Chasseur à Cheval (Napoleonic Horseman Book 1)

by Griff Hosker

  I took that as a compliment. I liked Carlo. He was a hardworking man and he was honest. He gave his word and kept it. A man can do no more.

  When we reached the inn, our three comrades were looking worried. “I was praying you would come. I did not relish returning to the colonel and telling him that you three were dead!”

  “Do not worry, Charles. We leave before dawn. We return to the regiment. Our days of spying are over. We have the news I think our general wants. The British are leaving the Mediterranean.”

  We left before dawn the next day and, this time, headed up the west coast. Jean explained, “The Regent told us that we had drawn attention to ourselves and this way we are travelling in new country.”

  I was not too sure, “We will have to pass by Rome and we were warned of the dangers.”

  “True but we can keep to the coast. We will head through Florence and then Bologna. It will save a day.”

  Jean made a good decision. The weather was fine and the journey was not difficult. When we neared Ostia and Rome we were nervous but, once we neared Pisa we relaxed. Our Italian was now much better. I had begun to speak Italian to Michael and I felt more confident. I was by no means fluent but I could hold a conversation.

  Tuscany would be the difficult section of the journey as they were quite close to the recent gains made by our army. Jean told us, as we crossed the border, that we should speak only Italian. Even bad Italian was better than French for that would mark us as the enemy. When we climbed the hills beyond Florence we relaxed a little more. We were on the final leg. It was just fifty miles to Bologna and less than that to Mantua. Our only enemy now was the range of mountains and the snow. We hit our first problem when one of the pack horses went lame. They had all done remarkably well up until then. There were few settlements in the high mountains and we were forced to shoot the animal. It would have been cruel to leave it to the wolves. We camped close to a rock overhang which afforded us some shelter from the biting wind. The snow had not been deep but the wind had blown flurries of it into our faces all the way and we were all bitterly cold.

  The fire was soon blazing and we cooked up a stew using some of the meat from the dead horse. Although we all loved horses none of us was squeamish about eating them. We had to survive. The food and a swig of grappa made us all sleepy. I knew that I would be on watch in a couple of hours and I snuggled down into my blanket with my back to the fire.

  “Sergeant,“ Tiny whispered in my ear. I could hear the alarm, even in the whisper.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I heard something but I’m not sure.”

  “Go and wake the others but do it quietly.”

  I grabbed my two pistols and quickly put in a fresh charge. I strapped on my sword and then listened. If there are enemies around it is normally the absence of sound which alerts you. There was total silence. The animals were still which meant only one thing, there was someone out there. I had not turned to face the fire as I did not want my night vision to be ruined. Jean joined me. “Do you hear anything?”

  “No and I should be hearing the noises of the forest. There is someone out there.”

  “You watch this side.” He hissed. “Tiny, get yourself next to the sergeant.”

  As Tiny joined me, I motioned for him to lie down behind his saddle which was next to mine. “Make sure your pistols are loaded and watch for movement in the forest.”

  To anyone in the forest it would look as though we were all sleeping with our feet pointed towards the fire. I had a gun in each hand and I kept flicking my eyes from side to side. Then I saw the movement. It was only a slight judder of a branch but it should not have moved; it was four feet up the tree. I aimed my pistol to the left of the tree and, when I saw a shadow move, I fired. I saw the bandit in the flash from my gun and then I heard the scream as he fell. Suddenly there were men all around us and guns firing. I just had time to fire my left hand pistol at the man who raised an ancient two handed sword above his head. He was less than four feet from me. It was so close his face disappeared.

  “Tiny! On your feet!” I grabbed my sword and looked for another enemy. Three men lurched towards me. In an instant I saw that one had a halberd and the other two swords. The longer halberd was the more dangerous weapon. As the man lunged at me I rolled and stabbed at his leg. I felt the blade enter his leg above the knee and saw the bright arterial blood splash all over the snow. As he fell the two other bandits came at me at the same time. I parried one blade and took the blow from the second sword on the pistol I still held. They did not have good swords. I saw one was already slightly bent. I kicked the first opponent in the knee and as he winced stabbed him in the throat. I threw the pistol into the face of the other bandit and then charged him as he recoiled. He fell over the dying halberdier and I gutted him like a fish.

  There were no other bandits before me and I whirled around. Tiny was trying to fend off two men. One had an axe. Tiny fell backwards and the giant with the axe swung it at his head. I was too far away to stop it and so I threw the sword. The giant’s side was impaled by the blade. I continued running as I saw that the sword had merely slowed him down and the axe was inexorably sliding towards the unprotected head of the young trooper. My shoulder hit the man with the axe and he lurched to the ground. The force of my body drove the sword through him and pinned him to the ground. I pulled out the sword and swung it backhand to sever the neck of the man who was trying to stab Tiny. I was panting with the exertion and I stared around looking for another enemy. There were none. Tiny clutched his left arm. I saw that the last blow of the dying bandit had cut his arm. I took the dead man’s shirt and ripped a piece from it. I bound the arm above the wound. “I’ll be back.”

  I looked around. Jean was unscathed. He raised his sword in salute. “Nice sword-play Robbie, although I don’t remember teaching you the throw.”

  I grinned, “Improvisation. You taught me that!”

  The other three were wounded but only slightly. Michael had a bleeding head whilst the other two had suffered cuts to their arms. None were serious. All of the bandits were dead.

  “Francois, check and make sure they are all dead. Robbie. Make sure they have gone. Here,” he threw me a pistol. “This one is still loaded.”

  I held the pistol in my left hand and the sword in my right. I went into the woods. Fifty yards in I found one bandit dying. Someone had sliced their sword across his middle. He must have staggered this far and then fallen. He was barely conscious when I reached him. I stopped and listened. I could hear nothing else. I turned to my right and did a complete circuit until I came upon the dead bandit again. I had found no-one else.

  I searched the bandit and found a few coins and a wicked looking stiletto which I slid into my boot top. By the time I reached the camp dawn was breaking and the wounds of my comrades had been dealt with. “One dead bandit and I could see no signs of any other.”

  Jean nodded, “They will live but we were lucky. Well done Tiny but next time you are on sentry duty wake someone the moment you hear anything.”

  “Sorry sir, yes sir.”

  I patted him on the back. “You did well and you have a wound to tell the ladies about.”

  We packed up the horses and left by dawn. We were not sure if there were friends of the bandits around but we were taking no chances. As we rode along Jean said, “It was when we killed the lame horse that they knew of our presence. We should have cut its throat.”

  I shook my head. “I am not sure I could do that.”

  “We love our horses Robbie but they are like a sword or a gun. They are a weapon. If your sword breaks you replace it.”

  He was right but I was not sure I could ever cut Killer’s throat. He was as much a friend as Pierre and Jean. We avoided Bologna, even though we could have done with acquiring a new horse and, once we reached the flat lands we changed into our uniforms. We stopped at the first farmhouse we found and gave them our civilian clothes. They were of good quality and they were del
ighted.

  As we left Michael was laughing. “What is it?”

  “They said they had heard that the French were devils but they think we are saints.”

  Jean shook his head, “Well we are no devils but I think calling us saints is pushing it a little.”

  We reached the army the day after. Mantua was still under siege but things were going well.

  Chapter 11

  I accompanied Jean when we reported to the general. Bessières actually showed deference as we waited to be admitted. “I have to confess that I thought the task would be beyond you. Despite any differences we may have had before I admire your tenacity and the fact that you support the general as much as I do.”

  I didn’t like to say that we would have refused the mission had we been given the choice. Instead we both gave a modest smile and a slight bow of acknowledgement.

  Bonaparte was eager to hear our information. We told him of the Regent first and he slapped his hand on to his desk. “If you had returned with that news only I would have given you a promotion! Well done!”

  The news of the British and their departure from the Mediterranean was even more welcome. “Our Navy is not the best and I am just delighted that our armies have driven this Nelson to Gibraltar!” He stood and shook our hands vigorously. “Well done! Well done!” He looked at me first. “Have you reconsidered Scotsman? Would you not like to join my Guides? You too, Captain, can join them at any time.”

  We looked at each other. Jean said, “I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we are flattered beyond belief but too many of our friends are in the 17th. We may take you up on the offer in the future.”

  “Normally one would say that the offer may not be there in the future but in your cases I will just say that the offer is a permanent one.” He gestured to his secretary. “Now then, promotions, as I promised. Captain you are to be major, sergeant, sous lieutenant and your three men sergeants.” He pointed to the scribe. “Give him their names. And now I must leave you for tonight we make the Austrians think that we will assault Mantua. I take your return as a sign of good fortune.”

  He left like the whirlwind he was. We gave the names to the scribe and we left. “He certainly is impulsive sir.”

  “He is that. Let us go and see the colonel and give our comrades the news of their promotions.”

  Everyone was delighted and Tiny speechless. Pierre, of course, had a comment on the whole situation. “I cannot believe that I have to call you sir! What is the world coming to?” He was even more put out when we told him of the food, the wine and the climate of Naples. “That is it! I desert tomorrow and join the Neapolitans!”

  After the excitement of a chase across Italy, not to mention a spell in prison, life on the Italian front was slightly dull. Now that I was promoted to sous lieutenant Pierre became my sergeant and the four officers in the regiment each led thirty men. I frequently gave Pierre half to enable us to cover more territory when we were scouting. Tiny and Charles were still in my section although Francois had gone to Jean. The poor state of equipment in the French army was brought home to us when we received orders to begin to raid the Austrian supply depots.

  Albert was cynical enough to understand why. “If we were trying to weaken the enemy we would destroy them but we are ordered to bring them back.” He pointed at the camps. “Many of the soldiers who join us have no shoes and no uniform. The Austrian white can be dyed quite easily.” He shrugged. “We do our duty!”

  The problem with raiding the depots was that they were well behind the Austrian lines. The Tyrol is a mountainous area with narrow passes which are easy to defend. Jean came up with a solution. “I will take my section and travel at night. That way we can raid first thing in the morning before they are awake. It means a night without sleep but if that means we lose fewer men then it is a good thing.”

  I was tasked with a patrol towards Verona. It was a beautiful town and the mountains rose majestically behind it. The problem was that it made getting close and remaining unseen difficult. We saw no signs of the Austrians as we left our siege lines. Two of the troopers had proved adept at scouting ahead. Paul and Alain were younger than I was but both were country boys who loved horses. It was they who found the track way which led around the town. It looked ancient. The bushes and hedges formed an arch. I wondered why it was no longer used but, as it twisted and turned, I could see that wagons would find it slow and difficult to negotiate. Even we found problems for we had to duck beneath the branches. It passed close by the bridge near to the Castelvecchio, one of the old forts. Verona was part of the Venetian Republic at the time and so we did not want to be the instigators of another war. Once we were beyond the city walls the land began to rise. Paul and Alain came galloping back with the excitement plain to see.

  “Sir, there is an Austrian column. It is on the main road to Breschia.”

  Breschia lay to the west and I knew there was a garrison there. “How many wagons are there?”

  “Five wagons and twenty horsemen guarding it.”

  “Good. I take it there is a guard on each wagon?”

  Paul became less certain, “I think so. I just assumed there would be a driver.”

  “Were there any men or guards inside the wagons?”

  They both looked crestfallen. Alain shook his head. “We didn’t check.”

  “It is not a problem. We will go and have a look anyway.” I turned to Pierre. “Makes sure their muskets are all loaded.”

  “Are you going to take them on? It sounds like we are evenly matched.”

  I laughed, “I cannot believe it. Sergeant Boucher doubts his beloved chasseurs. I thought there was nothing they could not do.”

  Pierre became embarrassed. “No it is just we have a lot of young troopers…”

  “And the officer who leads them is still wet behind the ears. I know.”

  “I didn’t mean that sir.”

  “I will try to come up with a plan while we travel. If I do not think we can take them then we will just slow them down.”

  While he checked the men I wondered how we would manage to do it. I put myself in the position of the commander. I would keep my horsemen close to the wagons. I might have a scout or two out but with only twenty men that would be difficult. I would be looking for trouble from the south as there is where we, the French, were.

  “All ready sir.”

  “Head north. I want to approach the road from that direction. Paul and Alain, you keep contact with the wagons. If they deviate from their route then tell me. We will always be to the north of the road.”

  Once we left the cover of the hedgerow we were exposed but we travelled much faster. Charles rode next to me. “Sir, as I recall the road to Breschia runs close to Lake Garda up ahead and the hills are close to the south. The road narrows and it might be a good spot to ambush.”

  “How far ahead is it?”

  He stood in his stirrups and peered to the north. “I would say about five miles.”

  “Then we will get ahead of them.”

  We rode hard to reach the lake but it was a pleasure to do so. All of us loved riding and, jumping the low walls and streams was as exciting as riding ever got. When we reached the lake we headed south. There was a bridge carrying the road over the river which fed the lake. “Pierre, take ten men and hide on the other side of the bridge. When the first wagon reaches your end of the bridge, take out the riders and the two men on the wagon. I want them held up.”

  “What will you do? You will only have seventeen troopers and they will outnumber you.”

  “I am counting on the fact that their attention will be on you. I will keep Charles and Tiny with me.”

  Pierre chose his men and they quickly concealed themselves. I led my men up the slope of the small hill. We were half way up when Paul and Alain broke cover and raced across the road to join us. “They are half a mile down the road sir.”

  I had cut it too finely. If it were not for the slope of the hill we would hav
e been seen already. “Move yourselves and get over the crest as quickly as you can.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief as they formed a line behind me. I could hear the creaks and groans of the laden wagons as they rumbled along the cobbled Roman Road. I could just see the eastern end of the bridge. Two white jacketed horsemen stepped onto the stone bridge followed by the first of the wagons. “Charles I want you and ten of the men to use your muskets. Make sure you halt before you fire. I want you to aim for the cavalry. Hit the horses or men it doesn’t matter which. When you have fired then join us. Corporal, you and me will take the other five and see if we can frighten them with our swords. Forward!”

  We headed across the side of the hill. We would be hidden from sight for a while. The first wagon was half way across and we saw that three others were on the bridge. The cavalry had had to wait to allow the wagons to cross as the bridge was too narrow to accommodate a wagon and two riders. It was all a matter of timing. We would have the speed from the slope on our side when we struck and Charles and his men could fire over out heads. Suddenly ten musketoons sounded at once and I saw the two lead riders pitch from their horses into the river. The driver of the first wagon also fell to his death. “Charge!”

  The attention of the cavalry was on the far side of the bridge and their commander was desperately trying to get his men across. He had no idea we were coming. Then I heard a shout, there were men in the back of the wagons. Pierre was correct, we would be outnumbered. I could hear him and his men firing as Charles shouted, “Fire!” Not all of the balls struck home but enough did to disrupt the line.

  I aimed Killer at the officer who was trying to organise his survivors. He took his eye from me and the distraction of Killer’s flared nostrils allowed me to stab him in the throat. I gave a flick of the wrist and his body fell. One of the men in the wagon raised his musket to fire and I closed with him. I moved my head slightly and I felt the flash of the muzzle along my cheek. My sword punctured his chest and he fell dead. I turned and saw an unprotected back. I jabbed my sword into the sergeant’s back, not enough to penetrate but to tell him I was there, “Sergeant, surrender or die!” He hesitated and I pushed forwards so that the sword broke skin.