Authors: Simon Scarrow
THE GENERALS (21 page)
Napoleon nodded a greeting and shook his head wearily. ‘Christ, I hate fighting civilians. Reminds me of the time we had to put down that rebellion in Lyons.’
Bourrienne nodded at the memory of the first action that he and Napoleon had shared as junior lieutenants in the Régiment de la Fère. Napoleon took off his hat and mopped his brow. ‘For most of them it’s just some kind of game. They’ll hurl insults at soldiers one day, rocks the next, and the moment we open fire they cry “massacre” and accuse us of committing some kind of atrocity.’ Napoleon replaced his hat and gave it an extra push to fix it on his head, as if that might protect him from a stray tile. ‘They’re costing me too many men. It’s time the Italians were taught a lesson. We can’t afford to have this mess repeated in every major town behind our lines.’
He turned to a sergeant. ‘Find Colonel Lannes. Tell him that every time a tile is thrown at his men they are to break into the house concerned and kill everyone inside and then torch the place.’
The sergeant smiled cruelly, saluted, and then turned to trot across the piazza, following the sounds of musket fire. Bourrienne looked at his general warily.
‘Is that wise?’ he asked softly.
‘Wise?’ Napoleon shrugged. ‘I think so. Why? What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking that if we start butchering the people of Pavia then you are setting a standard for the behaviour of our men.And once word of this spreads to the other cities we’ll make enemies of all those who welcomed us as liberators.’
‘That may be so,’ Napoleon reflected. ‘On the other hand, it might be argued that I am saving lives in the long term. Once people hear of the fate of Pavia it will surely dampen any rebellious flames that burns in their hearts. It will save the lives of our men as well, Bourrienne, and that’s what really matters, is it not?’
‘If you say so, General.’
The fighting continued through the town until early in the afternoon, when flames and thick clouds of dark smoke rose into the sky and a dirty pall lay across Pavia. The bodies of those killed inside the buildings were dragged out into the streets and left in heaps to serve as a warning to others. Not a man, woman or child was spared and Napoleon hardened his heart at the sight as he made his way round the town after the fighting had ended.
‘They have only themselves to blame,’ he muttered to Bourrienne. ‘If they had not chosen to defy us, none of this would have happened. I swear it.’
Colonel Lannes was waiting for them in the main piazza once Napoleon had completed his inspection of the grenadiers’ checkpoints. A small band of older and sickly-looking French soldiers stood to attention behind Lannes.
‘Is this the garrison?’ Napoleon asked.
‘Yes, sir.They’ve been held in the cells beneath the citadel for the last three days. They’ve had no food and were left in their own filth.’
‘Where’s Captain Linois?’
Lannes turned and indicated a stoop-shouldered man with a thin moustache standing in front of the garrison.
‘Linois!’ Napoleon barked. ‘Come here!’
‘Yes, sir.’ The captain saluted and trotted over. As he stood before his general Napoleon’s nose wrinkled at the stench that hung round the man.
‘Linois, do you have any idea how much damage you have done to our cause?’
The captain’s gaze fell and Napoleon struck him on the side of the head and continued in a low harsh voice. ‘Once word reaches other cities that a French garrison has surrendered to the local rabble without firing a shot, what do you imagine they will think? As a result of your cowardice I’m going to have to double the size of the garrisons, and bolster them with good combat troops, instead of this rubbish that you command. Troops that I am counting on to defeat the Austrians. Well, what have you to say for yourself, Linois?’
The captain shook his head and looked up at his general with a wretched expression. ‘Sir, they surprised us. There were hundreds of them. What could we do?’
‘You could have fought them! That’s what!’ He stepped up to the captain and thrust an arm into his chest, sending the man reeling back. ‘God damn you, Linois, you useless bastard.’ For a moment he sensed that he was on the edge of a great rage and he had to force himself to be calm. He breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring. ‘So, what am I to do with you, Linois?’
Linois’s eyes widened. He sensed his peril. ‘Sir, break me to the ranks. It’s the least I deserve.’
‘Too true,’ Napoleon muttered with contempt. ‘By virtue of the power vested in me by the Directory and the War Office, I sentence you to death.’ He turned to Lannes.‘Take ten men from the garrison. Arm them.They will serve as Captain Linois’s firing squad. He will be shot here in the piazza at once.’
Linois dropped to his knees and reached out a hand imploringly. ‘No, sir! Please spare me! Send me to the front. Let me die like a soldier!’
‘It’s too late for that,’ Napoleon replied coldly. ‘You had your chance, and you proved that you are no soldier. Take him away.’
Linois made a light keening noise and bit his lip as two soldiers pulled him to his feet and half led, half dragged him across the piazza to join the other prisoners. Napoleon turned away, sickened by the sight, and caught Bourrienne’s eye. His secretary stared at him, then shook his head faintly.
‘Are you questioning my judgement?’ Napoleon asked softly.
‘I would not presume to do that, sir,’ Bourrienne replied.
‘Good. Perhaps if you were a general you would understand.’
‘Then I thank God I am not a general, sir.’
Napoleon stared at him briefly before he responded. ‘Yes. Thank God. For the sake of France if no other reason.’
The men of the firing squad stood to attention facing the town hall. Opposite them Captain Linois leaned against the wall, his head covered with a piece of sacking and his hands bound behind his back. His body trembled and Napoleon hoped that he would spare himself the indignity of falling over before the sentence was carried out. He turned away from the man to address the three companies of grenadiers assembled to bear witness to the execution.
‘Through his cowardice this man has endangered the lives of every one of his comrades in the Army of Italy. His death will act as a signal to every French soldier that betrayal of one’s comrades is beyond contempt and will never go unpunished! Tell every soldier you meet what you witness here today so there will be no doubt about the fate reserved for those who fail France, fail their comrades and fail in their own duty as a soldier! Colonel Lannes, carry out the sentence.’
He moved to one side as Lannes drew his sword, raised it overhead, and barked out the commands.
‘Firing party . . . present arms! Take aim!’
There was a final sob from Linois, a horrible animal noise from deep in his chest, and then Lannes swept his sword down.
‘Fire!’
The volley thundered out, echoing off the tall walls of the town hall as the musket balls ripped into Captain Linois, flattening him against the wall before he tumbled to the side, twitched once, and was still. Colonel Lannes marched stiffly across to his commander.
‘Sentence has been carried out.What are your orders, sir?’
Napoleon drew a breath to help strengthen his resolve. His work in Pavia was not yet complete. One final task remained to be carried out. He gestured across the Piazza to the prisoners. ‘Hang them. All of them.’
There was only the faintest look of surprise in Lannes’s face before he nodded solemnly and turned away to carry out his orders.
The grenadiers were in a subdued mood as they marched out of Pavia late in the afternoon. Napoleon did not want to linger in the devastated town overnight and resolved to let his men rest for the night only when they were some distance from the scene. Several wagons had been seized to carry the wounded back to the army, as well as the bodies of their fallen comrades. Napoleon did not wish to have them buried where the townspeople could desecrate their graves. They would be given full honours by the army once the column reached Brescia.
Behind them Pavia lay under its shroud of smoke, still and quiet as a ghost town. Napoleon drew rein and stared at the scene, feeling cold and tired. For a moment he yearned for a different life, or at least a period of respite away from the monstrous deeds that he had been compelled to carry out. Then he turned his horse away from the town and trotted forward to take up his place at the head of the column.
Chapter 19
As soon as he reached the army headquarters in the bishop’s mansion in Brescia Napoleon dictated a letter for circulation to every town and city lying between his army and the border with France. There were to be no more uprisings. If any French soldiers were killed then the nearest town or village would be burned to the ground and any men caught under arms would be shot. Bourrienne took down his words in silence, and once his commander had finished he rose from his seat and left the room with a curt bow. Napoleon propped his head on his hands and stared at the far wall as the punitive attack on Pavia came back to him.The execution of civilians was not a new refinement, merely an inevitable feature of war. Bourrienne’s distaste for the measures that Napoleon had felt forced to carry out in Pavia was misplaced, Napoleon reassured himself.
He raised his head and pulled over a fresh sheet of paper. He opened an inkwell, dipped his pen and wrote the opening words of a new letter, words that he had written a hundred times before, but which still gave him a small thrill when he saw them in his own hand on the page.
Dear Josephine.
He still marvelled that she had consented to be his wife, and the familiar longing to lie in her arms once again fired the passion in his veins. He readied his pen, wanting to burst into the flow of impassioned words that poured from him in a torrent whenever he wrote to Josephine. But tonight the words did not come. His mind was too weary and too occupied with the demands made upon him as commander of the Army of Italy. Napoleon sat for a moment, pen poised, wanting to unburden himself of all the concerns that weighed down on him. The Directory’s criminal neglect of his soldiers; uniforms in tatters, boots worn to shreds and bellies frequently empty, and the men were still owed several months’ pay. Then there was the need to close with the Austrian army and destroy them, but Napoleon was constantly frustrated by the enemy’s refusal to stand and fight. And Napoleon still had to deal with the prospect of dividing his army with Kellermann. If Barras and the other Directors stood by their decision then Napoleon would be removed from the public’s gaze. The Army of Italy would certainly lose the initiative in the war against Austria as the two generals struggled to co-ordinate their separate, weaker forces against an enemy who already outnumbered them even before a wave of fresh troops was added to its strength. He desperately wanted to confide all this to Josephine, and yet he dared not. All of his soldier’s troubles would surely seem arcane and dull to someone who moved in the most exclusive circles in Paris. He feared she would find him boring.The only words which he felt confident of pleasing her with were words of love.
Josephine.
She was truly the first woman he had loved. To be sure, there had been women before her.Those who had satisfied his physical yearnings, or had been objects for his youthful veneration when, like all young men, he had desperately needed to practise his love, and be loved in turn by someone whose affection was not bound to him by family ties.With Josephine he had learned to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without shame or embarrassment. So it had been easy to surrender to the flood of feelings: passion, loneliness, hope, anticipation and sometimes even jealousy when he received a rare letter from her in which she expressed even the slightest affection for another man. And from such feelings the words formed readily, written down as fast as his pen could manage, raw and intense.
But tonight he felt too tired, too drained, and the usual phrases of an ardent lover seemed stale and insufficient. It was no longer enough to commit his emotions to paper. He needed Josephine here and now. Dipping his pen in the inkwell, Napoleon wrote a terse note, asking why he had not heard from her for several days. If she truly loved him, he wrote, then she would do all in her power to be at his side without delay, and he expected that of her. He signed it with a formal expression of affection and then folded the paper and sealed it, tossing it on to the other correspondence to be sent to Paris in the morning.
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