'That may be so in some cases, Your Grace. All the men are interrogated to make sure that they are genuine deserters. One of them at least deserved to be heard.'
'Why is that, Adam?'
'He was a member of General Salignac's staff,' said Cardonnel. 'He's not some frightened man from the ranks. He's a senior officer who might well have useful information for us.'
'Then let's hear the fellow. What's his name?'
'Frederic Seurel.'
'Bring him in.'
Cardonnel lifted the flap of the tent and beckoned a man outside. He stepped back so that the deserter could enter. Wearing the uniform of a captain in the French army, Charles Catto came boldly into the tent.
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
On August 13, 1704, the Confederate army began its march at three o'clock in the morning. Preceded by an advance guard of Horse, eight columns marched through the darkness along routes that had been chosen so that there was no danger of one body of men impeding another. The infantry tramped ruinously over standing crops in the fields, leaving the road free for the teams of horses pulling the cannon, ammunition wagons and the pontoon train. In total, over 50,000 men were on the move. Not all of them were happy about the situation.
'I hate night marches,' grumbled Henry Welbeck as he trod on a stone that made him stumble. 'I like to see where I'm going.'
'Console yourself with the thought that we'll catch them off guard,' said Daniel, riding beside him. 'The French and the Bavarians will still be fast asleep.'
'Lucky buggers!'
'We're the lucky ones, Henry. This is a day of destiny.'
Welbeck was sceptical. 'It doesn't feel like it to me, Dan.'
'I don't believe that. You have the same tingle that I always have before a battle. You have the same fluttering in your stomach and the same buzzing inside your head. You know that today is special.'
'What's special about losing more of my men?' retorted the other. 'What's special about being deafened by the sound of enemy cannon, charged at by their cavalry and shot at by their infantry?'
'You could end the battle as a hero.'
'I'm more likely to end it in an unmarked grave.'
'We've never lost an important battle under the Duke,' Daniel reminded him. 'I'd always back him to outwit Marshal Tallard.'
'Which is the bigger army?'
'Theirs.'
'Then stop telling me it's a day of destiny for us.'
'Superior numbers don't always win.'
'But it's always encouraging to have them on your side,' said Welbeck, looking up at him. 'I've never shirked a fight but I do prefer it when it's a fair one.'
They had been marching for a couple of hours and tiny specks of light were starting to appear in the black canvas of night, only to be lost from time to time in a swirling mist. Daniel was optimistic. It had been six weeks since the hostilities at the Schellenberg. All that the Confederate army had done since then was to raid a series of Bavarian settlements and leave them in flames. Much to his relief, Daniel had not been directly involved in the wanton destruction. What he wanted was a full-scale confrontation with the enemy and it was now about to take place. Nothing else mattered. He had forgotten about Abigail Piper, about his escape from Augsburg and about all the other events in the past few months. The future of the war could be determined on a plain near the village of Blenheim.
Pulsing with energy, Daniel was ready to do everything in his power to achieve the victory he felt was within their grasp, and he knew that Henry Welbeck would fight with the same resolve. Hidden behind the sergeant's characteristic moans lay the wholehearted commitment of a professional soldier. When battle was joined, Henry Welbeck would not hold back. Like his friend, he would wish to be involved in the fiercest action.
Daniel emitted a sudden laugh. 'I was just thinking,' he said. 'How nice it would be to see the look on Marshal Tallard's face when he realises we are coming!'
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
During his time as French ambassador at the Court of St James's, Camille d'Hostun, Comte de Tallard, had been immensely popular in England. He was known for his lavish hospitality, for the opulence with which he surrounded himself and for his diplomatic skills. He and Marlborough had met a number of times at social events and got on well together. Now that he held a marshal's baton, however, he accorded his rival no more than a cold respect. Even on a campaign, he liked to eat the best food and drink the finest wines. As a man who enjoyed his sleep, he was not pleased to be roused from his comfortable bed with the news that the enemy was approaching.
Notwithstanding his reputation as a diplomat and as a soldier, Tallard was not an imposing figure and his short-sightedness was so bad that it was joked about behind his back. Even with a telescope, he could not discern the true meaning in the approach of the Confederate cavalry. He believed that the show of force was merely a distraction to allow the main Allied army to creep away to safety with its tail between its legs. The despatch he dashed off to Louis XIV confirmed this belief — ' They can now be seen drawn up at the head of their camp, and it appears they will march today. Word in the country is that they are going to Nordlingen. If that is so, they will leave us between them and the Danube, and consequently they will have difficulty in sustaining the places that they have taken in Bavaria.'
Shortly after his messenger had ridden off, Tallard was forced to realise his blunder. It was barely seven o'clock when he received reports that the entire enemy army was heading in his direction. He was stunned. Summoning Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, he led them up the church tower in Blenheim so that they could get a better view of the enemy's movements. The three commanders tried to divine the significance of what they saw. Having underestimated Marlborough's boldness, Tallard now went on to misinterpret it.
'He must have acquired reinforcements,' he concluded. 'Even in his rashest moment, the Duke of Marlborough would not contemplate an attack on us unless he had greater numbers at his disposal. And there's another worrying development,' he went on. 'There are rumours that the Margrave of Baden is on his way here to add his support. That would markedly strengthen the enemy and we know to our cost what a fearless general Baden is. No, gentlemen, only one course is open to us. We must fight a defensive action.'
His companions agreed with his decision. They understood the importance of holding both flanks of the Franco-Bavarian lines. No matter how large the enemy forces, they had faith in their strong defensive positions. One of them was around the village of Blenheim.
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
When they were two miles from Blenheim, the Confederate army split into two wings. With 36,000 troops, Marlborough intended to attack on the left against a French army under Tallard of almost equal size. Prince Eugene of Savoy, at the head of 16,000 men, was ordered to attack on the right against the forces of Marshal Marsin and the Elector. He was thus taking on a combined army of 24,000. Unknown to Tallard, he had far more men in the field than Marlborough. Where the Allied army did have clear superiority was in the number of their cavalry squadrons.
As in most battles, the opening shots were fired by the artillery. The French right wing discharged the first cannon balls and a British soldier was the initial casualty. Colonel Blood, the artillery commander, was told by Marlborough to choose his counter-batteries. When these had been inspected and approved by the Duke, the bombardment began with a vengeance, cannon booming on both sides for the best part of four hours. The thunderous exchange of fire was so ear- splitting that, it was later learnt, the Margrave of Baden could hear it forty miles away in Ingolstadt.