Jack Steel Adventure Series Books 1-3: Man of Honour, Rules of War, Brothers in Arms. Iain Gale
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and walked back towards the square. He had commended his gun into the particular care of the Sergeant, but the great sword still clanked at his side and in the ghostly stillness of the abandoned streets, he placed his hand on the scabbard. It seemed almost sacriligous to hear such a sound in a place so newly marked by war. At the edge of the square and down the length of the main road that led into the town from the north, the laden wagons stood in the late afternoon light with their drivers. Some of the wagoners had taken the dray teams out of their shafts and were watering them at a nearby trough. Steel had ordered Williams to position two sentries on permanent guard on the wagons and a picquet of three men at each of the roads leading into the town. That accounted for half of their entire force. The others he expected, as had been arranged, in the inn. They would have to be careful of course, he, Williams and Slaughter, that each man consumed only his allotted ration of ale. For while Steel’s plan could work well as a preventative measure, it could also all too easily, he realized, be turned against him.
He walked up to the inn and pushed open the door. It was a sizeable place which, before the late catastrophe, might have made a good profit from the pilgrim route which Hawkins had told him, ran through these hills. The interior reeked reassuringly of stale alcohol and pipe smoke. The room was quite empty and Steel made his way across to the open staircase which rose to the upper floors. He was contemplating whether he should ascend, when he heard a low groan from a half-open door at the rear of the room. Pushing it open, he peered in and saw the figure of an old man, tucked under a blanket in a large wooden chair. He appeared to be mumbling in his sleep.
‘He’s my father.’
The soft voice, in a gently accented English, startled him and, turning, Steel instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The girl spoke again.
‘I’m sorry. I did not mean to alarm you.’
‘I’m not alarmed, Miss. You just took me by surprise.’
She was exquisitely beautiful, with piercing blue eyes and hair like spun straw. Steel was entranced.
‘You are English? Yes?’
‘Yes. That is, I’m from Scotland, Miss. But … yes. You might say I am.’
He was unsure as to whether she had understood him. It was really not important.
‘Captain, Lieutenant. Sir.’ She looked in vain for his badge of rank.
‘Lieutenant, Miss. Lieutenant Jack Steel of Farquharson’s Regiment, in the service of Queen Anne.’
He gave a short bow. Louisa smiled and again, he was frozen by her beauty.
‘My name is Louisa Weber, Lieutenant. You are welcome here. This is my father’s inn. Your other officer, Major … Jennings, told me that you have found the men who did this horrible thing to our town. That this is not your doing, but the work of the Dutch. I try to understand.’
Steel nodded and wondered exactly what Jennings had said to her. How he had explained that they had ‘found the men’.
Louisa knelt down on the floor beside her father and draped her arm lightly about his shoulders. She whispered something to him in German. Words of comfort on a day where none could help. She looked up at Steel, her beautiful eyes filled with despair.
‘My father is sick. We must throw ourselves on your mercy. My father has a cousin in England. Living in Harwich. Perhaps you know it. It is a fishing town. His cousin is a merchant. A very rich man, I think. Perhaps, if we could get passage back to England, I could give you money, Lieutenant. I have already told this to Major Jennings. He says it will be fine. I told him my father’s cousin will pay. It is now the only thing to do, I think. We are ruined here now.’
Steel felt truly sorry for her. She was right. The town had ceased to exist. The dragoons had left only the inn and the church standing but what use was an inn with no prospect of customers?
‘Of course, Miss Weber. Of course we will do everything that we can to help you. And your father. And please, we will not take your money. Whatever Major Jennings might have said. Please.’
How very typical of Jennings, he thought, to have accepted her offer of payment. He extended his hand to help her to her feet and as he did so, the door on to the square opened and Slaughter entered. Clearing his throat, he called through to Steel who he could see through the door to the back room.
‘Mister Steel, Sir. I was wondering if now would be the right time for the men to get that ration of ale. We’re fair parched.’
Steel appeared. ‘Quite the right time, Sarn’t. Send them in.’
He turned to Louisa, who had followed.
‘Miss Weber. I take it that you can provide us with some ale? We have the money to pay for it. And whatever food you have to hand would be most welcome. If you could find a little wine, I would be very grateful.’
Happy for this semblance of normality, Louisa busied herself with attending to her guests.
The Grenadiers gradually filled the inn. They removed their caps as they entered and, piling their arms by the door, sat in groups at the tables. Within minutes the place was alive with noise. Steel watched Louisa as she moved among the soldiers and saw the change in her. How animated she had become. How very much more alive. He kept a low profile, sitting on his own in a dark corner beside the inglenook fireplace, although happily acknowledging any of the men who passed. Louisa had found him a pitcher of good Moselle and, although he could have drained it within minutes, he was pacing himself, anxious to keep an eye on the men. Slaughter, although he had taken his place within a group of senior other ranks, was exercising similar prudence. But neither man need have worried. One table was engaged in a game of cards. Another singing a round-work, whose ancient folk lyrics they had replaced with something rather more ribald. Steel watched the men relax for the first time in days and guessed that his tactic might have paid off. Slaughter caught his eye from across the room and nodded discreetly. Now, being convinced he could relax himself, from his shadowy obscurity Steel indulged in glimpses of Louisa as she made her way through the fug, serving the tall steins of sweet, dark brown ale, Dunkel, which in this part of Bavaria was the staple beer. From nowhere, too, she had conjured up a stew – thin but hot and satisfying and there was good black bread to go with it and ham and slabs of cheese – without the customary weevils.
The men, conscious that an officer was present, and that he was paying the bill, made no attempt to molest Louisa. He saw her smile, her pretty face lit from within and wondered unexpectedly how convincingly Jennings had entranced her with his unctuous words and promises. Then, catching the thought, puzzled how he could be jealous of that man, and why. He had only known this girl less than an hour. Had hardly spoken to her. And yet there was something about her that felt somehow … comfortable.
He saw Williams enter the inn and look about the room. A table of Grenadiers looked up and grinned. As the new boy of the company, the Ensign was still an object of fun, even though he had won his spurs in the skirmish with the French. Steel called across to him.
‘Tom. Over here. Come and join me in a glass.’
Williams sat down and Steel filled two glasses.
‘Any sign of our friend the Major?’
‘None, Sir. I presumed that he might be in here.’
‘And Herr Kretzmer?’
‘No, Sir. Although he might be in his carriage.’
‘So, Tom. I promised that I would ask again after your first battle. How do you like soldiering now?’
‘I have not revised my opinion, Sir. Although, in truth, I must admit being unsettled by what we discovered at Sattelberg. Surely, Sir, that cannot be a true picture of war?’
‘No, Tom. War is not often like that. But the truth about war is that you can never be quite sure what will happen next. Sattelberg was bad. But take it from me, in your time as a soldier you will see worse. Far worse. And yet there are times, too, when you will know that there is nothing like it in all the world. It is