The ride to Somerset was a journey into his past. It was a pilgrimage that Daniel made every time he was on English soil. Ordinarily, he’d be preoccupied with memories of his father and of the events that led to his untimely death at the end of a hangman’s rope. That tragedy had helped to mould Daniel’s character. On this occasion, however, he spared Nathan Rawson only a few random thoughts. Even the murder of the farmer and his family had been pushed from his mind for once. What simmered in Daniel’s brain as he rode along was the prospect of returning to the theatre of war without the Duke of Marlborough.

It was highly disturbing. Marlborough’s experience, stamina, tactical brilliance and ability to improvise during a battle had earned him a reputation unmatched in military circles. He was revered by his men who called him Corporal John because of his readiness to take notice of the lower ranks. At the same time, he was feared by French marshals and by other commanders who’d faced him in the field. He’d been such a dominating presence in European warfare for so long that he’d acquired almost legendary status. Yet that legend had now been discarded. Daniel could foresee the utter dismay in the Allied army when the word spread. By the same token, he could envisage the sheer delight among the enemy when they realised that their conqueror had relinquished his office. The whole balance of the war would shift in favour of the French. Daniel was troubled.