Though the cottage was largely derelict, the highwaymen had taken the trouble to make part of it habitable so that it could be used from time to time as a place to spend the night.
Upstairs rooms had been allowed to decay but the parlour and kitchen had not. They'd repaired doors, made new shutters and supported the main beam with a stout timber upright. When the place had been swept clean and mattresses brought in, it was a useful hiding place. The two men sat either side of a table in the kitchen, drinking some of the wine they stored there. It had been a profitable day and they had much to celebrate. After a long discussion about its contents, Armand had penned a ransom demand in spidery handwriting.
The leader of the little gang had then produced a pack of cards so that they could decide who'd first have the privilege of an hour naked on one of the mattresses with their lovely female captive. It added spice and incentive to the game. As the cards were dealt, they were in high spirits. Their capture of the travellers had been a stroke of good fortune. Money and pleasure had been dropped into their laps and there was promise of a huge ransom. Armand picked up his cards and smiled inwardly. With such a hand, he felt that he was bound to win. It was the other man who heard the noise.
'What was that?' said the leader, straining his ears.
'I heard nothing.'
'It sounded like hoof beats.'
'You must be mistaken,' said Armand, drooling over the cards he held. 'All I can hear is the sound of the wind.'
'Let's go and see,' said the other, getting to his feet.
'Play the game first. I want to win.'
'That can wait, Armand. There was a definite noise.'
Opening the rear door of the cottage, he went out into the rain and looked towards the open door of the barn. The coach was no longer there and their own horses had also disappeared.
'Armand!' he cried. 'Come quickly!'
He ran across to the barn and saw Gustave stretched out on the floor, his neck bruised and his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Armand soon arrived to stand over the dead body. The highwaymen were mystified. During their time in the cottage, they'd lost everything.
'How could they possibly have done it?' wondered Armand.
The leader pondered. 'It was the coachman,' he decided.
They rode for miles before they felt it was safe to stop. Dopff had driven the coach, pulling along the horse tethered to it. Daniel had taken charge of the other horses stolen from the highwaymen, riding one and leading the other by the reins. Having spent all of his life in the army, he'd often been in situations where he'd had to kill or be killed. He never harboured regrets. The moment that Gustave had been strangled, Daniel had forgotten him but the death could not be so easily dismissed by the others. Beatrix was still sickened by what she'd witnessed, Dopff was dismayed and Janssen, though grateful to be rescued by Daniel for the second time, was aghast at the cold efficiency with which he'd taken a man's life.
Amalia was caught up in a tangle of emotions. She felt relief, disgust, hope, fear and remorse. Daniel had saved her from being raped and intense gratitude was thus uppermost in her mind. But he'd done so by strangling someone to death in front of her and it had been nauseating to watch. It made her look at Daniel in a slightly different way. Loving him for his bravery, she was also wary of him now. His strength was frightening. She'd only seen his kindness and tenderness before. Watching him as a soldier, trained to kill, had been a chastening experience. While accepting that it had been a necessary death, she was still very disturbed by it.
The storm had spent its force now and no longer battered them. As the others tried to get their breath back, Daniel inspected the saddlebags on the three horses. They were full of weapons and of plunder from previous ambushes. He gathered all the money up and put it under the seat in the coach. Then he selected a dagger and a pistol, glad that there was plenty of ammunition to go with it. There was still enough light for him to study the map he'd kept hidden in his coat. Amalia and her father came over to interrupt him.
'Where are we going?' asked Janssen.
'Well, it won't be to Beauvais,' replied Daniel, 'I can tell you that much. We need to strike north-east. Since I'll ride one of the horses, the load will be lightened somewhat. We can press on harder.'
'I can ride as well, if need be, and Amalia is a very competent horsewoman. Riding is one of the few things we did together.'
'I enjoy it,' she confirmed. 'It was something I missed in Paris because Father was too busy. I'll be glad to take one of the horses.'
'That will speed us up considerably,' said Daniel. 'Kees will be our coachman and Beatrix his only passenger. The coach will be much easier to pull.' He indicated the three animals. 'Choose any horse you wish.'
Janssen went off to do so but Amalia lingered beside Daniel.
'I haven't been able to thank you properly,' she said. 'You saved me from that awful man. I hated what you did but I admired your courage in doing it.'
'I'm sorry you had to be there when it happened.'
'None of us had any choice in the matter.'
'We'll take care not to be caught like that again,' he said.
She looked over her shoulder. 'What about those men?'
'They'll never catch up with us on foot, Amalia.'
'They might find other horses somehow,' she said, 'then they'd be certain to come after us.'
'They'd be very foolish to do so,' said Daniel. 'We have their weapons and ammunition. In any case,' he added, folding up his map, 'they'll be riding in the wrong direction altogether. They think we're going to Beauvais.'
Tom Hillier was looking forward to the experience with an uneasy mixture of timidity, excitement and trepidation. At first he tried to get out of it, providing endless feeble excuses. Hugh Dobbs refused to accept any of them, insisting that he joined the three of them who intended to visit the town that night. Hillier was committed. He liked girls but had had very little to do with them when working on the family farm. It was only at dances and harvest festival celebrations that he spent any real time in female company and he'd always felt awkward in doing so. It was one thing to share ribald jokes with his new friends but quite another to go to bed with a woman. The possible fear of failure tormented him.
Some armies allowed prostitutes to travel with the troops or gave them ready access wherever they pitched camp. The Duke of Marlborough had done his best to stamp out such practices, believing that soldiers fought best when not distracted by pleasures of the flesh. Women did accompany his army with the baggage wagons but they were the actual or common-law wives of particular individuals and, as such, were not seen as posing any threat. Marlborough had fought in armies where venereal diseases had disabled some of the men and he didn't want his own soldiers to be affected in that way. Lust, however, could never be wholly controlled, especially in virile young men. Those eager for sexual passion would always find it somewhere.
As the hour for departure drew near, Hillier lay on his back in the tent with his hands behind his head, wishing for a thunderstorm or some other obstacle to prevent them from leaving. Dobbs rolled over and shook him by the arm.
'It won't be long now, Tom,' he said.
'You'd better go without me, Hugh. I don't feel well.'
'I was as sick as a dog before my first time but she made it so easy for me. My head was in the clouds for days.'
'What if we're caught leaving the camp?' asked Hillier.
'We won't be.'
'I still think it's too risky.'
'The only risk you take is of catching something nasty between the sheets and that won't happen here. The women are as clean as can be. What you'll be getting is healthy recreation.'
'I'm not sure that I'm old enough, Hugh.'
'Of course, you are,' said Dobbs. 'I was only fifteen.'
There was no escape. Resigning himself to the inevitable, Hillier brooded on what lay ahead. Two of the
