Fire and Sword by Edward Marston

no doubt still slapping him on the back as they laugh at our expense.’
    ‘The only person they’re laughing at is Major Crevel.’
    ‘Don’t mention that abominable creature.’
    ‘As you wish,’ said Valeran, obediently.
    ‘I never want to hear his accursed name again.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘ This is the only name I’m interested in at the moment,’ stressed Vendôme, waving the letter in the air. ‘Captain Daniel Rawson. I want him here in front of me, Raoul.’
    ‘That may be difficult to arrange,’ warned Valeran.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘We can’t simply abduct a man from the British camp.’
    ‘We don’t have to do that.’
    ‘Then how do we get him here?’
    ‘We simply lure him to us.’
    Valeran was puzzled. ‘Lure him?’
    ‘All it takes is a little imagination.’
    ‘Then I must confess that I lack it, Your Grace. I fail to see what could possibly lure such a man out of the safety of his army.’
    ‘Read this again,’ suggested Vendôme, thrusting the letter at him. ‘Rawson is clearly an adventurer. He’s ready to take chances and court peril. What we need to find is something that would tempt him to come here.’
    ‘And how do we do that?’
    ‘We gather more information about this fellow and we do so with some urgency. It’s clear that the bold captain has many strong points. But he’ll also have weaknesses.’
    ‘What sort of weaknesses?’
    ‘Does he have a wife, a lover, a family – or what about a favourite child? There must be someone for whom he’d risk his neck, someone who isn’t surrounded by an army and is therefore easier to get at. That’s where we need to strike. Who is the most important person in his private life?’
    ‘I have no idea,’ admitted Valeran.
    ‘Then find out. Send a coded message back to the British camp.’
    ‘What must it say?’
    ‘We need more detail about this Daniel Rawson. I don’tcare how brave and resourceful he is. Everyone has an Achilles’ heel. Discover what the captain’s is,’ said Vendôme, rubbing his hands together, ‘and he’s ours. That’s the message to send, Raoul. Whom or what does he love most?’
     
    Amalia Janssen gazed longingly through the window. Most of the shops they’d stopped at were filled with the neat but plain dresses that were the fashion among the women of Amsterdam. This shop was different. It displayed a colour and cut that reminded her of the months in Paris yet there was no hint of vulgarity. All the dresses she could see had such style and beauty. Amalia simply goggled.
    ‘We always come here,’ noted Beatrix.
    ‘It’s the best way home.’
    The servant smiled. ‘The best for you, maybe,’ she said, ‘because it lets you stare through that window for as long as you like. I’ve no call to be looking at dresses like that. I could never find one to fit me and, even if I could, I could never afford to buy it.’ She pointed a finger. ‘Can you imagine what your father would say if he saw me in something like that?’
    ‘He’d be amazed, Beatrix.’
    ‘He’d order me to take it off at once.’
    ‘Well, you could hardly do any chores wearing that. And – I don’t mean this at all unkindly – you don’t really have the shape for any of the dresses on display here.’
    ‘But you do, Miss Amalia.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Amalia with a sigh. ‘I believe that I do.’
    ‘Then ask Captain Rawson to buy one of them for you.’
    Amalia giggled. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’
    ‘Why not?’ asked Beatrix. ‘I’m sure that he’d oblige.’
    ‘That’s not the point.’
    ‘He’s bought you gifts before.’
    ‘Father might not approve.’
    ‘That’s not true at all, Miss Amalia. Your father dotes on him almost as much as you do – and with good cause. But for Captain Rawson, all three of us would be lying somewhere in a French grave. And the same goes for Kees.’
    ‘I know all that,’ said Amalia. ‘What I meant was that Father wouldn’t approve of my choice. He adores colour in his