The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 110
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‘Nonsense! Boys become men as soon as they taste battle. And there are plenty of veterans in the Grand Army who will teach them the skills they need to live while on campaign.’ He paused to look closely at his chief of staff. ‘Perhaps the problem is that you are getting too old for this, my friend.’
‘Sire?’
‘You have worked tirelessly for many years, Berthier. Too many years. You are losing heart. It is is only natural.’
Berthier forced himself to stand stiffly, and shook his head. ‘I am fit enough to carry out my duties, sire. I merely wished to point out that Metternich was right. This could be a war that we cannot win.’
‘Cannot win?’ Napoleon was astounded. ‘Cannot win! You are defeatist, Marshal Berthier. I have never seen that quality in you before. And you are wrong. We can win. What our men lack in experience and equipment they more than make up for in their patriotism, and their devotion to their Emperor. That is why we shall win.’
‘Sire, what if Austria joins the coalition? If that happens then our enemies can put over half a million men into the field against us. We will have to face them with little over half that number.’
‘We have been outnumbered before, and won the day.’
‘Not this time, sire.’
Napoleon frowned. What had happened to Berthier, he wondered. He searched the man’s anguished expression, and saw as if for the first time that this, the most loyal and efficient of his officers, was close to exhaustion. Napoleon rose from his chair and approached him, touching him gently on both shoulders.
‘My friend, you are weary. So are we all. Yet we must brace ourselves for one more effort. If we defeat the enemy then the coalition will collapse. This war is no longer about numbers of men, horses and guns. It is about spirit, and the will to endure. In that quality lies the secret of our success. I ask this one final effort of you, and all my soldiers. Then we shall have a great victory and we can rest. I swear it.’
Berthier looked at him, a spark of hope burning faintly in his eyes. ‘You swear it?’
Napoleon nodded.
‘Then I am your man, sire.’
Napoleon smiled warmly. ‘I could not fight my wars without you, old friend. Now go, get some rest.’
Berthier bowed his head and turned to leave the room. After he had gone, Napoleon returned to the fire, stoking up the embers and adding some more wood before he resumed his seat. As the fresh wood cracked and hissed he reflected on all that had been said during the evening. He was certain that he could defeat the armies of Alexander and Frederick William, but if Austria did enter the war on the side of his enemies it would be the greatest military test of his career. He had no doubt that he would be able to meet the challenge, but the question that troubled him greatly was whether the officers and the men of his army would match him in the pursuit of glory.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, with not a single cloud to be seen in the sky as Dresden woke to a fine summer day. After he had taken breakfast Napoleon went for a walk in the Great Garden that stretched out to the south-east of the old city where the palace was situated. Some of the townsfolk were out, following the gravel paths that divided the ornate rose gardens, flowerbeds and clusters of trees. The half-company of guardsmen that screened the Emperor made certain that no one could get within pistol shot, and so Napoleon walked head down, deep in thought, oblivious of the curious faces that watched him pass at a distance.
He reached the far end of the garden and turned back, returning the same way he had come, consumed with thought over the planning for every eventuality when the armistice inevitably came to an end.
‘Sire!’
Napoleon looked up and saw Berthier striding along the path towards him. He forced a smile and raised his hand in greeting.
‘Did you sleep well, as I ordered?’
There was no smile in the marshal’s face as he approached, and he spoke in a low voice. ‘Sire, we have received a despatch from Marshal Jourdan. His majesty the King of Spain was defeated a month ago, at a battle outside Vitoria.’
‘Another defeat?’ Napoleon shook his head bitterly.‘Can none of my marshals teach Wellington a lesson?’ He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘No doubt Joseph’s army will have to fall back to regroup.’
‘Sire, there is no army to regroup. Two divisions escaped from the battle and retreated to France; the rest were routed. Only two guns were saved, and the army lost its entire baggage train.’
Napoleon stared at him, anxiety twisting in his guts. ‘And my brother?’
‘He escaped, sire.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Bayonne.’
‘Bayonne,’ Napoleon repeated numbly. He cleared his throat and faced Berthier sternly. ‘Then he has abandoned his throne. From now, our affairs in Spain fall under military authority. Soult is in Paris. I will send him to take command. Joseph is to be kept away from Paris, out of sight, so that he cannot shame me.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon pursed his lips for a moment, absorbed in the implications of the news Berthier had brought him. ‘This is a harsh blow for us, Berthier. It will harden the resolve of our enemy. Emperor Francis will want to be on the side of the big battalions now.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It seems that there will be no rest for either of us for a while yet, eh?’
‘I imagine so, sire.’
‘Then we had better summon my marshals and make our war plans. It is only a matter of weeks, perhaps days, before Austria declares war.’
Chapter 42
Dresden, 26 August 1813
As Napoleon made his way to the city he nodded approvingly at the defences that Marshal St-Cyr had been putting in place since the armistice had ended. Napoleon had rushed to take command of MacDonald’s embattled corps when news of a threat to Dresden had forced him to return to the Saxon capital. Several artillery batteries had been dug into the slopes on the right bank of the Elbe covering the south-eastern approaches to the old city on the far bank. The centre of the city was protected by a moat and rampart, and the entrances to the outlying suburbs had been blocked and the houses turned into stongpoints. Five enormous earthworks had been constructed in a wide arc to the south of the city and packed with field guns. Any attempt to assault the city from the south would have to run the gauntlet of a devastating crossfire even before it reached the defences of the suburbs. St-Cyr’s preparations would be put to the test all too soon, Napoleon reflected.
The enemy was already driving in the French outposts and small groups of men were skirmishing with the enemy’s light infantry and cavalry as they fell back towards the defences of the old city. Beyond the approaches to Dresden, dense columns of infantry and cavalry together with artillery trains were closing in on the city across an arc of six miles.
Napoleon frowned as he gazed at the enemy. The bitter sense of betrayal he felt towards Austria’s cynical opportunism still chilled his heart. Once Austria had joined the coalition against France the peace negotiations had ceased abruptly. Now another quarter of a million soldiers were arrayed against the Grand Army. When the campaign was over, and his enemies were defeated, Napoleon resolved to make the terms he imposed so severe that neither Austria nor Prussia would ever be able to wage war on him again. Already, Marshal Oudinot was advancing towards Berlin to take the city, and if that did not provoke the enemy into suing for peace Oudinot was to burn the Prussian capital to the ground. As for Russia, Napoleon knew now that the Tsar could only ever be contained. The vast scale of Alexander’s domain made conquest an impossibility.
As ever, the Austrians had advanced slowly, making their way through the hills of Bohemia towards Dresden. St-Cyr had already sent their vanguard reeling back, but now the full weight of the Austrian army, together with detachments of Russian and Prussian troops, was descending on the French supply base at Dresden. Some distance behind Napoleon marched Marshal Ney and the Imperial Guard, and behind them the corps ofVictor and Marmont - recently returned from Spain - though they would not reach Dresden until the end of the day. St-Cyr and his garrison had to hold their position for the next twelve hours, Napoleon reflected.
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