‘Dear God,’ he said, ‘please keep Amalia free from harm.’
‘Father will be driven insane by worry,’ said Amalia, ‘and so will Beatrix. She’s been like a second mother to me. But then,’ she went on, looking at Sophie, ‘your parents will be suffering as well.’
‘They won’t,’ said Sophie, ‘because they have no idea that I’ve gone astray. Father had business in Paris so he took Mother with him. I thank heaven that they know nothing at all about this.’
‘If they did, they could come to your rescue.’
‘They’d be shocked that I let myself get into this position.’
‘You were deceived. They can’t blame you for that.’
‘Yes, they can, Amalia. They think that I’ve always been too headstrong. Mother will be horrified but Father will chastise me. He brought me up to be wary of invitations from men. To be honest, I hope that my parents never learn the truth.’
‘But they’re bound to, Sophie.’
‘Only if I tell them and I’m too ashamed to do that.’
It was evening and the two women were talking in their tent over the remains of the meal they’d been served. Candles cast flickering shadows on the canvas. Seated on a stool apiece, they sipped cups of wine. The food had been good and the wine was more than tolerable so they were at least being cared for properly. Amalia still clung to the hope that Daniel would somehow come for her but Sophie had lapsed into a dull resignation. Accepting what she feared was inevitable, she stared at the ground. Amalia was upset at the way her companion’s spirit seemed to have drained out of her.
‘All may yet be well,’ she predicted.
Sophie was inconsolable. ‘How can it be?’
‘You must never give up hope.’
‘What possible hope is there for me, Amalia?’
‘I can’t say for certain. What I can tell you is that, when my father disappeared in Paris, I never gave in to horrid thoughts. Difficult as it was, I simply kept faith that it would somehow all come right in the end.’ Amalia smiled at the memory. ‘And it did.’
‘That was only because you had someone to ride to your rescue. I have nobody in my life like that. Captain Rawson treated you with respect,’ said Sophie, enviously, ‘but I’ve had little of that. Lieutenant Bouteron is more interested in capturing me than helping me escape.’
‘He may yet relent.’
‘You don’t know him, Amalia.’
‘He can’t keep you here against your will.’
‘Yes, he can,’ said Sophie. ‘I’m not the first woman to be tricked like this and I don’t suppose I’ll be the last. The lieutenant told me that the last one was glad to offer herself to him in return for her freedom — though I’m not sure that I believe that. Quite frankly, after what’s happened so far, I can’t trust anything he says.’
Sophie fell silent. Wanting to comfort her new friend, Amalia couldn’t think of anything to do or say. Her fear was that both of them might be victims of the duc de Vendome’s lechery. Whenever she thought of the way that he’d looked her up and down, she felt nauseous. It was a new and unsettling experience for her. Though Amalia had been brought to the camp to act as a hostage, it might not be her only function. She, too, could be forcibly deflowered. The very notion made her feel faint. Amalia was highly sympathetic to Sophie’s plight but she was now even more in dread of what might befall her as well. Her hopes began to wane. Even if Daniel did eventually come for her, he might well be too late to save her from molestation. As the evening wore on, Amalia felt increasingly defenceless.
When the summons finally came, it was not for her. The tent flap was pulled abruptly back and two men stepped into the tent. One was an officer and the other a guard. Amalia and Sophie rose to their feet and retreated a few paces. The officer stood with both hands on his hips.
‘Well,’ he said to Sophie, ‘have you made your decision yet?’
‘Leave me alone,’ she pleaded.
‘Since you reject me, I’ll hand you over to someone else.’
‘Is this how you treat guests to the camp, Lieutenant Bouteron?’
He grinned. ‘That depends how pretty they are.’ His eyes flicked to Amalia. ‘And it’s a long time since we’ve had two visitors as pretty as both of you.’ He extended a hand to Sophie. ‘Are you coming?’
‘No,’ she retorted with a show of defiance.
‘Then you’ll need some assistance.’
Bouteron nodded to the guard. Moving quickly, the man took Sophie firmly by the arm. When Amalia tried to stop her from being dragged off, she was brushed aside by the lieutenant who then followed the others out. Fired by a mixture of fear and anger, Amalia tried to go after them, only to find that she was staring down the barrel of the musket that the outside guard aimed at her. All that she could do was to withdraw into the tent. Sophie had gone. It might be Amalia’s turn next. Dropping onto a stool, she burst into tears.
The tour was very thorough. As they walked through the camp, Alphonse was able to make clandestine deliveries of tobacco and wine to some of his customers. He’d been following French armies all his life yet had somehow managed to avoid being recruited. He told Daniel that he came from a family of sutlers who’d spent the best part of a century meeting the needs of soldiers on the march. Daniel was less interested in this personal history than he was in the way that the camp was laid out. Everywhere they went, he made a mental note of what he saw. When campfires pierced the gloom from time to time, they kept to the shadows to evade attention. Eventually, they came to the quarters occupied by Vendome. From inside the tent came sounds of revelry.
‘He likes to enjoy himself,’ said Alphonse.
‘I see.’
‘There’s no trade for us here, Gustave. Commanders have their own source of supplies. We do our business with the lower ranks. Victor, of course, is always in demand.’
‘Why is that?’ asked Daniel.
‘He’s a blacksmith. The cavalry always have need of him.’
‘Then he had no call to attack me.’
‘You’re lucky that it was Victor and not his wife,’ said Alphonse with a chortle. ‘She’s even bigger and stronger than he is. While Victor is shoeing horses, Josette sells from the back of their wagon. He didn’t want you to take away any of her trade.’
Daniel let him babble on, only half-listening to Alphonse’s mixture of advice, reminiscence and crude humour. Eyes now accustomed to the darkness, Daniel kept looking for the most likely place where Amalia might be detained. There were guards outside Vendome’s quarters but few other people were about. What he was looking for was another tent protected by armed guards but none presented itself. He and Alphonse were about to move on when two figures emerged like ghosts out of the murky heart of the camp. A woman was being hustled along by a soldier with a musket. Daniel’s stomach lurched. Suspecting that it was Amalia, he instinctively took a few steps forward before checking himself. To attack her escort now would be foolish. He’d be giving himself away. He and Amalia were certain to be caught. Alarmed as he was at the way she was being manhandled, Daniel had to bide his time.
As the couple approached a tent in the shadows, another guard came out of it. He and the first man pushed the woman inside then remained where they were on sentry duty. Daniel was at once angry and grateful, incensed by the rough treatment he’d witnessed yet indebted to the soldiers for the guidance they’d given. The trip around the camp with Alphonse had yielded a bonus.
He knew where Amalia was being held.
In fact, the woman he’d seen only in outline had been Sophie Prunier. Thrust into the tent, she had difficulty staying upright at first and Amalia had to steady her. Something had clearly happened. Sophie had a hunted look to her. Sinking down on to a stool, she put her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. Amalia didn’t disturb her. The other woman patently wanted to be alone with her thoughts. To ask her to describe her ordeal would be unkind and improper. When she was ready to talk, she would. Amalia therefore kept a silent vigil beside her, noting the way that she hunched her shoulders and kept her face hidden. Sophie had been away from the tent for some time so her
