‘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.’