Authors: Edward Marston
Burgundy and Vendôme had earlier had their differences over which tactics to employ. What this operation showed was that they could combine their men into a highly effective fighting force. The capture of Bruges and Ghent delivered more than a profound shock to the Allies. They had to stand by and watch nearly all the gains made at the battle of Ramillies taken ruthlessly from them. Marlborough was rocked. The disastrous news stunned him. The French had achieved the kind of swift, unheralded, brilliant victory that was more usually associated with the captain general of the Allies.
The Duke of Marlborough had been beaten at his own game.
Reeling from the shock of the French victories, the Allied armies took time to recover. Their morale was visibly lowered. They’d been led for so many years by the outstanding military mind of his day and, as a consequence, enjoyed a magnificent record of success. The sudden reversal of fortunes called that success into question. Marlborough had failed them. There could be no equivocation about that. His prestige – so vital a factor in controlling an army of British, Dutch, Austrian, Hanoverian, Prussian and Danish soldiers – had been severely weakened.
Henry Welbeck was never a man to mince his words.
‘What’s got into the bloody man?’ he demanded. ‘We work our balls off to hold onto Bruges and Ghent then he
hands them over to the French on a silver plate.’
‘That’s not what happened,’ said Daniel.
‘Well, that’s what it looks like to me, Dan. While we’re stuck here, waiting for signs of life from the enemy, they race off and capture two major towns. Why didn’t His Grace see it coming? Is he blind as well as fucking stupid?’
‘Moderate your language, Henry.’
‘I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.’
‘Nobody can accuse His Grace of stupidity,’ said Daniel, roused to defend Marlborough. ‘He’s a man of exceptional gifts who’s waged this war with exemplary skill.’
‘Until now, that is.’
‘Even the best horse stumbles. I concede that mistakes were made but let me say this in extenuation. His Grace has been ill since the start of this campaign. I’ve never seen him in such poor health. To his credit,’ Daniel went on, ‘he’s never simply taken to his bed and abandoned his responsibilities. He’s forced himself to press on and give us the leadership that we need.’
‘We don’t need a leader who gives territory away.’
‘You’re being far too harsh.’
‘I’m being honest, Dan,’ said Welbeck, fiercely. ‘Our captain general has lost his way and I’ve lost my faith in him.’
Daniel was upset to hear such biting criticism of Marlborough from someone as experienced as the sergeant. It was symptomatic of a deep malaise that had
spread throughout the ranks. The Allied armies had met with setbacks before but they’d never been blamed on its commander-in-chief. This was different. Such was the scale of their loss that Marlborough was being singled out as the scapegoat. Daniel felt that it was unjust.
They were trying to hold their conversation above the turmoil all round them. The army was striking camp. Along with all the other regiments, the 24
th
Foot would soon be on the march but they’d do so with a diminished confidence in their leader.
‘What are we going to give to the French next?’ asked Welbeck, cynically. ‘Are we going to sacrifice Brussels to them as well?’
‘We’re going to do what we always do – fight back hard.’
‘We have to find the enemy first.’
‘Our scouts are already at work, Henry.’
‘Where were they when the Frenchies made their dash for Bruges and Ghent? Why didn’t they raise the alarm?’
‘There’s no point in dwelling on the mistakes of the past.’
‘There’s every point, Dan. It’s the only way to stop the mistakes being repeated. Everyone in this army knows that forewarned is forearmed. Yet we had no bloody warning at all.’
‘The French deceived us,’ conceded Daniel. ‘They disguised their initial movements as large-scale foraging and we were thrown off the scent. They achieved a remarkable coup.’
‘In other words, they have better generals than we do.’
‘No, Henry, it simply means that they caught us napping this time. It won’t happen again.’
Welbeck was unconvinced. ‘I wish I could believe that.’
‘There’s something you’re forgetting,’ said Daniel. ‘I was inside the French camp only days ago. I know when an army is about to go on the march and I saw no sign of that whatsoever.’
‘That’s easy to explain,’ said Welbeck, bluntly. ‘You were too busy looking for your damn sword to notice anything else.’
The sergeant went off to yell at some soldiers who were too slow in taking down their tent. Wounded by the tart comment, Daniel had to admit that there was some truth in it. His single-minded pursuit of the sword had blinkered him. On his second visit to the camp, he should have taken more notice of what was going on there. He was still reflecting on his failure when Jonathan Ainley came up to him.
‘We’re on the move at long last,’ said the lieutenant.
‘It’s going to be a forced march. We can’t let the French outmanoeuvre us again. I hear that their main army has already crossed the River Dender and their pioneers will no doubt be breaking down the bridges at places like Alost and Ninove.’
‘What sort of a mood is His Grace in?’
‘I’m more concerned about his health,’ said Daniel. ‘His
mood is as defiant as ever but he’s suffering from a fever as well as a migraine. His Grace is hardly in the best condition to wage a war.’
Marlborough put on his hat, straightened his back and adjusted his coat. He looked pale, drawn and in obvious pain. Alone with him in the tent, Cardonnel was anxious.
‘You shouldn’t push yourself like this, Your Grace,’ he said.
‘An army needs its captain general.’
‘Not if he’s indisposed. Your doctor advised complete rest.’
‘At a time like this,’ said Marlborough, ‘I can’t afford to rest.’
‘Your migraine has been worse than ever today.’
‘That’s why I’m so determined to strike back at those who gave it to me. Burgundy and Vendôme are the authors of my headache.’
‘Too much activity will only make it worse, Your Grace.’
‘Then I’ll have to endure it.’
‘I think it’s time that you put your health first for once.’
‘Stop fussing over me,’ said Marlborough,
good-humouredly
. ‘You’re sounding like my dear wife. If I so much as cough, she thinks that I’m about to expire. Take heart, Adam,’ he went on, ‘I’m not nearly as bad as I must look.’
Though he recognised it as a patent lie, Cardonnel said nothing. Nobody had been in such constant contact
with Marlborough as his secretary and he’d been able to gauge the steady deterioration of the other’s health. More worryingly, he’d also seen him sink lower and lower into melancholy. Physical exhaustion was matched by a mental fatigue that had taken its toll on Marlborough’s brimming confidence. There’d been moments when he’d lapsed into unqualified despair.
For his part, Marlborough steeled himself to withstand the drumming inside his head and the creeping heat that turned his body into a furnace. In the face of a daring French strategy, he’d been found wanting and that had inflicted a deep wound on his pride. Accustomed to receiving unstinting praise, he was now being roundly condemned in some quarters. Ordinarily, when he walked around his camp, he floated on a wave of respect and affection. Both, he feared, had been forfeited. Silent reproach from his officers could be borne far more easily than his loss of esteem among the common soldiers. Corporal John had to earn back their regard immediately.
As Marlborough was about to leave, Cardonnel had a request.
‘At the very least, travel in your coach,’ he said.
‘No, Adam,’ replied Marlborough, stoically. ‘I need to ride at the head of the army. I have to be
seen
.’
The hasty departure meant that Daniel had little time to take his leave of Amalia Janssen. While he was going in one
direction, she was about to be taken back to Amsterdam with an armed guard.
‘When will I see you again?’ she asked.
‘It may not be for some time, Amalia,’ he warned.
‘Please write to me, if you can.’
‘I’ll endeavour to do so.’
She took his hands. ‘I’m sorry that I caused so much trouble.’
‘You caused none at all,’ he said.
‘I let myself be taken as a hostage, Daniel. That put your life in danger and I still shudder when I think about it.’
‘You didn’t get kidnapped deliberately.’
‘Nevertheless, I put you to a lot of trouble.’
Daniel smiled. ‘Coming to your rescue was no trouble at all, Amalia,’ he said. ‘My only regret is that I brought Mademoiselle Prunier with us. I should have left her with her paymasters.’ He looked over his shoulder as another regiment marched past. ‘I’ll have to go now. Think of me.’
‘Nothing could stop me doing that.’
‘Have a safe journey!’
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I’m far more concerned about your safety than mine. You could be involved in a battle.’
‘I’m ready for it,’ he said, patting the sword that hung by his side. ‘Now that I have this back, I can’t wait for action in the field.’
Amalia trembled. ‘It worries me when you talk like that.’
‘Then don’t listen to what I say.’
‘You seem to welcome danger.’
‘The only thing I welcome is an end to this interminable war,’ he told her, ‘and I’m prepared to do anything I can to bring it about. Only then can I think about spending more time with you, Amalia.’
She squeezed his hands. ‘Good luck, Daniel!’
‘I was hoping for a farewell kiss.’
‘You don’t need to hope,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Thank you – this is the best way to part.’
Enfolding her in his arms, he gave her a long, lingering kiss, relishing every luscious second of it and ignoring the envious jeers of the soldiers who went swiftly past them.
One thing for which Marlborough’s soldiers were justly famed was their ability to put on a superb display of forced marching. They kept their shape, negotiated any undulations in their path with ease and maintained a considerable speed. Indeed, they moved so fast that they almost caught the French army in two separate columns halfway between Tubize and Ninove. In the event, all that the French rearguard lost was its baggage. The duc de Vendôme saw it a reason for congratulation.
‘We fooled them again,’ he said, chortling. ‘We flourished our colours in the scrub and gave the impression that our entire army was about to give battle. That made them back off at once.’
‘Marlborough has been tricked once more,’ said Burgundy, sipping a celebratory glass of wine. ‘That won’t improve his temper.’
‘Or his health, for that matter – he’s a sick man.’
‘Is that what your intelligencer told you?’
‘Sophie Prunier – Madame Bouteron, I should say – met him in person. She said how old and ill he appeared.’
‘We’re not here to act as his physicians, my lord Duke. A sick commander is a serious handicap. We must exploit his weakness to the limit. The best way to do that, I feel, is to lay siege to Menin.’
‘That would take us farther west,’ argued Vendôme, ‘and our real destination should be Oudenarde. Seize that and we’d have complete control of the central part of the Scheldt before the Allies have time to bring in reinforcements.’
‘I still favour Menin as our target.’
‘Then I beg you to reconsider, my lord. Our first task should be to occupy the river crossings at Lessines. That would prevent the enemy from getting over the river and severing our communications with Lille and Tournai.’
‘I’ve taken that into account.’
‘Then respond accordingly.’
‘You advice is welcome,’ said Burgundy with a lordly smile, ‘but I choose to disregard it in this instance.’
Vendôme bristled. ‘Oudenarde has to take priority over Menin.’
‘That’s for me to decide.’
‘It’s the crucial fortress town on the Scheldt. Until we capture it, the Allies will always be masters of that stretch of the river.’
‘I know that, my lord,’ said Burgundy, irritably, ‘and I promise you that we’ll attack it in due course. Before that, however, I wish to invest Menin.’
‘That operation would divert too many of our men.’
‘Yet I find myself minded to attempt it.’
‘
After
we occupy the crossings at Lessines,’ insisted Vendôme, ‘and after Oudenarde has fallen. Everything must be done in order. Even you must accept that.’
Burgundy was brusque. ‘I wish that you wouldn’t keep questioning my decisions, my lord Duke,’ he said.
‘If you made the right ones, there’d be no need to question them.’
‘I take that as an insult.’
‘It was not meant to be,’ said Vendôme, trying to smother his rising fury under a pillow of politeness. ‘I defer to you at all times and, as we’ve shown, we can devise a strategy that’s both guileful and effective. On this point, however, there’s a diversity of opinion. May I suggest that you consult the other generals? I think you’ll find that they’ll agree to a man with me.’
‘I refuse to wage war by means of a show of hands,’ snapped Burgundy, putting his glass down on the table. ‘That has echoes of democracy about it and there’s nothing I abhor more than that. I don’t deny that most of the
generals would side with you. It’s only natural that old friends will support you against someone less seasoned.’
‘They will see exactly what I see, my lord.’
‘Then they are looking in the wrong direction. What they should bear in mind is that I was appointed by His Majesty to lead this army and my orders are above reproach.’
‘I accept that,’ said Vendôme in a voice that contained no hint whatsoever of acceptance. ‘I just ask you to depend for once on my experience in the field.’
‘Menin must come before Oudenarde.’
‘Is that a command or an opinion?’
Vendôme met his gaze and there was a crackle of animosity in the air. Burgundy could not back down, yet, at the same time, he could not disregard the advice of a man who’d tussled so successfully with Marlborough in the past. Moving his glass aside, he looked down at the map that was laid out on the table. Oudenarde was less than twenty miles to the south-west of Ghent. Once taken, it would form a triangle with Bruges. Menin, by contrast, was farther to the west and north of Lille, a citadel so well fortified that it was the jewel of French fortresses. To take Menin would be to nullify any possibility of an attack on Lille from that direction. Burgundy made up his mind.
‘This decision needs to be referred,’ he said, settling for a compromise.
‘That would waste valuable time,’ protested Vendôme.