Chasseur à Cheval (Napoleonic Horseman Book 1)

by Griff Hosker

  Jean spread his arms, “There is blood on them and we wish no part of them. We are soldiers and we go back to war. Use them as you see fit for we both think you are a good man. Now that Gregor has gone there should be more clients for you. I would like you to make a claim on the estate for Robbie here.”

  “That could take years to go through the courts.”

  “I know but I suspect this war will go on for years and he is a young man. Soldiers only need money when they are old soldiers and of no use to anyone. Robbie is a long way shy of that.”

  “Good, just so long as you know. We will begin the paperwork now establishing Robbie’s claim. I will have to use you for a witness.” He looked at my hand. “Is that the ring of the De Breteuil’s?”

  “Yes. We found it in the chateau.”

  “Good then you can use that to seal letters to me. I will know it is from you.” He took a piece of parchment and began to write. Suddenly he looked up. “Did you know that five of the Russian’s men were found dead in the town?”

  Jean’s face was impassive, “I did not know that Amiens had such an efficient rat catcher.”

  Francois gave a wry smile, “I am afraid that the rat catchers have finished their work but most citizens of Amiens are pleased with their efforts. Now let us get the names of all the parties correct, French courts are very particular.”

  When all was done and the papers signed and I had used my signet ring for the first time Francois leaned back. “Where can I contact you?”

  “We will be returning to the army in Golfe Juan. Our furlough is up in ten days. We are with the 17th Chasseurs and General Bonaparte.”

  He looked impressed, “Then you should be easy to find.” He held out his hand. “I am pleased to have met you and I will keep an eye on your friend the inn keeper. If he is a friend of yours then he is worth cultivating.”

  As we headed for Paris I felt happier knowing that Julian was no longer alone. He had Monique, his inn keeper friend and Francois. He would be a beggar no longer. We could not help every old soldier but we had given one some hope at least.

  Chapter 17

  We had taken some coins from the chest to pay for our journey south. If we hired a small coach we could make the journey as quickly south as we had north. We would also be able to sell our horses in Paris and leave us with money to spare. We reached Paris as dusk was descending upon the city. We stayed in a small hotel off the Rue St Honore. We had stayed there before and it was comfortable. After we had eaten we strolled across the Seine to the Champ de Mars and Ecole Militaire. We were back in uniform now. We had discovered that, with the mass conscription, any healthy young man not in uniform risked questions from the police. It was a pleasant evening and we sat in one of the bars which overlooked the academy. We were joined by some Hussars in their gaudy red uniforms. They recognised ours and had heard of our success.

  “You are lucky to have been with Bonaparte. We have been cooling our heels here in Paris while you have had all the glory in Italy.”

  I thought of Julian with no legs and the dead comrades we had left littering the battlefields of northern Italy but I said nothing. “Well we are all at peace now. There is only Britain who is an enemy and until we have a fleet which can match them then we will have no more wars to fight.”

  “Ah yes but you and your regiment is, at least close to a potential enemy. Who do we get to fight in Paris? The mob when they turn ugly/”

  “Yes we heard that our general sorted the mob out on his last visit.”

  The lieutenant of hussars gave a wry laugh, “And even then he used his cannons to disperse them.”

  His companion said, “It was effective. They did leave.”

  We laughed. We enjoyed the company of the two officers. We rarely got the opportunity to speak with other cavalrymen. As the eyes and ears of Bonaparte’s army we worked either with infantry or by ourselves. The two officers promised that they would look us up should they ever receive a posting to the south. Jean and I knew that it was unlikely that we would ever meet again.

  We returned to our hotel. We would have to be up early the next day and seek a carriage to take us south. After our breakfast we headed for the commercial side of the city where we negotiated a reasonable price for a carriage to take us home. When we returned to the hotel there were four policemen waiting for us.

  Major Jean Bartiaux, Captain Robert Macgregor, you are under arrest. Come with us.”

  “What is the charge?”Jean was far calmer than I was feeling.

  “The disappearance of Madame Tusson of Breteuil.”

  “And where are you taking us?”

  The officer grinned, “To the Conciergerie!”

  Even I had heard of this place; it was called the antechamber to the guillotine. Jean nodded calmly, “Before we go we would like to pay our bill and make use of pen and paper. Do you object?”

  I think the calmness of Jean took the officer by surprise and he stammered, “No, so long as you are quick.”

  He smiled and took the pen and paper.”Of course. Robbie, please pay the bill.” He wrote two quick letters. “Have you some wax?” The man handed it over and Jean put a blob on each letter. “Robbie, your ring.” I sealed the two letters. I saw that one was addressed to Francois and the other to General Bonaparte. He handed them to the hotel owner and gave him some coins. “Could you have these delivered please? When we are released I will bring the same amount. You have my word as an officer.”

  The owner gave him a sly look. “But what if you do not survive? It is the Conciergerie you go to is it not?”

  Jean pointed to the name on the letter, “We have important friends. But if you do not send them then you will not receive the rest of the money. It is your choice. Please store our belongings until we return.”

  As we were led away my heart sank to my boots. I was not as confident as Jean. Once in the carriage I turned to speak with him but he pressed his fingers to his lips and pointed to the two policemen sat opposite. He smiled at the officer, “How did you know where to find us?”

  He smiled a reptilian smile. “Since the Revolution every hotel has to send a list of its guests on a daily basis. When the warrant for your arrest arrived last night we knew exactly where to look. This is not a country ruled by aristocrats any longer.” He cast a disparaging look at my ring. “We now promote people for their ability and we have an efficient police force!”

  The prison we were being taken to was the one they had used for all the important prisoners during the Terror. Marie Antoinette had spent her last days as a guest there. It was one of the oldest buildings in Paris and had been used as a barrack’s for the king’s guards in times past. Since the Bastille had been demolished it had become the most secure prison in France.

  Jean asked, “Does the prison governor still make his money from the prisoners.”

  “Yes captain. I hope that you have kept enough money for your accommodation. The poorer sections are filled with lice ridden paupers with more diseases than a hospital.” His smile showed that he cared not a jot what our fate was to be. Jean just smiled at me.

  When we reached the prison I was struck by its solidity and its darkness. As soon as we left the street it was as though we had been plunged into a dark cavern. The prison governor did not appear quite as callous as the policemen. I suppose it is policemen all over the world. They have a little power and they like to use it to make up for other shortcomings. Had they been real men they would have been in the army and not skulking in Paris.

  “I am sorry to see two officers of such a fine regiment placed in this position. Have you a lawyer?”

  “We have sent word to our lawyer but he is in Amiens.”

  “Good.” He gave an apologetic look. “Do you have money? If not…”

  Jean had the money already. He placed fifteen livres on the table. “I assume the rate is still the same?”

  “You wish to share a room?”

  “My friend and I have shared many things on cam
paign. We will endure this hardship together.”

  He seemed pleased with the answer. He turned to the policeman. “You may leave us Inspector Javert.” The policeman looked disappointed as he left. I don’t know if he expected a cut from the governor. “An odious little man. I cannot bear to be in the same room as him.” He nodded to the guard, “This guard will take you to your cell. He will explain the arrangements for food and other things.” He smiled brightly, “Perhaps your stay here will be brief.”

  Jean smiled back. “You never know we may be innocent.”

  “I hope so but it makes no difference to me.”

  As we were taken down into the depths of the prison it felt like we were descending into hell. As we went lower we heard moans, groans and tears. The two guards who escorted us kept their pistols cocked and ready. Had we wanted to escape we could not. The cell had two straw mattresses and a bucket.

  “We let one of you out each morning to empty the bucket. When that it is emptied you can buy your first meal of the day. The last meal is in the evening.”

  “And how much does that cost?”

  The older guard laughed, “It depends upon your purse my friend.”

  When the door was closed we just had the light from one cheap candle. Jean saw my despondent look. “This is not the end of the world Robbie. It is a setback. I am sure that Francois will be able to secure our freedom.”

  “But we are guilty!”

  “Keep your voice down. The only ones who can prove our guilt are the deserters and they have more crimes on their conscience than we do.”

  “Then how did they know to arrest us?”

  “The servants; they would have told others of their liberation and when the chateau was found empty then the local committee would have put two and two together. Remember Mama Tusson was part of the local committee. It is logical that she would have had friends and I daresay she shared her profits with them. With the two deaths then the Breteuil committee is poorer. The burden of proof is on them.”

  I was not as confident as Jean. That evening we paid a few sous for some stale bread and onion soup. In truth neither of us was that hungry but we knew we had to keep our strength up. I was the one tasked with emptying the slops. I was escorted by the guard to a drain in the courtyard. There were other prisoners there. Some of them looked to be well off but many were in rags and coughing. I suspected they were the ones we had been warned about, with the diseases. Had we not had money, then that could have been us.

  Francois arrived in the late afternoon. He gave an apologetic smile as he came in and the door was slammed behind him. “I am sorry it has come to this. I have entered letters to the court detailing the actions of Gregor Savinsky and Mama Tusson. Since their disappearance,” I noticed how he stressed that word, “many people have emerged to make complaints and claims against the estate. It will do our case no harm. As the men who worked for him have disappeared whilst his home and office have been ransacked the consensus amongst the reasonable citizens is that there was a falling out and the perpetrators of the crime are his men. The fact that five of his men were found dead recently has added credence to the claim.” He sighed, “That is the good news. The bad news is that the local committee is annoyed that it has lost a valuable source of income. They are pursuing their demands for your deaths at the highest level. It means there will not be a speedy end to your trials. You say you have written to General Bonaparte?” Jean nodded. “Good. That cannot hurt for he is the darling of the people at the moment.” He seemed to see our surroundings for the first time. “Have you enough money?”

  Jean smiled, “We have paid for this sumptuous room for a month and we can afford to stay for longer but…”

  “But you hope for a speedy release. I quite understand. I am also pursuing Robert’s claim for the estate and that may help our case. I have depositions from others who knew the count and your mother attesting to your claim. It is looking hopeful but I am afraid, not speedy.”

  The guard rapped on the door. “I think the guard is telling you that your time is up Francois. Thank you for coming.”

  “No it is I who should thank you. Since Savinsky’s disappearance I have had so much business that I will have to take on a partner. It is an ill wind as they say. Do not lose hope. I am confident that justice will prevail.”

  “I hope that is true and if so will show the change in France!”

  The next two days were desperate ones. The only enlivening part was that we talked. We talked of my mother and the people we had both known at Breteuil. We spoke of Julian and our pleasure at his new life but most of all we talked of our comrades. It was they we missed the most. Our furlough was almost up and I wondered if we would be posted as deserters. That would be adding insult to injury. Jean had shaken his head, “I would not worry about that. Albert knows we would not desert. The paperwork will be lost. If he were closer I would have written to him. I am sure that the regiment would have found a way to extradite us from this predicament.”

  We had another miserable night listening to the moans, groans and tears of our fellow prisoners. It made sleep difficult, if not impossible and when we awoke from a fitful sleep again we were both red eyed. When the guard rapped on the door Jean stood with the bucket but when the door was opened it was the governor. He was smiling, “It seems my friends that you have friends in high places. You have been released and the charges dropped. There is a carriage awaiting you outside.” He stood aside for us to leave. We left as quickly as we could. When we reached his office he shook our hands. “I can honestly say that this is the outcome I wished for. I have spoken with friends from the army and I know of the deeds you have done.” He pointed to me, “For the capture of the Dutch Fleet alone you should have been pardoned. France owes you both a debt and I hope this has gone some way to paying it.”

  When we stepped outside there was Bessières. He shook our hands. “I am sorry this took so long but the general did not receive your letter straight away. He was not in Paris. As soon as he did he sent me and this carriage. I am to take you to the Tuileries.”

  As we entered the closed carriage Jean said, “Could we stop at the Rue Honore first. We need our luggage and we have a debt to pay.”

  Bessières pointed to the rear of the carriage which was festooned with our equipment and luggage. I was relieved to see my sword there. “It is here.”

  “Nevertheless I have a debt to pay and I gave my word.”

  Bessières nodded his understanding. “It is on the way anyway.”

  When we reached the hotel Jean and I went in. Jean took out twice the amount he had promised. He walked up to the owner and handed it to him. “Here you are sir. A debt is paid and thank you.”

  We reached the palace and the carriage pulled up around the rear so that we could get out unseen by any. Bessières took us to our rooms. “I have baths ready for you gentlemen. The general is busy tonight but feel free to wander the palace. Just do not try to leave until the general has spoken with you.”

  “We are prisoners still then?”

  Bessières shrugged, “Let us just say you are guests we would prefer not to leave.”

  I did not mind as the change in circumstances was more than welcome. The baths were perfect and I lay luxuriating in mine until Jean came in. “You will end up a prune. Come I wish to explore this palace. It may be the only opportunity I ever get to visit the place where the kings and queens of France lived. While you dress I will pen a letter to Francois. I would not have him worrying about us.”

  I have to confess that it was worth it. The palace was everything I had heard and more. I had thought that my father had lived well but it was a hovel compared with the opulence of the palace. Many of the treasures had been removed in the fervour of the early Revolution but now it was being renovated and brought back to its former glory. I think I saw the hand of the general in all of this.

  When Bessières found us we had visited almost all of the rooms that were available to us. Guards had turn
ed us back from one or two but we had seen the glory by then. “If you would care to join myself and some of the other Guide officers for dinner I think we can offer you fine food and sparkling conversation.”

  He was right about the food and the wine but the conversation was dull. It was when we were half through the meal when I realised that we had been invited to enliven the meal with out tales. Bonaparte’s Guides were with their general but they did not see action. I watched their eyes light up as Jean retold tales of our beloved 17th. From the dark days of the Low Countries to the glory of the campaign in Italy, they sat enraptured.

  In a brief moment of silence I asked, “Do you not have glory too then?”

  The silence was so awkward that I deeply regretted my question. Bessières answered. “We have chosen to protect the general rather then enjoying your life but that does not mean that we do not envy you. I served with you albeit briefly but I can tell you that the esprit de corps and the loyalty you enjoy is unique. We envy you.”

  As I lay in bed, later on, I reflected on what Bessières had said and the sadness with which he had spoken the words. The elite regiments were the ones we all aspired to but when it was right there was nothing better than a good line regiment and I suddenly wished myself back with Pierre and the others.

  Napoleon Bonaparte returned the next day. We knew he had arrived from the fevered and frenetic activity of the servants and officers of the Guides. “Will we be returning to the regiment, Jean?”

  “I would imagine so. I think we are an embarrassment for those in power and the sooner we are out of Paris the better but I wonder why Bonaparte has kept us here so long.”

  We found out in the evening when we were summoned by Bessières to Bonaparte’s study. He looked serious and came straight to the point. “You have behaved foolishly in the matter of the Chateau of Breteuil. Had I known that you would use your furlough in that way then I would have forbidden you to leave Paris. That is done. The next time you stray over the line between duty and personal vendettas I will leave you to rot in prison. Is that understood?”