he’d taken to reach the clearing. When he emerged from the shadows of the forest, he blinked in the bright sunshine until his eyes became accustomed to the glare. While they’d lied about most things, Daniel believed that the men had told him the truth about the band of redcoats. If they roamed the area in search of prey, they may well have heard rumours about burnt farmhouses and butchered people. It was more than possible that they’d actually caught sight of the marauders.
As a result, Daniel kept his eyes peeled as he moved along, using the telescope to scan the landscape ahead. He saw other travellers a mile or more before he actually passed them but it was when he crested a hill that he spotted something of real interest. Far off to his right was a copse. At first glance, he noticed nothing and the telescope swept on. When it returned to the copse, however, Daniel saw something glinting in the sun. Concentrating his gaze on the trees, he watched for a couple of minutes until he realised what he was looking at. The object that glinted was a sabre and the man wearing it was in the uniform of the British army.
Matt Searle was enjoying a wrestling contest with one of the men when he heard the call from the lookout on the hill. The combatants immediately broke off and used the back of their hands to wipe away the sweat on their brows. The lookout descended the hill.
‘It’s Edwin,’ he told them, ‘and he’s in a hurry.’
Searle tensed. ‘Is anyone after him?’
‘No, Matt.’
‘He’d better not be leading anyone here, that’s all I can say.’
The thunder of hooves got closer then Lock came galloping into the yard before reining in his horse. He remained in the saddle.
‘I’ve just seen a wagon, Matt,’ he announced.
‘Where was it?’ asked Searle.
‘It was only a couple of miles from here.’
‘How many people were on it?’
‘There was just the one,’ said Lock, pleased that he was able to pass on good news. ‘The wagon was pulling two horses along.’
‘Which way was it heading, Edwin?’
‘It was going south, towards French territory.’
‘Then we’d better catch it before it gets there,’ decided Searle. ‘Mount up, everyone! It’s time for some highway robbery.’
When all seven of them had climbed into the saddle, Lock led them back in the direction from which they’d come. Burning a farmhouse after ravishing the women inside it was a more exciting venture for them but a lone wagon was too good a windfall to resist. Spare horses could always be sold at market for a high price and the wagon was bound to have something of value aboard. Searle rode beside his cousin who, after so many months with the band, had become such a competent horseman that he could be sent out on foraging expeditions. This particular one had delivered a prize.
‘Who was driving the wagon?’ asked Searle.
‘It was too far away for me to see that,’ said Lock. ‘All I know is that there was only one person.’
‘Well done, Edwin.’
‘He won’t try to run away from us. When he sees us coming, he’ll think we’re going to offer him our protection. We’ll have a sitting target, Matt.’
‘We will — and you can have the pleasure of killing him.’
They rode on until they reached the copse in which Lock had been hiding then veered off to join the road far beyond. Once on that, it was only a case of maintaining a steady speed and they’d overhaul the wagon. Searle yelled a command and the riders who’d been spread out behind him moved in to ride in twos. Seen by the driver of the wagon, they’d look like a British patrol. Mile after mile went by until they finally caught a glimpse of their quarry. Yet even as he came into view, they realised that their journey had been futile. A line of wagons was rolling along and the man they were after was about to join the convoy. The prize had slipped through their fingers.
‘Shit!’ exclaimed Searle before spitting on the ground. ‘Let’s go back, lads. There are far too many of them now. He was lucky.’
Sophie Prunier was away for almost half an hour and Amalia feared that she might not come back. If she’d been taken to Vendome, she reasoned, the woman might be forced to spend the night there. What would happen to her in those circumstances was unimaginable. While she clearly had some spirit, she could not hold a strong man at bay. Amalia was just about to give up all hope of seeing her again when the tent flap opened and Sophie stumbled back into the tent. She was even more dishevelled than before and was close to tears. Amalia helped her to one of the stools.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
Sophie was panting. ‘It was awful,’ she said.
‘Did they take you to the commander?’
‘No, Amalia.’
‘Then where did you go?’
‘I went to Lieutenant Bouteron’s quarters. He apologised for bringing me here and said it was a big mistake. He begged me to forgive him.’
‘You should have asked for his help,’ said Amalia. ‘You should have appealed to his sense of honour.’
‘That’s exactly what I did.’
‘How did he react?’
‘He gave me his word that he’d get me out of the camp.’
‘That’s marvellous — when do you leave?’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Amalia.’
‘But you just said that you were.’
‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ said Sophie. ‘My freedom came at a price. Lieutenant Bouteron promised that he’d secure my release but on one condition.’
‘And what was that?’
‘I had to give myself to him.’
She buried her face in her hands. Amalia was too shocked to speak. The other woman had been cruelly betrayed. Brought into the camp in order, as she thought, to be shown around, she was unable to leave without sacrificing her virginity. Amalia felt desperately sorry for her and alarmed about her own position.
‘There was something else he told me,’ said Sophie, uncovering her face. ‘The lieutenant swore that he’d be considerate to me but that I wasn’t to look for the same consideration from the duc de Vendome. He has a terrible reputation where women are concerned, it seems. There’s no way out, Amalia,’ she went on, helplessly. ‘If I stay here in the camp, then sooner or later, I’ll be summoned to his tent to let that monster have his way with me.’
The council of war held in the French camp was relatively brisk. Since they were approving royal commands sent from Versailles, none of the generals present raised any objection. Hoping to bask in the sun of supreme command, the Duke of Burgundy was irritated when he wasn’t allowed to do so. Instead, people kept deferring to Vendome and putting the questions to him. When the meeting had ended and everyone had dispersed, Burgundy was left alone with his second in command. He was in a bad mood.
‘There was no need for you to speak so much, my lord Duke,’ he said, tetchily. ‘We could have done without your lectures.’
Vendome smiled. ‘When answers are requested from me, it would be impolite not to provide them. I said nothing with which you disagree, my lord, did I?’
‘That’s beside the point. They all kept looking at you.’
‘I’ll be the first to acknowledge that you are a more handsome spectacle. Why they stared at me, I simply can’t imagine.’
Burgundy was piqued by the complacency in his voice. Trying to hide his displeasure, he tackled Vendome on another matter.
‘I hear disturbing rumours about you,’ he began.
