Chasseur à Cheval (Napoleonic Horseman Book 1) Read online

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  The opening pages of the next novel in the series Napoleon’s Guards.

  Chapter 1

  I had no time to mourn for my friend Micheal. He had been beheaded by the pirates even as we were edging close to Egypt. General Bonaparte had sent five chasseurs and a company of grenadiers to secure the harbour of Alexandria. We had to make the port safe for the invasion fleet of the charismatic French general. Now we would have to do it with just three chasseurs and grenadiers depleted in the pirate attack. I am Captain Robert Macgregor of the 17th Chasseurs à Cheval. I had campaigned through Ital with the general and, with Major Jean Bartiaux, my friend and mentor we had acted as spies and scouts many times. This last one was the first in which we had lost men. Michael was dead and Sous lieutenant Pierre Boucher was seriously wounded.

  “Robbie! Snap out of it!” We had just passed the entrance of Alexandria harbour and soon we would be landing. “Get rid of the hat and the jacket.”

  “Sorry sir. You are right.”

  “Sergeant Major, go and get the spare pistols from Pierre and Micheal they may come in handy.” As I did as ordered he came closer, “I know you are upset but Michael would not wish you to lose your life too would he?”

  He was right and we all knew how parlous our existence was. A blade could come from nowhere, as it had for Michael, or a volley of musket balls. This was a war which took no pity on those involved.

  The captain of the sloop edged us to a small beach some two miles from the port. We had seen the flags, the guards and the guns but the Maltese flag meant that we sailed unmolested. We too our swords and a brace of pistols each. We had to find where the cannons where so that, when we landed, after dark Major Lefevre and his grenadiers could disable the guns and hold the entrance until the fleet arrived.

  Francois, the captain of the sloop came down to see us. “I will sail out to sea and be back here in four hours. I will not be able to hang around.”

  Jean smiled, “We know and we have done this before.”

  “These are not the Maltese so be careful. To these people you are the infidel. They trade with the Maltese but if you step ashore then you become fair game.”

  We descended into the row boat. The last time we had done this there had been five of us and this time it was not so crowded. I wished it was. We leapt ashore and raced towards the line of palm trees. It was not much cover but it was better than standing on the beach. When we turned round the two sailors were pulling as hard as they could to reach the sloop.

  We knew which direction in which to travel and we also knew that we were conspicuous. We had white faces and there were not many of those. We did not speak the language and, if we had to run, then our means of escape was four hours away. The prospects did not look good. It was close to noon and unbearably hot. As Jean had said that gave us our only chance for most people would be indoors. Who would be foolish enough to walk in the full sun? We began to pass small mud huts. The only creatures stirring were the cats and the dogs and they were just seeking shade. We had travelled a mile when we saw our first gun. There was a small stone wall and behind it was one old cannon. We had not seen it from the sea and it surprised us. Jean took out his crude map and drew an x where it was. The gun crew were nowhere to be seen.