‘I’m sorry I had to do that,’ said Daniel. ‘I was up against unfair odds so I had to disable one of you.’
‘The brawl is over now, Gustave,’ said the old man. ‘We’re all friends.’
‘Let’s drink to that.’
Daniel found another flagon of wine in his wagon and passed it round. The mood became even friendlier and the sutlers began to reminisce about the years they’d spent trailing after French armies. It was interesting to hear their descriptions of battles in which Daniel had fought. When they cursed the Duke of Marlborough in colourful language, Daniel didn’t object. It was a perverted form of flattery. What was evident was that all three of them felt that a French victory was now inevitable.
‘Why do you believe that?’ asked Daniel.
‘We’ve talked to the soldiers,’ said Alphonse. ‘They’ve told us they can’t fail this time.’
‘That will depend on their commanders.’
‘Vendome is a good general,’ said the old man, knowledgeably. ‘He made a fool of Marlborough last year. We know — we were there.’
‘What about the duc de Burgundy?’
‘He’s young but he has royal blood. That counts for a lot. His Majesty wouldn’t have put him in charge if he didn’t have faith in his grandson. The duc is a fine-looking man.’
‘You’ve seen him, then?’
‘We’ve seen them all,’ boasted Alphonse. ‘I’ll show you where his quarters are, if you wish.’
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel. ‘I’d like that. And I’d very much like to see where Vendome has his quarters as well.’
‘Then you will, Gustave. You can count on me.’
Daniel was grateful. If Amalia was in the camp, he surmised that she’d be kept somewhere close to Vendome. Thanks to his friendship with the three men, he wouldn’t have to grope around in the dark, trying to locate the right area of the camp. Alphonse would lead him right to it. Unaware that they might be aiding and abetting an enemy soldier, the sutlers talked and joked for hours. They told Daniel everything he needed to know. It was a good omen.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With every hour that passed, Emanuel Janssen became more anxious. Unable to sleep, he was so concerned about his daughter’s safety that he was also unable to work. All that he did during the day was to pace the house restlessly then dash to the front door whenever someone rang the bell. However, the good news for which he yearned never came. Beatrix was equally despondent and kept blaming herself for the abduction. She’d been Amalia’s chaperone at the time and felt that she’d let her down badly. Janssen had to reassure her constantly.
‘It was my fault,’ she wailed yet again.
‘Don’t think that for a moment,’ he said. ‘You were up against strong and determined men. You had no chance.’
‘I should have fought back.’
‘How could you when you’d been shoved to the ground?’
‘I failed.’
‘That’s nonsense!’
‘Wherever Miss Amalia is,’ said Beatrix, stricken by remorse, ‘she’s probably blaming me for letting her get kidnapped.’
‘Amalia would never do that. She’s more likely to be wondering how you are. According to your story, you let out such a scream when you were thrown to the ground that she must have heard it.’ He peered solicitously at her. ‘How are you now, Beatrix?’
‘The bruises still hurt.’
‘You were lucky that no bones were broken.’
‘Forget me,’ she said, bravely. ‘The only person we should both be thinking about now is Miss Amalia. Why did someone do that to her? I just can’t fathom it out.’
‘No more can I,’ admitted Janssen, running a nervous hand across his furrowed brow. ‘I keep returning to the notion that it must somehow be connected with me.’
‘Oh, I don’t believe that.’
‘The French must have been very angry when I slipped from their grasp in the Bastille. This could be a means of revenge.’
‘Then why wait so long to take it?’
‘Who knows?’
‘Besides,’ she went on, face puckered in concentration as she thought it through, ‘if they wanted revenge, why didn’t they kidnap you instead? I think there’s another reason, sir.’
‘I’ve been racking my brains trying to think what it is.’
‘So have I.’
They were in the voorhuis, the entrance hall to the Janssen house. While he was continually on the move, rubbing his hands and chewing his lip, she was standing in a corner, her face still bruised from the fall. Beatrix kept searching through her memory of the fateful day for a forgotten detail that might shed some light on the motives of the kidnappers. Because she could find no explanation, her fears became more and more extreme.
‘We’re not even sure that Miss Amalia is still alive,’ she said.
Janssen was firm. ‘Don’t say that, Beatrix. We have to believe that she’s alive. If they intended to kill her, then they’d have done so when they attacked the pair of you. No,’ he decided, fighting off a rising despair, ‘I won’t entertain the idea that my daughter is dead. Amalia is alive.’
‘But where is she?’
‘I wish I knew.’
‘My fear is that she may have been smuggled on board a ship and taken off to be sold into slavery. You hear tales of beautiful young women being handed over to Turks or Arabs so that they can…’
Her voice tailed off but her expressive face completed the sentence. Janssen refused to consider the possibility. Once he let such terrible thoughts into his mind, he’d be in torment. He was an intelligent and rational man. Having to calm his servant’s nerves helped him to keep his own demons at bay. Unlike the fretful Beatrix, he was no martyr to a vivid imagination.
She suddenly remembered the letter he’d sent.
‘Have you heard from the Duke of Marlborough?’ she asked.
‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’
‘Will he pass on your message to Captain Rawson?’
‘I’m sure of it, Beatrix.’
‘The captain will be as anxious as we are. He adores Miss Amalia.’ She gave an involuntary shiver. ‘He’ll probably think it was my fault that this happened.’
‘He’s far too sensible to do that.’
‘Then why do I feel so guilty?’
‘For the same reason that I feel guilty,’ he replied. ‘We both feel a duty of care to Amalia. Yet at the very time she needed us most, we weren’t able to save her. You’re not the only one to feel responsible. I lie awake at night, squirming with guilt. I keep telling myself that, as her father, I should have been there.’
‘Amsterdam is such a safe city as a rule,’ said Beatrix, dolefully. ‘When we walked the streets, we never sensed any danger.’
‘That’s why you and Amalia were caught off guard.’
‘Where on earth can she be?’
As if in answer to her plea, the bell rang and they both turned to the front door. Beatrix rushed to open it wide, only to meet with grave disappointment. Instead of word from Amalia, it was a delivery of wool and silk. Janssen asked the servant to take it into the workshop. Left alone, he clasped his hands in prayer and looked upward.
