Drums of War (18 page)

'And
yet he goes out of his way to warn you about me.'

'Sergeant
Welbeck has no reason to speak to me, sir.'

'I
don't believe that,' said Cracknell. 'The fact is that you know who I am so
it's time you discovered
what
I am as well. I loathe horseplay of any kind, Hillier. I hate indiscipline. In
my view - and it's been informed by years in this regiment - transgressors need
to be taught a lesson they won't forget.'

'Yes,
Major.'

'Do
you like being a drummer?'

'I
like it well enough, sir.'

'Do
you enjoy marching with the others?'

'I
do, sir.'

'Well,
you're going to do some marching on your own now. Do you see that wagon?' asked
Cracknell, pointing a finger.

'I
want you to find your drum and meet me there as quickly as you can.'

'Yes,
Major,' said Hillier before running off.

It
was the best part of a hundred yards to the wagon indicated. By the time that
Cracknell had reached it, Hillier came panting up with his drum. He awaited
instructions.

'You
won't need the drumsticks,' said Cracknell.

'Then
how shall I play it, sir?'

'You're
not going to play it. You're going to hold it high above your head with both
hands then you march from here all the way to where we were standing a while
ago. When you reach that point,' said Cracknell, 'you simply turn round and
march straight back here.'

'Yes,
Major.'

'You'll
keep going to and fro until I stop you. Is that understood, Tom Hillier?'

'Yes,
Major.'

'Then
let me see that drum held at arm's length.'

Hillier
obeyed. Tucking the drumsticks into his belt, he held the drum above his head
and set off, certain that the punishment would continue for a long time. As he
marched across the grass, he knew that Major Cracknell would be watching him
with grim satisfaction.

Refreshed
by a morning's sleep, Daniel changed into the attire he'd worn on his arrival
in Paris and rode off to the Flynn household. They were all pleased to see him
again. Amalia's face brightened instantly, Beatrix burst into tears and Dopff
grinned from ear to ear. It was Ronan Flynn who led the questioning.

'The
Prodigal Son has returned,' he said, jocularly. 'Kill the fatted calf,
Charlotte. We must celebrate.' He embraced Daniel warmly. 'Where have you been,
man?'

'I've
been attending to business,' replied Daniel.

'Here
in Paris?'

'Yes,
Ronan.'

'Then
why didn't you stay with us?'

'You
already had plenty of guests.'

'Isn't
our floor good enough for you to sleep on?' teased Flynn.

'It's
a wonderful floor,' said Daniel, 'and I have fond memories of it. With me out
of the way, however, there was more room for the rest of you. Is all well
here?'

There
was a long pause filled by an exchange of glances between the others. Something
was evidently amiss. Flynn broke the tension by offering Daniel a drink and the
atmosphere became more convivial. Beatrix and Dopff soon drifted out of the
room but it was a long time before Daniel was able to talk to Amalia alone.
Flynn and his wife took the baby upstairs for her afternoon sleep, leaving the
couple to speak in private. Amalia was desperate for good news.

'What
have you found out, Daniel?' she asked.

'The
situation is not as hopeless as it seemed.'

'But
you told me Father was imprisoned in the Bastille.'

'Yes,'
said Daniel, 'he is. Don't ask me how - it would take too long to explain - but
I'm trying to get in touch with him.'

'Has
he been badly treated?'

'I
won't know until I can reach him, Amalia, and that may take days. I don't think
you can stay here for that long. I have the feeling that you're not as welcome
here as you were.'

'They've
been very kind to us and I can't thank them enough. It must have been a shock
for them to have us arrive on their doorstep the way that we did. But,' Amalia
went on, 'we've been here for three nights now and I can see that Charlotte
feels that we're in the way. We're starting to become a real burden.'

'I'll
find somewhere else for you all to stay.'

'We
have plenty of money, Daniel. That's one thing we don't have to worry about.
There must be a tavern where we could hire some rooms.'

'There
are dozens of them,' he told her. 'On the night that we fled across the city,
however, I wanted you to be somewhere I knew was completely safe. That's why I
thought of Ronan Flynn.'

Amalia
smiled softly. 'He told me what you did for him when he was in the army,' she
said. 'You rescued him from the enemy.'

'It
was a long time ago.'

'It's
still fresh in his mind. Now you're doing the same for us. If we do ever manage
to get back home, then I'll never forget it, Daniel. You've been our guardian
angel.'

She
reached out a hand and he squeezed it gently, resisting the desire to bring it
to his lips so that he could kiss it. Instead, he held on to her hand and
Amalia made no effort to withdraw it. Searching each other's eyes, they
realised the depth of their mutual affection. It was not the time to put
feelings into words. In any case, Flynn chose that moment to come downstairs.
The Irishman saw the way that their hands suddenly parted.

'Forgive
me,' he said, winking slyly at Daniel. 'I didn't mean to interrupt a t
ê
te-
à
-t
ê
te.'

'We
were just talking about moving out, Ronan,' said Daniel. 'Amalia feels that
she's imposed on you too long.'

'Imposed
on us? What gave you that idea? Instead of three guests, we had a cook, a
servant and someone to nurse the baby.

And
we didn't even have to
pay
them for their services.'

'You
and Charlotte have been wonderful.'

'Then
why desert us?'

'We
have to go,' said Amalia. "Thank you very, very much.'

She
excused herself so that she could warn Beatrix and Dopff about their imminent
departure. Flynn spread his arms.

'Have
I frightened them away?'

'Yes,'
said Daniel. 'They enjoyed your bread so much that they're afraid they'll
double their weight if they stay here. Seriously,' he said over Flynn's
chortle, 'the business that brought us here is nearing completion. We need to
be in another part of Paris.'

'I
can't deny that it will be a relief to Charlotte.'

'Have
they been that much of a nuisance?'

'No,
no, they've been very well-behaved.'

'Then
what's upset your wife?'

'Charlotte
is a very law-abiding woman,' said Flynn, 'so I haven't told her about some of
the trouble I used to get into in the old days. What's worrying her now is that
we've been harbouring stolen goods.'

Daniel
blinked in amazement. 'Stolen goods?'

'Well,
one item, anyway. Charlotte went up into the attic when Kees wasn't there and
she saw that tapestry. She couldn't believe that a man like that could afford
something so ruinously expensive. She thinks that he must have stolen it.'

'Would
you steal a loaf of bread from your own bakery?'

'It
would never even cross my mind.'

'Well,
that's the position Kees is in,' said Daniel. 'He didn't rob anyone of that
tapestry, Ronan, because he helped to make it. You can't steal what you already
own.'

'It's
magnificent, Dan. I sneaked up there to take a peep at it myself. Are you
telling me that Kees helped to create it?'

'He
was working to someone else's design.'

'I
don't care. He's a fine artist. Wait until I tell Charlotte.'

'That's
all you must tell her,' advised Daniel. 'Neither of you must know why the
tapestry ended up here. I'd be grateful if you didn't talk about it to anyone
else.'

'We
can keep our mouths shut.' He looked his friend in the eye. 'There's danger
ahead, isn't there?'

'There
may be.'

'You're
carrying all three of them on your shoulders, Dan. I can see that. All I asked
of you was that you didn't do anything that would put my family in any kind of
peril.'

'It's
the main reason I'm taking them away.'

'Let
me help,' offered Flynn. 'As long as it's well away from this house, I've always
got time for an old friend. Kees might be a wizard at a loom but I reckon he's
not the man you need in a crisis, and the two ladies would be even less useful.
You know my mettle, Dan,' he added, tapping his own chest. 'If there's
adventure at hand and you need someone you can rely on, Ronan Flynn is your
man.'

'Thank
you,' said Daniel, gratefully. 'I may well call on you, Ronan, though you might
live to regret your offer.'

Flynn
grinned. 'Ah, who's worried about regrets?' he said, airily. 'A man who has no
regrets has led a pretty dull life in my opinion. Turn to me when you need me,
Dan. I'll be there.'

'He
kept you out there for well over an hour,' said Hugh Dobbs with a blend of
sympathy and anger. 'Major Cracknell is a bastard.'

'He
was waiting for me to drop my drum,' explained Tom Hillier, rubbing an arm,
'but I didn't give him that pleasure.'

'
I
could never have kept it up there that long.'

'It
was hard work.'

'By
rights, I should have been there with you. We were both caught by the major yet
he let me go. Why was that?'

'Go
and ask him.'

'Oh
no,
I
'll keep well clear of that cruel
bugger.'

'I'll
try to do the same, Hugh.'

They
were in their tent. After suffering the pain and humiliation of marching up and
down for so long, Hillier felt that his arms were about to drop off. His drum
had got heavier and heavier until he felt that he was holding a ton of lead
above his head. What came to his rescue was his determination not to buckle
under the strain and the fact that his muscles had been toughened on the farm.
He'd also recited some verses he'd memorised as a child and it helped to take
his mind off the growing agony. Seeing that he couldn't bring the drummer to his
knees, Major Cracknell had eventually stalked off.

'He
came looking for you,' said Dobbs. 'Officers have got much more important
things to do than watch a couple of lads having some fun. If he was that
worried about us, he could have sent a corporal to break up the fight and
bellow at us.'

'You
could be right, Hugh.'

'I
usually am.'

'Major
Cracknell went out of his way to find us.'

'To
find
you,
Tom,' corrected the other. 'He doesn't
care a fiddler's fart about me even though I'm a lot prettier than you.'

'I
hadn't noticed that,' said Hillier with a laugh, starting to rub the other arm.
'You should look in a mirror, Hugh.'

'I'm
the handsomest drummer in the regiment.'

'Then
the rest of us must be as ugly as sin.'

'You
all are.' He saw the fatigue in his friend's face. 'Here, let me do the rubbing
for you, Tom. You look as if you're going to fall over.'

Dobbs
used both hands to massage one of Hillier's weary arms, managing to impart
discomfort and relief at the same time. He then moved on to the other arm
before turning his attention to the searing ache in his friend's shoulders.
Hillier could scarcely bear the pain at first but it slowly eased.

'You
should tell your uncle about this,' counselled Dobbs.

'Why?'

'He
ought to know.'

'There's
nothing he can do about it,' said Hillier. 'Anyway, he told me to stay away
from him. He wants me to get by on my own.'

'I
still think you should speak to Sergeant Welbeck.'

'There's
no point, Hugh.'

'I
believe there is.'

'What
can a sergeant do against an officer?'

'He
can fight fire with fire,' said Dobbs, knowledgeably.

'I
don't understand.'

'He
can set an officer on an officer, Tom.'

'Can
he?'

'Yes,
he can, and he couldn't pick a better man. According to you, your Uncle Henry
is a friend of Captain Rawson. You saw them together that day. Tell the
sergeant what happened to you and you can be sure it will get back to the
captain.'