surprise. His initial reluctance to act as coachman had given way to a positive relish for the task. He improved steadily and, with only two people on board, the vehicle was no strain for the powerful animal between the shafts. Dopff had overcome his natural fear of horses to develop a close relationship with this one. Whenever they rested, it was the little Dutchman who fed his horse or led it to water and he spent a lot of time simply standing beside the animal and patting it.
They encountered their first setback that afternoon. Riding ahead of them, Daniel spotted a detachment of soldiers marching towards him along the main road. He immediately galloped back to the others and diverted them on to a meandering track through a forest, hoping that it would take them in the right direction. Dopff's inexperience soon told. On a proper road, he could handle the coach with assurance but a bumpy track that constantly twisted and turned was another matter. He began to lose confidence. What broke his nerve completely was the appearance of a wild boar that darted suddenly out of some thickets and sped across their path. The coach horse neighed in alarm and bolted. Dopff tried manfully to keep hold of the reins until the overhanging branch of a tree swept him off his seat altogether.
The other horses had also been scared by the boar. Amalia and her father were struggling to control their mounts but it was Beatrix who was in most danger. As the coach careered on madly without a driver, brushing past thick bushes and bouncing off trees, she was thrown helplessly from side to side. Daniel responded at once. With a sharp dig of his heels, he galloped after the vehicle, praying that he could reach it before it overturned or was badly damaged. Beatrix's life was at stake. She was screaming hysterically. The track was narrow but there was just enough room for Daniel to pass. As he drew level, however, the coach lurched sideways and buffeted his horse, forcing him to pull back and wait until a better chance presented itself. Beatrix's howls grew more desperate by the second.
Bushes and trees then vanished magically as the coach entered a large clearing. Daniel didn't waste his opportunity. Kicking more speed out of his mount, he overtook the coach, came up alongside the horse and reached out to grab its bridle, pulling hard as he did so. The coach described a wide semicircle in the grass before finally coming to a halt. Daniel dismounted and made sure that the coach horse was sufficiently calmed before he ran to the vehicle itself. The moment he opened the door, Beatrix fell out gratefully into his arms, blubbering like a child. She was heavily bruised and frightened out of her wits but no bones had been broken.
Dopff had been less fortunate. Knocked from the driving seat, he'd tumbled to the ground and banged his head against the solid trunk of a tree. He was unconscious for several minutes and blood oozed from the gash in his skull. Amalia quickly tore off part of her petticoat to use as a bandage. She and her father crouched over Dopff until his eyelids at last flickered. They praised him for his bravery and assured him that he was not responsible for what had happened. He was still far too dazed to understand them.
Having sat Beatrix on the grass and given her a sip of water from a flagon they'd providentially filled, Daniel was able to inspect the damage to the coach. It consisted largely of scratches and dents though something had smashed a hole in one door. Daniel was more concerned about the coach horse, going over it carefully for signs of injury. Apart from several grazes, some of them spattered with blood, the animal had come through unscathed. It was now nibbling at some grass. Daniel was relieved. He'd learnt his lesson. From now on, he wouldn't foist the job of driving the coach on to Dopff. The risk was too great.
When the others eventually joined them, he reached a decision.
'I think it might be wise to break our journey for a while,' he said, 'don't you?'
Alone in the tent, still wearing the uniform soiled from his antics on the previous night, Tom Hillier had ample time for reflection. He was musing on the unfortunate turn of events that had landed him in his predicament when the tent flap was drawn back and Welbeck came in. Hillier was startled to see him.
'What are you doing here, Sergeant?' he asked.
'I might ask the same of you, lad.'
'I was absent without leave,' admitted the drummer.
'Why?'
'I was very foolish.'
'That's patently obvious. The question is why? You must be aware of the regulations by now. Why deliberately break them?'
'It was an accident, Sergeant.'
'Oh, I see,' said Welbeck with heavy sarcasm. 'You were strolling round the edge of the camp and you accidentally stepped outside its limits. The fact that it was in the middle of the night was also purely accidental, I'm sure.'
'I accept that I did wrong,' said Hillier, shamefaced.
'What use is that? You knew that you were doing wrong before you even set out. That should've deterred you.'
'I hoped that I wouldn't be caught.'
Welbeck grimaced. 'I've lost count of the number of times I've heard that pathetic bloody excuse. It's the reason that thieves steal or men commit murder. They hope they won't be caught. It's a hope that can justify any crime and — make no mistake about this, Tom — being absent without leave is a serious crime. If you disappear from camp while we're engaged in a campaign, you could be seen as a deserter.' He shook Hillier hard with both hands. 'Do you know what the army does to deserters?'
'I do, Sergeant.'
'Are you quite sure?'
'Deserters are shot.'
'Only the lucky ones,' said Welbeck. 'I can remember seeing a deserter given five hundred lashes. He was flayed to death. Is that how you want to end your time in the army?'
'No,' said Hillier in distress. 'I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I did. It won't ever happen again.'
'It shouldn't have happened this time. The only saving grace is that it wasn't your own idea. You were talked into it by others.'
'Nobody else was to blame.'
'Do you expect me to believe that?'
'I got myself into this mess alone,' affirmed Hillier.
'Where did you go? Come on, lad,' he went on as his nephew hesitated. 'I've been in the army a very long time and I know there are only a few reasons why soldiers are absent without leave. So please don't tell me you went fishing at night or collecting birds' eggs. You sneaked off to the town, didn't you?'
'I left camp without permission, Sergeant. That's all I can say.'
'And what am I to say to your mother about this incident? Am I to tell her that it took you less than six weeks in the army to catch the pox and earn yourself a flogging?'
'Please don't mention any of this to her,' begged Hillier.
'She'll want to know how you're getting on.'
'I know I'm in disgrace. Give me a chance to make amends for it.'
'And how are you going to do that, lad?' asked Welbeck with a mirthless laugh. 'You're about to be flogged. If you caught something nasty between the legs of some doxy last night, you'll spend the next couple of weeks wondering which itches most — your back or your balls.' Hillier blanched. 'Who went to the town with you?'
'I left here on my own, Sergeant.'
'Was it Dobbs, for instance?'
'Hugh Dobbs is nothing to do with this.'
'What about the other lads?'
'They were not involved,' said Hillier, firm under pressure. 'I was very stupid and I'm ready to pay the penalty for my stupidity.'
Welbeck appraised him. 'That's fair enough,' he concluded with the first whisper of sympathy. 'How are they treating you, Tom?'
'I've been under armed guard since I was caught.'
'Have they given you food and water?'
'No, Sergeant.'
'Have they allowed you to use a latrine?'
