‘My heart won’t stand it.’
‘You’ll survive,’ said Daniel.
‘I don’t like it up here.’
‘It may not be for long.’
‘How do I get down?’
‘It’s easy,’ said Daniel, dropping the rope and sliding effortlessly down to the ground. ‘Pull it up out of sight.’ The rope vanished behind the leaves. ‘Well done, Henry,’ he called to the now invisible sergeant. ‘Make sure that you have the pistol ready.’
Welbeck took the weapon from the holster attached to his belt.
‘I may use this to kill myself,’ he warned.
‘Stand by — no more words.’
Daniel slipped quietly away and concealed himself behind some thickets on the other side of the road. It was a long wait and he began to fear that Welbeck would be unable to stay aloft indefinitely. The sergeant’s fear of heights could only worsen as time went by. Daniel was still wondering if anybody would come when he finally heard the distant rumble of wagons. A convoy was on its way and it was soon making so much noise that the sergeant was sure to hear it. There were twenty vehicles in all, packed with provisions and flanked by soldiers. As the first set of wheels rolled past him, Daniel was only a few feet away. A second cart passed, then a third, then a fourth. When over half of the convoy had gone, there was still no sound from Welbeck. Daniel felt certain that his friend must have sustained an injury, dropped the pistol or simply decided to abandon the plan.
Then, when it was almost too late, there was the sudden report of a gun, reverberating through the woods to the left. It caused immediate consternation, sending dozens of birds squawking into the sky. Horses neighed shrilly between the shafts and some tried to rear up on their back heels. There was great confusion. An order was barked and the convoy juddered to a halt. Soldiers drew their swords and spread out so that they could search the wood opposite. The sound had been deceptive. Some thought it came from the right, others from the left and others again from a point straight ahead. They kicked their horses forward. While the soldiers combed the woods, the drivers stayed on their carts, staring in dismay at the trees opposite and wondering if an ambush was imminent. Everyone had his back to the woods behind them.
The search was swift but methodical. They looked everywhere, using their swords to hack at bushes and shrubs. The one thing they never thought to do, however, was to look upwards so they never saw the chunky figure of Henry Welbeck, clinging on to the bough for dear life. At length, when they were convinced there was no danger, the soldiers trotted back to the convoy. One of them waved an arm to signal that there was no need for alarm.
‘It must have been a hunter!’ he shouted. ‘There’s nobody there now. Move on!’
Whips cracked and the vehicles creaked slowly into action again, rolling noisily towards the French camp. The interruption was over and all was well again. With their eyes fixed on the road ahead, nobody noticed that they now had a passenger. Daniel had crept under one of the wagons and was suspended between the axles.
Welbeck, meanwhile, had to solve the problem of how to descend from the tree without hurting himself. Daniel had made it look easy but his friend was much heavier and far less agile. After waiting until the noise of the convoy had faded away, Welbeck dropped the rope so that it dangled to the ground. Then he took a firm grip on it and rolled slowly off the bough, bringing both legs together around the rope. He was now hanging in mid-air and assaulted by fears that the bough might break, the rope might slip from his grasp or that he’d somehow lose consciousness and plunge to his death.
Lowering himself with painful slowness, he waited until he had gone down a few yards before swinging on the rope so that he could get within reach of the trunk of the tree. That promised solidity. It needed several attempts before his legs closed gratefully around the trunk and he was able to discard the rope altogether. Confidence restored, Welbeck climbed down through the lower branches until he could jump to the ground. Hurrying to the road, he saw that it was utterly deserted. He let out a cry of amazement.
‘Bugger me!’ he exclaimed. ‘The plan worked.’
Known for his considerate treatment of his men, Marlborough could be ruthless when time served. As soon as he heard that the deserters had been apprehended, he ordered a court martial and presided over it in person. Matthew Searle and his followers were arraigned on charges of desertion, arson, rape, theft and wilful murder. Because the evidence against them was overwhelming, the trial was short. It was time to pass judgement. Cowed and pathetic, they pleaded for mercy. Marlborough was outraged.
‘How dare you ask for mercy,’ he said with vehemence, ‘when you showed none to your unfortunate victims. How dare you have the audacity to imagine that you deserve anything but the death sentence for your appalling crimes. Had you repented of your desertion and returned immediately to this camp, I should have been inclined to be more lenient. But that was not the case here. Oh, no,’ he went on with controlled anger. ‘Wearing the uniform of the British army, you started a reign of terror that consisted of rape, theft, murder and the wanton destruction of property by fire. You brought untold shame upon us and that is unforgivable.’
He consulted briefly with the officers seated either side of him. They agreed wholeheartedly with what he proposed. Marlborough rose to his feet and looked hard at each man in turn before speaking.
‘You have been found guilty of heinous crimes,’ he declared, ‘and you’ve brought disgrace to the uniforms you once wore. The sentence of this court is that each and every one of you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead.’
‘No, no,’ cried Edwin Lock. ‘We’d rather be shot, Your Grace.’
‘It’s more honourable,’ said Searle.
‘For that reason alone, it’s denied you,’ said Marlborough. ‘You have no right to talk of honour. What you did was so dishonourable that it defies belief. How could British soldiers behave with such unconscionable barbarity? How could you sink so swiftly to the level of savages?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Take them away and hold them in custody until a gallows has been built.’
Now in chains, the prisoners were dragged away, two armed guards to each of them. Marlborough thanked the other members of the court martial and they began to disperse. Adam Cardonnel had been watching the whole event. He walked across to Marlborough.
‘You showed too much compassion, Your Grace,’ he said.
‘I certainly felt none, Adam.’
‘Hanging is too good for them. Those men were evil. They should have been burnt alive at the stake.’
‘That sentence is not permitted, alas,’ said Marlborough, sadly, ‘though I can see that it would be a form of poetic justice.’
‘What will happen now?’
‘Word must be sent out to other farms to assure them that the culprits have now been caught and will answer with their lives. We must try everything we can to win back their goodwill.’
‘It may already be too late for that, Your Grace.’
‘Then there’s the boy who survived the raid on his farm. When you write to the people who are looking after him, send them my personal apology. I hope they’ll take some consolation from the fact that the deserters will be put to death.’
‘When will the sentence be carried out?’
‘Not until Captain Rawson and Sergeant Welbeck have returned. According to the report, it was they who led the attack on the place where those vile men were hiding. We must wait,’ said Marlborough. ‘Rawson and Welbeck would hate to miss the occasion.’
‘You’re assuming that they will come back,’ said Cardonnel.
‘Do you harbour any doubts about that?’
‘One is bound to feel some qualms, Your Grace.’
‘I don’t,’ said Marlborough. ‘If I did I’d never have sanctioned the enterprise. To be candid, Daniel Rawson is one of the few people in the Confederate army who doesn’t give me qualms. Somehow — and some day — he’ll come safely back to us.’
It was not the most comfortable way to enter the camp. Hanging under the wagon, Daniel had had to put up with persistent noise, choking dust and an intense ache in every muscle. To add to his problems, one of the horses
