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from time to time in the village tavern. It was atempting prospect but well beyond his reach now.
    ‘Why do you serve in the British army?’ asked Rye. ‘I heard that you and your mother had fled to Amsterdam.’
    ‘That’s exactly what we did.’
    ‘So why didn’t you join the Dutch army?’
    ‘I served in it for years when King William was on the throne,’ said Daniel, ‘before deciding to wear a redcoat instead. British and Dutch armies fight side by side now.’
    ‘Have you fought in many battles?’
    ‘My whole life has been marked out by battles and sieges.’
    ‘What about Blenheim?’
    ‘I was there, Martin.’
    Rye whistled in admiration. ‘Were you – what was it like?’
    ‘If you want the truth, it was desperate.’
    ‘Yet you don’t have a scratch on you.’
    ‘I was lucky,’ said Daniel, modestly.
    ‘We heard so many tales about Blenheim,’ said Rye. ‘The French were well and truly whipped that day. You’re a hero, Dan Rawson. What a wonderful thing to be able to tell your grandchildren – that you fought at Blenheim.’
    ‘In its own way, Ramillies was an even greater triumph. We beat the French into the ground and lost fewer of our men. I had a much better view of that battle,’ Daniel continued, ‘because I had the honour of serving on the Duke of Marlborough’s personal staff.’
    Rye’s manner changed at once. ‘Don’t mention the name of that bastard!’ he said, vehemently.
    ‘But he was our captain general.’
    ‘Yes, Dan, and he was also one of the leaders of the army that mowed down the rebels at Sedgemoor. Because of him, and other cruel devils like him, my brothers ended up with a rope around their necks and so did your father.’
    ‘That’s all in the past, Martin.’
    ‘Is it?’ demanded the other with passion. ‘Then what are you doing here ? Why are you still tending your father’s grave after all these years?’
    ‘It’s a duty. I’m proud of what my father did.’
    ‘You’re no more proud of him than I am of Will and Arthur. Before he became a farmer, your father was a trained soldier. He had proper weapons and knew how to use them. My brothers were raw lads with fire in their veins and a pitchfork in their hands. They stood no chance against that monster, Marlborough, and his army.’
    ‘He wasn’t a duke at the time of Sedgemoor,’ corrected Daniel. ‘He was John, Lord Churchill with the rank of major general and he wasn’t in overall command.’
    ‘What difference does it make?’ snarled Rye. ‘He was one of them . That’s all that matters. I detest him for what he did.’
    ‘He wasn’t directly responsible for the deaths of your brothers.’
    ‘Why are you defending him?’
    ‘Because I’ve had the advantage of getting to know His Grace,’ said Daniel, proudly. ‘In my opinion, he’s the finest soldier alive.’
    ‘Well, I think he’s a barefaced traitor.’
    ‘That’s absurd.’
    ‘I’m not stupid, Dan,’ said Rye, tapping his chest. ‘You may think we’re cut off down here in this little village but we get to hear things and we remember them. When the Duke or Lord Churchill or whatever you want to call him beat the rebels on that bloodthirsty day, he did so in the name of King James. Am I right or wrong?’
    ‘You’re quite right, Martin.’
    ‘Yet three years later, when he should have supported his king once again, he turns his back on him and joins up with a Dutchman, William of Orange. King James was forced into exile. That’s treachery to me.’
    ‘It’s a little more complicated than that.’
    ‘He stabbed King James in the back.’
    ‘That’s not what happened at all.’
    ‘I see what I see,’ affirmed Rye, thrusting out his jaw. ‘You can lick the Duke of Marlborough’s arse all you want but I’ll never forgive him for what he did to my two brothers.’ He nodded at the gravestone. ‘Unlike you, I could never serve a butcher who helped to put my father in the ground.’
    Turning on his heel, he