again, he saw the broken wheel floating off down the river. Of more immediate importance was the fact that the coach horse was trapped between the shafts, kicking madly and neighing loudly as it tried to regain its feet and keep its head above the water.
Daniel swam swiftly to its rescue. Trying to keep clear of the flashing hooves, he undid the harness to release the animal from the shafts then held on tight to the reins as he was literally hauled along by the frantic beast. While Beatrix and Dopff jumped out of the way in fright, Amalia and her father stood firm. They knew that the horse had to be stopped before it could get up any speed. The two of them therefore waded into the water and, as the horse reached them, took hold of either side of the bridle. Scrambling to his feet, Daniel added his own strength on the reins. The animal reached dry land and, though still tossing its head and neighing in protest, it slowed down. Dopff came forward to pat it on the neck and help to calm it.
Are you all right, Daniel?' cried Amalia.
'I'm a little wetter than I intended to be.'
'You're not hurt in any way?'
'No,' he said, winding the harness up. 'If truth be told, it was rather bracing. When I've dried off a little, I can address my mind to the thorny problem of how we carry on without our coach.'
The delay was deliberate. Hillier soon realised that. If he'd been punished on the morning he'd been caught, he would now be nursing his wounds but at least the worst would be over. By postponing the event until the following day, Major Cracknell guaranteed a sleepless night for the drummer. The longer he waited, the more fearful loomed his sentence. He could almost feel the skin being stripped from his back.
There had been some relief. Thanks to Sergeant Welbeck's intervention, he had now been given a meal and allowed to visit the latrines. Even more encouraging was the fact that his uncle had finally recognised his existence. In front of a vindictive officer, the sergeant had defended his nephew. That meant a lot to Hillier.
He was a scapegoat, receiving the punishment that Dobbs and the others should be sharing. Yet he refused to yield up their names. It was not simply out of fear of repercussions. They were his friends. If one of them had been caught in his place, Hillier felt certain that his own name wouldn't have been volunteered. Those in the lower ranks looked after each other. When he thought of what lay ahead for him, he shuddered. Flogging was a barbaric punishment and he'd seen its effects. One of the other drummers, flogged for drunkenness, still had livid marks across his back months after he'd received his lashes. Hillier had seen them. He wondered how long he'd bear his own gruesome souvenirs.
The most troubling aspect for him was not the physical agony but the sheer humiliation. Hillier would be flogged in front of the whole regiment. Since it was a first offence committed by a new recruit who'd obviously been misled, some officers would have been inclined to leniency. Major Cracknell wasn't one of them. He wanted Hillier to suffer and Sergeant Welbeck to suffer with him. Under the guise of imposing discipline, the major was also able to work off his grudge against Daniel Rawson, the sergeant's close friend. Cracknell would doubtless go out of his way to inform his enemy of Hillier's fate when the captain returned to his regiment.
He was pacing the tent anxiously when he heard a low whistle. At first he had no idea where it came from then he saw something protruding under the canvas at the rear of the tent.
It was a small bottle of brandy held by someone.
'Tom?' whispered a voice. 'Are you there?'
Hillier crouched down. 'Hugh — is that you?'
'Yes. Take a swig of this. It might help.'
Taking the bottle, he uncorked it and took a long sip. It burnt his throat and coursed through his body but it gave him new strength to face his ordeal. He corked the bottle and slipped it back into Dobbs' hand.
'Thank you,' he said.
'Don't thank me, Tom. It belongs to Sergeant Welbeck.'
Hillier had another reason to be grateful to his uncle. The brandy was starting to take full effect now. His head began to swim. Minutes later the guard came in. The prisoner was taken under escort to a patch of land behind the camp where the regiment was drawn up in a hollow square. It was a spectacle that the rank and file hated but they were forced to watch. The flogging of one soldier was also a dire warning to others. Writhing with shame, Hillier kept his eyes down. He stopped beside a wooden triangle and was ordered to remove his coat and shirt. When his wrists were tied to the triangle, he was quite defenceless. His naked back looked pale and stringy.
Major Cracknell issued the command for the punishment to begin. A burly drummer took a cat-o'-nine-tails from out of a bag and had a couple of practice swings through the air. Hillier tensed, hoping that the brandy would dull the pain in some way. If nothing else, he'd discovered that his uncle could be considerate. When the first stroke came, it made his whole body convulse, biting into his flesh like so many vicious teeth. Hillier recovered quickly, promising himself that, however searing the pain, he'd hold back any cries. Another set of hungry teeth sank into his back to be followed by a third and a fourth. Eyes closed and body already covered with blood, he tried to count the strokes but he drifted off into unconsciousness long before the tally had been completed.
They were no longer able to stay overnight at an inn. If, as Daniel suspected, the search for them had spread outside the capital, it would be too dangerous to stop. Roads were patrolled, bridges were guarded and sentries were on duty at key points on the frontier. Evading them all was paramount. What slowed the fugitives down was that they no longer had the coach at their disposal. Five of them now shared four horses. Since he was the only person able to ride bareback, Daniel sat astride the coach horse with much of their baggage. Janssen reserved the right to carry the tapestry. He and Amalia retained a horse each while Dopff led the third horse by its reins so that Beatrix could sit on it. While progress was tardy, they were able to hide more swiftly whenever someone approached.
It was a fine night with stars twinkling in the sky like distant candles. Instead of stumbling along in complete darkness, they had a modicum of light. As ever, Daniel led the way, relying on an inner compass to take him in the right direction. They stopped by a brook to refresh themselves. Janssen had grown weary.
'I think we should snatch a few hours' sleep,' he said.
'We must press on,' argued Daniel.
'But we're all dog-tired.'
'It's better to move at night than in the day when we're more likely to be seen. We're being hunted like animals. Do you want to be caught and sent back to the Bastille?'
'Perish the thought!'
'I don't think you'd be offered a comfortable cell next time.'
'I'm certain of it,' agreed Janssen. 'I'm just worried about Amalia. She almost fell off the horse at one point and Kees must be exhausted, going on foot all the time.'
'It's tiring for all of us, I know,' said Daniel, 'but we simply must persevere. It would be folly to stop now.'
'What happens when dawn breaks?'
'We'll simply have to be more circumspect.'
'How far away is the border?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Have you any idea where we actually are?'
Daniel was honest. 'No, I'm afraid not.'
Growing increasingly fatigued, they forced themselves to move on, keeping to a track that took them on a winding route through open countryside. Whenever they reached a village or a hamlet, they went around it. At one point, they went through a stand of trees and heard rustling noises in the undergrowth. An owl hooted above them and startled the horses. Nocturnal creatures were all round them. Daniel was used to marching through the night and going without sleep. For the others, however, it was a wholly new and debilitating experience. Every time he glanced at them, Daniel could see them flagging badly.
They were at the bottom of a hill when he caught sight of some riders silhouetted against the sky as they came over the crest. Daniel waved to the others to pull off the track. They dismounted and led their horses behind some bushes. Not daring to move or speak, they crouched behind the foliage until they heard the sound of hooves and the jingling of harness. The riders were getting ever closer. Eyes now accustomed to the darkness, Daniel
