Fire and Sword by Edward Marston

to do so with him but, when he tried to rise from the table, he collapsed back down onto his chair again. Ribald comments were made at his expense. Now that the talk had moved away from military matters, the men were more relaxed and unguarded. Daniel felt that he’d been accepted. He kept plying them with wine. When he mentioned a recent visit to Paris, all of them had boastful stories about their conquests in the French capital. Crevel nodded off to sleep at one point but woke up on cue when a fresh supply of wine arrived at the table.
    ‘What kept you, landlord?’ he complained. ‘I’m dying of thirst.’
    ‘Don’t listen to him,’ said one of the others. ‘He’s drunk more than the rest of us put together.’
    ‘My throat is parched.’
    ‘Then let’s slake your thirst,’ suggested Daniel, raising his cup.
    ‘To victory in the field!’
    ‘To victory in the field!’ they chorused.
    ‘And in the bedchamber,’ added Crevel, wildly.
    He took a long sip of wine then realised that he was in dire need of using the privy. Two of his friends helped him to his feet. Seeing his opportunity, Daniel got up.
    ‘Let me take him,’ he said, grabbing the major’s arm. ‘Ihave to go out there myself.’ He got a firmer grip on Crevel. ‘Come on. We can manage it together.’
    Looping an arm around Daniel’s neck, Crevel staggered out with him. The privy was in the courtyard at the rear of the tavern. It was dark outside but a lantern was hanging beside the door. Daniel got the major there and helped him inside. Then he stepped back into the shadows. As he did so, he was seized roughly from behind and pushed up against a wall. A dagger was held at his throat by one of Crevel’s friends. His voice was dripping with suspicion.
    ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘What’s your game?’

C HAPTER F IVE
    Daniel was in great danger. It was evident from the tone in the man’s voice that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill his captive if he made a false move. He jabbed with the dagger. Daniel felt momentary pain then blood trickled slowly down his neck.
    ‘I saw you watching us from the corner,’ said the other, coldly. ‘You were waiting for your chance to move in and ingratiate yourself. Well, not all of us were as drunk as you thought even though you kept buying us more wine. I can still see and think clearly. What’s more,’ he went on, sniffing noisily, ‘I can still smell and what I’ve got in my nostrils is a nasty stink.’
    ‘That’s because we’re too near the privy,’ said Daniel.
    ‘Don’t jest with me,’ warned the man. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘I’ve told you. My name is Marcel Daron.’
    ‘What’s your real name?’
    ‘That’s it, I swear it. I’m a wine merchant.’
    ‘And why does a wine merchant suddenly turn up here at the very moment when the army happens to be in Valenciennes?’
    Daniel shrugged. ‘It’s just a coincidence, my friend.’
    ‘I’m no friend of yours,’ said the other, ‘and I’m certain that you’re no friend of ours. You gave yourself away when you offered to help Major Crevel out here. You wanted to get him on your own so that you could wheedle information out of him. I knew there was something peculiar about you.’ The dagger point drew more blood. ‘Now for the last time, tell me who you are or I’ll slit your throat.’
    ‘I really am Marcel Daron,’ said Daniel, earnestly.
    ‘You’re lying.’
    ‘It’s the gospel truth.’
    ‘Then why are you here?’
    ‘I’m breaking my journey on the way to see my sister in Lille.’
    ‘You put your life in jeopardy by travelling alone?’
    ‘I rode here with a score of others and will not venture on until I can enjoy the safety of numbers again. I know there’s a war on,’ said Daniel, ‘and that perils may lie ahead. Believe me, I’d much rather have stayed at home to look after my business. But my sister is grievously sick. She begged me to visit her.’
    The man put his face close. ‘I don’t think