Sharpe: The Legacy Chapter One

It has taken me ages to get back to this story. This is mainly due to the amount of research it took to get to this point. Any mistakes are mine so please feel free to tell me so I can correct them. Also some of the opinions expressed in this story are not those shared by the author but are examples of those expressed at the time.

Chapter One Reunion

A Month Earlier

April 1940

The roar of the Brough Superior SS100 motorcycle echoed through the peaceful French countryside. Traffic on the road through Normandy was use to cars and even the old horse and cart but never motorcycles, especially not this kind. The Brough Superior SS100 was designed by George Brough himself to be fast and light, the ultimate racing bike. It had the reputation of being the Rolls Royce of Motorcycles. Each part of the bike was a made by the best factories, which made the bike superior to any other currently being sold.

It was called the SS100 because the bike was guaranteed to go at least 100 kilometres an hour. The sleek black motorcycle tore across the road next to a farm house, going 98 kilometres an hour or at least the speed the rider thought was a 98. The bikes speedometer was impossible to read at the speed he was going. A farmer's wife milking a cow in a nearby field, jumped up in surprise, knocking over her bucket of fresh warm milk. Neglecting the spilt milk as it drained away, the elderly lady shook her fist at the speeding motorbike. The leather clad motorcyclist grinned and his tinted googles hid the glee in his eyes.

Jason Lassan loved the thrill of being so close to death. One wrong move on the bike at this speed would see him crash and result in his death, regardless of the motorbike helmet strapped to his head. Jason flew through the green fields and hedges which made the farming pastures of Normandy look like patchwork quilt from above. Following the smooth dirt road, Jason turned his bike into a heavily wooded area. This road led to a Chateau, the Lassan ancestral seat and was just a mile away from the local village of Seléglise. The Chateau had once been a glorified farm house surrounded by a moat.

It had fallen into disrepair during the chaos of the French Revolution but was fully restored in 1830 by the labours of an English Rifleman. It wasn't until 1915 when Ansell Lassan had made a fortune selling fresh farm produce to the Allied Officers in World War One; that the Farm house had been renovated into a proper Chateau with marble pillars and lush architecture. Jason zoomed through the wide bridge that stood over the Chateau moat, past the twin guard houses and into the beautiful cobbled driveway.

Jason squeezed the handbrake for all it was worth and Brough Superior screeched to a halt in front of the Chateau steps. Jason dismounted the bike and knocked the kickstand down. The twin heavy oak doors flew open and people emerged from the Chateau. A woman with grey hair in a stiff navy blue rather Victorian dress rushed towards him. Jason removed his goggles and the helmet to reveal a dashing smile. Jason was rather a handsome man and he knew it. The two maids and butler couldn't keep up with the old lady's long strides. Countess Jacqueline Castineau Née Lassan enthusiastically hugged her only son, giving him a kiss on both cheeks.

"Look at you, my handsome son. Welcome home, you have been away too long" cried Jacqueline.

"It has been too long Mother. But it is good to be home" said Jason.

His mother spoke French with a rich accent but Jason having been away for five years in England, studying Latin at Cambridge; had a rather English speech pattern. Jacqueline let go of her son and stared up at him.

"I am gratefully you answered my letters my son. I need you home, now more than ever" said Jacqueline, thankfully as tears of joy ran down her face.

"I can't see why you're making such a fuss Mother. The Germans are not going to be foolish to invade us. Not with both the British and French army ready for them" scoffed Jason.

"I have a bad feeling about this. They said the same about Poland. Those Nazis are the devil" said Jacqueline, bespeaking her fears for the future.

"The devil? Really Mother, you are too much. Nazis are just a government and an overly zealous one at that. There bloody bastard bureaucrats who think just because they have a couple of Tanks, they can conqueror the known world" jeered Jason.

Jacqueline frowned at her son and jabbed her index finger against Jason's chest.

"Don't you swear young man! Don't think that I am unaware of your delinquency. The Dean of your college has kept me well versed in your misdeeds through correspondence" accused Jacqueline.

They weren't big misdeeds, not in Jason's eyes. Just a bit of bookmaking on the side and there were those married woman but that was just a bit of fun.

"I do not approve of your 'hobbies'. Boxing is no way for a gentleman to behaviour. What is this monster of a bike" Jacqueline questioned her son angrily.

Jason put a calming hand on his mother shoulder and his most charming smile.

"Mother, the bike is the cheapest form of conveyance in England. All the students are riding them. Now how about some lunch" comforted Jason?

Jason's words had mostly been an outright lie. The Brough Superior had cost him a great chunk of his allowance and bookmaking money. But at least the lie took his Mother's mind off berating him.

"Of course, I have a meal and your room prepare. Come" ordered Jacqueline, tersely.

She turned and beckoned for the black suited old man standing next to her.

"Antoine, take Jason's bags and take them to his room" ordered Jacqueline, before turning and walking up the marble steps into the Chateau.

The butler bowed to her ladyship and walked to the bike. Jason open up a one of the leather case strapped to the back of the bike and pulled out a carpet bag and handed it to the white hair butler.

"You've packed rather light Master Jason. The Mistress gave me the impression that you were here for extended stay" stated Antoine.

Jason snorted and gave his old family manservant a conspiratorially look.

"Don't tell Mother but I think this war will probably be over by the end of the month. Once bloody Hitler realises that he can't get past the French defences, he'll no doubt sue for peace and concentrate on easier fish. Those damn Ivan's, no doubt. This phony war will finish and I'll be back in England before the month is out. Mark my words" criticized Jason.

Walking past Antoine, Jason stormed up the steps and into the entrance hall of his ancestral home, leaving the servants to move his Motorbike and take care of his helmet. In the hall, Jason saw wooden steps leading up to the upper level and many other passages besides. It was a richly decorated room which betrayed the Lassan wealth. His Grandfather had been wise to invest his money. It had kept the family in luxury for many years and many more to come.

Even though he'd rather be back in Cambridge, skipping boring lectures from the old masters to go to boxing and exploring less salubrious drinking establishments at night; Jason couldn't help but feel nostalgic at the sight of his old home. The smell of wood polish and the old musty smell pervaded the house. With a half-smile, Jason strolled into a sitting room. Above the fire place was an old portrait that had been there for years; before even his Grandfathers time. It was a likeness of a green jacketed British Rifleman, his face worn by time and hardened by battle.

The portrait had been commissioned in the later years of the rifleman's life so his features were wrinkled and his hair had been going white. A scar sat prominently on his face, visible even with wrinkles. It gave his face a fierce but mocking appearance. Underneath the portrait was a clunky Napoleonic sword on the mantle. It was constantly polished and cleaned by the servants to stave off the effects of the ages. His old Grandfather had taken great pleasure in regaling him with tales of this man.

According his late Grandfather, Lieutenant Colonel Richard Sharpe had been a hero of the Napoleonic wars and an amateur adventurer. Jason recalled his childhood being filled with bed time stories of Sharpe's adventures in India, Denmark, Portugal, and Spain and even in South America. His Grandfather had often remarked that Jason looked like a much younger version of Sharpe. Jason wished he'd met the man; he would have been a better alternative than his own father.

Jason's Father had been horrid man who did nothing but drink and curse. Instead of being a loving parent, Jason's father had been a brutal tyrant. Jason thanked his stars that he had died when he was only five. He could barely remember the man apart from a few dark memories. Jason's reminiscing was cut short by one of the maids. She was a beautiful dark haired woman, with eyes as green as fine jade. Jason gave a sharp inhale as he remembered her soft skin and seductive smell. They ran to each other and wrapped themselves in each other's arms. It wasn't long before Jason found his lips on hers as they began to re-enact old memories.

"Elaine" whispered Jason into her.

"Oh Jason, I'd thought you had forgotten about me" whispered Elaine, through silent kisses.

"Never" stated Jason.

He meant it; even though they had been other women, Jason had never forgotten her.

"JASON" called Jacqueline!

Both of them sprang a part, an old habit from the past.

Elaine looked pleadingly at Jason.

"The Cafe in the Village, I'll be there at 8 sharp" whispered Jason into the ear of his lover.

Elaine nodded, her desires sparkling through her big green eyes

XXXX

Le Jardin Des Cygnes or the Garden Of Swans boasted it was the best cafe in all of Normandy. Sitting at a table in the lush garden of the cafe, surrounded by candles; Jason couldn't help but agree. He waited in the front of the cafe, sitting at one of the many tables. Jason had been had been hard pressed to sneak of the house with his ever vigilant Mother. Lucky his bedroom window still had a sturdy ivy vine growing below the sill. Looking around, Jason realized he was a bit overdressed in his navy blue suit and tie. The rest of his fellow diners were villagers who had just finished a hard day's work and were looking to relax.

These were the locals that Jason had known all his life. Like Jean-Pierre, the rotund butcher with the red beard, Paul-Henri, the handsome farm hand who had his hand on the leg of Anne-Laure the Tailors wife. None of them had greeted Jason as an old friend. To them he was the Rich boy from the big house who had been sent away to England for misdeeds. He wasn't a person to them; he was just a focus for gossip and rumour.

The only one who treated him like a real person was Elaine. She had been the only one who cared; the only light shining in the eternal darkness. She would ignore his all many faults and made everything better. A roar of drunken laughter interrupted his train of thought. In the corner of the room sat a troop of soldiers in full uniform, fresh from leave and ready to let loose. A waiter had brought over there tenth bottle of wine and another chorus of laughter came from the soldiers as one of them made a joke at the waiters expense.

Jason had immediately recognised the soldiers from his youth. They were the vile group of boys who had made life miserable for any child who dared to be different. Their main delight had been bullying the scruffy boy from the big house. Sticks and stones were the least of the punishments doled out by these boys. A silk smooth hand made contact with his hand and a jolt of electricity went up his arm. Jason looked up and saw Elaine looming over him. She wore a beautiful black dress, a relic from the twenties and smile which melted his anger. Jason grabbed hold her arm like a drowning man. Elaine sat and they stared at each with longing for over a minute.

"Oh Jason, it's been so long. Things have changed" whispered Elaine.

Jason reached out a hand and softly touched Elaine cheek.

"Nothing changed. Four years may have past but I still feel the same way as I did when I proposed to you in the orchard under the pale moonlight. I love you Elaine" babbled Jason.

The smile on Elaine face turned to anger and green envy. She slapped his hand away from her.

"Do you? Do not think me a dough eyed slattern Jason? I open your Mother letters. I know all about your tawdry affairs" accused Elaine.

Jason felt the accusation as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. He felt the urge to deny it but knew Elaine would never forgive him if he tried.

"Elaine, those women meant nothing to me; less than nothing. They are nothing but shadows in comparison to you. I always meant to come back and marry you" stated Jason, sincerely.

Elaine's anger broke to reveal sadness and frustration.

"But your Mother" whispered Elaine.

"Damn my Mother and all her medieval standards. I am my own man and I decide who I will marry. I don't care if she disowns me as long as we're together" confessed Jason.

Elaine softened at Jason's words.

"You'd give up your house, your money and your legacy; for me" asked Elaine, softly?

"I would give everything up for you" stated Jason grasping her hands with his.

Before Elaine could reply, a hand came out of nowhere and slapped Jason on the back.

One of the green uniformed soldiers had recognised Jason and had strolled over to greet his old 'friend'. The soldier in question was a big man. Seven feet tall and had hands like dinner plates.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is it little Jason. Back from England, are you" sneered the soldier?

Jason chose to ignore the soldier and kept looking at Elaine.

"That is some way to treat an old friend. Hey lads, look what the cat's dragged in, little Jason Lassan" shouted the soldier to his confederates.

The crowd of drunken soldiers stumbled over to Jason's table, surprised at the sight of their old punching bag.

"Leave it alone Giles. Get your friends out of my face" snarled Jason through clenched teeth.

"Ohhh, did you hear that, Little Jason wants us to leave him and his slut alone" jeered Giles.

Jason slammed his hands on the table and rose to his feet, revealing that he'd grown a couple of feet since they had last met.

"What are you going to do about it Jason. Are you going to fight me" dared Giles.

As if on cue all the other soldiers laughed and Jason's face turned red with fury. Back in the days of boyhood, Giles would always dare and Jason would immediately respond with violence. Jason would never win there fights but tonight that would all changed. During his time in Cambridge, Jason might not have learned much Latin but he did learn how to fight.

"Fine Giles, let's take this to the back alley" demanded Jason.

"Oh yeah" fired up Giles!

Jason nodded towards the back gate of the Café.

"Yeah" stated Jason.

Giles and his friends moved towards the gate. Jason went to follow but Elaine grabbed his arm.

"Don't go, you don't need to do this" demanded Elaine!

Jason turned to Elaine with anger burning in his eyes. The kind of anger that Elaine never thought she could tame.

"Of course I need to do this. Did you hear what they called you? Giles is in need of a damn good punch to the head. Wait here" growled Jason.

Jason shrugged off Elaine's arm and stormed off. Elaine could only watch as Jason walked out into the alley out back. The gloomy alley had a hedge on one side and a solid brick wall on the other with cobbles at Jason's feet. A single lamppost lit the dim alley. Giles and five of his friends all in wearing the uniform of French army Privates; had gathered around the pool of light waiting for Jason. They laughed at Jason in anticipation of the beating they were going to give him. This only served to make Jason more determined and more furious. Giles had taken off his shirt and was down singlet top which showed off a set of tough chiselled muscles.

Jason replied in kind by removing his navy blue jacket, his tie and placing it on top of the nearest available dumpster while rolling up the sleeves of shirt. Jeering at the outnumbered Jason, Giles began flex his muscles and started to jab at the air. Jason just rolled his eyes at the show and beckoned to Giles.

"Are you going to punch the air all night Giles or are we going to get down to it" asked Jason?

Giles's gang just laughed while Giles himself just gave a toothy grin.

"Alright then, let's go Sunshine" said Giles.

Giles charged at Jason, his right fist raised and ready to strike. With a resounding smack, Giles fist smashed into Jason face. The force of the blow knocked Jason to ground, causing a warm trickle of blood to spurt down Jason's nose. There was a loud chorus of cheers from Giles's five cronies. The rather fat crony spat at Jason, jeering down at their fallen victim. There glee was cut short however when they heard laughter. Jason was laughing at Giles. Getting to his feet and wiped the blood from his face, Jason grinned at Giles.

"Is that all you got Giles. Little girls hit harder than you" sneered Jason.

Giles scowled at Jason.

"Why you little" growled Giles.

Jason smiled in anticipation.

"My turn" proclaimed Jason.

Striking as fast as a snake, Jason landed three quick left jabs into Giles's face. Jason then followed his jabs with a massive right hook which sent Giles reeling. While Giles stood stunned, Jason grabbed the back of Giles's neck and pulled his face forward until it smashed into Jason's hard boney knee. The impact caused Giles to fall to the ground, unconscious. Gile's goons stared at their leader's unconscious body before making fists and surrounding Jason with murder in their hearts.

"Well you want some too, don't you? Well come on then! Come get some" challenged Jason!

The five burly soldiers obliged. They attacked together, hoping their numbers would be enough to take Jason down. Unfortunately for the gang, Jason was used to being outnumbered. His education in Cambridge had included more than just Latin and boxing. On several visits to London with some of his English friends, they had visited Pubs in the worst parts of the town. They had been a bunch of rich kids come down from high society to get a thrill by having drinks with sailors and cutthroats. Of course these adventures usually ended in a fight. Jason had been beaten to a bloody pulp on more than one occasion.

But Jason had learned from his mistakes and eventually learned the finer points of gutter fighting. Jason had gone down to the West end of London many times; mainly for a thrill and for a fight. It helped him work off the anger he felt boiling inside of him. So when the gang attacked, Jason sprang into action. Jason focused on the weakest member of the gang. The rotund fellow who had spat on him earlier was Jason's victim. Jason grabbed him by the lapels and head-butted him. The man squealed like a pig as his nose exploded with a shower of blood.

Jason then finished the man with a quick knee to the man's family jewels. The overweight individual fell to the ground and writhed in pain. Kicking a man in the balls may have been considered a dishonourable move but it certainly was effective. Jason was then grabbed from behind. Powerful arms restrained his hands and prevented Jason from dodging punches from the remaining gang members. Jacque held Jason as a punches rained down on him. Ignoring the heavy blows, Jason stamped his foot heavily down on Jacques shins. Jacques cried out in pain and he dropped his restraining hands. Jason took advantage of Jacques pain and grabbed one of his arms and delivered an elbow into his face causing him to cry out.

Jason then employed a jujutsu throw which sent Jacques flying into one of his compatriots. Jason was about to turn on the others when he heard a loud click which was very audible in the dark alley. One of Giles fellows whose name Jason couldn't recall had his service revolver pointed at Jason's head.

Jason faced down a young faced dark haired boy with a black standard service revolver. Jason looked quite a sight; splattered with blood and covered in red marks that would later evolve into dark bruises. Jason was weary from the fight and could only scowl at the revolver pointed at him.

"Are you going to shoot me cowards" demanded Jason?

Before any of them could react or Jason could make a suicidal attempt for the gun, a navy uniformed member of the Police ran up to group with his truncheon in hand blowing a white whistle in warning. The soldier quickly holstered his revolver and the group of soldiers scattered into the night. Some ran, some hobbled and two stopped just long enough to pick up Giles and dragged him away. The policeman walked up to Jason with a look of concern.

"Is everything alright Monsieur" asked Policeman?

Jason reached for his suit jacket and pulled out a handkerchief. Using it wipe off some of the blood off his face, Jason nodded to the Police officer.

"I am fine, officer. This was nothing but a friendly misunderstanding. Here Officer, take this as a token of my appreciation for your work" said Jason.

Jason reached into his pockets and pulled out a wallet. From the brown leather wallet, Jason produced a small wad of French Francs which he offered to the Police officer. The police officer nodded his thanks and palmed the notes.

"Have a goodnight sir" said the Policeman, tipping his hat to Jason.

The Police officer walked away and Jason felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Jason placed his own hand reassuringly on the soft one.

"You told that Police officer about the fight, didn't you" asked Jason?

"Yes" said a female voice behind Jason.

Jason turned to face Elaine, her hand still in Jason's.

"Are you mad" asked Elaine, looking up at Jason worried?

Jason smiled.

"No my love, I could never be mad at you" said Jason.

Jason drew Elaine into a loving embrace. As his lips locked with Elaine's, Jason couldn't help think that life couldn't get any better.

Sure he was bruised and covered in blood. But he had a lovely woman in his arms and the night was still young.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one should be along soon!