Waterloo (Napoleonic Horseman Book 6) Read online

  Suddenly the officer at the front halted and shouted, “Robbie, is that you?”

  As I peered at the moustachioed face, I remembered him. It was Girod de l’Ain. We had been troopers together in Italy before I had been seconded to the Guides. Did he know of my past and was our mission about to end dramatically? I smiled and held out my hand, “Girod? Is that you? A colonel no less!”

  He smiled back and I breathed a sigh of relief. He still remembered me as a trooper. We were safe; for a while at least. He turned to his second in command. “Major, take the men inside I will join you shortly.” He nudged his horse towards mine. “I haven’t seen you since Italy. That seems many years ago now when we were both young and foolish, full of piss and vinegar!” He dismounted as I did and we shook hands.

  A frown creased his face and I heard suspicion in his voice as he said, “Didn’t I hear that you deserted in Egypt after killing a brother officer?”

  I shook my head and adopted an outraged expression. “You heard wrong. Firstly do you think I would desert and secondly it was a duel and he lost. I left Egypt with my honour intact! I was left in Egypt when the Emperor returned to France. I had to find my own way out and I eventually landed up in Italy.”

  He stared at me for a moment and then a smile appeared upon his face. “I should have known that there was a good explanation. You were always a good soldier." He waved a hand at my dress. “You appear to have done well since you let the Emperor's service.”

  “I was lucky and I am now a businessman who trades in wines.”

  “You should return to the colours. You would soon be promoted for I remember you as being a fine cavalryman. There are many opportunities for soldiers such as we. The Emperor is just behind me! I am certain that we can make peace between you. These will be great days again.”

  “Are you sure? It cost the country much the last time he led armies.”

  Girod shrugged, “I was on half pay until he returned. For me this is the only answer. There is chance for glory and promotion. This time we will beat them all. We were so close the last time. Many of the men we served with are now promoted and are generals. Remember Ney? Even he is now a marshal of France!”

  “He is brave enough.”

  “Yes, I grant you he has courage but he has no sense on the battlefield. You should join us Robbie. We already have sixty thousand men and many more are joining us in Paris. Once we are there we will strike north and the Roast beefs will scurry back across the Channel.”

  “I have business in Paris. When you reach Paris then look me up. I am staying close to the Champs de Mars. Perhaps if the Emperor is willing to overlook my past then…”

  “I have no doubt. And now I must join my men.” He shook my hand. “It is good to see you. I have no doubt that you would have been a general by now had you remained in the Emperor’s service.”

  He mounted his horse and trotted off. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was about to mount when I saw, in the darkening lane, a document. It had not been there before the Chasseurs had passed. I picked it up and jammed it in my coat. I led Sharp and we headed north, to Paris. The moment we were out of sight of the palace I turned off the road and rode back along the track to the farmstead. We said nothing until we reached the deserted house.

  “Did you get all of that, Alan?”

  “Yes, sir. I had my pistol ready if it had turned ugly.”

  “I prefer to talk my way out of trouble. We need to see the size of this army. Colonel Selkirk will need more information than sixty thousand men and Marshal Ney. We need to ascertain accurate numbers and regiments. They will be arriving in the next day or so. We will hide out here and keep watch." I had no doubt that we would hear the arrival of sixty thousand men. The road was cobbled. "First we will examine this." I took the document I had picked up from my coat.

  "Where did you get that?"

  "I think one of the horsemen dropped it."

  I opened it and saw that it was a map. It was northern France and southern Belgium. I saw that the Sambre river was circled as was Charleroi and Namur. "This is a bit of luck. it confirms what we heard in Paris and what the colonel said. Bonaparte will strike north."

  "Won't your old friend miss it?"

  "He might but he won't know where he dropped it. We will have to take that chance."

  While we waited we put snares down for rabbits and foraged for mushrooms. It would supplement the supplies we had brought with us.

  We heard the army arrive two days later. The clatter of hooves on the road carried all the way to our hideaway. Soon we smelled the smoke of their fires. I knew it would take another day, at least, for them all to arrive. I wanted to ascertain numbers.

  We had a problem now for Girod would recognise me if he saw me. He would wonder why we were still here. I had no choice; I had to rely on Alan. He would have to try to count the size of the army and the number of each arm. When we had seen the Chasseurs Alan had not been wearing his cloak and he had been wearing a hat. By adding a cloak and removing his hat I hoped he would look different. He headed south to pass the Chateau and then ride down the column. He would have to take a circuitous route back but that was preferable to capture. I knew he could do the job as well as I could. In the past I had had to rely on him when I had been wounded or incapacitated; ours was a dangerous business.

  It was the job I always hated; waiting. I preferred to be in danger myself rather than having someone else put their life on the line. I always did the job myself rather than ordering one of my troopers to do it. it was the same with Alan. He was very good but I always thought I could do it better.

  To keep myself occupied I built a small fire using bone dry wood to avoid smoke and took two rabbits which had been trapped from the snares. I skinned and gutted them. Using some of the herbs and mushrooms we had found I put them in a pot with some water and the last of the wine we had brought. It filled the time until dark. The smell of the cooking made me hungry. I was beginning to be worried. My worry escalated into fear when my horse neighed. I had my pistol out and cocked in an instant. I slipped out of the back door. It was more overgrown than the front and I could approach whoever it was from the side.

  I walked along the path around what must have been a vegetable plot but was now a weed infested mound. I crouched behind an old apple tree. Someone was moving through the woods towards the farm. I raised my pistol as I saw a shape appear.

  “Sir, it is me!” I eased the hammer down. Alan appeared next to me. “I didn’t want to make a noise; the French camp is bigger than we thought. There are some Voltigeurs half a mile to the east.”

  I immediately regretted the fire. The smell might alert them, especially as we were cooking game and I was certain that they would still be on hard rations. It was too late to do anything about it now. We would have to eat and run.

  Sharp tied up his horse without unsaddling him and we both ate the rabbit as quickly as we could. There was little point in letting it go to waste. Between mouthfuls Alan filled me in. “So far, there are mainly infantry who are camping, sir. At least forty thousand. It was hard to be accurate."

  "What did you use as a measurement?"

  "I counted the standards. I saw at least six hundred Old Guard. You can’t mistake them with their bearskins. The Polish Lancers are there, a squadron and the ChasseuràCheval of the Guard. He has four or five regiments of light cavalry too.”

  “Artillery?”

  “Horse artillery.”

  “No twelve pounders then?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “Thank God. If the Emperor's daughters were there then he would be ready to strike. We have some time. You have done well then Alan. Boney will not do anything until he has his artillery assembled and in place. When you have eaten, then we will leave.”

  We washed the food down with the last of our water. After feeding the horses we led them down the track towards the road. I wanted us to be able to move silently. It was as well that we did for, at the road was
a piquet of Chasseurs. We began to move north through the woods which lined the road. We almost made it but then my horse neighed. It was a French cavalry horse and recognised the smell and presence of the soldiers.

  “Who goes there? Show yourself or we shoot!”

  I mimed for Alan to mount. As I climbed on my horse I shouted, “Captain Leblanc of the 7th Chasseurs. Thank God we have found you. We have been wandering in these woods for hours.” I wanted the soldiers off guard.

  We had to move quickly. They would only take a moment or two to close with us and then they would discover our true identity. I dug my heels into the flanks of my mount. My horse leapt forward, followed by Alan and his mount. Both of us lay low across the saddle to make us a harder target to hit. We managed to get twenty yards before their musketoons fired at the trees we had just vacated. I knew that their view would now be obscured by both the dark and the smoke from their guns. I took the opportunity of leaping the ditch and rejoining the road to our left. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the five Chasseurs racing into the forest. They had not seen us leave. Their own shots had deceived them.

  We rode hard and I was glad that we had fed our horses. They made good time. Although exhausted, we reached Paris by dawn and went directly to the stable of our hotel. I had decided, when riding north, that I would need to get to Brussels sooner rather than later. The piquet would have reported to someone and they would be looking for us. Perhaps the soldiers would jog Girod's memory and he might remember where he dropped his map. They might question the owner of the inn. There was too much evidence of our presence. The other reason for flight was that the city was filled with uniforms as other soldiers, like Girod, flocked back to the colours. There were soldiers who might, like the colonel, recognise me. I had been around both armies for far too long.

  While Alan changed saddles and horses I went to settle our bill. The owner was disappointed that we were leaving. I gave him a wry smile as I collected my change. “I think, my friend, that the city will soon be filled with the Emperor and his army. I think you will be in profit again and soon. I have heard from a colleague that he is coming. This is no place for an Italian businessman.”

  He nodded, “This will not be a long war, sir. You will always be welcome here.”

  It was hard going, heading north through the city. There were still royalists who had been slow to leave and they were now flooding north with all of their possessions. In the other direction was wave after wave of uniforms as Bonaparte’s old soldiers flocked to their charismatic leader. The city was changing before my eyes; it had been Royalist and now it was becoming Imperial once more. The Emperor was coming back and the city was buzzing with the thought of that prospect.

  Chapter 3

  I knew we could not make Brussels in one day. We would be lucky, with the way the roads were, to make it in two. The roads were thronged with refugees. There were the rich who worried that they would lose the treasures they had accumulated and their wagons, with guards, made progress difficult. There were others who just feared Bonaparte. They were taking family north to the safety of the Duke of Wellington and his army. King Louis had already fled to Antwerp; that was not a surprise. It was a port after all and he could flee to England once more and abandon his supporters.

  I headed for Breteuil. It had been my home and I knew the area well. It was off the beaten track and not on the main road to Brussels. By taking a detour we could actually save time. In addition our five horses were proving too great a temptation for those who were walking north. Riding was always easier than walking.

  The last time we had been here Sharp had been close to death and we had had to kill the new owner of my former home. That had been long ago, before we went to Denmark and the Iberian Peninsula. That was a lifetime ago. I prayed that Julian and Pierre would still be at the inn they had named ‘Chasseur’. They were both old comrades and I had helped them to buy their inn. It was many years since I had been here. I hoped they still lived there and had prospered. Pierre was the only one of my comrades who had survived. I wanted him alive still. It was proof that there was a god.

  I had not wanted to embroil them in my activities. I could not risk them suffering. Until the war actually began I felt that I could risk it. We were still, technically, at peace. If soldiers came I could explain us away as businessmen. In a few weeks I would not be able to carry off that lie.

  When I saw the sign of the horseman with the fading paint still swinging I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still here and the smoke from the chimney showed that it was still occupied. As we reached the gate to the stables a stable boy came hurtling out. “Yes sir? Would you like a room?”

  “We need stabling for five horses and rooms for the night.” There was something about the boy which looked familiar and then it hit me; this was the son of Julian and Monique. I smiled. He had been a babe in arms when we had left. Now he was almost a youth. I felt a glow of warmth. There was hope. One of us had sired a child. I smiled and it filled my face.

  He grinned back at me with his hands on his hips. “You have come to the right place. If you would like to go in then I will see to your horses.”

  I took a silver coin out of my waistcoat pocket and flipped it in his direction. His eyes widened as he deftly caught and said, “Thank you, sir! I will look after these horses as though they were my own!”

  Julian had his back to me and was poking the fire as I walked into the main room. He appeared to be standing easily on his wooden leg. I remembered when he had had to be carried up and down the stairs. Life had changed for my friends. Monique had her head down and was writing in a ledger at the table. She had begun to go grey and was a little heavier than she had been. She had been a stunning young woman. Julian had saved her from a life which had little future. I was pleased that they were still together. Of Pierre there was no sign.

  I wandered closer to Monique and took off my hat. She continued to write and did not lift her head as she said, “I will be with you in a minute, sir.”

  "Take all the time you like, Monique."

  She looked up and it took a moment for her to recognise me. “Robbie! It is you!”

  Julian turned and stumped over to grab me in a bear hug. “My God, we thought you were dead! It is over ten years since we saw you! You are still alive! And the young wounded Englishman too!”

  I hugged him back and then embraced Monique, “Longer my friend. Monique, remember Alan whom you nursed back to life. Do you not recognise him?”

  She hugged him and Alan said quietly, “I never got to thank you properly Madame. My French was poor in those days; I hope it has improved.”

  “It has and you are welcome. You both are.”

  “Where is Pierre?”

  They looked at each other and their faces clouded over. Monique shook her head. “He is not good, Robbie. The wound always pained him in the winter. He became worse year by year. This year was the worst yet and he has not left his bed since Christmas. When I go into his room I have to check if he is still breathing. I fear he is close to dying.”

  Suddenly Bonaparte and Wellington and the affairs of Europe seemed less important than they had been. Pierre was one of my oldest friends and the only one left from the regiment I had joined as a youth. “Alan, take our bags to our rooms.” I looked at Monique. “Take me to him, please.”

  After the huge house in Sicily the inn seemed narrow and tiny. The house was not the only thing which looked smaller. The stairs seemed barely large enough to accommodate me. As Monique opened the door I could not believe that this was Pierre who lay in the bed. I had remembered him as powerful Chasseur; full of life and with a confident happy go lucky attitude. He had been one of the best cavalrymen I had ever known. He had taken me under his wing when I had joined the Chasseurs. What I saw was a skeleton with skin thinly drawn over the bones. I swear I could almost see his blood trickling through his veins.

  He was asleep and I almost turned to descend again. Monique grabbed my arm and said, qu
ietly, “Do not go down because he sleeps. I do not think he has long to live. Perhaps this is Fate and he was waiting for you to return. Wait with him. He sleeps fitfully. He will awake soon.”

  “How can that be? My return here is pure luck. The roads were crowded!”

  She shrugged, “We do not understand everything in this world, Robbie. There are powers in the heavens who work their magic. You are here and that is all that is important. You have arrived in time. Speak with him. This was meant to be.” Monique put her hand on mine and I nodded. Kissing me on the cheek she slipped out of the door and closed it behind her.

  There was a chair next to the bed and I could see the half eaten bowl of gruel on the table. Monique had looked after Pierre the way she had with Alan. She was one of the most caring people I had ever known. Monique and Julian had cared for my old friend and I would see that they were rewarded. When my life had been in danger and Alan’s had hung in the balance they had risked all to help us. I would not forget.

  I sat on the chair and looked at him. His hair had almost gone and I could see that he was just skin and bone held together by will power. He was not yet ready to die. The warrior would choose his own moment for death. His breathing was laboured. The blade which had entered his lungs all those years ago had been weakening him gradually.

  I must have sighed or made some sort of noise for his eyes flickered open. At first his face was filled with incomprehension. I smiled and his face softened, “Robbie! Am I dead and seeing you in heaven or are you here before me? If so then my prayers have been answered.”

  “I do not think that there is a place reserved for us in heaven, old friend.”

  He chuckled although I could see that it pained him. "You are probably right. What are you doing here?”