Rules of War (28 page)

He looked up at her: ‘It must be worth it. It's what I believe in, what we fight for. We fight the French, we fight King Louis to stop him from taking all of Europe. That surely must be worth it. If not then my life is no more than a worthless lie.'

For a few minutes she said nothing. Then: ‘When you have taken this place, what then?'

‘Then we shall go on to take another town. And another and another, as Marlborough directs. Dunkirk, Lille. Who knows, even Paris perhaps. And on the way, God willing, we may find another French army to fight and to defeat.'

‘You will not return to England until you have finished?'

‘I am a soldier, Henrietta, an officer in Marlborough's army. I have a position, I have responsibilities, men who depend upon me. How can I return home and leave them wanting?'

‘Perhaps you might contrive to engineer such a posting to St James's if you knew that someone was waiting there for you. Perhaps that might make a difference. If someone truly cared.'

The thought was beyond hope. Could she really mean it?

‘You barely know me,' he said, softly, hardly daring to speak the words. And how
can
you know me? he thought.

She took his hand between both of her own: ‘When two people have been through what we two have endured together, they truly know each other. You must trust me, Jack. Do you trust me?'

He looked at her again, took in the full beauty of her face and then, propping himself up painfully on one elbow he bent towards her and kissed her again and again, savouring her taste and the musky scent that sent his head reeling.

There was a knock on the door.

Steel broke away from Henrietta and stood up, before adjusting his dress and brushing down his clothes. Another knock. He looked down at her, smiled and was rewarded with the prettiest of glances. Yet now behind her smile he detected a note of seriousness. He turned towards the door.

‘Who is it?'

‘Sergeant Slaughter, sir.'

‘Come in, Sarn't.'

The door opened and Slaughter stepped into the room. He looked first at Steel then at Lady Henrietta. ‘I'm very sorry, sir, but you've a guest downstairs. It's the French lootenant, sir.'

Lady Henrietta, who had drawn the sheet close up to her chin, made to get up. ‘Should I …?'

Steel motioned her back down: ‘No, please don't. Better that you stay and rest. We'll be going soon.'

With Slaughter before him, Steel left the room and closed the door.

Downstairs he found the lieutenant who had come to his rescue, waiting with two white-uniformed French infantrymen. Steel froze, on instinct, clutched for where his sword should have hung and saw it held in Slaughter's arms. Lejeune saw his reaction, smiled and guessed correctly at his thoughts.

‘Do not worry, Captain Steel. I am not about to take you prisoner. I have come merely to check on the state of your health. Lieutenant Dominique Lejeune at your service.'

Lejeune bowed and Steel returned the gesture. ‘Lieutenant, how can I ever thank you?'

‘There is no need. I consider a great personal debt to have been repaid. What sort of men would we call ourselves if we were not able to fight without paying heed to at least the most rudimentary rules of war? For, surely, war must have some rules, must it not? Certain terms of engagement? After all, while we may be on opposing sides are we not at least all human beings? I have rescued not only you Captain Steel, but also the honour of my country. I cannot tell you how very pleased I am that you seem so much improved. Are you aware that you have been in a fever for more than a day? You are fortunate to have such a man as your sergeant, here. Take good care of him, sir. He would be an asset to any army.' Slaughter smiled and shrugged. Lejeune went on: ‘And don't worry, Captain. I am sure that I was not followed. My men are quite loyal to me. To no one else. You understand …'

Steel began to speak: ‘But –'

Lejeune cut him off. ‘No, Captain. As I say, I have no intention of arresting you, or asking for your parole. Why should I? There is simply no point. What good would it serve? You would only be merely a trial to us here. And if you do not return to your lines then I am sure that will be the signal for My Lord Marlbrook to unleash more violence upon us from the skies. The bombs will fall and more
innocent people will die. But if you return then perhaps you can tell them that at least one French officer intends to conduct this battle with a degree of honour.

‘I am well aware that you wish to get back to your own men. I would feel exactly the same in your position. It is simply our duty as officers, no? And so, you may return to your own lines. If, that is, you can find a way to do so. Perhaps your new Belgian friends can help. Perhaps they already have. They seem more intelligent and less … shall we say less of the rustic savage than their country cousins. And they are quite safe from me. I am a realist, Captain. I know that we must eventually succumb to your General Marlbrook, that Ostend is lost already. I intend to see that the town is surrendered with as little bloodshed as possible. Be assured that I shall keep my major occupied until you have gone. And you must take your milady. She has suffered quite enough. Do not on any account leave her for Trouin and his savages.'

‘And what about you, Lieutenant? Won't you be arrested for helping us?'

Lejeune smiled at him: ‘Yes, that is possible. Already I believe that my commanding officer, Major Malbec, is looking for me. And his accursed sergeant, that Alsatian half-breed. I have managed to avoid them so far, but it's inevitable. Actually I suspect that Trouin has got to him already. I only hope that you can end the siege before Trouin has a chance to take his revenge upon me.'

Steel thought for a moment. ‘You could come with us. I would vouch for you. You could pass the war in safety in England or Scotland. Not in prison, of course. I'm sure that we could find you a suite of rooms in a comfortable country house. I could arrange surety. You would be merely on parole.'

Lejeune laughed: ‘Thank you, Captain, but no. To do that would be to desert my post and my men. And you know that I could never do that. I think that you and I are very alike, Captain Steel. We may fight in different armies and for different causes, but in our hearts we are both soldiers. We try to do the best we can in a trade that is, at its worst, no more than murder. It is up to you and I, Steel, to lift it above that. To cloak our deeds in glory. To find honour in the basest of circumstances. But you must go now. Your friends will know the way and I will make sure that you have no trouble, as far as I can. Goodbye, Captain Steel. It has been a real pleasure to have known you. I only wish that we might have met under rather better conditions.'

Steel bowed, lower than before, in an attempt to emphasize the fact that he truly was in Lejeune's debt. ‘It has been my pleasure, Lieutenant. Farewell, until we meet again. Which I am certain will be in a better situation. And thank you once again, from the very bottom of my heart.'

As the door closed after Lejeune, Steel turned to Slaughter and shook his head. ‘By God, Jacob. There's a man I'd be proud to meet on any field of battle. He makes you think that all's not lost, that war is about more than blood and death.'

Slaughter nodded: ‘Reminded me of Lieutenant Hansam, sir. A good, honest gentleman. Which is something that I don't often find myself saying about any Frenchie.'

Steel took his sword, which Slaughter had offered to him, and buckled it around his waist. ‘Yes. I do know what you mean. He did remind me of the lieutenant. I wonder how Henry's getting on without us. I think it might be time that we returned to the company. Heaven knows what they've been up to without us to look out for them.'

* * *

Night was beginning to come in faster now. Across the town and in many of the windows near Louise Huber's house in a street off Christianstraat, the candles were being lit behind lace curtains as prayers were said before food. Louise entered the small sitting room and lit the wick in a stub of tallow, startling Steel and Henrietta from the gentle twilit reverie in which they had been luxuriating for fully half an hour. Slaughter followed close behind her. He looked agitated.

‘Begging your pardon, Captain Steel, sir. But we should be going now. Don't you think, sir?'

Steel nodded: ‘You're right, Sarn't. It's time.'

As Slaughter and Louise left the room, Steel turned to Henrietta and spoke softly. ‘The chance to gaze upon your beauty, ma'am, shall be my reward for guiding us safely back to the lines.'

Louise opened the door of her house and looked out into the street. Two small children were playing hopscotch on the shattered cobbles and a man was loading a dray with debris from a half-demolished house that had been hit during the bombardment. Apart from that the street seemed to be empty. She turned and beckoned to Fabritius, who stood before the others. He signalled to them in turn and together, the small party moved to the door. Steel did not say goodbye to Louise, but made only a short bow. Slaughter, copying his officer, did the same and Henrietta gave a short bob and flashed a grateful smile. Then they were in the street and the door shut behind them. In the half-light, they moved as fast as they could over the irregular cobblestones, being careful to make as little commotion as possible. Fabritius led the way, sliding swiftly and almost silently through the familiar streets while the others followed, quite lost although attempting as best they could to behave as if they were native
to the confusing network of alleyways that led through the town to the western defences and the promise of freedom.

They came to a crossroads and Fabritius made to turn left, then stopped in his tracks. Two white-coated soldiers were deep in conversation in the centre of the junction, one puffing at a pipe. They did not look as if they were about to move. Fabritius froze and turned to look at Steel. His face was a mask of terror. It was a sight Steel had seen many times before on the field of battle, the horror that seized men on their first view of the carnage caused by a cannonball, the look that told him that the veneer of invincibility by which every soldier lived his life had been torn down or punctured, by which he knew that its wearer had suddenly realized how easily he might die. In Fabritius' case Steel knew that it had been triggered by the thought of Brouwer dying so horribly. For an instant he thought that their guide might run and leave them here.

Before Fabritius could move, Steel grabbed him by the arm and met his gaze: ‘Stay with us, man. Think of Marius. What would he have wanted? Think of your people.'

Fabritius stared at him blankly. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the look vanished. ‘I'm sorry, Captain. I …'

Steel smiled and let go of the man's arm. ‘Say nothing. Just get us out of here.'

Fabritius ducked into the shadow offered by the overhanging eaves of one of the few half-timbered buildings to have survived the bombardment intact and they followed his lead. Looking back, their guide made a gesture with his hand that they should turn and go back the way they had come. And so they continued, dealing with each potential threat as they encountered it and seeming to take three paces backwards for every one they advanced, for what seemed to all
of them far longer than the hour that it was in reality. At length however, as the lapping of the sea grew ever more audible, Steel realized, with rising hope, that they must be nearing the western walls. If Fabritius and his yet unseen comrades in the
schildendevriend
had done their job, then somewhere up ahead of them there lay the small hidden door in Vauban's otherwise impregnable walls which would take them out on to the dunes and back to safety.

Steel shuddered, his soul still shaken by memories of Trouin's cellar. He thought of Brouwer, of his loyalty and his suffering and wondered what might have happened had he not persuaded him to ignore the pamphlets and have faith in Marlborough. Who, he wondered had betrayed whom? He longed to escape this place of darkness. If only for a few hours, until the moment at which he would have a chance to return with the assault party and avenge the poor man's death. If only they might hasten a little, get as far as the sally-port. Surely, he reasoned against himself, they might run a little of the way. Then he froze.

Above them a voice called out words of challenge:
‘Halte
.
Qui passe? Annoncez vous.
'

They had been seen. Slaughter darted Steel a worried glance as all four members of the party stopped in mid-step. Steel brought his foot down on the stones with silent care and listened. Again the French voice rang out.

‘Annoncez
vous
.'

Realizing that they had no other option, Steel was about to reveal their position and hope to fight his way out when to his astonishment another voice answered the first.

‘Claude. C'est moi, Marcel. Ne tirez pas
.'

Steel closed his eyes with relief. Up on the parapet walkway, the counterguard that ran directly over their heads, the two sentries were now talking and laughing. Steel caught
something about a girl in Dunkirk–Suzanne. The men laughed again. Now was their chance. He poked Fabritius in the shoulder. The Belgian turned and nodded and slowly the little party began to move north along the parapet wall. Each step was torture. Every footfall a carefully measured decision. Twice Slaughter slipped on the cobbles and let out an involuntary curse under his breath. They paused. But the guards appeared not to have heard and the sound of their ribald laughter covered the fugitives' painful progress. So hard was he concentrating on the process that the opening in the wall took Steel by surprise. This was not, he realized, the door in the outer defences, but merely through the inner wall. And it was unguarded. Fabritius had done his work well. God knew what had happened to the guards. Perhaps, with the death of Brouwer, his Belgian comrades had decided to become less passive in their resistance.