'There's no such thing. Someone must lose and someone gain.'
'End the fighting and we're all beneficiaries,' said Ketel, eyes blazing with certainty. 'I know that the Duke will not give in until France renounces its claim to the Spanish throne but that will never happen. It's pointless to hold out for something that can never be attained.'
'I felt at the start that it could be attained,' said Mytens, his jowls wobbling. 'The thought that France could annexe Spain and take control of its empire was terrifying. It would have a monopoly on trade in all those colonies.'
'Nobody was more worried than me, Johannes. Yet now that it has happened — now that Spain has a French king — it doesn't seem quite so terrible. Besides,' he went on, adjusting his wig, 'we could gain concessions. Were we to sue for peace, we could insert terms in the treaty that would protect our merchants. We're a trading nation, for heaven's sake. That's our destiny. In fair competition, we're the equal of anyone.'
'You speak to the converted, Willem. For some time, I've been talking about the need to open negotiations with France.'
'What's been the response?'
'I hear that tired old slogan — No peace without Spain!'
'We strike too hard a bargain.'
The door opened and the maidservant brought in a flagon of wine and two glasses on a tray. When she had set the tray down on the table, Mytens dismissed her with a flick of the wrist. He poured wine into both glasses then handed one to Ketel.
'What shall we drink to, Willem?' he asked.
'To the only thing worth having,' said Ketel, 'and that's the prospect of peace.'
'It's a very long way off, I fear. Unless the Duke is dismissed from his command, there's no hope of an end to this war, even though it's killing our soldiers and bleeding our coffers dry.'
'Then the Duke must go. He's the barrier to peace.'
'Heinsius will not hear of it.'
'Why must the decision be left in his hands?'
'He'll always overrule critics like me, Willem.'
'Then let's find another way to remove the obstruction,' said Ketel, slyly. 'It's in everyone's interest to do so, after all. Let me ask you a straight question, Johannes.' He sucked his teeth. 'How far would you go to get rid of the Duke of Marlborough?'
Mytens met his gaze as he considered his reply. Instead of putting it into words, however, he simply raised his glass in a silent toast. Ketel gave a thin smile. They had sealed a bond.
Chapter Five
Tom Hillier had learnt his trade quickly. He had mastered the drum calls and could march in step with the others. Since he'd begun to stand up for himself, life in the army was much less of an ordeal. He no longer had cruel jokes played on him every day and had started to feel accepted. Even though hostilities against the French had now been suspended, the drummers did not rest. Like everyone else in camp, they continued to go through their drills so that they would be ready in the event of a sudden call to action. Longing to be tested in battle, Hillier brought a youthful zest to his playing. Henry Welbeck watched him from the shelter of some trees as his nephew marched up and down with the other drummers. The sergeant was startled when a firm hand fell on his shoulder.
'I've caught you, Henry,' said Daniel Rawson. 'In spite of what you pretended, I knew that you'd take an interest in the lad.'
'I just happened to be passing, Dan.'
'You never do anything by accident.'
'Very well,' confessed Welbeck. 'Perhaps I was curious to see how Tom was getting on. But that's all it was,' he added, wagging a finger. 'Curiosity.'
'And what have you discovered?'
'He seems to be faring quite well.'
'Things have settled down now,' explained Daniel. 'Ever since he had that fight with Hugh Dobbs, he's a different person.'
Welbeck was bemused. 'Who might Hugh Dobbs be?'
'He's one of the other drummers and he decided to make Tom's life a misery. You've seen the kind of japes that new recruits have to suffer. Dobbs even stole his drum and stuck it at the top of a tree.'
'How do you know all this?'
'I helped him to get the instrument down. I also advised him to give Dobbs a taste of his own medicine. What I suggested was putting a dead rat in his boot but Tom decided on something more drastic.'
'What did he do?' asked Welbeck with genuine interest.
'He challenged Dobbs to a fight and knocked him senseless. Tom may look spindly,' said Daniel, 'but, like me, he grew up on a farm. He's tough and wiry. Doing all those chores builds up your muscles. Also, of course, he comes from Welbeck stock. He's got your will to win, Henry.'
'How on earth did you get to hear about this fight, Dan?'
'He came and told me. It cost him a black eye but the other lad fared much worse. Dobbs won't bother him again.'
'I'm glad that Tom is finding his feet.'
'You might try talking to him yourself.'
'There's no need. I have no responsibility towards him.'
'But you do,' said Daniel. 'What really inspired him to join this regiment was that letter you wrote to your sister after the battle of Blenheim.' Welbeck flushed guiltily. 'I know your little secret, Henry. You do preserve family ties, after all.'
'I write a few lines once in a blue moon.'
'You're responsible for firing Tom's imagination and giving him the urge to be a soldier. The least you can do is to be a proper uncle to the lad. He's not asking for favours.'
'He'll get none,' said Welbeck.
'Stop treating him as a leper.'
'I've got far too much on my hands to bother about him.'
'Do you want him to go on thinking that his mother was right?' said Daniel. 'She told her son that you'd hate him simply because he was related to you. According to your sister, you never enjoyed being part of a family. It embarrassed you.'
'That's enough!' snapped Welbeck, interrupting him. 'I don't want to talk about my past. It doesn't exist anymore. As for Tom, I'll… watch him from a distance. It's all I'm prepared to do, Dan.' He took a last look at Hillier. 'In any case, I don't need to speak to him when I've got you to do that for me.'
'Oh, I won't be talking to him for a long time.'
'Why is that?'
'I'm leaving camp today. That's why I came looking for you. I wanted to bid farewell. His Grace has work for me.'
'What sort of work?'
'I've no idea,' said Daniel, shrugging. 'I'm on my way to find out.'
Seated at a table, the Duke of Marlborough finished the last of many letters he'd written that morning. He was alone in the tent with Adam Cardonnel. His secretary had been equally busy with correspondence. He sealed a letter then looked up.
'I wish that we had something of significance to report,' he said.
'Yes,' agreed Marlborough. 'It's been a fruitless campaign.'
'We did break through the Lines of Brabant.'
'Granted, but we were unable to build on that achievement. We had a chance to liberate the whole of the
