Napoleon's Guard

by Griff Hosker

  “Quite right. Just like in Paris eh?”

  Before we could reply we saw a mob appear at the Boulaq gate. Without drawing his sword he shouted, “Charge!”

  We rode at them. My injured hand prevented me from drawing my weapon and so I just gripped the reins and roared. Killer was next to the general in a couple of strides and he was flanked by me and Colonel Bessières. They both looked exultant. I sensed the sergeant’s mount coming next to mine and felt happier; he was a good soldier. The mob had never seen charging horses and they just fled before us. Even though they outnumbered us they still ran. Once we were through the gate the general reined in. “Bring the guns forwards!”

  The horse artillery galloped through the gate and quickly unlimbered. The general was an artilleryman and he knew his business. “Grapeshot. Keep blasting until they flee I want them driven into the centre of the city.”

  I almost felt sorry for the rioters but the dismembered bodies of the French soldiers hardened my heart. It took just two rounds to disperse them. Bonaparte did not halt. He was relentless. We charged again until they all took shelter and refuge in the Great Mosque. I wondered what he would do at this point. It was their equivalent of a cathedral. General Bonaparte was the most ruthless general I have ever known and he ordered all his artillery to fire. I could not see the effect as ball after ball crashed into the old building but it must have been terrifying. The sky turned black and a great thunderstorm began. With the cannons firing and the thunder and lightning it was like a scene from hell. It was no surprise that they surrendered within a very short time.

  Bonaparte was deliriously happy. He turned to the sergeant and myself; we had remained at his side throughout the engagement. “Thank you gentlemen. That was like the old days in Italy! Tomorrow I will punish the leaders and then we can leave for Alexandria!”

  The day we left I went for my Killer myself. I received many strange looks from the troopers sent to collect the mounts for the other officers. I could not understand how an officer could let someone do that for him. For me it was a pleasure to saddle Killer and it helped to reinforce the bond we shared. The result was that I reached the general and his carriage first.

  I rode to the prison where the wagon was waiting. Sergeant Delacroix was there with the ten troopers who would act as escort. As I rose up he turned to the trooper next to him. “Right Trooper Royan, go and fetch the prisoners. The rest of you, be on your guard until the officer has told them what will happen to them.”

  As the prisoners shuffled slowly out they all held their hands up to the skies to shield their eyes from the bright winter sun. Trooper Royan nodded as the last man was brought up. It was the man I had hit and the side of his head showed an angry bruise.

  I began to speak with them. “Sailors of the Royal Navy. General Bonaparte has agreed to set you free.” I saw the surprise on their faces. The sullen sailor still scowled and I suspected he distrusted me and my words. “We will take you to Alexandria and put you on a ship to take you to a port which will get you home.”

  Jamie shouted, “Thank you sir.” The sullen sailor spat on the ground. I smiled as Sergeant Delacroix smacked him on the back of the head. ”Of course, until we reach the port you will still be prisoners and be guarded so…“ I looked at the spitter, “I would behave until you are aboard the ship.”

  He looked up at me defiantly, “I am not afraid of you. Traitor.”

  I shook my head, “You are a sad specimen. I have never set foot in England and I was born in France. Am I a traitor because I speak English better than you? Tie this man’s hands and get them in the wagon.”

  The sergeant and I rode ahead of the wagon as we headed north to the port. I had to admit that the troopers of Bonaparte’s Guards were both smart and well trained. The sergeant barely had to issue an order on that journey. We headed straight for the harbour. “Sergeant, watch the prisoners and I will try to arrange passage for the men.”

  I was looking for a ship which had the flag of a non combatant. I walked along the quayside but saw none. Then I had a stroke of good fortune, I saw the ‘Carillon’. François was on the deck.

  “Ah captain what brings you here?”

  “I need a favour.”

  I went aboard and explained what we needed. I expected a refusal but he grinned. “Excellent. I have been asked to sail and scout out Naples and Leghorn. This gives me the opportunity to enter the harbour legitimately and land the prisoners. They might even thank me and I can work out how we can capture it. Bring them on board.”

  It is strange the way that fate works. I think that some of the prisoners still thought that there would be some sort of trick until they finally stepped on to the gangplank. The prisoner who had tried to hit me was last and he held out his hands for us to sever the ropes. I laughed and shouted to Francois. “I tied this one’s hands as he is a little violent. It is up to you what you do with him. The others seem like good fellows.”

  The lieutenant waved, “Do not worry; my men know how to deal with officers such as him.”

  For my pains I received a look of pure hate as he was taken on board.

  “Now sergeant let us rejoin the squadron and find out what we are about.”

  The general had taken over the old governor’s palace in Alexandria and that meant that we had comfortable quarters to stay in. We used the Janissary barracks where the best of the Ottoman soldiers had been housed. We rode directly to the stables. Sergeant Delacroix said nothing as I took off Killer’s saddle and rubbed him down. I always had something special for him as a treat and I had acquired a couple of apples from the ‘Carillon’ when I had visited the lieutenant. Killer nuzzled me as I fed her and I turned to leave.

  “You began life as a trooper did you not sir?”

  I laughed, “Yes. Does it show?”

  “What does show is that you are a cavalryman through and through.” He pointed to Killer. “That mount will die for you and carry you when others falter. I can see the bond.” We turned to walk out of the stables. “I had heard of you and I did not know what to expect, sir.”

  I was curious, “What had you heard?” He hesitated, “You can speak freely sergeant I am not precious about my position.”

  “I had heard that you were a death or glory merchant sir.” He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I can see that I was wrong but you were spoken of as one of the general’s killers. I am sorry for misjudging you. I should have known better. Old Albert Aristide is a good judge of character and he would not have promoted one so young if you had been reckless.”

  “You know the colonel then?”

  “Yes sir. I served, briefly in the 17th and then left to join the 15th for promotion.”

  “How did you end up here then?”

  He looked at the ground and then around him as though he did not want eavesdroppers to hear his words. “I had a disagreement with the adjutant when he sent a troop to their death by giving a poor order.” He shrugged, “The colonel liked me and recommended me to Colonel Bessières. He is a good man.”

  “He is sergeant. Thank you for the confidence and it will stay that way.”

  “I never doubted it sir. I can hear in your voice that you are an officer with integrity.” We were at the entrance to the barracks. “A word to the wise sir, not all the officers in the squadron are like Colonel Bessières.”

  I smiled, “Thank you sergeant. I appreciate the warning.”

  When I entered the officers’ quarters there was a corporal seated at a desk. He looked up as I approached. “You must be Captain Macgregor. Your room is at the end of the corridor on the next floor, sir. Your name is on the door and your chest is in there.” I must have shown surprise for he said, “It arrived this afternoon sir. The evening meal begins in an hour sir.” He pointed to his right. The mess is in that direction sir.”

  I reached my room and opened my chest. I only had the one uniform and it was dirty. I knew that I would be judged on my appearance. I took the uniform off and knocked as much du
st and dirt off as I could manage. I took off my shirt and filled the basin with water. It was cold but it refreshed me when I washed. I then took a face cloth I had in my chest and used the water to clean as many of the stains from the uniform as I could. I then cleaned the boots with the cloth which looked filthy when I had finished but at least I looked a little better. I put a clean shirt on and then dressed. I used the oil Pierre had brought me from Paris, all those years ago and oiled my moustache. I was then ready for the ordeal that would be the dinner.

  Chapter 6

  There was just a squadron of the general’s guards at that time which meant a smaller number of officers. Even so I could hear the hubbub of noise from the mess as I approached. When I entered the room I could see that there were ten officers, including the colonel and the adjutant. As I stepped through the door silence descended on the room and I wondered if there was something amiss with my dress. I had been quite careful that I was dressed appropriately.

  Bessières gestured me over. As I began to walk to the empty place he had kept for me I heard a voice say in a haughty manner, “I see the stable boy has finally made it!”

  The younger officers all laughed but Colonel Bessières, snapped, “That will be quite enough, Captain Hougon.”

  I stared at the man who had spoken. He was older than I was and he had a duelling scar running down his cheek. When Charles had been wounded in Italy he had boasted that his wound would look like a scar of honour but this one really was. He obviously disliked me for some reason. I had no idea why for I had never met him. Then I remembered Sergeant Delacroix; perhaps it was my reputation he disliked.

  “This is Major Armandiere, the adjutant. You have already met one of the captains, the rude and ungracious Captain Hougon. The other is seated next to the major, Captain Tenoir. Then we have the lieutenants Dubois, Sagan and Lettoir. Finally we have the three sous lieutenants Callas, Besoire and Gallas.” He smiled, “You will forget their names I know but at least we have been introduced. “Gentlemen, for the next month we have Captain Robert Macgregor on detachment from the 17th Chasseurs. I hope you will make him welcome.” He shot a pointed look at Captain Hougon. “I know that the general thinks highly of him. Some of you younger officers would do well to ask this modest young man about some of the missions he has undertaken for the general. They belie his years.”

  I wished that the colonel, well meaning though he was, would not have built me up so much. Looking at the two captains, who whispered to each other like coquettish young women, I suspected that they would take great delight in making fun of me.

  I found the adjutant a really pleasant man. He had been the colonel of the 18th Chasseurs and when they had been disbanded he had been unemployed until the guards were formed. He regarded this as a chance to do something useful for France.

  “I remember old Colonel Armande. Our young officers used to take great delight in the similarities of our names and the fact that the numbers of our regiments were so similar.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “I was sad to hear he died. Soldiers should never grow old. A good cavalryman dies with his boots on.” He lowered his voice, “The two captains are good soldiers but both are a little arrogant. They have seen little combat as yet.” He looked at me seriously, “I pray you be patient with them. They may make good officers.” I must have shown my feelings in my face. “Do not be modest Captain Macgregor, I have read the reports of your exploits. You are a killer and I am just pleased that you are a killer for France.”

  I was able to enjoy the rest of the meal and the conversation with the major and the colonel. However, when I saw the looks on the faces of the two captains, I could see the resentment written all over them. I had done nothing wrong and yet I had made two enemies. It was not a good start to my secondment in the Guards.

  As I made my way back to my room I realised that I missed my old comrades. Pierre was many miles away in France but both Jean and Tiny might as well have been. I looked ruefully at my wounded hand. The colonel had been right. I had been reckless and had I not been so I might still be with them and not here. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I did not hear the two captains approaching me from behind. The first I knew was when Captain Hougon sneered, “I hope you do not find your quarters too comfortable. You must be used to sleeping in a stable, stable boy.”

  I turned and with my left hand grabbed a handful of tunic. I thrust my head as close to his as I could manage. “Have a care captain. I know not why you insult me but I do not take insults well.”

  I am a powerful man and Captain Hougon could not break free. I also saw fear in his face. “It is a good job you have an injured arm or I would call you out! Not that you would understand that.”

  I laughed and pushed him into Captain Tenoir. The two of them almost fell over. “I could take you with my left hand so do not use that as an excuse.”

  They both had anger in their red, wine flushed faces, “Unlike you I am a gentleman and I will wait.”

  “You will excuse me if I do not hold my breath captain.” I went into my room. I now had another reason to heal.

  Thankfully the squadron and the general it protected were on the move the following day. I wondered what my role would be. There were just two troops and each was commanded by one of the captains. I decided I would just present myself and await orders.

  Sergeant Delacroix was in the stables when I arrived. “Morning sir!

  “Morning sergeant. Any idea where we are off to today?”

  He tapped his nose. “If I was a betting man I would say east.” I nodded and began to saddle Killer. “He is a fine animal sir. I hear he is called Killer.”

  “It was a joke amongst the men as no-one could ride him but he suits me.”

  “I agree sir. Find the right horse and this job is quite easy.” He frowned at some of the men who appeared to be struggling to control their horses. “The trouble is a lot of these lads joined because of the uniform, not because they liked horses.”

  I saw a few of the troopers I had known in the 17th. “I thought that you had to be invited to join this squadron? Isn’t that why they wear the elite uniform?”

  He lowered his voice. “Between you and I sir that is supposed to be the case but some of the officers and troopers have political influence. Still when we go into action then we will see.” He suddenly noticed my sword. “That isn’t standard issue is it sir?”

  “No,” I took it from its scabbard and gave it to him. “I took it from an Austrian officer I killed.”

  “This is a fine weapon. It is little longer and straighter than ours.”

  “Yes sergeant. The one I was issued broke in combat. This one will not. I also have a Mameluke scimitar I took. That is also a fine weapon. I left that with my lieutenant.”

  “That is something else that marks you as different sir. You have killed, and it shows.”

  We rode from the stables and I saw the ten troopers leading the officers’ horses. When the officers mounted I noticed that they almost ignored the horse they were riding. None of them greeted the horse or showed any affection towards the animal they would have to rely on in battle. That was a mistake in my view. The horse was just as much a weapon as their sword or their pistol. As we waited for the general to appear I tried to flex my fingers. The wound did not ache any longer but the fingers were stiff. I resolved to exercise the hand without putting pressure on it. The last thing I needed was to have a weaker right hand.

  Colonel Bessières rode over to us with the major. “We will be riding just behind the general. He has some questions for you and he needs you to be close.”

  “Where are we going sir?”

  “General Murat is camped close to Suez and I believe we are going to journey to Arabia.”

  We rode into General Joachim Murat’s camp. His tent was obvious as soon as we rode in and I hid my smile. It was adorned with flags and looked like the quarters of an Eastern Potentate. The general’s ego was like the sun; it just grew and grew. He embraced General B
onaparte as though he had not seen him for years. The colonel entered the tent and the major stayed outside with me.

  “Have you served with General Murat, captain?”

  “No sir. I was on detachment when the regiment was brigaded under him.”

  He lowered his voice. “He is quite brilliant but unpredictable. I am hoping that the general can manage him.”

  When Colonel Bessières came out, alone, it was to inform us that we would be camping with the cavalry for the night. He also told us that there would some civilians from Paris; scientists, engineers and historians and they would be travelling with us as well. The resourceful Sergeant Delacroix had already picked out a suitable camp site which was upwind of the horse lines. He set the troopers to erecting the tents and to prepare the food. I stayed close to the major. This was not because I was afraid of confrontation with the two captains but I preferred the company of the major and I did not think any good would come from such a confrontation.

  The major and I wandered over to the dunes to look out on the Mediterranean. It was cooler and there were fewer flies. “You would prefer to be with the 17th wouldn’t you captain?”

  I nodded, “Yes, does it show?”

  “A little. I know that the two captains are unpleasant but, for me, I appreciate having an experienced officer. Last week when you charged boot to boot with the general and with an injured arm I could see that you were a born cavalryman. We need that in the squadron. This could be the finest cavalry unit in the French army but it needs people like you and Sergeant Delacroix,” he shrugged, “and, I dare say, people like me. Do not desert us too soon eh?”

  The squadron was ready to move before the civilians arrived in their ponderous wagons. The general cast an impatient look at them. He turned to an aide who scurried off and then he announced, “Gentlemen the path we take has few roads. You shall ride, as I do, camels. They are the ships of the desert and we shall sail a course to the Red Sea.”

  Such was the general’s reputation and power that none could gainsay him and, when the spitting and snorting animals were brought we watched with amusement as the civilians were manhandled aboard their new vessels. Killer did not seem to mind the flatulent creatures as much as the other horses and I was able to be quite close as the enormous beasts rose into the air. It must have been alarming for the rider as first one end pitched them forwards and, as the animal stood, the other end threw them backwards. As they moved off I could see the metaphor. The action of the camel was a swaying one like a ship in a sea swell. One thing was certain; we would not be slowed up by the men from Paris.