finished reading. 'If he is
heading for Bonn, he must indeed be thinking of a strike towards the Moselle.'
He returned the despatch. 'This is grave news, Your Majesty.'
'I'll
draft new orders for Villeroi at once,' said Louis angrily. 'He is to intercept
Marlborough and stop him from making any advance on French soil. I'll not have
my territory invaded by anyone. It's a humiliation that will not be borne.'
'I
heartily agree with you, Your Majesty.'
The
king was shaking with fury. He was so accustomed to hearing good news from the
battlefield that he believed his armies were invincible. The notion that
someone would dare to encroach on French soil was anathema to him. He read the
dispatch again before scrunching it up and hurling it at the floor. His lip
curled in derision.
'Marlborough!'
he growled.
The
Confederate army moved in easy stages. Roused at four o'clock in the morning,
they assembled in rank and file a quarter of an hour later. The march began at
five and they pressed on until late morning, setting up their next camp before
the heat of the noonday sun could take its toll. Afternoon and evening were
times of rest. Marlborough had carefully planned ahead. Wherever they camped,
they found ample provisions awaiting them. There was no need to scour the area
for food. Corporal John had already seen to their needs.
At
each stage of the march, Marlborough rode on ahead with his cavalry then waited
for the infantry, artillery and baggage wagons to catch up with him. When they
reached their destination for that day, Marlborough adjourned to his tent with
his secretary. He unfurled a map and tapped it with a finger.
'We
are right here, Adam,' he said to his secretary. 'We are poised to reach the
Moselle.'
'How
far will we go, Your Grace?' asked Cardonnel.
'Far
enough to confuse the enemy. King Louis's spies will have delivered their
reports by now and Villeroi will be on his way to block our path into France.
The marshal has no idea that our march towards the Moselle is part of an
elaborate feint.'
'It's
a brilliant conception.'
'The
execution has to be equally brilliant. I've letters to write and orders to
give,' he said, opening a leather satchel and taking out a pile of papers.
'There's never an end to correspondence.'
'It's
one of the necessities of warfare.'
'I
know, Adam, but it can get tedious at times.'
Marlborough's
travelling table and chairs had already been set up for him in the tent. Quill,
ink and paper stood ready. The two men removed their hats and set them aside
before they got down to the business of the day.
'My
wife never finds it tedious,' said Marlborough fondly. 'I had yet another
letter from her today. The Duchess is pursuing me all the way across Europe.'
'Better
to do so on the page than in person,' observed Cardonnel drily. 'An army on the
march is no place for a lady.'
'Yet
we have several following us in the baggage train.'
'Those
women hardly come from the upper reaches of society.'
'That's
where you are mistaken, Adam.' 'Oh?'
'One
of them at least can boast of distinguished parentage.' Marlborough lowered
himself on to his seat. 'Or, to be more precise, she will when she joins us.
She's clearly a spirited young lady who is undeterred by the multiple
discomforts of travel. It will come as a great shock to Daniel Rawson, I fear.'
'Captain
Rawson?'
'Yes,
Adam.'
Cardonnel
was curious. 'In what way is he involved?'
'The
oldest way of all, I suspect,' said Marlborough with a quiet smile. 'The
youngest daughter of Sir Nicholas Piper is smitten by him. According to my
wife's latest letter, Abigail was so distressed at his departure from London
that she decided to follow him. As you can imagine, her parents are thoroughly
dismayed.'
'The
lady is here ?'
asked the secretary incredulously.
'She's
certainly on Rawson's tail.' He chortled. 'We'll have to warn him about a
possible attack from the rear.'
'It's
highly dangerous for a woman to travel alone.'
'Her
maid is with her,
heading for Bonn, he must indeed be thinking of a strike towards the Moselle.'
He returned the despatch. 'This is grave news, Your Majesty.'
'I'll
draft new orders for Villeroi at once,' said Louis angrily. 'He is to intercept
Marlborough and stop him from making any advance on French soil. I'll not have
my territory invaded by anyone. It's a humiliation that will not be borne.'
'I
heartily agree with you, Your Majesty.'
The
king was shaking with fury. He was so accustomed to hearing good news from the
battlefield that he believed his armies were invincible. The notion that
someone would dare to encroach on French soil was anathema to him. He read the
dispatch again before scrunching it up and hurling it at the floor. His lip
curled in derision.
'Marlborough!'
he growled.
The
Confederate army moved in easy stages. Roused at four o'clock in the morning,
they assembled in rank and file a quarter of an hour later. The march began at
five and they pressed on until late morning, setting up their next camp before
the heat of the noonday sun could take its toll. Afternoon and evening were
times of rest. Marlborough had carefully planned ahead. Wherever they camped,
they found ample provisions awaiting them. There was no need to scour the area
for food. Corporal John had already seen to their needs.
At
each stage of the march, Marlborough rode on ahead with his cavalry then waited
for the infantry, artillery and baggage wagons to catch up with him. When they
reached their destination for that day, Marlborough adjourned to his tent with
his secretary. He unfurled a map and tapped it with a finger.
'We
are right here, Adam,' he said to his secretary. 'We are poised to reach the
Moselle.'
'How
far will we go, Your Grace?' asked Cardonnel.
'Far
enough to confuse the enemy. King Louis's spies will have delivered their
reports by now and Villeroi will be on his way to block our path into France.
The marshal has no idea that our march towards the Moselle is part of an
elaborate feint.'
'It's
a brilliant conception.'
'The
execution has to be equally brilliant. I've letters to write and orders to
give,' he said, opening a leather satchel and taking out a pile of papers.
'There's never an end to correspondence.'
'It's
one of the necessities of warfare.'
'I
know, Adam, but it can get tedious at times.'
Marlborough's
travelling table and chairs had already been set up for him in the tent. Quill,
ink and paper stood ready. The two men removed their hats and set them aside
before they got down to the business of the day.
'My
wife never finds it tedious,' said Marlborough fondly. 'I had yet another
letter from her today. The Duchess is pursuing me all the way across Europe.'
'Better
to do so on the page than in person,' observed Cardonnel drily. 'An army on the
march is no place for a lady.'
'Yet
we have several following us in the baggage train.'
'Those
women hardly come from the upper reaches of society.'
'That's
where you are mistaken, Adam.' 'Oh?'
'One
of them at least can boast of distinguished parentage.' Marlborough lowered
himself on to his seat. 'Or, to be more precise, she will when she joins us.
She's clearly a spirited young lady who is undeterred by the multiple
discomforts of travel. It will come as a great shock to Daniel Rawson, I fear.'
'Captain
Rawson?'
'Yes,
Adam.'
Cardonnel
was curious. 'In what way is he involved?'
'The
oldest way of all, I suspect,' said Marlborough with a quiet smile. 'The
youngest daughter of Sir Nicholas Piper is smitten by him. According to my
wife's latest letter, Abigail was so distressed at his departure from London
that she decided to follow him. As you can imagine, her parents are thoroughly
dismayed.'
'The
lady is here ?'
asked the secretary incredulously.
'She's
certainly on Rawson's tail.' He chortled. 'We'll have to warn him about a
possible attack from the rear.'
'It's
highly dangerous for a woman to travel alone.'
'Her
maid is with her,
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