Drums of War (8 page)

'Oh,
I won't be talking to him for a long time.'

'Why
is that?'

'I'm
leaving camp today. That's why I came looking for you. I wanted to bid
farewell. His Grace has work for me.'

'What
sort of work?'

'I've
no idea,' said Daniel, shrugging. 'I'm on my way to find out.'

Seated
at a table, the Duke of Marlborough finished the last of many letters he'd
written that morning. He was alone in the tent with Adam Cardonnel. His
secretary had been equally busy with correspondence. He sealed a letter then
looked up.

'I
wish that we had something of significance to report,' he said.

'Yes,'
agreed Marlborough. 'It's been a fruitless campaign.'

'We
did break through the Lines of Brabant.'

'Granted,
but we were unable to build on that achievement. We had a chance to liberate
the whole of the Spanish Netherlands and it disappeared into thin air. We both
know why.'

'Our
allies let us down, Your Grace. On the other hand, the retreat from the River Yssche
did have one good result. You managed to get rid of General Slangenberg.'

'Not
until he'd ruined the entire campaign,' said Marlborough, pulling a face. 'And
while he may not be able to hinder us in the field again, he may well do so by
other means — whispering in the ears of his friends in the States-General, for
instance.'

'You
still have their unreserved support,' said Cardonnel.

'But
how long will it last, Adam? That's what worries me. War is hideously
expensive. Like our own parliament, the States- General needs to feel that
they're getting value for their money. That means we have to deliver a string
of victories. We failed to do that this year.'

'The
French failed equally, Your Grace.'

'King
Louis will be well aware of that. We've reached a standstill. When the winter
comes, I fancy he'll start to make peace overtures to the Dutch. He'll offer
them all kinds of blandishments. He knows he can never tempt us.'

'The
Dutch will surely hold firm and so will our other allies.'

'That's
why we need to keep our relations with them in good repair, Adam. When we can
no longer fight, we must turn diplomat.'

'It's
a role in which you excel.'

The
tent flap was pulled back and a guard stepped in.

'Captain
Rawson is here, Your Grace,' he said.

'Show
him in,' ordered Marlborough.

The
guard retired and Daniel immediately entered the tent. After an exchange of
greetings, he was offered a seat. He looked at the mound of correspondence on
both tables.

'Have
I been summoned to act as a messenger?' he asked.

'No,
Daniel,' said Marlborough. 'We have a more important task for you. These
letters are destined for our allies to warn them of my proposed visits. I have
to go first to Dusseldorf to persuade the Elector Palatine to supply troops for
service in Italy next year. Then we move on to Vienna so that I can meet the
new, young Emperor Joseph. It seems that I'm to be invested with the
Principality of Mindelheim.'

'It's
a well-deserved honour, Your Grace,' said Cardonnel.

'It
will entail pomp and ceremony and I never like that.'

'Will
you be going to Berlin?' said Daniel.

'Of
necessity,' replied Marlborough. 'We must keep Prussia on our side. I'll have
to smooth King Frederick's ruffled feathers a little. I know how upset and
angry he is at the behaviour of the Dutch and the Austrians. I share his
feelings. When I've calmed him down, I hope to coax 8000 men out of him for the
next Italian campaign. After that, we go to Hanover to meet Electress Sophia
then on to The Hague.'

'It's
a long journey, Your Grace.'

'Adam
has calculated that we'll travel over 2000 miles.'

'Including
the best part of a week sailing on the Danube,' said Cardonnel. 'We may find
that tedious.'

'I'm
sure that we will,' said Marlborough, picking up a sealed letter from the desk.
'You, Daniel, will have a much shorter journey to make but one that may be
fraught with more danger.'

'Where
am I to go?' asked Daniel.

'Paris.'

'You're
sending me back again?'

'It's
because you know the city so well that you are the ideal person for this
assignment. I should warn you, however, that on this occasion, it will not be
necessary for you to seduce the wife of a French general in order to gather
intelligence. You did that last year and we profited greatly by the information
you brought back.'

'Yes,'
said Daniel, recalling his dalliance with Berenice Salignac. 'Unfortunately,
the lady's husband took exception to my methods. He was bent on revenge and
hired two men to murder me. When they took me prisoner instead, General
Salignac tried to kill me in a duel.'

'You
have a gift for survival,' noted Cardonnel.

'He'll
need it,' said Marlborough. 'I foresee many hazards. What I wish you to do,
Daniel, is to find someone for me and bring him back to The Hague. Since he's a
Dutchman, you'll be able to speak to him in his own language. I just pray that
he's still alive.'

'Who
is the fellow, Your Grace?'

'Emanuel
Janssen.'

Daniel
was thunderstruck. 'Do you mean the tapestry- maker?'

'The
very same,' confirmed Marlborough. 'He's a master of his craft. King Louis was
so dazzled by his artistry that he commissioned a tapestry to hang in
Versailles alongside all the Gobelins tapestries. That shows how highly he
prizes Janssen's work. He was prepared to pay a high price for it.'

'Emanuel
Janssen is a traitor,' said Daniel, coldly. 'He was bought by the enemy and
turned his back on his country. Instead of sending me to Paris to bring him
home, you should be asking me to slit his throat.'

'Janssen
is a braver man than you take him for, Daniel. The first thing he did when he
was approached in secret by the French was to inform us. He's a fierce patriot.
No amount of money would have made him defect to the enemy.'

'Then
why did he do so?'

'Because
that's what I asked him to do,' said Marlborough. 'It was too good an
opportunity to miss. Janssen was going to be working at Versailles where all
the major decisions are made. He would have direct contact with King Louis.
Being a tapestry- maker was the perfect disguise behind which to hide.'

Daniel
was sobered. 'Are you telling me that he is a spy?'

'He
is indeed, Daniel, and quite an efficient one. He lacked the charm to extract
information in the way that you do but he kept his ears open and heard much
that was of value to us.'

'Why
do you want me to bring him back, Your Grace?'

'We
fear that he may have been found out. At all events, he's vanished and nobody
has any idea where he is. It's very worrying. Having talked him into accepting
such a risky business, I feel it's our duty to go to his rescue — if, that is,
we can find him.'

'Where
was he last seen?'

'Here
are all the details,' said Marlborough, handing him the letter. 'When you've
committed them to memory, destroy this.'

'Start
your search at his house,' advised Cardonnel.

'What
if he's already been executed?'

'That's
a strong possibility, alas.'

'The
French have no affection for our spies,' said Daniel, 'even if they can weave
magical tapestries. My guess is that Janssen is dead.'

'Then
why have we not heard of his death?' asked Marlborough. 'They would surely have
made an example of him and boasted to us that they'd uncovered our ruse. No,
Daniel, we must suppose that Emanuel Janssen is still alive.'

'And
if he's not, Your Grace?'

'Then
you're to bring the others safely out of France.'

Daniel
frowned. 'You made no mention of any others.'

'He
has an assistant and a servant with him,' said Marlborough. 'But the person who
wrote to tell us that he was missing was his daughter. You should enjoy meeting
the young lady, Daniel,' he went on with a smile. 'I'm told she's very
beautiful.'

Amalia
Janssen's face was clouded with misery. She was short and slight with elfin
features framed by fair hair that peeped out from beneath her bonnet. Anxiety
had etched deep lines into her forehead and lack of sleep had painted dark
patches beneath her eyes. She was standing in the front bedroom of their house.
Beatrix, the servant, was a plump, plain-faced, nervous woman in her thirties.
She was peering out of the window in such a way that she could not be seen from
the street. The two women spoke in Dutch.

'Well?'
said Amalia.

'I
think he's still there.'

'Did
you actually
see
him?'

'I'm
not sure,' replied Beatrix. 'But I sense that he's out there.'

'He
has been every other day this week. Today should be no different.' Amalia
bunched her fists. 'Why is he watching the house? I feel as if I'm a prisoner
here.'

'I'm
worried about Kees. He's been gone a long time.'

'The
market is some distance away.'

'He
should have been back by now.'

'He'll
have a heavy basket to slow him down.'

'Oh,
I hope we don't lose him as well, Miss Amalia,' said Beatrix, turning to face
her. 'It's bad enough that your father has gone astray.'

'He's
not gone astray, Beatrix. He's been deliberately taken from us and the worst of
it is that I have no idea why. You couldn't meet anyone as mild or harmless as
Father. He wouldn't hurt a soul.'

'It
looks as if somebody might have hurt
him!'

'Don't
say that,' scolded Amalia. 'We must never give up hope. Even in Paris, the name
of Emanuel Janssen compels respect. His reputation has reached every corner of
Europe.'

'That
may be the trouble, Miss Amalia.'

'What
do you mean?'

'Some
people might be very jealous of him.'

'Who
could be jealous of my father? He's the kindest man in the world. Even his
rivals like him. He has no enemies.'

'We're
Dutch,' said Beatrix, morosely, 'and Holland is at war with France. We're bound
to have enemies.'

'Yet
we've lived here for months without any mishap. This is a beautiful, big house
and the streets around here are safe to walk in. When people knew what we were
doing here, they gave us a welcome. Father is weaving a tapestry by royal
appointment.'

'Does
the King know that he's disappeared?'

'He
must do, Beatrix.'

Amalia
wrung her hands. In the time they'd been in Paris, they'd settled into a
comfortable routine. While her father and Dopff, his assistant, worked at the
loom, she and Beatrix looked after the house. Janssen visited Versailles
occasionally to report on progress and to meet some of the other tapestry-
makers employed there. Amalia had been thrilled when she had been invited to
join her father at a royal garden party. She had never been to such a
glittering event and had stared in awe at the ostentation on display. It was an
overwhelming spectacle. French nobles and their wives brought a colour and
vivacity that made Amsterdam seem dull and lifeless by comparison. When she saw
Louis XIV in his finery, moving like a god around the exquisite gardens and
acting as a cynosure, she understood why he was called the Sun King. The heady
experience had remained a happy memory until now. Suddenly, a dark shadow had
been cast over their whole stay in France.

'I
thought it was wrong at the start,' grumbled Beatrix. 'We should never have
come here. We belong in Amsterdam.'

'Father
couldn't refuse such an offer, Beatrix.'

'We
betrayed our country.'

'You
mustn't think that,' said Amalia, earnestly 'because it's not what happened.
Try to remember what my father told you. Art has no boundaries. French painters,
musicians and tapestry- makers have worked in our country many times. Why
shouldn't someone from Amsterdam work here?'

Beatrix
said nothing. It was not her place to argue with her mistress, especially at a
time when she was in such distress. It was her job to offer succour. Amalia had
grown to like Paris and learn enough French to hold a conversation but their
servant had always felt uneasy there. In view of what had now happened, Beatrix
was even more perturbed. They were foreigners and being treated as such. She
yearned for the security of their home in Amsterdam.

'Let
me take a turn at the window,' said Amalia, changing places with her. 'Perhaps
I can catch a glimpse of him.'

'I
think he stays there all night, Miss Amalia — or someone does. I can feel their
eyes watching me.'