Shrinking back behind the carpets, Daniel turned sideways so that he presented less of a target for an intrusive bayonet. Protests in the square grew louder still as more soldiers joined in the search and elbowed people roughly aside. Daniel braced himself. Hearing orders being barked in German, he knew that Bavarian soldiers were leading the search. The tramp of feet and the guttural commands got closer and closer. Daniel picked out a snatch of conversation.
'He won't get far,' said one soldier.
'All the gates will have been closed by now,' said another.
'He's trapped in the city and everyone's looking for him.'
'We'll roast him alive when we catch him.'
'He can have my bayonet up his arse.'
At the moment he made the threat, the soldier thrust his bayonet into the stack of carpets and missed Daniel by less than an inch. Before the man could repeat the exercise, the carpet dealer rushed around in a panic from the front of the stall and begged him not to damage any more of his ware. When the soldier relented and moved on, Daniel dared to breathe properly again. Had it made contact, the bayonet would have ripped him apart and the dealer would never have been able to sell a carpet that was sliced open and soaked with blood. The hunt continued but it was slowly moving away from Daniel. For the time being at least, he was safe.
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
When news of the victory at Donauworth reached the Imperial capital, there was delight and celebration. Vienna toasted the success of the Confederate army and gave thanks to God for their deliverance from a menacing foe. The tidings were received with more muted enthusiasm in The Hague. While the States-General appreciated the significance of the victory, they were horrified by the high number of casualties in the battle and felt that the captain-general should have protected his troops more carefully instead of sacrificing them to enemy fire.
The Dutch, however, decided to mark the event by casting a victory medal. On the obverse side was an image of Louis, Margrave of Baden. A Latin inscription adorned the other side. In translation, it read: "The enemy defeated and put to flight and their camp plundered at Schellenberg near Donauworth." There was no reference whatsoever to the Duke of Marlborough, who had planned and achieved the signal victory. It was almost as if he had taken no part whatsoever in the engagement. The medal was a calculated insult to him.
Unaware of the snub that awaited him, Marlborough amused himself by reading out the letter sent to him by Leopold, Emperor of Austria. It was written in Leopold's own hand, an honour reserved only for an exceptional situation. When it had been translated, Adam Cardonnel was interested to hear the full text of the letter, filled, as it was, with an extravagance of expression totally at odds with the prosaic despatches from the Dutch.
'Illustrious, Sincerely Beloved,' Marlborough read. 'Your desert towards me, my house, and the common cause, are great and many, and the singular application, care and diligence, which you have expressed, in bringing up and hastening the powerful succours, which the most serene and potent Queen of Great Britain and the States-General of the United Netherlands, have sent me to the Danube, are not to be ranked in the last place; but nothing can be more glorious than what you have done, after the conjunction of your army with mine, in the most speedy and vigorous attack and forcing of the enemy's camp at Donawert, the second of this month; since my generals themselves, and ministers, declare that the success of that enterprise (which is more acceptable and advantageous to me, in the present time, than almost anything else that could befall me) is chiefly owing to your counsels, prudence and execution, and the wonderful bravery and constancy of the troops, who fought under your command. This will be an eternal trophy to your most serene Queen in Upper Germany, whither the victorious arms of the English nation have never penetrated since the memory of man.'
Though diverted by the flowery language, Marlborough was very touched. It proved that his arduous efforts had been given full recognition by someone. Cardonnel raised a mischievous eyebrow.
'Should we send a copy of the letter to The Hague?' he asked.
'They would denounce it as a forgery, Adam.'
'How would it be received in England?'
'Parliament would revile any praise of me.'
'You won a notable victory — what more do they want?'
'A miracle,' said Marlborough. 'Both Parliament and the States General want a battle in which the enemy suffers casualties while our troops survive miraculously without even soiling their uniforms.'
'They do not even give you credit for having come this far, Your Grace. To complete such a remarkable march and then to have such a triumph at the end of it, is an extraordinary achievement. It's a peal of bells that will ring down the centuries.'
'Now, now, Adam,' cautioned Marlborough. 'Let's not smile at the Emperor's exaggeration then indulge in some of our own. Instead of speculating about our place in history, we must simply look ahead a few days at the time. As for Emperor Leopold,' he added, 'instead of writing a letter, I would have much preferred him to send me the heavy guns that he promised. All I have from him is the mixed blessing of the Margrave of Baden.'
'Baden is wondering what our next move will be.'
'Ideally, I would either like to entice the Elector out of Augsburg so that we can fight another battle against his depleted forces. Or,' said Marlborough, 'I would like to persuade him that he should abandon his alliance with the French.'
'I foresee difficulties, Your Grace,' said Cardonnel with a frown. 'To achieve either objective, you'd need to lay waste to the Bavarian countryside. Only when he heard that his pretty towns and villages have been burnt to the ground, would the Elector be forced to fight or sue for peace.'
'On past experience, he may do neither.'
'His correspondence is markedly less hostile than it has been.'
'I fancy he is trying to woo us into the belief that he may join us,' said Marlborough, 'while still holding firmly to the French. If and when Tallard appears on the horizon, the Elector's letters may take on a different tone.'
'Tallard is still crossing the Black Forest mountains.'
'It's the second time this year he's done that, Adam. The scenery will begin to bore him. He came through the forest in May to deliver reinforcements to Marshal Marsin and the Elector. Tallard will be shocked to learn how many of those troops we killed.'
Their discussion was interrupted by a British lieutenant. After announcing his arrival, he was invited into the tent. Over his arm was a long red coat with the insignia of a captain on it. In his other hand, he carried a tricorn hat covered in dust. He exchanged greetings then held up the two items.
'I led a patrol earlier today, Your Grace,' he said, 'and we found these discarded on the plain.'
Marlborough winced. 'Did they belong to Captain Rawson?'
'I fear that they did.'
'Is there any blood on the coat?'
'None at all,' replied the lieutenant.
'Then there's still a faint hope.'
'Why should Captain Rawson have taken off his coat and hat?' asked Cardonnel. 'Were they left there as some sort of signal?'
'We may never know,' said Marlborough sadly. He took the coat and held it with almost reverential care. 'No man wore his uniform with more pride and gallantry than Daniel Rawson. If he is no longer alive — and we must accept that grim possibility — he leaves a gap in our army that will never be filled.'
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune