‘We don’t have to do that.’
‘Then how do we get him here?’
‘We simply lure him to us.’
Valeran was puzzled. ‘Lure him?’
‘All it takes is a little imagination.’
‘Then I must confess that I lack it, Your Grace. I fail to see what could possibly lure such a man out of the safety of his army.’
‘Read this again,’ suggested Vendome, thrusting the letter at him. ‘Rawson is clearly an adventurer. He’s ready to take chances and court peril. What we need to find is something that would tempt him to come here.’
‘And how do we do that?’
‘We gather more information about this fellow and we do so with some urgency. It’s clear that the bold captain has many strong points. But he’ll also have weaknesses.’
‘What sort of weaknesses?’
‘Does he have a wife, a lover, a family — or what about a favourite child? There must be someone for whom he’d risk his neck, someone who isn’t surrounded by an army and is therefore easier to get at. That’s where we need to strike. Who is the most important person in his private life?’
‘I have no idea,’ admitted Valeran.
‘Then find out. Send a coded message back to the British camp.’
‘What must it say?’
‘We need more detail about this Daniel Rawson. I don’t care how brave and resourceful he is. Everyone has an Achilles’ heel. Discover what the captain’s is,’ said Vendome, rubbing his hands together, ‘and he’s ours. That’s the message to send, Raoul. Whom or what does he love most?’
Amalia Janssen gazed longingly through the window. Most of the shops they’d stopped at were filled with the neat but plain dresses that were the fashion among the women of Amsterdam. This shop was different. It displayed a colour and cut that reminded her of the months in Paris yet there was no hint of vulgarity. All the dresses she could see had such style and beauty. Amalia simply goggled.
‘We always come here,’ noted Beatrix.
‘It’s the best way home.’
The servant smiled. ‘The best for you, maybe,’ she said, ‘because it lets you stare through that window for as long as you like. I’ve no call to be looking at dresses like that. I could never find one to fit me and, even if I could, I could never afford to buy it.’ She pointed a finger. ‘Can you imagine what your father would say if he saw me in something like that?’
‘He’d be amazed, Beatrix.’
‘He’d order me to take it off at once.’
‘Well, you could hardly do any chores wearing that. And — I don’t mean this at all unkindly — you don’t really have the shape for any of the dresses on display here.’
‘But you do, Miss Amalia.’
‘Yes,’ said Amalia with a sigh. ‘I believe that I do.’
‘Then ask Captain Rawson to buy one of them for you.’
Amalia giggled. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ asked Beatrix. ‘I’m sure that he’d oblige.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘He’s bought you gifts before.’
‘Father might not approve.’
‘That’s not true at all, Miss Amalia. Your father dotes on him almost as much as you do — and with good cause. But for Captain Rawson, all three of us would be lying somewhere in a French grave. And the same goes for Kees.’
‘I know all that,’ said Amalia. ‘What I meant was that Father wouldn’t approve of my choice. He adores colour in his tapestries yet prefers sober hues in everything I wear. I still have dresses in my wardrobe that belonged to my mother.’
‘Your mother was always very smart,’ said Beatrix with a nostalgic smile. ‘You are very much like her in that respect.’
Amalia was about to point out that she was developing rather different tastes but she broke off instead. Talking about her mother always brought back unhappy memories of her untimely death. If the conversation had continued, Amalia knew that she and Beatrix would eventually end up in tears. Turning away from the shop, she put aside any thoughts of a new dress and set off for home. Beatrix, a servant, friend and chaperone, fell in beside her.
‘How much longer will this war drag on?’ she asked, wearily.
‘I wish I knew, Beatrix.’
‘What does Captain Rawson say?’
‘He has no more idea than the rest of us.’
‘Yet he’s very close to the Duke of Marlborough. He must know what’s going on.’
‘The fighting will continue until one side gives in,’ said Amalia with a helpless shrug, ‘and that’s an unlikely prospect at the moment. There was talk of peace after the battle of Ramillies but, as usual, it came to nothing.’
Beatrix was morose. ‘I think it could go on for ever.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Beatrix. We must never give up hope.’
‘It’s the same thing every year — more killing, more misery. I’d hate to be the mother of sons in the army. You’d never know if they’d come back alive. To be married to a soldier would be even worse. You’d spend all your time worrying and…’ Her voice tailed off as she realised what she was saying. She became apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Amalia. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t talking about Captain Rawson.’
‘Let’s just change the subject, shall we?’ said Amalia, firmly.
‘He rides beside the Duke of Marlborough so he’s in no danger at all. Captain Rawson is safe. That must be a comfort to you.’
But Amalia was no longer listening. She had drifted off into a private world where there was no comfort at all. As long as the war continued, no British soldier was completely safe, especially one who took on the hazardous assignments that fell to Daniel Rawson. At any moment, his luck might finally run out. Filled with apprehension, she kept asking herself the same question.
‘Where are you now, Daniel?’
Because Daniel had changed out of his uniform, the farmer didn’t recognise him at first. When it dawned on him who his visitor was, however, he became hostile and ordered Daniel to leave at once. After what had happened at the neighbouring farm, he wanted nothing to do with British soldiers. It took Daniel a long time to calm him down and an even longer one to persuade him to bring the boy down from his room. Only when the farmer was convinced of Daniel’s sincerity did he agree that his visitor could talk to Jules, the young lad who’d witnessed the atrocities at his farm.
The boy came downstairs reluctantly. Since the outrage, he’d been weeping into his pillow, convulsed by a grief that was shot through with a burning desire for revenge. Daniel saw something of himself in Jules and was reminded of a time when his own world had been turned upside down by the arrival of soldiers. Daniel had at least been able to defend his mother. Jules had been utterly powerless and was plagued by guilt as a consequence. In the boy’s face, Daniel saw the same anger, hatred and confusion that he’d felt in the wake of the battle of Sedgemoor. The one consolation was that Jules had not actually seen his family being murdered. Daniel, by contrast, had watched his father being hanged.
When the farmer explained that their visitor was a British soldier, Jules lost his temper and hurled himself at Daniel, managing to land a few punches. He had to be restrained for a while. Daniel took his time, letting the boy’s rage die down a little.
‘I come as a friend, Jules,’ he said at length. ‘I want to catch the soldiers who attacked your farm. They were not acting on orders. I’m as anxious as you to make sure that they’ll pay for what they did to your family.’
