soldiers are ahead of us, ready to prevent us from seizing a town that controls a crossing over the Danube. Marshal Tallard is following with a sizeable army, trying to catch up and attack us. All my thoughts must be concentrated on war, Abigail. Much as I relish your company, you are a diversion.'
'An agreeable diversion, I hope.'
'That's what makes it worse — you're a temptation.'
'I promise to stay out of your way,' she said, 'as long as you remember that I'm here, thinking about you and wishing you well.'
'Thank you.'
'Don't send me away, Daniel.'
'I've no power to do so.'
'And tell me — just once — that you are glad to see me.'
'I am very glad,' he said with a smile, 'not least because I was concerned for your safety. There's only one problem.'
'What is that?'
'I must forego the pleasure of your company, Abigail.'
'For the time being,' she added hopefully.
Daniel touched her arm. 'For the time being,' he said.
They walked on in silence, listening to the birds and watching the water ripple and surge. The sun made an effort to peep through the clouds but it was thwarted. Abigail savoured every moment of it. There had been times during their gruelling journey when she feared she might never see Daniel Rawson again. To enjoy a leisurely stroll in the country with him — even though it was on the eve of a battle — was the fulfilment of a dream.
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
Frederic Seurel was restive. They had spent an hour or more hiding behind trees and crawling through bushes. It had all been in vain. Even with the aid of his telescope, Charles Catto had been unable to identify the Duke of Marlborough's regiment. Seurel was a man of limited patience. He soon began to protest.
'This is hopeless, Charles,' he said, swatting away an insect that landed on his face. 'The longer we stay, the more chance there is that we'll be seen by some of the pickets.'
'If we keep well-hidden, we're safe.'
'I'm fed up with lying on the ground.'
'How else can we keep the camp under surveillance?'
'I think we should get ahead of them tomorrow and watch out for Captain Rawson as they march past.'
'And then what?' asked Catto irritably. 'We can hardly ambush an entire army. You do make the most stupid suggestions, Frederic.'
'I hate trailing after them for week after week. If we overtake them, there's a faint chance that we may find Rawson off guard at some point. We can try to separate him from his regiment.'
'We need to do that now, while he's in camp.'
'You keep saying that.'
'I've had more experience of stalking than you,' said Catto, sitting up to stretch himself. 'I know how to wait, watch then strike when the right moment finally comes.'
'In this case, it may never come.'
'It already has come once, Frederic.'
'Stop harping on that,' said Seurel testily.
'We had him at our mercy and you let him go.'
'It wasn't deliberate.'
'That doesn't make it any the less annoying.'
'I've never let you down in the past, Charles.'
'No,' conceded the other, 'that's true. It's the reason I chose you. I needed someone who thought and acted like a soldier, someone who could kill quickly and ruthlessly.'
'I've done that enough times, believe me.'
'Captain Rawson has to die to satisfy General Salignac's desire for revenge. The more painful the death, the happier the general will be. He wants his wife and her lover to suffer.'
'The best way to do that is to capture him and leave him alone with me for an hour,' said Seurel with a glint. 'I know all the refinements of torture. When I was in the army, I could always get prisoners to talk.'
'We're not here to have a conversation with Rawson,' said Catto, 'and we don't have the luxury of time. All that the general wants is unmistakable proof that the captain will never be able to share a bed with his wife again.'
'What about General Salignac — will he share a bed with her?'
'Not until his temper cools, Frederic. He was still throbbing with fury when we spoke. Madame Salignac had been packed off to their mansion in the country where the servants have been ordered to watch her night and day.'
'She'll have no chance to find another lover then.'
'The general has clipped her wings.'
'I need a woman,' said Seurel restlessly. 'It's been weeks now. The last one I had was that tavern wench in Coblenz.'
'Save yourself until we've finished our task,' said Catto. 'When we get paid by the general, you'll be able to afford a different woman every night of the week.' He crouched down and applied his eye to the telescope once again. 'All we need is a slice of luck.'
'We'll never get it, Charles. This chase is doomed.'
'Chance sometimes contrives better than we ourselves.'
'Yes — it contrived to put the wrong man in that tent.'
'We have to forget that and try harder.'
'You are the one who keeps reminding me of it,' said Seurel resentfully. 'You won't let me forget it.'
'I'm sorry, Frederic. I was partly to blame. I should have come in that tent with you so that I could see if we had the right man.'
'He was a British soldier and I'm always happy to kill those.'
'You can't behead a whole regiment until you finally come to Captain Rawson,' said Catto, then his body stiffened with interest. 'Then again, you may not need to do that.'
'What have you seen?'
'Manna from heaven — I can't be sure until he gets closer but someone who looks very much like the captain is walking along the river bank towards us. Here,' he said, passing the telescope to Seurel. 'See for yourself. I told you it was only a question of waiting.'
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
The sky was slowly darkening as they ambled along side by side. Abigail Piper's disposition, however, was sunny. She felt restored, refreshed and cheerful. It was a moment worthy of record.
'I shall put this in my diary,' she decided.
'What?'
'This wonderful time we've snatched together.'
'It must soon come to an end,' he warned her. 'We'll have to turn back before too long. But it's been a delightful break and you're right to make a note of it.'
'I wrote something in my diary every day.'
'That must have been difficult sometimes.'
'Why?'
'You had some unpleasant experiences, Abigail. You would hardly rush to put those down on paper.'
'I felt that I had to do so. No matter how late it was — or how horrid our accommodation — I always managed to scribble a few lines at the end of the day. When we slept in a barn,' she recalled, 'Emily lit a candle and held it for me so that I could write.'
'Are you going to show your diary to your sister?'