Fire and Sword

Chapter 52

Napoleon

Madrid, December 1808

‘And there’s another message from his majesty the King of Spain and the Indies,’ said Berthier, holding out a brief note towards the Emperor. Napoleon glanced sharply at his chief of staff, to discern whether Berthier was being ironic. It was out of character for Berthier, but Napoleon wondered if there was a feeling of disrespect for Joseph within the army. Certainly his brother had never shown any desire, or ability, for military affairs. It was possible that as far as the army was concerned the feeling was mutual. That pricked Napoleon’s sense of loyalty to his older brother and he stared suspiciously at Berthier, who was still holding the message out towards him. Napoleon did not reach for it.

‘What does my brother have to say?’

‘His majesty asks to be informed when he might avail himself of the opportunity to enter his capital.’

Napoleon smiled to himself.That sounded precisely like the kind of message Joseph would send. He had trained as a lawyer in his youth and it seemed that the cumbersome turn of phrase of the legal trade had left its mark on him for ever.

Berthier cleared his throat. ‘Do you wish to reply to his majesty, sire?’

‘Yes. Tell him that I am still dealing with the arrangements for his reception here.’ Napoleon paused an instant before continuing. ‘Inform his majesty that I am in the process of reforming the institutions of his kingdom. Once said reforms are operative he may resume his occupation of the throne. Or something like that.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘That should keep him happy for now.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier nodded. ‘But I assume that his majesty’s impatience to enter the capital cannot be assuaged for much longer.’

Napoleon’s expression hardened.‘My brother will wait until I decide that conditions here are appropriate for his return. Before then the government must be reformed, the remaining rebels crushed, and the British chased back into the Atlantic. Now, if that is the last of the morning despatches, I have other matters to attend to.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier bowed his head and backed away two steps before turning and leaving the Emperor’s office. Once the door had closed Napoleon lowered his gaze to the notes on his desk. They concerned the tax system of Spain and had been compiled for him by one of the officials at the treasury. The arrangements were hopelessly complicated and inefficient and it was a wonder that any revenue was ever collected. Napoleon had been making his own notes alongside the official’s to begin with but it was clear that the system was beyond redemption.

Accordingly, he had begun to draft his own system and would have it ready for implementation before Joseph took control of the country again. It was not that his brother lacked the wit to make such necessary reforms, Napoleon reflected, it was just that he lacked the iron will necessary to force such measures through. Given the present intransigence of the people it would be folly to attempt to negotiate the changes. Better to present them as a fait accompli and implement them by force if required. Particularly in view of the other reforms that Napoleon had planned.

The Inquisition was to be abolished, and the number of religious orders reduced, thereby cutting down the financial burden of the Church on the Spanish people. When Napoleon had announced his plans to Joseph’s ministers they had reacted with horror, warning him that the people would not tolerate such changes, even though the reforms would undoubtedly improve the governance of Spain. Napoleon had addressed them firmly. The reforms would be made, and implemented fully. He had spoken.

It had been nearly two weeks since Madrid had fallen and Napoleon had spent most of the time devoting his energies to drafting his plans for Spain. Some eighty thousand men were camping in an arc round the south and east of the capital and another forty thousand were billeted in Madrid itself. Soon General Junot would be joining them, having marched directly from France the moment his troops had been repatriated by the British navy. Once he had attended to the political situation Napoleon would lead his armies in the next, and final, stage of his conquest of Spain and Portugal.There were only two enemy forces to deal with. A Spanish army concentrated around Seville, and the British army of General Moore, which had emerged from its lair in Portugal to interfere with events in Spain.

As December wore on, the temperature steadily dropped and the nights were cold. The troops camped outside the capital had soon recovered from their march to Madrid and now that they were fed and rested they were keen to complete the campaign and return to France. The inhospitality of the climate, the hostility of the people and the scarcity of food to forage and property to loot had combined to undermine the morale of the French soldiers.They had complained to their officers, who had complained to their commanders, who had reported the mood of their men to imperial headquarters.The Emperor had long since discovered the best medicine for such disgruntlement and immediately gave orders for the army to hold a review in the centre of Madrid. That would serve the double purpose of raising the morale of his army as well as impressing upon the Spanish the might of the army they had dared to oppose.

The review was scheduled for the nineteenth of December and the day was overcast and chilly as the first division marched through the streets of Madrid towards the royal palace, where the Emperor and his staff stood watching on a balcony. With regimental colours raised high and buttons and boots polished to a high gleam, the men let out a lusty cheer that echoed back off the palace walls as they passed the Emperor and snapped their eyes to the right. Napoleon raised his hat to acknowledge them, with a smile. Once the entire division was formed up, he descended from the balcony and began a close inspection of his soldiers, stopping regularly to question individuals, and to award medals and other rewards to those who had been singled out for their courage by their superiors.

It was as he was handing a sword to the captain of the first company to enter Madrid that a staff officer came running up to Berthier and muttered something to him in a low voice. Napoleon was aware of the interruption but continued his congratulations to the captain before he passed on, with a brief gesture to Berthier to accompany him.

‘What is the news?’

‘A message from General Dumas, sire. He reports that his scouts have observed elements of the British army advancing towards Marshal Soult.’

‘Soult?’ Napoleon drew up and closed his eyes, visualising the disposition of his forces across Spain. Of all the major formations in his army, Soult’s was one of the weakest, comprising twelve thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry. It was tasked with policing the regions of Castille and León. In a moment Napoleon grasped the danger to which he had exposed Soult. His eyes flicked open and he turned to Berthier. ‘What else did General Dumas have to say?’

Berthier looked uneasy as he replied, ‘Dumas has taken it upon himself to divert forces to support Soult. I have told his staff officer to ride back and order Dumas to halt his movements pending approval from imperial headquarters. He is also to send patrols out to find the British army and confirm their position.’

Napoleon considered Berthier’s decisions for a moment and then shook his head.‘No. Cancel your orders. Dumas did the right thing.The British are more daring than I had thought. General Moore seeks to isolate and destroy Soult . . . Well then, we shall turn the tables on Moore. If we can move swiftly enough we can trap the British between Soult and the forces that are camped around Madrid.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Imagine it, Berthier. The annihilation of Britain’s only field army.Their government would not survive such a catastrophe. This could be the very chance I have always sought to bring this war to an end!’

He clasped his hands together and nodded towards the division standing silently behind the two officers.‘Cancel the review. Send word to all divisional commanders to have their men ready to march at once. And have all my senior officers summoned to the palace. The fates are with us, Berthier.Within a month we will have caught and crushed the British army.’

Orders for the redirection of the campaign flowed out of imperial headquarters over the following two days.The day after the news of the British move had arrived, Marshal Ney’s corps was already on the march, climbing over the pass through the Guadarrama mountains to Villacastin. Napoleon remained in Madrid long enough to see his brother installed in the royal palace, protected by thirty-five thousand men under the command of Marshal Lefebvre. Joseph was left with strict instructions to ensure that the Madrid newspapers reported that the British army was trapped and would be crushed within weeks. Satisfied that he had set in motion a host of men to catch and trap the British, Napoleon set off from Madrid a day later.

Winter had set in with a vengeance as they approached the mountains, which were shrouded in a thick layer of snow. A biting cold wind was blasting down from the north and made the going tough even before the column reached the bottom of the route leading up into the pass. There they camped for the night, taking advantage of any shelter from the wind that they could find in peasant hovels and behind low walls and rocky outcrops. The men huddled round fires that flared and roared as they were discovered by stray blasts of the wind. It was almost impossible to sleep in the icy cold of the night, and before dawn thick flakes were borne down on the howling wind to swirl around the shivering men and horses of the French army.

As dawn broke faintly across the bleak landscape the men shook themselves free of the snow and prepared to climb up the slope to the pass. Napoleon watched as the infantry formed up in long shivering columns and the artillery train harnessed their horses to the limbers and caissons.The men were silent and any attempt at levity in the ranks died away almost as soon as it began. The dragoons of the Imperial Guard were the first to advance up the slope. Both men and mounts lowered their heads into the wind that howled down from the pass as they trudged forward. Napoleon had ridden a little way ahead and watched as the dragoons passed by with hardly a sound. The thick snow had deadened the sound of their progress and fresh flurries added to the drifts that had formed across the narrow winding track.They advanced slowly, and eventually the tail of the column disappeared into the snowstorm, as the first of the infantry battalions made ready to follow.

In less than an hour a messenger arrived from the commander of the dragoons. His breath burst from his lips in ragged puffs that were instantly ripped away by the wind as he reported to the Emperor.

‘Sire, the colonel begs to inform you that his men can go no further. The colonel has halted to await orders.’

‘Await orders? The colonel has his orders! Tell him to keep moving. I will not have my army held up because the colonel can’t bear a little cold.’

The messenger bowed his head, and then looked up nervously.‘I beg your pardon, sire, but my colonel is right. It is not possible to advance any further.’

‘And why not?’ Napoleon asked tersely. ‘Explain.’

‘Sire, the conditions up there are far worse than they are here. The wind is so strong that our horses can barely stay on their legs, while the riders are nearly being swept from their saddles when the gusts strike. Then there’s the ground, sire. There’s ice under the snow, and now the first squadron’s hooves have cleared the snow away the rest of the regiment are struggling to keep their footing.’

‘Excuses!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘You ride back and tell the colonel to keep advancing. I don’t care how strong the wind is, and I don’t care about the ice.You tell him I don’t care if he has to make his way across the pass on his belly, pulling his horse behind him. I don’t care what he says. It is possible. It will be done.You tell him.’

The messenger looked as if he was about to make a further protest, but there had been a dangerous tone in Napoleon’s voice, and he saluted instead. ‘Yes, sire.’

Once the dragoon had turned his horse back to the slope and was trotting it carefully through the thicker snow along the side of the track Napoleon nudged his spurs in and walked his own mount on to the slope. Followed by his escort he began the ascent. The horses and men who had already passed that way had packed the snow down, and stretches of the track were already compacted into sheets of ice that gleamed like marble. The iron-shod boots of the infantry had some purchase on the ground, but the horses began to slither dangerously as Napoleon and his party pressed on.

‘Clear the way there!’ a sergeant called out as he saw the imperial party struggle to pass by. The infantry moved stiffly to the sides of the track. Napoleon noticed that there were none of the usual cries of‘Long live the Emperor!’ as he rode through them. Instead, the men glared sullenly at him.

‘Someone shoot the devil!’ a voice called out when Napoleon had ridden by. He checked the impulse to turn round, and stared fixedly ahead. It would not do to try to find the man and punish him. It would only depress morale still further, and cause the advance to be delayed. Not one of the officers or sergeants amongst the infantry stirred at the man’s cry.The Emperor bit back on his anger and pretended not to have heard as he continued up the slope.

‘Will no one shoot him and put an end to this misery?’ the voice called out again. ‘You cowards!’

The track began to twist as the gradient of the slope increased, and Napoleon and his party came up with the battery of horse guns from the regiment of dragoons. They were stationary on the track, wheels wedged with rocks as the crews stood by and stamped their feet, hugging their arms about their chests, heads hunched down inside their greatcoats.At the head of the battery a team of horses was scrabbling for purchase on the icy surface, while men strained at the spokes of the wheels of a gun and limber. As Napoleon watched, they edged forward a few paces before one of the horses slipped and went down, dragging another with it. The limber and gun began to slither back down the track before a pair of sharp-witted gunners managed to slip some rocks behind the wheels and bring the transport to a sudden halt.

Napoleon reined in and called the commander of the battery over. He had to cup his hand to his mouth to make sure that his words were understood above the wind. ‘Captain, double your horse teams up.Take the first three guns to the top of the pass and then come back for the rest.’

‘Yes, sire.’ The captain saluted and turned away to carry out his orders.

Whilst the men of the battery began to harness additional horses to the first three guns, Napoleon realised that the rest of the wheeled vehicles travelling with the army would have to adopt the same procedure. Some of the heavier guns would even need three teams of horses to negotiate the track. With a sinking heart he realised that it would be impossible to clear the pass before sunset. He steered his horse round the men struggling with the leading gun and continued up the track, soon coming up with the rear of the column of dragoons. Now the wind was violently blasting down the hill. The riders had dismounted and were bent almost double as they drew their mounts on. As the imperial party reached the dragoons a sudden flurry of snow struck Napoleon a stinging blow in the face.The blizzard roared around him and he felt the horse buffeted back a pace by the force of the wind. Then it lost its footing and staggered to one side, scrabbling for purchase on the icy ground. As it began to pitch over Napoleon released the reins, kicked his feet free of the stirrups and hurled himself to the side. He plunged into a drift in front of a large boulder and fetched up hard against the rocky surface, driving the air from his lungs.

‘Sire!’ the commander of the escort called out in alarm, dropping from his saddle and running through the snow towards him. Napoleon was gasping for breath and could not reply immediately as the officer leaned over him with a concerned expression. ‘Sire, are you injured? Do you need the surgeon?’

Napoleon shook his head and struggled out of the snowdrift, his grey coat caked in snow. His hat, which he had jammed on to his head earlier, was still there, and as he swept the snow from his coat his breath gradually returned to him. ‘I’m all right. But we’ll have to continue on foot from here.’

One of the escort took the reins of Napoleon’s horse and they trudged on, up the slope, passing stragglers from the dragoons. One man stood over his mount, which he had shot after it fell and broke a leg, busy stripping the horse of the saddlebags and anything else that could be carried away, and he did not look up the Emperor passed by, a few paces away.

Napoleon did not reach the pass until after midday, hours later than he had intended. Conditions there were as bad as they could be. The wind was now so strong that men were having to link arms to stay on their feet.Thick snow blanketed the ground and the combination of the altitude and the icy blizzard had driven the temperature down to well below freezing.The men’s exhaled breath froze into tiny crystals on the front of the mufflers they had pulled up to protect their faces. The colonel of the dragoons was waiting there to urge his men on. He saluted as Napoleon shuffled through the snow towards him.

‘Sire.’

Napoleon nodded a greeting and grasped the man’s shoulder as he cupped his other hand to his mouth. ‘Tough work, Colonel! How are your men faring?’

‘Most have gone through the pass, sire. I’m just waiting here to send the last of them on their way. I’ve ordered the regiment to form up at the bottom of the slope.’

‘Good.You’d better join them.’

‘Yes, sire.’The colonel nodded and Napoleon released his grip.

The pass was a dreadful place under such conditions, and despite his layers of clothing and thick gloves Napoleon could feel his hands and feet beginning to grow numb. Leaving orders for some of his escort to stay behind and urge the rest of the army through the pass, Napoleon carried on, picking his way carefully down the far slope. He passed several more dead horses, and one dragoon who had been crushed when his horse had fallen on him. Already the snow had heaped up around the bodies and they would soon disappear beneath the mantle of white, there to remain until the spring thaw revealed their pitiful remains.

It took the rest of the day and through the night for the army to negotiate the pass and stumble into the town of Villacastin on the far side of the Guadarrama range. But there was little chance to rest the exhausted soldiers. Reports reached Napoleon that General Moore had begun to retreat to the north. A deadly race was on.The British seemed to be making for the port of Corunna where, no doubt, their navy would be waiting to evacuate them. But if Soult was still in a position to block their retreat then General Moore and his men were trapped and would be crushed. Napoleon took warm satisfaction from this chance to humiliate his oldest enemy. Such a catastrophe would rock Britain to its foundations and they would never dare to attempt another campaign in Europe on such a scale again.

So the Emperor drove his men on, often leading the pursuit at the head of a squadron of Guard cavalry as the army sped north.They began to pass the bodies of the first of the enemy’s stragglers, cut down by the pursuing French cavalry.Then came the wagons, lying abandoned at the side of the road. Napoleon rode through towns and villages which had been looted by the British as their discipline began to fail. Some of the redcoats had been so drunk or exhausted that they could not continue and simply sat in the streets waiting to be taken prisoner. But the British were not the only enemies facing the French.

On the morning that Napoleon reached the town of Valderas, a mere two hours after the British rearguard had retreated from the town, they came across a small farm beside the road a short distance away.The farm was deserted, save for the bodies in front of the barn. Two French hussars had been staked, spreadeagled, on the ground. Their eyes had been gouged out and they had been mutilated and disembowelled. But they were the lucky ones, Napoleon reflected.Their officer, a lieutenant, had been nailed, upside down, to the door of the barn. Below him lay the smouldering remains of a small fire. His head and shoulders were burned black as pitch.

‘Bastards,’ someone muttered behind Napoleon.

The captain of the squadron edged his mount forward and cleared his throat. ‘First six men, fall out and bury those bodies.’

‘No!’ Napoleon intervened. ‘Leave them.’

‘Sire?’ The captain turned to him with a surprised look. ‘Surely we can’t leave them there, for all our men to see?’

‘That’s precisely why we are leaving them there. Let everyone in the army know what awaits them if they stray from their comrades to loot, or straggle.’

The captain thought about protesting, but then swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes, sire.’

‘Now let’s go.’ Napoleon spurred his horse on and the small column rode away, leaving the three bodies behind to serve as an example to the men who followed.

That night, as Napoleon ate his supper at a small inn just outside Valderas, Berthier came and sat opposite him with the evening despatches.

‘I’m eating,’ Napoleon mumbled as he chewed on a hunk of bread and then dipped some more into the remains of the stew in front of him. ‘You read. Just the important items. Precis the rest.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier had skim-read the messages and ordered them accordingly. He coughed and began.‘From Soult. He reports that he has skirmished with Moore’s cavalry, and managed to evade the main force by a march to the east.’

‘Evade?’ Napoleon lowered the piece of bread and swallowed as quickly as he could. ‘Evade? What the hell is Soult doing? I ordered him to hold his position, unless he had to manoeuvre in order to cut off the British line of retreat. If he goes east, Moore will escape. Why has he moved?’

Berthier scanned the message and replied, ‘It seems that Soult is concerned that the survivors from La Romana’s Spanish army is closing on him from the north-east. He did not want to get caught in a trap himself.’

‘Pah! La Romana’s army is little more than a band of brigands. Soult has nothing to fear from them.’ Napoleon paused and projected a map of the area in his mind, together with the forces he had set in motion against the British.With Soult to the east the chance to trap Moore was gone. All that was left was the hope of overhauling the British army and forcing it to turn and fight. Napoleon ground his teeth in frustration at his subordinate’s action and roughly pushed away the nearly empty bowl of stew. ‘Have orders sent to every division. Tell them that the Emperor demands one last effort of them. They have but to catch General Moore and they will have brought Britain to her knees.’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Now that Moore has escaped our trap we no longer need so many troops to continue the pursuit. Soult can deal with it. Reinforce him with Junot’s men and the rest can return to Madrid. I’ll follow Soult with the Imperial Guard as a reserve for the present.’

Berthier nodded.

‘Next message.’

Berthier pulled out the next sheet. ‘From your brother Lucien, sire.’

‘Read it.’

‘ “Your imperial majesty, I write to you briefly to apprise you of certain unexpected developments in Paris which may well be innocent expression of the idiosyncracies of the characters in question, or a symptom of something more sinister.You well know the antipathy that has existed between Fouché and Talleyrand for many years . . .” ’

Napoleon could not help smiling. It was an antipathy he had done much to cultivate in order to ensure that these two key ministers were kept divided.

‘ “. . . I write to tell you that I encountered the pair recently at the salon of the Hotel Monaco, arm in arm and talking in a most animated and friendly manner. Startling though such a sight was to me, I did not think anything sinister of it until Talleyrand began to be far more vocal about his opposition to his majesty’s policies in Spain. Out of concern for the safety of your affairs in Paris I have taken the liberty of having my agents follow Fouché and Talleyrand and compile reports on whom they meet. I will report to you in more detail as soon as the picture is clearer.Your brother, Lucien.” ’

As Berthier lowered the letter Napoleon’s mind was rapidly considering the significance of what he had heard. Fouché and Talleyrand arm in arm? Unthinkable. Barely a few months ago they would only have been prepared to walk so close to each other if their hands were round the other man’s throat. This rapprochement was indeed unexpected, and suspicious. Napoleon did not like it at all. He chewed his lip for a moment before his gaze turned towards Berthier.‘I will ride to Valladolid. If Moore manages to break away from Soult then have the Imperial Guard march and join me.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier made some notes and then looked at his master anxiously. ‘Do you believe that Fouché and Talleyrand can be plotting against you, sire?’

‘Plotting against me? Of course. I expect that. Plotting together against me is an altogether different issue. I don’t like it.’

The next morning Napoleon, escorted by a complete regiment of hussars, the very least complement that could guarantee his safety, set off for Valladolid. On arriving in the city Napoleon sent word to Lucien that he would be returning to Paris as soon as possible. A second letter was sent to Josephine, relating to her the pursuit of the British, his certainty that they would be caught and defeated, and his desire to be back in her arms again. Despite the cooling of his passion some months earlier, Napoleon still had considerable affection for his wife. Enough to fire his desire to make love to her again. Once the letters were sent, Napoleon and Berthier settled to several days of planning for the continuation of the campaign in the Peninsula.

A week after he reached Valladolid the Emperor received a message from the Director General of the Post in Paris.A letter from Fouché and Talleyrand to Prince Murat had been intercepted. In it the ministers spoke of the widespread desire for peace that had taken hold of France, and wondered, if Napoleon perished in Spain, whether Murat would consider ascending the imperial throne.

When Napoleon read the message he knew at once that he must return to Paris immediately. There was no question of it now. A conspiracy was hatching, at the very time when Austria was building her army in preparation for war.