Jack Steel Adventure Series Books 1-3: Man of Honour, Rules of War, Brothers in Arms

‘Oh, Jack, what is that horrid smell.’

The sound of a woman’s voice turned all their heads towards the tent flap. Louisa Weber stood framed against the day, the pale afternoon sunlight catching the golden strands which ran through her pale yellow hair.

‘It’s like you have a ham cooking … in honey or something.’

‘It’s my leg. I’m sorry.’

She grimaced, then laughed. Ten days of nursing Steel had inured her to the sights of a field hospital. If not the smells. She entered and Slaughter smiled and left. Taylor was lost in his work, carefully winding a clean bandage around Steel’s leg.

‘Corporal Taylor is a fine doctor, Jack. He looked after me so well.’

Even through his stubble, Taylor’s deepening colour was evident. ‘It was nothing ma’am. Just did what I could.’

‘Nonsense. You are a treasure. Don’t let him go, Jack.’

‘No danger of that.’

Steel looked hard at the Corporal:

‘Aren’t you done yet, Taylor? Go on, get on now. I’m sure that’ll do it.’

Taylor tucked in the end of the bandage to secure it and gathered up his ointments, placing the glass phials with care inside their leather bag.

‘Good day, Miss. Mister Steel, Sir.’

‘Good day, Taylor. And thank you.’

As Taylor left the tent, Louisa bent to kiss Steel on the forehead. He pulled her down on to his knee.

‘Jack. Be careful. Your leg.’

‘My leg is as good as new. Your Corporal Taylor told me so. Where have you been?’

‘I was visiting the wounded. One of them died in the night. A young boy. He had asked for me. I came too late.’

She stared at the ground and began to rub at the balls of her fingers, as if she was trying to eradicate some dirt. Steel had noticed the habit before and knew that she did it to stop the tears.

‘How’s Mister Williams coping with his duties?’

‘He looked very busy. He wears his head bandaged up and he has taken to walking with a stick for the sake of his poor leg. He looks very … dashing. He was marching with some of your men beside the wagon park. He smiled at me.’

At least they could be thankful that Williams had not been killed.

Steel could recollect little of the immediate aftermath of the fight at Bachweiden. But gradually he began to remember details. The fight with Jennings. Their timely rescue by Hay’s dragoons. Most pressingly the fact that Jennings was now in possession of the papers.

Louisa, freed from Jennings’ threat, had revealed the true identity of her attacker.

Steel had offered an apology to Herr Kretzmer, who, thankful for his lucky escape from the noose and the bullet, had been only too happy to accept the offer of an escort to Augsburg. Of course they had been obliged to make good the payment for the flour. Jennings’ deceit had cost them all, dearly.

Now Steel would not rest until Jennings was dead. How had he not seen through the man before? A rapist and a traitor. The wound had kept him confined to bed and it irked him not to be in pursuit of the Major.

After their rescue, Steel and his Grenadiers had remained in the British camp at Neukirk to join the rearguard, while the bulk of the army had manoeuvred further still into Bavaria. Then the army had returned and together they had made the short march north. Yesterday they had arrived here, just to the south of the town of Rain, which had been taken by Marlborough shortly after their departure some three weeks past. What there was left of the precious flour had been gratefully received. As to the more vital part of Steel’s mission, though, little had as yet been said. Now he awaited Hawkins’ arrival.

Steel knew that soon he would have to account to Marlborough. He had failed. Of that there was no doubt. And whatever might be his punishment for such failure, it remained to be seen how, if at all, it might yet be remedied.

First though, he must be fit. He had been surprised at the gravity of his wounds. The blow on the head had very nearly cracked his skull, but it had been the leg wound from Jennings’ blade that had caused him the most severe discomfort. Having at first considered it no more than a scratch he had had it dressed. But then it had begun to throb and soon to stink. For six days he had lain in a fever. That he had not died was due entirely to the ministrations of Corporal Taylor and Louisa.

He gazed at her now as she attempted to tidy up around him. At her slender waist, the pale beauty of her half-covered shoulders and her delicate profile. He wondered at her resilience. At how quickly she had seemed to recover from her ordeal.

Again he played in his mind with the possibilities of their relationship. If there was ever a woman who might grow accustomed to the life of an army wife, then surely it was Louisa. But was she suited to it? Or indeed suited to him? For what did she really know of him? And what, he wondered, of himself? Was this what he wanted? Arabella was a distant memory and many, many miles away. Louisa was here and now and Steel wondered whether what he felt for her was what men called love. For an instant he caught the word on his lips, then stopped himself. Louisa turned to him and smiled.

‘What?’

‘I. Nothing. I was just …’

She seemed about to say something when the tent flap opened and Henry Hansam entered, followed by Colonel Hawkins.

Steel attempted to stand but the Colonel waived him down.

‘Jack. I am very much afraid that I come bearing a summons. You are ordered at once to the Commander-in-Chief.’

He noticed Louisa and removed his hat.

‘Good day, Miss Weber.’

Hansam followed suit. Like the rest of Steel’s fellow officers he had accepted her presence in his friend’s tent as readily as they had all welcomed the return of Steel himself. Women in camp were no great novelty. Though for the most part of course they were found among the other ranks. But with Steel, as they all concurred, anything was possible. It seemed only natural that the maverick officer should return to the camp with this beautiful Bavarian angel as his consort. For if Steel was not yet decided as to their future, to his comrades it seemed to be a foregone conclusion.

Steel pushed himself up off the chair. Louisa moved to help him to his feet. She buttoned his waistcoat which hung open and draped his red coat across his shoulders before helping him insert his arms. As, with Louisa’s assistance, he pushed his feet into his boots, Steel ran a hand around his recently shaved chin. He peered at himself in the small piece of mirror-glass propped up on a folding table. Hawkins smiled at him.

‘You hardly present the very perfect picture of an officer, Jack. But I dare say you’ll do for Marlborough.’

‘Colonel. I am not back yet ten days and you goad me.’

He pointed to his leg.

‘I am a sick man. Have you no pity?’

Hawkins laughed. Louisa handed Steel the stout ash stick that, to avoid putting pressure on his leg, he had been using for the past few days to help him walk, and held back the flap of the tent as he lowered his head and felt the touch of the balmy evening air. Hansam held the tent open for Hawkins and Steel who, as he left, turned back to Louisa.

‘Wish me luck, both of you. I suspect that I may have need of it.’

Marlborough’s tent, illuminated by the light of two dozen candles, was empty when Steel and Hawkins entered, save for the General’s soldier-servant who was busy pouring three glasses of wine. Hawkins handed one of them to Steel before he spoke:

‘Truly, Jack, I did not expect this to happen. I knew nothing of Jennings’ intentions. Of course I learnt of his departure, but assumed that Colonel Farquharson had dispatched him. There is no doubt in my mind as to who might be behind this. It is common knowledge that the Margrave is opposed to Marlborough’s strategy. We can surmise that one of his commanders must have stumbled upon our plan. There are Tories in the army but I had not been aware that Major Jennings was of their persuasion.’

‘Nor I, Colonel. Although I did perceive that his way of waging war might be somewhat different to that proposed by our Commander.’

Hawkins looked grave.