Amidst the backdrop of Napoleonic War raging across Europe, soldiers seek distraction from the horrors of the battle field. Major Grant is an officer of the British Army serving under Wellington in France. An officer, a gentleman and a connoisseur of female bottoms, Major Grant finds himself unusually captivated by a mysterious woman…..
I drifted in and out of fitful sleep until around midnight. The night was clear and windless and despite a chill around my shoulders, I favoured not to light a fire. A clear sky would illuminate my position and smoke was sure to hang around the trees giving an indication of human activity. Instead I decided to get some circulation in my legs. I checked the horses and took them to a small pond for them to drink. A large moon that hurt ones eyes to look upon dominated the sky. I chuckled to myself at the ridiculous thought, which all heart struck people do, that she might be looking at the same orb in the sky. Ridiculous as it may be, the thought comforted me.
Having only returned to my bed-roll for a brief amount of time, the sound of the horses being disturbed caught my ear. It could possibly be a wild pig, however, in this region both man and beast were wild. Crossing my makeshift bed, I took up my sword and laid it next to my leg so as not to catch the moonlight. I arrived at the pond and circled my approach from the opposite direction of my camp. Two men stood by the horses, one of them kept guard whilst the other attempted untie their tightly knotted bridles. To relieve me of a horse at this stage would be a set back for sure and not one I was prepared to entertain. I edged closer and immediately picked up a heavy French accent. Whilst these two men would have once been my enemy in uniform, they still posed a threat to my survival in peacetime. Finding a medium rock at my feet I cast it over the heads of my visitors towards the direction of my camp. After a brief exchange, one of the men crouched low and disappeared into the darkness. A wind had picked up and after a few gusts I used the wind about the leaves to cover my approach.
My sword entered the man’s body horizontally under the arm that was raised holding the horses. It passed through both lungs and heart causing only the slightest whimper of pain. I pulled him to me, allowing him to fall from my blade and into the water. With a hard push I launched the twitching corpse across the water and into the shadows. Moments later the second man emerged into the clearing. “The camp is empty” he said in French as he reached the horse that provided cover to my upper body. My sword was held flat and horizontal with my shoulder, the point just under the horse’s neck. He attempted to repeat his news just as the point of my sword entered his throat. The used my full weight, pushing hard until the hilt was under his chin. He had attempted the grasp the blade to prevent to inevitable, however, he only succeeded in slicing his fingers badly. The horse raised its head in fright and backed off as if trying to escape the smell of blood. The stranger’s eyes were wild in the moonlight as I rounded using the sword as a pivot so that he backed into the water. I tripped his foot and he fell back releasing himself from the blade, grasping his throat for air. With my foot placed firmly on his chest the water entered his lungs through the gapping hole in his neck and soon he was overcome.