Fire and Sword (13 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
Berthier pursed his lips as he hurriedly recalled his examination of the morning’s despatches. ‘According to our ambassador the war party is still trying to goad Frederick William into joining the coalition, but he’s reluctant to take the risk.’
‘Risk?’ Napoleon sniffed with contempt. ‘What risk could there possibly be if he joined forces with the Tsar and the Emperor of Austria? They would outnumber us three to one. The man is a coward and a fool.’
‘Just as well for us, sire.’
‘Yes,’ Napoleon replied quietly. ‘So . . . It is imperative that we keep our enemies divided.That means we must end this war swiftly, with the kind of annihilating victory that will crush the very idea of further opposition to France.’ He shuffled round and tapped his dividers on the Austrian capital. ‘It will not be sufficient to occupy Vienna. We cannot dictate terms until we have destroyed their army.’
Berthier nodded. ‘Indeed. But the loss of Vienna would still be a heavy blow to them, sire.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘It is only a city, Berthier. Bricks and mortar. It can do us no harm. Still, in some ways it is a shame that old niceties of war have perished. It would be far more convenient if our enemies gave in once their capital cities had fallen. But this is a new age for warfare. Only the swift and the ruthless will prevail.That is why we win, Berthier.’
‘Yes, sire.’
The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor outside the room and both men turned towards the door as there was a sudden sharp rap.
‘Come!’ Napoleon called out as he heaved himself up and stepped carefully off the map. The door swung open and Marshal Lannes entered, his face flushed with excitement.
‘Sire, you’d better come and see this at once!’
‘See what?’
‘It’s the Austrians, sire.They are breaking the armistice.There are two columns advancing out of the Ulm defences.’
‘Treachery,’ Napoleon growled.‘This is what you get when you trust the word of an Austrian aristocrat. Come on, Berthier!’
Snatching up his hat, Napoleon strode from the room. With Lannes and Berthier following, he hurried outside and gestured to one of the grooms to bring their horses.The small party galloped out of the stable yard and across the open countryside towards the observation point atop a low hill overlooking Ulm and its defences. All around them drums were beating and trumpets shrilled out, calling the men of the Grand Army to take up their arms and form in their regiments ready to face the enemy. On the hill, a handful of officers was watching the enemy positions fixedly and were only aware of the Emperor’s arrival when he dismounted and snatched a telescope from a young lieutenant. He trained it in the direction of Ulm and took a breath to steady the view as he panned across the lines of defences. Sure enough, there were two vast columns advancing from the town. Away to the north a dense mass of cavalry, perhaps several thousand strong, was riding hard towards the French lines and already puffs of smoke were blossoming from the French batteries facing the Austrian lines.To the south-east of the town, a huge column of infantry was tramping out of the gates.
Lannes slapped his hands together.‘Damn fools are marching straight towards our guns.They’ll be cut to pieces.’
‘Maybe,’ Napoleon replied softly, then fixed his attention on the head of the Austrian column.There was no glitter of bayonets there, and then he understood. The enemy were holding their muskets upside down. Quickly he scanned the banners at the front of the column and saw that most were furled. The rest were plain white. He lowered the telescope and smiled.
‘They’re surrendering.’ He turned to Lannes and offered him the telescope. ‘See for yourself.’
‘What?’ Lannes looked astonished and then hurriedly trained the telescope on the enemy. ‘You’re right, sire. Surrendering, by God. Five days before the end of the armistice. But why?’
‘They must have heard news of the Russian army’s location,’ Napoleon mused.‘General Mack has realised that he could not be saved in time.That has to be it.’
‘What about the other column, sire?’ Lannes lowered the telescope and gestured to the distant cavalry charging through the French lines to the north.
‘A break-out force. I imagine Mack is hoping that he can at least save his horsemen. Well, we’ll see about that. Berthier, send word to Murat at once. Tell him what is happening and order him to pursue the enemy’s cavalry. They are not to escape. We cannot afford to let them join the other Austrian armies, or Kutusov.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier saluted and swung himself on to his horse to gallop back towards headquarters.
As they watched, the Austrian column began to deploy into line facing the hurriedly forming Grand Army.Then, regiment by regiment, the enemy lowered their weapons to the ground and stood to attention before the astonished eyes of the French soldiers. A large party of officers detached themselves from the Austrian lines and rode slowly towards the French pickets. They were quickly passed through and directed towards the headquarters of the Grand Army.
‘Come on!’ Napoleon ordered. Leading Marshal Lannes, he hurried back to his horse and climbed into the saddle and spurred his mount into a gallop. By the time they reached headquarters Berthier had issued orders for the formation of a guard of honour and the grenadiers of the Old Guard were hurriedly assembling either side of the gravel drive that led up to the country house. In their dress uniforms and towering bearskins the tough veterans looked as formidable as any men in Europe and Napoleon regarded them with pride as he joined the officers gathering in front of the entrance to receive the Austrians.
Just as the last men hurried into position there was a distant clatter of hooves and then Napoleon saw the first of the enemy’s officers swing into the drive. They trotted forward between the still lines of the grenadiers. Then an order was barked out and the French soldiers presented arms in one fluid movement that momentarily startled the Austrians. They continued forward, reining in a short distance from Napoleon and his staff. Their leader, wearing a glittering uniform bedecked with ribbons and medals, dismounted and approached. He was a thin man with a gaunt expression, made worse still by exhaustion. He paused as he scanned the French officers, until his gaze rested on Napoleon.With a weary sigh he drew his sword with a metallic rasp and held the hilt out horizontally as he advanced the final few steps with bowed head.
‘Emperor Napoleon, I have come to surrender my army to you.’
‘And you are?’ Napoleon asked casually, with an amused glint in his eyes.
The Austrian glanced up. ‘Sire, I am the unhappy General Mack.’
Napoleon accepted the sword, and handed it to Berthier. ‘I accept your surrender. Please permit me to entertain you and your officers here, while arrangements are made to take your army prisoner. How many men do you have, General?’
General Mack swallowed bitterly before he replied. ‘Over twenty-seven thousand souls.’
There was an excited muttering amongst Napoleon’s officers before he turned and shot them a withering glare and they fell silent at once.
‘Marshal Lannes, see to our guests.’
Lannes grinned. ‘It will be a pleasure, sire.’
Mack gave the order for his companions to dismount and as their horses were led away by French grooms the Austrian officers filed miserably through the entrance of the country house. Napoleon watched them for a moment, then turned to Berthier with a satisfied expression.
‘The first half of the campaign is over. Now comes the time to turn our might against the remnants of the Austrians, and their Russian friends.’
Chapter 10
Arthur
London, November 1805
In the weeks that followed his return to Britain Arthur gradually renewed his former friendships and other contacts in the capital.Yet at the back of his mind there was always the thought of Kitty, still living in Dublin, as far as he knew. Much as he longed to see her again, he put off writing to her over and over, telling himself that he was too busy for such matters at present. Amid the whirl and glitter of the capital’s social circles Arthur was flattered by the attention of women of quality, although he also spent many evenings in the clubs and drinking dens where he enjoyed the company of courtesans.Yet none of them excited his ardour as much as the mere thought of Kitty. Accordingly, he tried to occupy his mind with other matters.
It was vital that he fully understood the social and political terrain across which the Wellesleys would fight to secure their place at the centre of Britain’s affairs. His older brother, William, was a member of the House of Commons and proved a useful guide to the complex relations between the various factions. In the eleven years since they had last seen each other William had aged poorly. He was growing stout, and his hair was streaked with grey. More disheartening still was the degree to which William had become so acclimatised to politics that he had come to see it as the means to all ends, and he vigorously encouraged his younger brother to align himself with the rising faction of Lord Buckingham.
One morning, the two brothers were sitting in the parlour of their mother’s house as the first wet, windy days of winter closed in over London. Icy rain pattered against the windows and ran down the glass in dull streaks that blurred the details of the street outside. A servant had made up a fire, but even though the coals glowed brightly in the grate Arthur shivered and pulled his plain coat more tightly about his shoulders.
‘There was a time I looked forward to returning to Britain,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought that anything was better than enduring another summer in India. But now? By God, I’d give rank, title and fortune to be back in Mysore. Now that was passing comfortable.’
William smiled faintly. ‘Ah, yes. I’d heard that you and Richard were living like kings amongst the natives.What was the name of that palace you were using?’ He frowned as he tried to recall. ‘Dowley something?’
‘The Dowlut Baugh,’ Arthur replied.‘And it was a summer residence of Tipoo Sultan, not his palace.You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear in London, brother.’
‘I suppose not, but there were stories of the, ah, excesses of opulence that Richard bestowed on himself while he was Governor General. Rumour has it that you did not do so badly out of the situation either.’
‘Stories, William. That’s all. Just stories.’
William pursed his lips. ‘I hope so, for all our sakes. As long as Richard can explain himself to the satisfaction of Parliament when he returns.’
‘He will. And I shall back him to the hilt, as will you and the rest of the family.’
‘Oh, of course.’ William drew himself up in his chair. ‘That goes without saying. And we must make sure that we have secured enough political support to help Richard when - if - there is an investigation.’
Arthur regarded his brother wearily.‘You are referring to Buckingham, I take it?’
‘I am. The man is set to make his mark on the political scene. It would serve our family well if we allied ourselves to him.’
‘Politicians come and go, William. What if your friend Buckingham fails to make his mark? What if we were dragged down with him? Then how could our family hope to wield enough influence to serve Britain effectively? It would be best if we did not align ourselves with any faction. Indeed it would be best if there were no factions for the duration of the war.’ Arthur paused, and thought a moment before continuing. ‘I think it would be risky to tie ourselves to Buckingham.’
‘But what if he succeeds?’ William’s eyes gleamed. ‘Then we might have the pick of the offices of state, and serve Britain to the fullest extent of our abilities. Think of it, Arthur. The Wellesley family would be at the heart of government, where real power resides. That is where we deserve to be.’
Arthur shook his head sadly.‘It seems to me that you care rather too much about power. As I said before, politicians come and go, Tory and Whig alike. They are an ephemeral detail, brother. I will not make political enemies when Britain’s fate hangs by a thread. My ambition, my sole ambition at this moment, is to see Bonaparte and France defeated. I place nothing higher than that. Not party, nor faction, not even the political ambitions of my family. Do you understand? Nothing matters, save the defeat of France.’
William nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps you are right. But one might argue that just as politicians come and go, so do our foreign enemies. And Bonaparte is, after all, just another politician. Might you not exaggerate the danger one man poses to Britain?’
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