Chasseur à Cheval (Napoleonic Horseman Book 1)

by Griff Hosker

  I nodded but Jean said, “In that case sir, send us back to the Conciergerie for I do not regret any of my actions and I do not guarantee my future conduct.”

  I saw Bessières’ look of horror and heard his sharp intake of breath. Bonaparte remained impassive. Had Jean gone too far and would we be sent back to prison?

  When Napoleon smiled I knew we had been saved again. “I should not be surprised when the guard dog I have trained bites my hand. Both of you have spirit and you have done France a service by ridding the north of two vultures but I cannot let you off the leash; you need handling. You are mine and you will obey me. Will you agree to that?”

  I held my breath and stared at Jean, willing him to agree. “We are soldiers of France and you are a general of France, quite possibly the greatest general in France at the moment. Of course we will obey you.”

  The air suddenly became breathable again. “Good, for I have work for you two and your other companions.” He stood and took us to a map on the wall. “Egypt is the gateway to the east and Great Britain’s India. I intend to capture that land as part of the new French Empire. However I need a base closer to Africa.” He jabbed a podgy finger at a speck on the map. I had thought it was a dead fly. “Malta is the key. I intend to capture Malta but we know little about it. You will go to the island aboard one of my ships and find out what the defences are like.” He stared at us.

  Jean looked at the map and then he smiled. “Very well. When do we leave?”

  Bonaparte nodded as though he knew the answer already. “Tonight. There is a sloop waiting at Golfe Juan and your two companions are waiting for you even as we speak. You will go in my carriage and as soon as you arrive you will depart for the island. Everything has been arranged. You will have a week on the island to discover its strengths and weaknesses. I will be waiting in Golfe Juan for your report. You may go.”

  As we hurtled down the heart of France I asked Jean, “You took a risk. Why?”

  He needed us more than we needed him. He would have gained nothing by throwing us back in prison. I wanted to see his resolve and how much he values us. We can ask for the moon and he will try to give it to us for he believes we can give him the sun.”

  The journey down passed as quickly as the one north had. The general had power and there were changes of horses and drivers at regular intervals. We slept and made up for the sleep lost whilst in prison. We did not need to speak. Those days and nights in the Conciergerie had left us with little else to discover about each other. We did not need to fill the silence with meaningless babble.

  We reached Golfe Juan as the sun was setting over the beautiful sea. The golden rays of the sun belied the cool of the November water. We had little time for warm welcomes and talks about the furlough. The colonel was there with Tiny, Michael and Pierre. The latter was a surprise. Albert explained, “When our new lieutenant discovered that you would be off on another Bonaparte adventure he begged me to allow him to accompany you. To shut him up I agreed but if you wish to throw him overboard then I would be just as happy.”

  “I thought it was time that someone came on one of these expeditions who understands what to bring back.”

  The young captain of the sloop coughed. “We have little time sir, to achieve our aims. Malta is not just around the corner. We need to board and sail.”

  “Very well. We packed what we would need in one chest. Have you our muskets?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then we are ready.”

  “Take care, Jean. I think our general is using your luck up at a prodigious rate.”

  I looked at Jean, if only he knew about the prison he would have confirmation. “Goodbye sir. Tell my squadron I will be back soon.”

  We went down to the quay and saw the Carillon for the first time. She had four small guns on each side and three masts. She looked tiny and I shivered a little as I stepped aboard for my first voyage on a ship.

  Chapter 18

  The three masted sloop ghosted out of the small harbour. The lights of the bars around the port soon faded into pinpricks and we were lost in the dark waters of the Mediterranean. We left the young lieutenant to his task of navigating to Malta and we retired to the mess we had been allocated. Conditions were cramped but we were soldiers and we could put up with it. We briefed our three companions. They had been told little save that we would be scouting out a potential battlefield and we would be behind enemy lines.

  “We will be landing on the Island of Malta. It is ruled by the Knights of St. John. We have no intelligence at all about the forces that might face us when we land. I will find out where the captain will land us but the island is small and we could walk it all in one day. We will travel in civilian clothes. Pierre you will have to be the dumb one as you don’t speak Italian.” He looked put out. “You wanted to be in on this so deal with it. I only intend to spend a couple of days on the island. The general wants us back sooner rather than later. You all know how quickly he moves, well the thirty thousand men he has marked out for this invasion are heading for the ports along the south coast right now.”

  “Why the hurry sir?” I felt I had to ask the question which was on everyone’s minds.

  “Well I am not privy to the general’s thoughts but I would guess that as we have no continental enemies to fight he is thinking about Egypt. The Royal Navy are no longer in the Mediterranean as they have no bases and so he has a free rein but make no mistake the British will be back and so speed is of the essence.”

  “Well it will be warmer in Africa at any rate. I wonder what the wine will be like.”

  Jean shook his head, “You always bring it down to the basics don’t you Pierre?”

  He shrugged and grinned, “At the end of the day that is all that life is about isn’t it sir; the basics?” He was of course right. He had that annoying habit of always being right.

  The Carillon was a fast little ship and three days later we arrived off the south coast of Malta. The young lieutenant had timed it to arrive after dusk on the loneliest part of the heavily populated island. He pointed to the towers we could see. “They have the towers to watch for corsairs and pirates but they use Xebecs. When they spot us they should take us for a smuggler. If you speak French they will assume you are a smuggler.”

  Jean shook his head, “We need to play Italians as we need information. We will pretend that we are here to buy supplies for the ship.”

  “Then why did we not land in Valetta?”

  The lieutenant was young but he had a head on his shoulders. “We have damaged the hull and you are repairing the ship.” Jean waved vaguely up the coast. “Somewhere up there.”

  The lieutenant smiled and nodded, “Sounds plausible. Say we have sprung some planks and need pitch. We will be back here each night after dark. Shine a light three times. Count to thirty then three more times. Keep doing that until we reply. I will send a boat in for you. Good luck.”

  We descended into the skiff and the two sailors rowed us towards the darkened beach. After we waded ashore and the sailors returned to the sloop I felt very lonely. Here there was no quick way home.

  We scrambled up the bank to get our bearings. We could see pin pricks of lights showing houses but, in the distance we could see the larger glow which had to be Valetta. Jean waved us closer, “We will split up and find out as much as we can. Pierre and Michael, you reconnoitre the walls around the port. Are they old or have they been improved? We need to know if they will stand up to cannon. Robbie, you take Tiny and go into the town. I want you two to listen to conversations in the bars. Find out the mood. I will go to the citadel. We meet back here at sunset. Hide your muskets in the undergrowth here. We should be able to carry pistols and swords as long as we are discreet. We will only need the muskets if we are pursued and the boat is late. Tiny, make sure the lamp for signalling is secure. If that gets broken then we are in trouble. Any questions?”

  Pierre said, “Well with all due respect sir I think I am best suited to getting infor
mation from bars.”

  “Normally Pierre that would be true but as you don’t speak Italian…”

  He nodded, “Point taken. Education eh? What a wonderful thing.”

  “Come on Tiny. Let’s secure that lamp and the muskets.” There were many rocks around and we moved some to make a shallow grave. We jammed the lamp between our muskets with cloth wrapped around it and then carefully replaced the rocks above them. Safe that it was secure we set off across the fields. Although the fields were uneven they were neither muddy nor dangerous. I was relieved when we reached a rough road which appeared to lead to the town.

  As we tramped down I went over our story. “You are Cesar, again and I am Roberto. We come from Naples and our ship is the Santa Maria. She is beached around the headland with a leaking hull and we need to buy some pitch.”

  “And where were we going sir?”

  “Good point. We were heading for Gibraltar. We had despatches for the British.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad I improved my Italian sir. I would hate to be Pierre and not understand a word.”

  “I think Pierre can understand some Italian but he cannot speak it.”

  As we approached the walls I saw that the gate was open and there were men with weapons lounging there. We approached cautiously. Would we even get into the city? As we neared them I could smell the wine. They were drinking. As we neared them they waved and carried on with their conversation. Within three yards we were within the walls of Valetta. I took the opportunity of turning to look at the men and their weapons. Even in the dim light of their brazier I could see that the muskets were old and not in good condition. They were using their short swords to toast some bread and the blades looked rusty and dull. Their uniforms were patched and worn. Perhaps the real army was better prepared but the ones at the gate were not soldiers.

  We headed down the hill to the port. There would be many people there and we would be more likely to find out what we needed. I was also aware that we would have the opportunity for a night in a bed. Poor Michael and Pierre might be sleeping rough. I sought a tavern with rooms. As residents we would be more anonymous. As we walked down to the port I observed that there were few soldiers around. The walls had sentries but they were so far apart that they served no purpose whatsoever.

  We reached the port which was quiet now that night had descended. We headed for a substantial looking hotel and entered. It was a hot, smoky room filled with the people who worked and lived around the harbour. There were sailors and fishermen along with those burly labourers who would unload the ships. As one would expect there were the ladies of the night who serviced the workers but the atmosphere contrasted sharply with the tavern in Amiens where Jean and I had watched the deserters. This was not a town at war. This was a prosperous port with contented citizens.

  I went to the quiet end of the bar. “Have you a room for the night?”

  The barman signalled an older man over, obviously the owner and spoke briefly to him. “You want a room?” I nodded. He leaned over suspiciously, “Luggage?”

  “We haven’t got any. Our ship sprang a leak on the south side of the island. The captain sent us to get some pitch to repair it but the journey took too long. We don’t fancy going back in the dark and besides we couldn’t find any pitch.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied and named a price, “In advance.” Obviously he had been cheated before. As I handed over the coins I noticed the sign advertising the prices and we had paid over the odds. I said nothing but it was a warning about the owner. “Do you want food?”

  “And some wine.”

  He looked around the room and saw a table occupied by two whores. There were no drinks on the table. He wandered over and said sharply, “These gentlemen have money and want food so shift!”

  They did not seem put out but smiled, “After you have had food if you want more comforts then we will be over there.” They pointed to the corner of the bar we had just vacated.

  Remembering my role as a sailor I winked and said, “I always like my comforts. We’ll be along later.”

  The jug of rough wine appeared and we sat back. Our job was to listen and not to talk. I poured the wine and eavesdropped on the conversations. Occasionally, I said something trivial to Tiny, just to keep up appearances but I generally just listened. The food came. It was hot and it was filling; that was all. The men around our table appeared to be quite happy that, while the rest of Europe was embroiled in war, they were benefiting by supplying services for the ships of the combatants. I heard talk of the knights and got the impression that they were a throwback to the days of chivalry and quests. They seemed to be held in high regard by the men in the bar, mainly because they kept the island prosperous.

  Tiny stood to go out of the back and I listened to other conversations. A couple of new men arrived and sat close to me at a recently vacated table. When they spoke I discovered they were English. They kept their conversation limited to the menu until the waiter had gone.

  Tiny returned and grinned at me, “They think we are smugglers or pirates. I heard the boss talking to the whores. They intend to rob us blind by charging over the odds.”

  I laughed, “That suits us; just so long as they don’t guess our identities.” Just then the English sailors began to speak and I put my finger to my lips.

  “I’ve had enough of that captain. How about we jump ship? This seems a nice place.”

  “Nah. He’s Italian and they are thick as thieves with this lot. Besides I heard that Nelson is coming back into the Med. The last thing we need is to jump ship and be press ganged. I had enough the first time I was in.”

  “I heard they were fighting the Spanish?”

  “They are but I was talking to an East Indiaman in Gib and he said they were coming back to Naples. No we’ll jump ship in Alexandria. There are more ships for us to choose there.”

  The rest of the conversation involved the two whores who would be enjoying the company of the two English sailors before us. I waved the waiter over, ostensibly to order more wine but in reality to play on the fact that they thought we were smugglers. “Does this island have a navy then?”

  The waiter gave me s shrewd look. “We don’t need one. The fort is solid enough. We beat off the Turks a hundred years or so ago. This is a peaceful little place.”

  “Yeah but we saw soldiers when we came in the city.”

  He laughed, “Those old soaks? The knights like to parade them every so often to make them all feel like soldiers but I am not sure they have even fired their guns this year. No, Malta is a little piece of paradise.”

  He brought us our over priced wine and we watched the Englishmen disappear upstairs with the whores. I nodded to Tiny, “Let’s finish our drinks and we will have an early start in the morning eh? I think we have found out all we need to here.”

  We were still soldiers and we laid our pistols within easy reach and our swords. We took our jackets off but retained our boots, breeches and shirts. We would be ready for action in an instant. We moved my bed so that it stuck out a thumb’s width. If the door was opened then it would scrape the bed. We had found we slept much easier knowing that we would be awakened by intruders.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes Tiny?”

  “Why doesn’t the general use those Guides of his for this sort of thing? Why does he always use us?”

  “Are you tiring of it? You can always refuse.”

  “Oh no sir. I enjoy the work and we always make a few livres from it. It’s just that they are supposed to be the elite, the best so why use us?”

  “I think that is the reason. They may be the elite on the battlefield but we are real soldiers and we can get the job done. I also think that we are expendable. I suspect he thinks that we might not come back and so it’s no loss to him.”

  “That doesn’t sound right sir.”

  “Tiny, the man is ruthless and ambitious. Don’t get me wrong I think he would regret us not returning but that is only because he woul
d have to find someone else to do the dirty jobs.”

  “Now that makes sense. Good night sir.”

  “Goodnight Tiny.”

  The wine had made me sleepy and I soon dropped off to sleep. Of course the wine also made me need to pee and I wriggled in the bed as I debated whether to go and use the bucket or wait until morning. The indecision was a godsend as I felt the door move against the bed. My left hand slipped down to my stiletto and my right grabbed a handful of jacket and dragged the barman through the door. Tiny was up in an instant and, as I sat astride the barman with my blade to his throat Tiny had his pistol aimed at the hotel owner.

  “Now where we come from if you break into a man’s room at night then your life is forfeit.” I pushed the tip so that it pierced the skin and a tendril of blood ran down his neck.

  “No please sir. Let my son live. We mean no harm.”

  I stared at the man. He had a short sword in his hand. “You come here in the middle of the night and you are armed and yet you mean us no harm. For that lie alone I should cut your son’s throat.”

  “No please!”

  I stood and in one movement ripped his breeches down and placed the blade beneath his manhood. “Or perhaps make it so that you have no grandchildren. What should I do?”

  The son was now weeping. “Please, we will do anything!”

  “What do you think Cesar? Should we let the worthless creatures live?”

  “Considering they have overcharged us since we arrived and they have tried to rob us not to mention making us lose sleep, I think that they deserve to lose a limb.”

  “I am inclined to agree but I think we will give them one more chance.” I put the blade to the tip of the barman’s nose. “You will stand guard outside our room all night. If anyone comes near…” I lowered the tip. “Is that satisfactory?”