5 A Very Murdering Battle Read Online Free Page A

responsibilities. At the same time, however, he felt that something was missing. The sense of adventure embodied in Daniel had a heady appeal and he was reminded of the thrill of courting danger at every turn. While he had no wish to return to the army, he’d begun to feel regrets that had been dormant for years. Work as a baker was safe, undemanding and profitable. Yet it was also mundane and repetitive. It lacked the excitement and the camaraderie he’d found when in uniform.
    Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss such thoughts. He knew who to blame. ‘Damn you, Dan Rawson!’ he said to himself. ‘Why the devil did you have to come to Paris and stir up memories I’ve tried so hard to forget?’ He addressed his mind to what lay ahead. When he got to the bakery, the ovens would already be lit by his assistant and Flynn would be able to start making loaf after loaf. It was a staple food that people needed every day. Providing it gave him satisfaction and, after all this time, he still savoured the tempting aroma of fresh bread. The bakery was owned by his father-in-law, Emile Rousset, but he’d been happy to let Flynn gradually take charge. It was a far cry from the menial jobs he’d done as a boy in his native Ireland. Having mastered his new trade, he applied himself to it and soon built his reputation. He was liked and respected by his customers for his excellent bread and for his cheery disposition. It was something of which Flynn could be justly proud.
    Breakfast over, he put on his ratteen coat and reached for his hat. With an old cloak around his shoulders, he was ready to step out of the house into another wintry day. He carried the lighted candle, cupping a hand around the flame to prevent it from being blown out. In the stable, he set the candle up on a shelf and went to work in its flickering circle of light. After harnessing the horse, he had difficulty persuading it to go between the shafts of the cart and had to swear volubly in French at the animal. It was only then that he realised he was not alone in the stable. Something seemed to be moving under the pile of sacks on the back of the cart. Holding the candle in one hand, he used the other to grab a sickle that was hanging on a wall.
    ‘Come out of there,’ he ordered, standing over the cart.
    As the sacks were peeled off one by one, Flynn watched with his weapon held high and ready to strike. Angry that someone had dared to trespass on his property, he resolved to punish the interloper. When the final sack was moved aside, however, a familiar face came into view. Daniel gave him an apologetic smile.
    ‘Good morning, Ronan,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me bedding down here for the night. I had a spot of bother.’
     
     
    The Duke of Marlborough divided opinion. While everyone agreed that he was a supreme strategist on the field of battle, there were those who criticised him for what they perceived as his characteristic meanness. Compared to other generals in the Allied army, he maintained rather modest quarters and was quicker to accept an invitation to dine elsewhere than to offer hospitality himself. His friends argued that he was always in such demand as a dinner companion that he had to share himself around, but his many detractors discerned guile and parsimony. The protracted siege of Lille had extended the campaign season well beyond its usual limit and it was not until the subsequent fall of Ghent in the first week of January 1709 that hostilities were finally suspended. His coalition army was at last able to retire into winter quarters and try to keep up its spirits in the atrocious weather conditions. Unable to sail back to England, Marlborough contrived to get himself invited to stay in The Hague at the commodious home of an obliging Dutch general. When they saw him and his entourage take over half the entire house at no expense, critics said it was one more example of his stinginess, while others countered that he could hardly