Free Drums of War by Edward Marston

one
was a farmer, two were bankers, each with their wives, and the remaining two
were former soldiers, returning to Paris in search of work.
    Though
Daniel would have liked it to go faster, the convoy kept up a reasonable speed.
He spoke to as many of the others as he could and was interested to hear their
views of the war.
    They
came in sharp contradiction to the opinions held in the Allied camp. He was
irritated when one of the soldiers held forth about the way that Marshal
Villeroi had forced the enemy into a hasty retreat from the River Yssche but
Daniel said nothing. To all intents and purposes, he was one of them. When they
broke their journey at another inn, he enjoyed sharing a meal with the bankers
and their wives, the only people travelling by coach. Bowing to what they
believed was his expertise, they let him choose the wine. The men had a
prosperous air and the women were excited because they were being taken to
Paris by indulgent husbands to look at the latest fashions. The war had not
impinged on their life at all. It might have been happening on another
continent.
    His
room was small but serviceable and overlooked the stables. Daniel removed his
coat and shoes but kept most of his clothing on in case he had to make a sudden
departure. When he got into bed, he kept his saddlebags within easy reach.
Unlike the bankers, who had drunk themselves close to oblivion, Daniel had been
abstemious at the table so that he could keep his mind clear. Even though he
had been accepted into the group, it was important to keep his defences up. One
slip could prove fatal.
    It
was after midnight when he finally dozed off but Daniel was a light sleeper. As
soon as he heard the faint creak of floorboards in the passageway outside his
room, he was wide awake. He lay there under the sheets as the door slowly
opened. It was too dark for him to see anyone but he heard movement across the
floor. The next sound that reached his ears was a slight clink. Someone was
trying to undo the strap on his saddlebags. Thinking that it was a thief,
Daniel reached for the dagger he kept under the pillow. Then he got up quickly
and opened the shutters so that moonlight flooded into the room. He threatened
the intruder with his dagger, only to find that he was staring at the barrel of
a pistol. It was one of the discharged soldiers.
    'I
thought so,' said the man with a grin. 'You fooled the others but I knew there
was something odd about you. How many wine merchants go to bed without
undressing? And how many keep a dagger handy?' He gestured with the gun. 'Put
it down on the bed.' Daniel tossed the weapon aside. 'That's better.'
    'What
do you want?' asked Daniel.
    'I
want to know who you really are.'
    'I've
told you - my name is Marcel Daron.'
    'Then
you'll have papers to prove it,' said the soldier. 'That's why I wanted to see
inside your saddlebags.'
    'Go
ahead,' said Daniel, confidently. 'I've nothing to hide.'
    'I
think you do.' He opened one of the leather pouches and put his hand in. He
brought out a purse. 'Do you always travel with so much money, Monsieur Daron?'
    'I'll
have a lot of expenses in Paris. The documents you want are in the other
pouch,' said Daniel. 'If you give me leave to light the candle, you'll be able
to read them properly.'
    The
man gestured with the gun again and Daniel lit the candle on the little table
beside the bed. As he did so, he glanced at the door.
    'I
wouldn't advise you to make a run for it,' warned the man. 'My friend is at the
other end of the passage and he'll run you through with his sword if you try to
escape.' He looked at the saddlebag. 'Now then, what do we have here?'
    Undoing
the strap on the other pouch, he felt inside until his hand closed on a wad of
papers bound with ribbon. He fished them out but was unable to untie the ribbon
with one hand. When he put his pistol aside, he was momentarily unarmed. Daniel
was on him in a flash, kicking the gun out of reach and punching the man's head
with both fists