The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 93

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‘Just over nine hundred of them,’ Ney said quietly as they passed by. ‘All that’s left of my corps and those that joined them at Smolensk.’

‘What happened?’ asked Berthier.

‘We were pursued most of the way by Cossacks. At first we drove them off with musket fire, but two days ago we were down to three rounds a man. I had no choice but to close up and form square. We halted for the night, and they kept coming at us, racing in from the shadows to pick us off a few at a time. There was no chance to sleep, so I got the square moving. We marched through the night, and the whole of yesterday, under attack nearly all the time. I had to leave the wounded behind. I would have ordered them to be shot, but we needed the ammunition. The Cossacks only broke off towards dusk. We rested for the night in what was left of a village then started marching again at first light. Haven’t seen a single Cossack since yesterday. Don’t know why they let us go, but thank Christ they did. We’re down to our last few rounds.’

Napoleon stroked his chin. ‘They let you go because they had orders to get ahead of the main column. They’ll be making for Borisov. At least that’s my guess.’ He looked up at Ney again and could not help smiling again. ‘I knew that I had not seen the last of you. I knew it.’

‘Well.’ Ney shrugged.‘I have to say that I had my doubts.’ He unslung his musket and stared at the weapon. ‘It’s been quite a while since I last fought as a ranker. Here!’ He thrust the musket towards one of the last of the soldiers crossing the bridge. ‘Take this for me.’

‘Yes, sir!’

As the soldier hobbled on Napoleon punched Ney lightly on the shoulder. ‘Marshal Michel Ney, Duke of Elchingen, I shall have to find a new title for you. But for now one will have to suffice. Ney, the bravest of the brave.’

Ney nodded his approval and then rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘I thank you, sire, but right now I am Ney, the coldest of the cold. Where’s the nearest bottle of brandy?’

Chapter 36

The skies cleared as the army marched out of Orsha and made for Borisov. For the first time in days the sun shone and the temperature rose above freezing. Meltwater dripped from the trees and the surface of the road gradually turned to slush that made the going a little easier for the soldiers and remaining horses of the army. The men’s mood was lifted by the escape of Ney and his rearguard. After all, if they had survived their predicament and fought their way through the Russians, then there was something to hope for.

The army made its way across open farmland towards the Berezina without sighting any Cossacks on either flank, or behind them. For the first time in weeks, Napoleon was beginning to think that the worst was over. Marshal Victor and Marshal Oudinot had advanced from Vilna and joined the army with twenty thousand fresh soldiers and a convoy of supplies.

Then, towards the end of the second day’s march, a dragoon came galloping up to Berthier with a despatch from the cavalry screen, some fifteen miles ahead. Berthier quickly read the message as his horse walked along and then trotted forward to Napoleon’s side.

‘Sire, the scouts sighted Borisov at noon.’

‘Is the way clear?’

‘No, sire.’

‘The Russians have taken the town?’

‘Worse than that. They’ve burned the bridges and have dug into the far bank.’

Napoleon reined in and took the slip of paper from Berthier to read it through for himself. Then he handed it back with a heavy heart. ‘We needed those crossings.’

‘Yes, sire.’

A hearty cheer interrupted their conversation as the remains of a battalion from Oudinot’s corps marched past. Napoleon turned to them with a smile and raised his hand in greeting. The smile dropped at once as he turned back to Berthier.‘We keep marching towards the Berezina. The army is too weak to divert north or south. We must halt while an alternative crossing place is found. There’s a village called Loshnitsa less than a day’s march from the river, I recall. Give orders for the vanguard to halt there.’ Berthier nodded. ‘I’m riding ahead to see for myself. I’ll join you at Loshnitsa.’

Escorted by one of the few remaining squadrons of Guards cavalry, Napoleon spurred his horse forward. They passed the Imperial Guard at the head of the column and then followed the road west. The thaw had brought some of the peasants out of their huts to replenish their stocks of firewood. As soon as they saw the small column of distant horsemen they ran for cover. There was still no sign of the Cossacks and as night fell Napoleon rode on until they came up to one of the cavalry patrols observing the distant fires of the Russian soldiers on the far side of the river.

Napoleon dismounted as the colonel in charge of the dragoons made his report. ‘The enemy has invested the town, sire. Must be upwards of five thousand men. We’ve seen more of them up and downstream, patrolling the far bank.’The colonel turned to point to the north where a dim glow reflected off some low clouds scudding in from the east. ‘See that? Camp fires. But there’s no knowing how many of them are over there, sire.’

Napoleon nodded, then looked closely at the colonel. ‘What regiment do you command?’

‘Regiment?’ The colonel looked surprised. Then he smiled ruefully. ‘Sire, I command all that is left of Nansouty’s cavalry corps. All the remaining horses have been allocated to the dragoons. All two hundred of us.’

Napoleon struggled to hide his shock as he glanced round at the handful of pitiful-looking mounts that were tethered to the back of a small hut where the colonel’s men were sheltering for the night.‘Where are the rest of your men?’

‘I have one troop to the south and one close to the bank to observe Borisov. The other two troops are scouting the river to the north, looking for any crossing points.’

‘Good work.’ Napoleon nodded towards the shed where a welcoming glow lit the door frame. ‘I will spend the night with you.’

‘Sire, we’d be honoured.’

Napoleon turned to the commander of the Guards squadron.‘You’re dismissed. Find some shelter for you and your men, then report back here in the morning.’

The officer saluted and then wearily ordered his men to follow him as he trotted off into the darkness.

‘That’s the situation, gentlemen,’ Napoleon concluded as he ended the briefing of his senior officers in the dacha on the outskirts of Loshnitsa. ‘The cavalry patrols have scouted thirty miles upstream and every bridge and ford is defended by Russian guns and infantry. They also report that the recent thaw has caused the ice on the Berezina to break up.’ He paused. ‘We have to consider our options.’

He sat back and waited for his officers to respond. There was silence for a moment before Davout spoke for them.

‘I will say what is on all our minds, then. The choice is between a long march to the north, until we can cut round the upper reaches of the Berezina, or negotiating an armistice with the Russians. It is more than likely that the Tsar will deny us an armistice. He will want nothing less than a full surrender of the Grand Army.’ Davout nodded towards the Emperor. ‘Sire, if that happens, then it is vital that you are not taken prisoner along with the rest of the army. I must ask if you have made any plans to escape in the event of a surrender?’

There was a silence as Napoleon looked round at his officers, men he had known for years. He nodded. ‘I have considered the possibility, but not the precise details.’

‘Then might I urge you to think on it?’ Davout insisted.

‘Very well.’ Napoleon stirred and sat up. ‘I don’t think there is anything else to be said, gentlemen. I bid you good night. Oh, and Davout . . .’

‘Sire?’

‘It seems you were right about the pontoon bridges. I was wrong to give the order for them to be burned.’

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