Fire and Sword by Edward Marston

come from?’ asked Cardonnel.
    ‘The protest was made by another farmer,’ said Daniel. ‘I was there when he came into camp. He was too agitated to make much sense at first but I managed to tease the relevant details out of him. It seems that the boy ran four miles barefoot to the next farm to tell his tale. The lad was in a terrible state, and who can blame him? He lost his home, his parents and his siblings in one dreadful swoop. As soon as the farmer heard what had happened, he galloped here to demand that we punish the culprits.’
    Cardonnel nodded. ‘I’d say that was a very legitimate demand.’
    ‘They’ll be punished,’ vowed Marlborough, frowning deeply. ‘I’ll supervise their execution myself. First, however, we have to identify them.’ He turned to Cardonnel. ‘Sendword to every cavalry regiment, Adam. I want to know details of every patrol that rode out of here.’
    ‘I’ll draft letters immediately, Your Grace.’
    ‘Ask for a description of where the patrols went and the names of those men involved. We may have to do this by a process of elimination but we’ll catch them in the end. They’re not British soldiers – they’re vicious criminals.’
    ‘And they wear our uniforms,’ said Cardonnel, ruefully.
    ‘I’m not certain about that,’ Daniel put in.
    ‘You just told us that redcoats committed this atrocity.’
    ‘They did, but that doesn’t mean they belong to us. I’ve been thinking how difficult it would be for one of our patrols to rustle livestock then burn down a farm. Where would they keep the animals? They could hardly bring them back here to camp. Nor could they rely on being sent out on patrol again at a time of their choosing. Do you see the problem here?’ he went on. ‘The boy talked of nine or ten soldiers who raided the farm. When patrols are sent out, they vary greatly in size. It’s unlikely that the same group would be dispatched together each time.’
    ‘That’s true,’ agreed Marlborough, grasping at the possibility that his men might not, after all, be responsible. ‘We may have a smattering of god-forsaken rogues in our midst but we also have thousands of honest, decent, responsible men who’d draw back at such horrors. If they had the faintest whiff of it, they’d report it to their superiors.’
    Daniel became pensive. Cardonnel watched him carefully.
    ‘I know that look in your eye, Daniel,’ he said at length. ‘You’ve been meditating on this, haven’t you? I suspect you have a theory.’
    ‘As it happens,’ Daniel answered, ‘I have two.’
    ‘If either exonerates our soldiers, let’s hear it.’
    ‘The first theory does that. I believe that these redcoats might actually be French soldiers, deliberately wearing our uniforms to give the impression that we’ll slash and burn for the sheer love of it. It would be easy for them to get hold of uniforms,’ Daniel continued. ‘After any engagement, the battlefield is littered with them.’
    ‘That sounds very plausible,’ said Marlborough, thoughtfully. ‘Burgundy and Vendôme know that we don’t enjoy the unqualified support of the Flemish population. We’ve yet to win their loyalty, let alone their affection. What better way to stir up enmity against us than to portray us as callous murderers? Thank you, Daniel. Your theory has the ring of truth about it.’
    ‘Yet it is only a theory, Your Grace,’ Daniel reminded him.
    ‘And it’s partnered with another,’ noted Cardonnel.
    ‘This one is not so reassuring, I’m afraid,’ cautioned Daniel, ‘because it puts the onus back on us. It would be very comforting to think that French soldiers have carried out the three raids, thereby lifting suspicion off British soldiers. However…’
    ‘Go on,’ Marlborough encouraged.
    ‘I incline towards my second theory.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘That these men are deserters from our own ranks,’ said Daniel, ‘hiding behind our uniforms and initiating another attack whenever they want