before continuing. 'Why didn't you tell me, Daniel?'

'Tell you what?'

'About what happened when we went for that walk together.'

'I did tell you,' he said. 'You fainted and I carried you away.'

'That isn't true. Emily spoke to one of the women here. Her husband was on picket duty and heard a shot being fired. When he ran to find out what was going on, he saw you on the ground beside me as if you were taking cover from something. The reason you picked me up,' she said, 'was that you wanted to carry me to safety.'

'Yes,' he confessed. 'That was exactly the reason.'

'So why did you mention none of this to me?'

'I didn't want to frighten you, Abigail.'

'If someone is set on killing you, I want to know why.'

'It's usually because they belong to an opposing army,' he said with a carefree smile, 'and I don't blame them for that. It's what they're trained to do. A red coat is a tempting target.'

'But when we stopped beside that stream,' she argued, 'there were other soldiers in red coats not far away. Why was the shot fired at you and not at one of them?'