British Light Dragoon (Napoleonic Horseman Book 3)

by Griff Hosker

  The rider glanced around and saw my approach. He must have known that I would catch him for he suddenly threw his horse around and drew his sword in one motion. It was an impressive piece of horsemanship. I recognised his sword too. It was a British Light Cavalry sabre. This highwayman was a soldier! I had no more time for speculation for the blade came slicing down towards me. I was not carrying my sabre, it was my longer, Austrian sword and I easily parried the blow. I wheeled Badger around to face my opponent again. His horse was not as nimble and he was slow to turn. I sliced down with my longer blade and he jerked out of the way. The tip of my sword caught the scarf which was concealing the lower portion of his face. It was Jem Green!

  “I’m going to pay you back now for what you did to me Mr Bloody Matthews!” He swung his sword at my middle. Had he connected it would have ripped open my stomach. I flicked the sabre away when it was but an inch from gutting me. I turned the blade and jabbed forwards. The long straight blade caught his left hand and he released his reins. His horse stopped and he was almost thrown from its back. He now had a worried look on his face. I stabbed forwards again and he hacked ay my blade. I had a firm grip and the tip pierced his shoulder. In desperation he stood in his stirrups to hack down at me and I sank my sword into his middle. His face had a look of disbelief as he fell from the back of his horse.

  Before I had time to dismount and see if he lived or not I heard the sound of the coach behind me. “Are you alright sir?”

  I turned and saw Trooper Sharp with the other wounded highwayman on his horse and the coach behind. “Yes thank you Trooper. And you?”

  “He was a poor shot and your pistol was a good one.”

  The driver dismounted and came to shake my hand. “Thank the lord you came when you did. You have saved us and my mate Harry.”

  “You are welcome. We will escort you the rest of the way. We are going to Canterbury anyway.” As Sharp and I lifted the body of the dead highwayman on to the back of his horse Sharp suddenly recognised him. I nodded. “It seems the corporal fell a long way when he deserted.”

  Chapter 5

  We were treated like royalty when we boarded the mail coach the following day. We were the talk of Canterbury. The two highwaymen were notorious and there was a reward for their capture. Despite his protestations I insisted that Trooper Sharp have it all. He used some of it to buy better clothes before we boarded the coach. Our sudden departure was also mitigated by the return of the horse and the death of the deserter. Percy was delighted to be in command, albeit briefly, although he was curious about where we would be going. I hated having to lie to him. As the regiment was leaving at noon he would soon be embroiled in the running of the depot squadron. It would, hopefully, stop him speculating.

  Dover was still the front line port and the defences, despite the peace, were still heavily manned. There were ships which travelled over to Boulogne and Calais to trade and to take passengers. Having sailed on a number of ships I knew the type of vessel I was seeking. The one I eventually settled upon surprised Sharp for it was smaller than the rest.

  “Notice the neatly coiled ropes and the uncluttered decks; this ship is well run. I would rather a safe ship than a comfortable one. You stay here with the bags whilst I go and negotiate a price.”

  The captain was due to sail on the next tide and the sight of the gold Louis persuaded him. Although I had told Sharp that this was a good ship I had no doubt that the captain would do a little smuggling on the side and French coins would make those transactions much easier.

  As we left the busy harbour at Dover it hit me that I was now travelling to a country where I was a wanted man. Many people knew my face. I just hoped that my clean shaven looks and my shorter hair might confuse people. I was also travelling in civilian clothes which helped to disguise me.

  “Well Sharp, this will be your last chance to talk for some time. Even when we are alone, unless we are well away from anyone else, you cannot speak. I will be speaking French. I will tell whoever we meet that you are an American which would explain why you cannot understand them. If anyone asks then say you come from Winchester in Virginia.”

  “Why there sir?”

  “I looked at some maps when I was growing up and I remember thinking that there was a place in England with the same name. It stuck. The American Winchester is far from the sea and it is unlikely that we will meet anyone from that town and besides… you cannot speak can you?”

  The crossing was cold and it was rough. I remembered the Channel well. It was not one of my favourite places. I preferred the warm Mediterranean. We spent the time huddled in the cabin reserved for passengers; we were the only two. I went through Sharp’s French lessons again. He had proved to be a quick learner and could understand many words. The advantage we had was that he would not need to speak it. I had heard enough execrable French massacred by Englishmen to realise that it was a giveaway to their nationality. The English did not speak foreign languages well. Colonel Selkirk was the only man I knew who could master a foreign accent.

  I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as Calais hove into view. I would be stepping back into Napoleon’s lair. I knew that his National Guard were xenophobic and I hoped that I would be able to pull off this deception. The passports were tucked away in my luggage. If I had to use them in France then all was lost. I had to persuade them that I was French and I had a name and a story which I hoped would fool them.

  As the ship edged into the crowded Calais harbour I sought out the captain. “Do you call in here often?”

  “While the peace remains we come every couple of days.” He smiled and I noticed he had no front teeth which gave him an oddly comic look. “I get the French wine cheap and the French seem to like English lambs. We do a good trade.”

  “We’ll be back here in a couple of weeks.” I handed him a guinea. “I hope this secures our berth.”

  “It certainly does.” He pointed to a bar at the corner of the harbour. “We normally drink in there. Sometimes we have to moor further along but we always go in there.”

  “Thank you, captain. Come along, Sharp. Bring the bags.”

  The captain said quietly, “The customs officer is at the end to the harbour. They have a small gate.” He looked at me, “It is the only way in to Calais.”

  “Don’t worry, captain, I have no worries about getting in to France.” I did not need to fill in the gaps.

  The two customs officials had two National Guardsmen lounging close by. I hoped that I could bluff my way through them. Officials such as this were full of self importance. I just had to persuade them that I was even more important. I remembered how Jean Bartiaux had done this when we escaped Paris following my father’s execution.

  The senior one held out his hand and said, “Papers.”

  “I do not need papers.” I affected a superior tone. I just thought of the way my father, the Count had spoken and copied that.

  I could see that I had put him on edge. “Everyone needs papers to enter France.”

  I leaned in, “Even those who are working on behalf of General Bessières?”

  The name of Bonaparte’s right hand man made him sit up straight. “But why have you no papers sir?”

  “If I had had papers identifying me as French do you think that the British would have let me travel to America?” I tapped my nose.

  Enlightenment lit up his face. “Of course.” He nodded to the two national Guardsmen who raised the barrier. The two Customs officers saluted us and we were in France. I was learning that a positive attitude and total confidence could achieve much.

  With a mere thirteen days to complete our mission we could afford no delays. We strode into town with Trooper Sharp carrying both our bags. My only visible weapon was my sword but we had pistols in our bags. I would be happier when we had the horses and our pistols could be closer to hand.

  It is strange but the smell of France was different to that of England and I felt at home immediately. I think my French lessons with Tr
ooper Sharp had helped me to get into the French language once again. I slipped into the language as though I had only ever spoken it. Trooper Sharp was just staring at everyone and everything. It was all new to him.

  I smelled the stable before I saw it. The owner was sitting outside smoking a pipe and drinking wine from a pichet. He glanced up as we approached and, when he saw my clothes, he jumped to his feet.

  “Sir, may I help you?”

  I could see him working out how much to overcharge me for the horses. “I require two horses for a few days.”

  “To buy or rent?”

  I smiled, “That depends upon the price and the quality of the horses.”

  He waved a hand and we entered the dingy stables. There were just five horses and none of them was of the highest quality. The owner spread his arm as though they were Arab thoroughbreds. I sniffed and said, “If this is all that you have.” I turned as though I was going to leave.

  “No sir, I can see that you know your horseflesh. I will give you a good price for any of them.”

  “What for? Meat?”

  “No sir, they look worse than they are. I will tell you what; if you buy them from me then I will take them off your hands when you return for a quarter of the price.” I gave him the look I used to reserve for troopers who had annoyed me. “Let us say half then sir and I will throw in the saddles and feed.”

  If he had known it he had us over a barrel for we needed horses no matter how poor the quality. I nodded and we agreed a price. He saddled them for us and Trooper Sharp loaded the bags. Mr Fortnum had provided us with bags which fitted easily over the rump of the horses. We set off with the sad looking beasts. As we passed a market I purchased a few old apples for a handful of copper coins and we gave the horses those as we trotted along the road.

  When we were well out of Calais and well out of earshot. Trooper Sharp was able to speak with me. “How long will it take us sir? To get to Paris I mean.”

  “We could push it and do it in one day but I think we will stop in an inn for the night. You can sometimes hear more gossip that way.”

  It was getting towards dark when we reached Beauvais. The weather had been kind to us and it was just cold and windy. We were spared the English rain. I spied a small inn which looked as though it had stables. The horses had done remarkably well considering their condition but I would not have wished to push them further. The ostler nodded to the inn. “There are rooms sir although we have a big party just arrived. I’ll see to your horses.”

  As soon as we entered the inn my heart fell. It was filled with officers of the 47th Infantry regiment. I had seen them in Piedmont when I served there. They all looked around as we entered. It was too late to withdraw without attracting attention.

  The landlord saw my fine clothes and raced over to greet me. “Rooms or just food sir?”

  I affected my aristocratic drawl, “Both if you have them.”

  “Yes sir and you are lucky I have one with servant’s quarters attached.”

  “We’ll take it.” The landlord looked grateful that I had not asked a price. I would be overcharged; I had no doubt of that. “Show my man to the room. He cannot speak and he will not understand you.” He looked at Trooper Sharp as though he was a circus freak. “He is American and they don’t have much call to speak French.”

  Understanding dawned and the landlord led Trooper Sharp upstairs with the luggage. Now that I had a chance to look at the room I could see that the dozen or so officers had appeared larger in number because they were all crowded around the bar. There were, however, many empty tables and I selected one which was next to a wall so that I could observe the room and have my back protected.

  As I passed a clutch of officers, a major asked me, “I heard you tell the landlord that your servant was American. You are not American are you?”

  I shook my head and smiled, “No, I am French but my own servant died whilst I was in America and this chap was available. I have grown somewhat attached to him.”

  That seemed to satisfy the major. “What is America like? I have heard it is a land of opportunity.”

  “It is. I was visiting my relatives in the colony there but I had a chance to see their cities. New York is a lively town.”

  “Ah, so I have heard.”

  I waved a hand at the officers. “And what of you, major? There are no barracks close by are there?”

  He laughed, “In this backwater? I hardly think so. Our camps are closer to the coast. No, sir, we were being briefed by a general from Paris.” He shook his head, “You know how full of themselves some of these armchair generals are. Something is in the air.” He realised he had been indiscreet, “Of course I can say no more.”

  “Of course not, nor would I wish you to.” I saw the landlord and Trooper Sharp approaching. “I will take my leave sir. I am hungry although I am not sure of the quality of food here.”

  The major shrugged as he turned back to his companions. “It is edible and that is all.”

  The landlord held my chair out for me, “Now then sir, what can I bring you?”

  “A bottle of your best red for me and ale for my servant. As for food… do you have chicken?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Then bring us that.” One advantage of me having a servant who could not speak was that I could watch and observe without being considered suspicious. The major was standing with two captains just a few paces away and I could hear all that they said. There was nothing of major interest save that at least eight regiments had been represented at the briefing. I gathered that Bessières had been there too. That was important because it meant it was initiated by Bonaparte but also that I had to be on my guard; the general would certainly recognise me.

  I had only been to Paris on two occasions; one was to witness the execution of my father and the second was to meet with Bonaparte. I wondered if this visit would be as momentous. What I noticed immediately was the difference between London and Paris. Apart from the area around Whitehall, I had seen few soldiers. Here in Paris it seemed that young men not in uniform were the exception. Bonaparte had not disbanded his army. The fact that there were so many here in Paris was also interesting. This was the hub of the country. It was where Bonaparte himself resided like a fat spider in the middle of a web. He was not in a passive state of mind; he was still belligerent.

  I took us close to the Conciergerie which had many small hotels and also afforded me the opportunity to observe the powerful men of Paris. The hotel I chose had a bunch of grapes outside and was not far from the Pont Neuf. The owner was happy to take money from a civilian rather than being forced to have soldiers billeted there for a tenth of the money he would get from me. He proved to be garrulous and a mine of information. I discovered that Bonaparte had taken over the Petit Luxembourg Palace. I would be able to avoid that easily. The owner also remarked on the number of soldiers in Paris.

  “Of course they will be gone by summer.”

  “And why is that?”

  “They will be campaigning.”

  “But we are at peace.”

  He laughed, “Our little leader has, once again, fooled the world. Every soldier who has stayed with me has commented on the fact that soon they would be fighting again.” He shrugged, “Where? I do not know and, so long as it is not Paris then I care not.” He tapped his nose. “Many of them say that the little general wishes to invade England.”

  I suppose we could have returned to Colonel Selkirk there and then for I had the information he required. However, I liked to do things properly and I wanted to know where Bonaparte planned to attack. We left our horses at the hotel and I took Trooper Sharp over the bridge towards the left bank. I intended to make my way to the military school. There were many bars and eating establishments and I knew that they would be full of officers. If there was the likelihood of some action then they would be full of excitement.

  We passed the military hospital, Les Invalides, and wandered down the busy streets towards the milit
ary school. It was early afternoon and I guessed that many officers would either still be eating or drinking the afternoon away. I had arranged that Sharp would do a circuit of the school and then wait outside the bar I would choose. I didn’t expect him to hear anything but he could recognise the uniforms of senior officers and that would help.

  I sat at a small table and ordered a glass of wine. I was the only civilian in the bar and that was a mistake. Two young lieutenants from a cuirassier regiment wandered over, both slightly drunk.

  “Why aren’t you in uniform? You look healthy enough. Why aren’t you defending France from the damned beef eaters?”

  I smiled, “I am no longer able to serve.”

  “I can’t see a wound. Stand up and show me.”

  A captain of infantry walked over, “That is enough. If the man is a veteran then he has served France and you two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “Sorry sir.”

  The two of them staggered out and the captain turned to me. “I apologise, sir, for their behaviour. They are typical of the young men who have recently joined up. They have not fought and think it will be easy. Where did you serve sir?”

  I glanced at his uniform and realised that his regiment had not been in Egypt. “I was invalided out after the battle of the Pyramids.”

  He nodded sympathetically, “Ah yes and that was a waste. So many good men died and we have nothing to show for it. Tell me, when you fought the British what did you make of them?”

  “Their infantry is like a rock wall. They are able to stand there and take all that we can throw at them. And they can fire much quicker than we can. They are a tougher enemy than the Austrians, that is for sure.”

  He seemed to see my sword for the first time. “That looks Austrian. May I?” I took it out and gave it to him. “A magnificent weapon.”