Текст книги "Fire and Sword"
Автор книги: Simon Scarrow
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Текущая страница: 38 (всего у книги 44 страниц)
Chapter 48
Before the Army of Spain lay the forbidding mass of the Guadarramas, a long barrier of hills protecting the northern approaches to Madrid. The weather had turned cold but the soldiers had been spared rain as they prepared to assault the Spanish forces defending the Somosierra pass. The night before, the enemy garrison in the village of Sepúlveda had abandoned the position and fled west, rather than face the mass of the French army drawn up before them. As dawn broke, skirmishers advanced through fog to capture the village, and soon afterwards the Emperor and his staff rode forward to climb the church tower, which rose above the fog, and inspect the defences of the main enemy force blocking the pass.
Through his telescope Napoleon followed the narrow road that wound up the side of the hill to the head of the pass. There he could make out the lines of Spanish troops waiting for the French. No more than ten thousand men, Napoleon calculated, in addition to twenty guns mounted in some hastily erected redoubts on either flank which covered the road from Sepúlveda.There did not seem to be any attempt to defend the slopes on either side of the pass and Napoleon briefly considered sending men into the hills to work round the enemy position. But that would cause delay, and he was determined to capture Madrid and settle matters in Spain as swiftly as possible. Besides, Spanish troops were no match for his veterans and would be brushed aside easily enough.
Snapping his telescope shut Napoleon curtly gave an order to Berthier.‘We’ll use General Ruffin’s division to clear the pass.They can advance up the road and deploy in line the moment they come within range of the enemy’s artillery.’
‘Yes, sire. How many guns shall we send forward to support them?’
‘Guns?’ Napoleon pursed his lips for an instant and then shook his head. ‘It will be a quick affair, Berthier. Ruffin’s men will not need artillery support.’
Berthier looked surprised, and seemed to be about to query the instruction, but nodded instead. ‘As you wish, sire.’
Napoleon’s head ached terribly this morning, something he put down to a lack of sleep since the advance from Burgos three days before. ‘Give the orders, Berthier. I’m going forward with Ruffin as far as that hillock beside the road there, to view the attack.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Carry on,’ Napoleon dismissed him, and thrust the telescope into the long pocket of his coat before descending from the tower. As he left the small church he was aware of some shouting a short way down the street and saw two soldiers approaching, with a third man held firmly between them. Behind them marched a young infantry officer.
‘Let go of me!’ the man shouted. ‘Let me go, you fuckers!’
One of the men holding him suddenly lashed out and smashed a fist into the soldier’s jaw. ‘Shut your mouth!’
Napoleon paused in the street as the little party drew close to the church. As soon as they recognised him the soldiers halted and stared at him awkwardly.
‘Well?’ Napoleon glared at them. ‘Don’t you salute your emperor?’
The officer recovered first. ‘Attention!’
The three men ahead of him snapped their arms to their sides and stood straight-backed, chins up.The man in the middle stood still as the blood oozed from his cut lip and dripped on to his white cross-straps. Napoleon strode up to them.
‘What is the meaning of this? Lieutenant, what has this man done?’
‘We caught him looting a shrine on the edge of the village, sir.’
‘Looting, eh?’ Napoleon turned to the middle man. ‘What is your name?’
‘Geunet, sire.’The man’s gaze did not flicker as he continued to stare straight ahead. ‘Jean Geunet, private, third company, first battalion, forty-second regiment of the line, sire.’
‘One of General Ruffin’s regiments then.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘And what did you manage to loot from the shrine, Geunet?’
‘Sire, it was only an offering of food. Half a loaf of bread and a joint of lamb.’
‘I see. And you are of course aware of my orders concerning pillaging?’
‘Yes, sire.’The man straightened up.‘But it was not pillaging. I did not steal it from anyone.’
‘But you did steal it from the shrine, did you not?’
The soldier nodded. ‘I was hungry, sir. All the lads are. Almost starving.’
‘But these men with you have not stolen anything, have they?’
The soldier’s eyes met those of his Emperor.‘I don’t know.Why don’t you ask them, sire?’
‘Because you were caught and they weren’t. That’s why, you impudent dog.’ Napoleon turned to the lieutenant again.‘Is this man in your unit?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘And where are you taking Private Geunet?’
‘To battalion headquarters, sire.’ The lieutenant held up a haversack. ‘The bread and meat are in here, sire, and these two men witnessed the theft. The private’s case will be heard by the colonel, and then he will be sentenced, according to your general order, sire.’
Napoleon frowned.‘Your colonel is about to be a very busy man. He has no time to deal with this matter.’ Geunet puffed his cheeks out in relief and looked towards the Emperor with a grateful expression. In other circumstances Napoleon might have pardoned the man, but that morning, in the chill of the fog, with the ache in his head and several restless nights behind him, the Emperor’s mood was surly and cold to the point of cruelty. He turned round and beckoned to one of the orderlies who accompanied him along with his personal escort of Polish light cavalry.
‘Give me some paper and a pencil.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The orderly delved into his despatch bag and handed the requested materials to his Emperor with a bow.
‘Turn round,’ Napoleon ordered. ‘Keep your back still.’
As the orderly did as he was ordered Napoleon held the paper to his back and began to write. By the authority of his imperial majesty, the Emperor Napoleon, Private Jean Geunet has been found guilty of pillaging. In accordance with standing orders he is sentenced to summary execution. By order of Napoleon.
He signed his name and handed the document to the lieutenant. ‘There. Have it entered into regimental records. Now take Private Geunet back to the shrine and shoot him.’
‘Sire?’The lieutenant stared back.
‘Did you not hear my order?’
‘Well, yes, sire.’
‘Then carry it out immediately or I will have you charged with insubordination.’
‘Yes, sire!’ The lieutenant saluted and turned at once to his men. ‘Take hold of him!’
Geunet’s expression was one of pure horror. A moment earlier he had been convinced that the Emperor had been about to pardon him, or at least order a lenient punishment. Now he collapsed to his knees and clasped the hem of Napoleon’s greatcoat.
‘Sire! I beg you. Show me mercy. I have a family, in Toulon. A wife, two children.’
Napoleon looked down at him coldly. ‘Get your hands off me.’
‘Sire.’ Geunet’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t have me shot. Put me in the front rank. At least give me a chance to die with a musket in my hand. For my country. For you, sire.’
Napoleon ignored him. ‘Take this man away, and carry out the sentence.’
Geunet’s two companions grabbed his elbows and hauled him roughly to his feet before pinning his arms behind his back and thrusting him away from the Emperor, back down the street in the direction they had come from. Geunet struggled to twist his head round and called out, ‘Sire! Don’t let them shoot me. Please, sire!’
Napoleon ignored his calls and walked to the horse being held by a groom. Once in the saddle he spurred the animal forward and rode down the street that led towards the pass.The escort followed him in a rumbling cascade of hooves, and as the party left Sepúlveda behind them the sound of two musket shots rang out.
A short distance from the village the gradient of the road began to increase noticeably and within minutes they had emerged from the dawn fog and could clearly see the way ahead of them. Already some of Ruffin’s skirmishers were advancing up the hill, on either side of the road, warily watching for any signs of their opposite numbers. But there was no movement below the summit and Napoleon was sure that the enemy had positioned all available men in the pass itself. He went forward with his escort along the narrow cart track that began to zigzag up the slope. When they neared the small hillock he had spotted from the church, he led them off the track and towards the crest.As Napoleon had hoped, the slightly elevated position gave a good view of the Spanish defences less than a mile ahead.
The Polish captain commanding the escort edged his mount closer to the Emperor and coughed. ‘Excuse me, sire. But aren’t we in range of the nearest battery?’
Napoleon glanced at the earthworks opposite and slightly higher than the hillock.‘It would be extreme range. I doubt they will waste the ammunition.’
‘Even so, I would rather you did not take the risk, sire.’
Napoleon turned towards him and glared.‘We are safe here, Captain. Besides, there is no other position from which to observe the fight. Now still your tongue.’
The captain opened his mouth, then nodded and saluted before walking his horse away to a respectful distance behind the Emperor.
Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s division marched out of the fog and began to climb the road up to the pass.As the men passed the Emperor’s position they cheered and Napoleon made himself raise his hat in acknowledgement, provoking fresh cheers from soldiers delighted by the simple gesture.As they neared the pass, the division halted and began to deploy in line. Ahead of them the skirmishers fired the first shots of the day at the enemy’s light infantry, who were sheltering behind rocks and folds in the ground just ahead of their main position. Soon tiny puffs of smoke were blossoming across the slope. Napoleon watched the deployment with a growing sense of impatience, tapping the top of his boot with his riding crop. At length the drums rolled and the division edged forward. As soon as they came in sight of the Spanish guns the latter opened fire and the first balls tore through the French ranks, scattering bodies in all directions. Ruffin’s men continued on towards the line of enemy infantry, the units on each flank taking the heaviest casualties as they approached the Spanish batteries. Inevitably, the line began to bow as the men being pounded by artillery slowed down, and finally stopped a short distance in front of the battery opposite Napoleon.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Napoleon muttered irritably. ‘Get moving . . .’
The flanking battalion had suffered too many casualties and the men refused to advance any further. As the officers and sergeants tried to urge them on, the soldiers loosed off their muskets at the Spanish guns, which were shielded by their earthworks. It was a futile gesture that did not ease the storm of shot tearing the battalion to pieces.Then the first of the men fell back, away from the guns. More followed, and then the entire battalion was retiring, some of the men running, not stopping until the guns were out of sight. A lone officer remained on the bloodied ground, surrounded by bodies. He raised his sword and shouted, trying to shame his men into re-joining the attack. Then, as Napoleon watched, a round shot cut him in half. His legs stood still for an instant, before buckling and collapsing amid the carnage.
‘Shit.’ Napoleon clenched his fists as he glared at the scattered men of the battalion, then at the Spanish battery. Some of the gun crews had climbed on top of the earthworks and were jeering at the Frenchmen.
‘Damn them!’ Napoleon growled. He turned angrily in his saddle and pointed at the captain of his escort.‘Take that battery for me! At the gallop! Now.’
The captain looked up the narrow track to the pass, where it crossed the open ground in front of the enemy line.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Napoleon snapped.
The captain saluted and turned to shout orders to his squadron.The eighty men of his command formed up in column, four abreast. Drawing his sabre, the captain spurred his horse forward and galloped up the track.With cries to urge their mounts on and the jingling of bits the rest of the men pounded after him. Napoleon watched as the squadron charged up the road, past the men of the battalion that had broken earlier. As they reached the pass and came within range of the nearest Spanish infantry the enemy loosed off a volley, knocking several men from their horses. The horsemen slowed, veered away towards the shelter of a small outcrop of rocks and reined in. Napoleon rose up in his stirrups.
‘What the devil? What are those cowards doing? Attack, you fools! Attack! How dare you cower in front of that gang of Spanish peasants?’ He turned to one of his orderlies. ‘You! Ride up there and tell them to continue the charge. Tell them that they shame themselves and they shame their Emperor. Go!’
The orderly saluted and spurred his horse forward. Bending low over the animal’s neck he raced across the ground in front of the Spanish infantry and reined in with the surviving men of the escort, who were busy forming up in the shelter of the rocks. Napoleon saw the orderly gesturing back towards the hillock as he passed on the order. The captain of the escort seemed to argue for a moment and then turned away, making for the head of his small band of comrades. His sabre flashed as he raised it up, held it there for a moment and then swept it towards the nearest Spanish battery. The squadron burst out of the cover of the rocks and charged towards the enemy guns. As soon as they emerged, the Spanish artillery opened up, firing case shot into the charging Poles.The blasts tore men and horses apart, and ripped up the ground around them.The distance to the guns was no more than a quarter of a mile, and every shot struck down two or three men at a time as they charged towards their objective. The men’s instinct for self-preservation caused their ranks to spread out so they presented a more open target as they galloped on, swords flashing, desperately shouting their war cries. It was all over in less than a minute. The last man reached the earthworks, spurred his horse up above the gunners, and was instantly shot from his saddle. The rest of his comrades, and their mounts, lay strewn across the ground in front of the battery.
Napoleon swallowed at the pitiful sight.They had died at his order. His temper had snapped and their lives had been thrown away. His headache was worse than ever and he reached up and rubbed his brow. Then he gestured to one of his remaining orderlies. ‘Ride back to headquarters. I want a regiment of Guard cavalry brought forward.They are to wait below the pass until they are ordered to charge.’
As he waited for reinforcements Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s men steadily fought their way forward again and began to take on the Spanish infantry in an unequal musket duel. Better training and discipline on the part of the French meant that enemy soldiers soon melted away. A dense column of chasseurs pounded up the road past Napoleon’s hillock, formed into lines just below the crest and stood waiting with drawn sabres. Up ahead the smoke from the musket duel wreathed the pass, swirling away here and there as the wind carried it off. Through such a gap Napoleon saw that the Spanish line was wavering and immediately sent forward the order to charge.
The strident notes of cavalry trumpets echoed down the slope and then the horsemen swept forward in a rumbling wave, sweeping round the end of Ruffin’s infantry and rolling up the enemy line before splitting in two and charging each of the enemy batteries. It was a brave sight. Too brave for the defenders, who threw down their weapons and their equipment and ran for their lives. Napoleon watched for a while longer until he could be sure that the pass was in French hands. Then, wincing at the pounding agony in his head, he turned his horse away from the battle and rode back down to the village of Sepúlveda. Berthier sent for his camp bed from the army wagon train and had it set up in a small cell built on one side of the church for the local priest. Napoleon gratefully collapsed on to his bed, fully dressed, and fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 49
As soon as the last of the enemy was cleared from the pass the army advanced over the Guadarrama range and on to the plain beyond. The first French cavalry patrols rode warily into the suburbs of the Spanish capital the day after the Battle of Somosierra. They reported back to imperial headquarters that the Madrid junta had ordered the arming of thousands of the common people, and the construction of makeshift defences and artillery positions to cover the approaches to the capital’s gates. In the first days of December the French army made camp outside the city and constructed their own batteries of siege guns ready to pound the hastily erected defences surrounding the entrance to Madrid.
While preparations for the assault were made Napoleon sent an envoy forward to demand the surrender of the capital. On the first day the envoy was rudely rebuffed, but on the second, the junta requested the opportunity to discuss terms. Accordingly, as evening fell over the plain and the soldiers began to light their fires, a small party of representatives rode out from Madrid and were shown to the gated estate that had been chosen for the imperial headquarters. Napoleon waited for them with his brother Joseph, and Berthier was with them to take notes, as ever. Once the representatives had been searched they were escorted into the Emperor’s presence by a section of guardsmen, who remained in attendance, watchful for any sign of treachery from the Spaniards. Napoleon had decided to keep the encounter as brief and formal as possible and there were no chairs in the room. The fire had not been lit, but the room was brightly illuminated by scores of candles burning in the heavy iron holders suspended from the ceiling. The leader of the Spaniards, a tall, graceful man of advanced years, stepped forward to speak for the junta.
‘I am Don Francisco Pedrosa of Castille, grandee of Spain and member of the Madrid junta, your imperial majesty.’ He concluded with an elaborate bow. Don Francisco had studiously avoided looking at Joseph, as if he was not even in the room, and Napoleon felt his anger rise at this deliberate slight to his brother.
‘Are you authorised to accept terms, or merely to discuss them?’ he asked tersely.
‘I speak and act for the junta,’ Don Francisco answered. ‘If we make an agreement here, tonight, it will be binding.’
‘And these other men with you.Who are they?’
‘Members of the junta and representatives of the Madrid councils.’
‘Do they speak French?’
‘They do. The junta insisted that negotiations be held in front of witnesses.’
‘Really? But your witnesses are hardly impartial, Don Francisco.’
‘Any more than yours are, sire.’The Spaniard smiled wearily.‘I doubt there is an impartial man left in Europe these days.’
Napoleon returned the smile. ‘We live in difficult times, señor. Though that does not need to be the case. France and Spain are allies.’
‘Allies? I think not, sire.You come here as invaders.’
‘No.We come here to restore the rightful King of Spain to his throne and end the civil strife that is tearing his kingdom apart.’ Napoleon placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. ‘You have but to acknowledge his legitimacy and set down your arms and I swear to you that my soldiers will leave Spanish soil.’
‘All of them?’ asked Don Francisco.‘And can you guarantee that they will not return?’
‘They will not return of my volition. I have no desire to enter the territory of an ally, without that ally’s express permission.’
‘I see.’ Don Francisco nodded. ‘You will forgive me for asking, sire, but from whom would such permission be sought?’
‘Why, your King, naturally.’
‘Ah, there we have something of an impasse between us, since neither the Madrid junta, nor indeed any junta in Spain, recognises the authority of your brother.’
‘Nevertheless, Joseph is your legitimate King.’ Napoleon nudged his brother. ‘Is that not so?’
‘Yes.’ Joseph swallowed nervously.‘That is so.After all, Don Francisco, the Madrid junta freely offered me the crown.’
‘I beg to differ with your description of events, monsieur.’ Don Francisco spoke the last word with heavy emphasis.‘The offer was only made after your Marshal Murat threatened the former members of the junta with prison if they did not offer you the crown.’
‘That is also a matter of opinion,’ Joseph countered. ‘I rather suspect that they have since been coerced into making such a claim by you and the other rebels.’
Don Francisco drew a deep breath before he continued. ‘We could argue the point for as long as you like, but the present reality is that you are not the King of Spain.You are a usurper.Your writ runs no further than the screen of French soldiers you surround yourself with.The rest of Spain will never accept you as their King.’
‘They will!’ Napoleon intervened. ‘The moment we have eradicated the nests of rebels that challenge the authority of King Joseph. Those who take British gold to stir up unrest and provoke challenges to the rule of the rightful King.’
‘Then I fear that you may well have to eradicate almost every man, woman and child in Spain, sire,’ Don Francisco replied. ‘For they are all against the imposition of a man who appears to be little more than the puppet of his brother.’
Napoleon felt the blood drain from his face. ‘How dare you?’
‘I am only telling you the truth, sire.Your brother can never be king here.’
‘He is the King. You will honour him as such, or you will be considered rebels and traitors and treated accordingly.’
Joseph glanced at his brother in alarm and then spoke again.‘My dear Don Francisco, there is no need for such resentment. I swear to you now, as I swore on the first day of my reign, that I will be a just and fair ruler of Spain.There will be no reprisals against those who are currently in revolt against me. I have no desire to sow further seeds of disharmony. I truly wish to do no more than serve my people and see that they are offered the same opportunities for peace and enrichment as the rest of Europe.’
‘That is all very laudable. But it is too late for you now. If you are imposed on Spain by force, then you can only hope to rule by force. The people simply will not accept you as King.’
‘And whom would they choose?’ asked Napoleon. ‘Some fat Bourbon imbecile?’
Don Francisco shrugged. ‘That is not for me to say, sire. But if that was their choice I would feel duty bound to honour it.’
Napoleon stared at him, and then laughed coldly.‘Then you are truly a self-deluded fool.’
‘That is not helpful, brother,’ Joseph protested.
‘Be quiet!’
Don Francisco looked at them with raised brow and a faint mocking smile. ‘Clearly I would be a fool if I imagined that Joseph would be anything more than your mouthpiece, sire. The moment he attempted to be his own man, you would call him to heel.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘I have had enough of this! Further discussion is pointless. Go back to the junta and tell them to surrender. If they don’t, I will start bombarding the city’s defences at dawn tomorrow. Once they are breached I will let my soldiers sack the city.’
Joseph turned to him with a horrified expression. ‘No, brother.You cannot threaten that.’
‘It is my will,’ Napoleon said firmly, his steely gaze fixed on Don Francisco. ‘Now go back to your junta and tell them what I have said. If I do not have your surrender by first light, I will order my guns to open fire.’
Don Francisco returned the Emperor’s gaze unflinchingly. ‘I will tell them exactly what you have said, sire.’
He bowed, and the other representatives followed suit before they were escorted from the room by the grenadiers. Once the door was closed Joseph turned towards his brother.
‘They will not surrender.’
‘I know.’
Joseph was silent for a moment before he spoke again. ‘And I will not be King.’
‘Yes, you will,’ Napoleon replied flatly. ‘I made you King of Spain, and only I can choose to remove you from the throne, should I wish it. Not some antiquated committee of inbred aristocrats.’
Joseph cleared his throat. ‘And what if I choose not to be King?’
Napoleon stared at his brother with a surprised expression, and then laughed. ‘Why would a man not want to become a king?’
Joseph clasped his hands behind his back as he composed his thoughts. ‘You misled me about conditions here in Spain. The people are not like those of other nations.They are profoundly inward-looking. They are suspicious enough of the people in the next village, let alone any foreigner imposed upon them as a king. I tell you what they are like, brother.They are like Corsicans.’
‘Then you are surely the man to be their King!’ Napoleon grinned, but Joseph’s expression remained quite serious.
‘No, brother. They will never be ruled by someone they have not freely chosen.You have made a grievous error in forcing me upon them. They will resist me until I am dead.’
‘Let them try. I will not let you come to any harm, and I will not let them oust you.’
‘But, Napoleon, can you not see that you have made a mistake? If you persist in this it may well be the greatest mistake of your life.’
‘Mistake? Me?’ Napoleon was hurt. His brother had never questioned his judgement so openly, or so honestly, before. ‘I have thought this through. There is no mistake. Trust me. It is merely a question of the correct application of force for the appropriate length of time. Once the Spanish see that they cannot oust you, nor defeat French soldiers, they will see that it is pointless to continue the struggle.’
‘You make it sound so simple.’ Joseph turned away from his brother and wearily strolled across to the windows. He looked out over the surrounding landscape, which was dotted with the flames of Napoleon’s army. ‘How many men can you spare to keep Spain subdued?’
‘Enough.You have my word on it.’
‘Think on it. There will need to be strong garrisons the length and breadth of Spain. Every road used by our men will need to be protected. Every despatch exchanged between France and Spain will have to be escorted. None of our men will be able to forage alone, or even in small parties. And they will be attacked from behind every rock.That is even without considering any intervention by a British army. For that we will need a strong field army, over and above the men required for other duties.’ Joseph turned back to face his brother. ‘Your army will die the death of a thousand cuts here in Spain. And for what?’
‘For you to be King.’
‘Only until the day that the people finally triumph.’
‘That will never happen. Brigands and outlaws can never overcome a modern army,’ Napoleon asserted confidently. ‘Trust me, brother. I know what I am talking about. I am a soldier to the core.’
‘Perhaps that is the problem.You cannot conceive of the implications for an army forced to face the wrath of an entire people. Our men will not be fighting awar here.They will be fighting an infinite number of little wars. Against every man who can hold a weapon, every woman who can poison a well, every child who misdirects them or leads them into ambushes. In the end it will break their will, I am sure of it.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘You look too deeply into the hearts of men, Joseph.You always have. We will win here.You will be King and there will be peace.’
‘Because you say so.’
‘Yes, because I say so.’
‘But I don’t want to be King. I don’t want to be the cause of the endless suffering of the people of Spain. I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of those fine soldiers who now sit by their campfires. I don’t want any of it.’
‘It is too late for that, brother.’ Napoleon moderated his tone as he continued. ‘I made you King. I cannot afford to be seen to have made a mistake. Even if you are right in your fears for the future, I cannot be seen to be less than invincible. The other nations of Europe are like a pack of jackals circling France. The moment they scent weakness they will pounce. If that happens, it will not just be you that falls, it will be all of us, every member of our family, every friend and worthy comrade whom we have rewarded with promotions and titles. France will be returned to the Bourbons and the world will be the exclusive province of aristocrats again. Is that what you would wish for?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Then surely you must see why you have to be King here? If you give way, it will be as the first brick in a dam.’ Napoleon’s eyes glittered as he seized on the metaphor. ‘That is what we are, brother. Bricks in a dam, shielding our people from the dark waters of reactionaries and religious fanatics. It is our duty not to give way. I know you are a good man. I know that you are an idealist, as I am. You will understand the role you must play here in good time.Your people will need you when the rebellion is crushed.You must lead Spain into the modern world. That is a task no Bourbon could undertake.’ Napoleon smiled and clasped his brother’s shoulder. ‘It is a fit task for a Bonaparte, is it not?’
Joseph stared at him for a while in silence and then his shoulders slumped wearily and he nodded.
‘Good! Then it is settled. Come, let us go and eat.’ Napoleon ushered his brother out of the room, and because he went ahead Joseph did not see the look of contempt that hardened the Emperor’s face.
On the fourth day of December the French guns opened fire. A barrage of heavy iron tore holes in the enemy’s flimsy barricades, smashing those sheltering behind. One by one the guns in the batteries covering the capital’s gateways were silenced as they were struck and dismounted in an explosion of splinters and slivers of iron that sliced through the gun crews. Once Madrid’s outer defences had been pulverised, a column of French troops forced their way on to the Heights of Retiro that dominated the city. Several batteries of guns were moved up to the Heights and trained on the heart of Madrid. But there was no need to open fire. Before sufficient ammunition had been brought forward to begin the bombardment, a deputation of Madrid’s councillors approached the French lines under a flag of truce to surrender. The junta had already fled, the moment they had seen the French guns being wheeled into position.
