Текст книги "Fire and Sword"
Автор книги: Simon Scarrow
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 44 страниц)
Chapter 13
Napoleon
As soon as the arrangements had been made for the paroling of some of the prisoners captured at Ulm and sending the rest into holding camps in Bavaria and France, the Grand Army wheeled about and marched against the Russian army led by Kutusov. For the remainder of October, and into the early days of November the soldiers trudged towards Vienna, driving the enemy before them.The weather continued to worsen as autumn began to give way to winter.
On some days, there were bright spells when brilliant white puffy clouds billowed serenely across a clear sky.Then there were times when thick banks of rain and mist blotted out the sun and icy squalls lashed down, soaking the men through to the skin and turning the routes along which they marched into glutinous slippery bogs. At night the temperature dropped swiftly and the men huddled around their campfires, trying to dry their clothes and get some warmth into their shivering frames as they supped on whatever food they had managed to forage during the afternoon. The lucky ones, mostly veterans who had long since learned the knack of finding good shelter, slept under cover, while the rest made themselves as comfortable as they could in the open. There were frequent frosts in the morning when the men woke to find their belongings covered in a gleaming patina of tiny ice crystals that gleamed pale blue in the hour before dawn. After a quick meal the men formed up, stamping their feet to keep warm, and then, when the order was given, they advanced towards the enemy again.
As his carriage lurched forward with the long train of headquarters wagons and mounted staff, Napoleon glanced through the streaked glass of the window and muttered to Berthier, ‘This mud may yet undo us.’
Berthier had been dozing, but he blinked his eyes open and looked round. ‘Sorry, sire, what did you say?’
‘This mud is slowing our advance down too much.’
‘It hampers the enemy as much as us, sire.’
‘True,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘But time is more against us than the enemy.We have to finish the war, swiftly and decisively.They only have to hold out long enough to demonstrate to the rest of Europe that France, that I, can be held at bay.’
Berthier nodded. ‘That is the danger, sire. But you have acted as quickly as you can.’ He paused for a moment to consider the disposition of his master’s forces.‘As long as Murat keeps pressing the Russians back they will have no chance to concentrate their forces with the Austrians.’
Napoleon smiled faintly. ‘I can’t say I feel terribly comforted by the thought of depending on a hothead like Murat.’
Berthier kept his silence. Not only was Murat senior to him, but he was also married to the sister of Napoleon, and any criticism of the impetuous cavalry commander was likely to be taken as a criticism of the Emperor’s family. Berthier knew that he was useful to Napoleon, but his position was not so secure that he dared to offer criticism of Marshal Murat. So he remained quiet and waited for Napoleon to continue.
‘We have to keep driving the enemy back towards Vienna,’ Napoleon said firmly. ‘If we can threaten their capital, then they will feel compelled to turn and fight us.’
‘What if they don’t, sire?’
Napoleon considered this for a moment. If the Austrians followed tradition they would see the fall of their capital as marking the end of the war. Therefore they would fight, must fight, to defend Vienna. And for that they would have to stop retreating and turn to face the Grand Army.The only doubt in Napoleon’s mind concerned the actions of the Russians. Kutusov could decide to stand alongside the Austrians, or continue to fall back and await the arrival of reinforcements before facing Napoleon. As long as Murat kept driving Kutusov away from Vienna and the Danube, then Napoleon would be free to destroy the divided allies one at a time. He turned his attention back to Berthier.
‘The Austrians will fight. They are too proud to surrender their capital, and too foolish to do anything else.’
Berthier’s eyebrows flicked up for an instant. ‘I trust you are right, sire.’>
There was a rap on the door of the Emperor’s carriage and Berthier lowered the window. Riding alongside was a hussar, his saturated coat glistening in the rain. He leaned towards the window and offered a sealed despatch to Berthier.
‘Signal from Paris, sir. Marked urgent.’
Berthier took the despatch with a nod and slid the window up as the hussar wheeled his horse round in the mud with some difficulty and rode off. Berthier broke the seal and held the paper out to Napoleon, who shook his head wearily.
‘You read it.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier unfolded the message and scanned it hurriedly, then read it again more slowly as he took in the details with a growing sense of shock and anxiety over the Emperor’s reaction to the news.
‘Well?’ Napoleon asked softly as he leaned his head back on the cushioned seat and closed his eyes. ‘What do those fools back in Paris want with me now?’
Berthier cleared his throat nervously. ‘There has been a naval battle, sire. Admiral Villeneuve and his fleet encountered the British navy off the coast of Spain.’
Napoleon’s eyes snapped open and he sat up straight.‘Ah! At last he’s got off his arse and done something! What happened?’
‘Sire, it appears that he was defeated.’
‘Defeated?’ Napoleon sneered.‘I can imagine. He ordered his men to turn tail the moment the first ship lost a mast. The man is as cowardly as he is incompetent.’
‘No, sire. Not on this occasion, it appears. He stood his ground and fought the British.’
‘And?’
‘He was beaten, sire.’
‘Beaten? How badly?’
Berthier glanced at the message from Paris, then replied,‘It seems we have lost upwards of twenty sail of the line, sunk or taken.The rest were dispersed as they broke off the engagement.’
Napoleon took a deep breath and glared at his boots resting on the seat opposite.When he spoke it was with a bitter intensity that Berthier had never heard before. ‘God damn that coward Villeneuve to the most fiery pits of hell. We will never beat the British at sea now.’ He paused, and then continued in a low voice, ‘My plans for the invasion are finished. We must find another way to beat Britain. If we can’t defeat them on the battlefield, we must strangle their economy.’ His eyes glittered cruelly. ‘We must ruin them, and when their money has drained away and their people are starving they will beg us for peace, rather than face a revolution of their own.’
There was a brief silence as the carriage rumbled and slid along the muddy track, and then Berthier asked, ‘What do we do now, sire?’
‘Now?’ Napoleon nodded in the direction the carriage was heading. ‘Now we fix every thought on crushing our Austrian and Russian friends as ruthlessly and completely as possible.’
That night, as word of Villeneuve’s defeat spread through the army, there was a subdued atmosphere in the camp. Napoleon could not help being aware of it as he strode through the tent lines and attempted to raise the men’s morale by stopping to talk to them as they crowded round their fires.The temperature had dropped still further and every so often a light flurry of snowflakes swirled out of the dark heavens. The usual greetings were more muted, and Napoleon was conscious of conversation stopping as soon as men were aware of his approach. His dark mood over the defeat was made worse by the latest report from Murat.
His cavalry commander had barely been able to contain his excitement as he wrote to tell Napoleon that the road to Vienna was open. Murat had given orders for his corps to advance on the Austrian capital. As a result Kutusov was no longer being pursued, and according to further reports the Russians had crossed the Danube and were making good their escape along the northern bank. Now they would have time to gather their strength, and manoeuvre closer to their Austrian allies to combine their forces and face Napoleon on more equal terms.
There was nothing left but to retrieve whatever political advantage there might be in taking the enemy capital. That at least would humiliate Austria in the eyes of the other nations of Europe, and make them think hard about defying Napoleon.The Emperor frowned as he reflected on the coming confrontation with Murat, who had been summoned to headquarters to report to him in person. Like any good cavalry commander, Murat was fearless in attack and resolute in defence, but his kind tended to suffer from far too much pride, arrogance and impetuosity. In Murat these qualities, both good and bad, had been refined to an unusual degree. It was time to rein Murat in, Napoleon mused humourlessly.
When he returned to the large farm commandeered by the headquarters staff, Napoleon heard a loud roar of laughter coming from within. He nodded at the sentry, who saluted, and then opened the door of the farmhouse. He paused on the threshold as he heard Murat’s voice carrying across the merriment of his staff officers and members of the imperial headquarters. Napoleon removed his hat and quietly made his way inside, to stand at the side of the hall in the shadows as he watched Murat holding court. The glow of the fire and the candles flickering around the room picked out the elaborate gold braid and bejewelled decorations that covered the cavalry commander’s tunic.
‘You should have seen it!’ Murat continued. ‘The bastards were on the far side of the bridge, with guns covering it and a brigade of infantry formed in line across the end on the far bank.The Austrians had mined it as well, just to make sure. Any attempt to cross would have ended in a bloodbath. So, there’s Marshal Lannes and myself looking across the Danube and Lannes calls up the grenadiers and tells ’em to keep out of sight on our side of the river and wait for his signal.Then Lannes and I start walking across the bridge to the Austrian side. Just him and me. Alone.’ Murat paused, milking the suspense and relishing every moment of it, before he continued. ‘Well, soon as they see us the Austrians raise their muskets, and the gunners bring up their linstocks, and wait for the order to open fire.Then Lannes and I raise our arms and wave ’em, and start shouting “Armistice! Armistice!” for all we’re worth.’ Murat accompanied his words with great sweeps of his arm to dramatise the point.‘You should have seen their faces! The colonel in command of the defences just stood there as we walked up.’ Murat assumed an aristocratic falsetto. ‘ “Armistice?” he says. “What armistice? No one’s told me.” ’
This provoked another roar of laughter from his audience, and he held his hands up to quieten them down. ‘So I stroll right in and give the uppity bastard a bollocking for not having his superiors there to negotiate. Meanwhile Lannes has marched up to the fuses on the mine and ripped them out and thrown them in the river. And while I’m bawling at the colonel, Lannes tips his hat to the grenadiers and they come on at the double. Soon as the Austrian gunners see ’em they make ready to fire.“Not so bloody fast!” I shout at ’em.“What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is an armistice!” And I shove them away from the guns. By the time they’d recovered their wits the grenadiers were already across and disarming them.’ Murat puffed out his chest and concluded, ‘And that, my friends, is how just two men of the Grand Army took a bridge across the Danube from a whole brigade of Austrians.’
At once the officers burst into wild applause and Murat made a few stage bows to them in return. Napoleon stepped out of the shadows into the room and pushed his way through the rearmost officers. As soon as the crowd realised that the Emperor was present, a path opened for him as if by magic and he strode forward towards the beaming Marshal Murat.
‘Sire! I bring you great news. We have Vienna!’ Murat was taken aback by the frigid expression on the Emperor’s face, and continued in a blustering tone. ‘Vienna, I tell you. The enemy’s capital is ours. The Austrians declared it an open city and bolted away to join their Russian allies. Left the place undefended. As I was telling our friends here, we even captured a bridge over the Danube.’
‘So I heard,’ Napoleon replied flatly. ‘I would speak to you, Marshal Murat. In my office.’
‘Of course, sire. But first join us, and toast the capture of Vienna.’
Several officers cheered the suggestion, but others had become aware of Napoleon’s mood and stayed silent, watching warily. Napoleon shook his head. ‘Now, Murat, if you please.’
Murat stared at him, half smiling, and then glanced round the room looking for moral support, but all the other officers had fallen silent and lowered their glasses. Napoleon turned away and strode through the crowd to the back of the farmhouse where the kitchen now served as his office, its long table covered with maps and notebooks.As he entered the room Napoleon saw a clerk busy updating one of the notebooks filled with the strength returns of the Grand Army’s units.
‘Out.’
‘Yes, sire.’
The clerk lowered his pen at once and hurried from the room, squeezing to one side of the doorframe as Murat followed the Emperor inside.
‘Close the door.’
Once Murat had obeyed, Napoleon gestured to a simply constructed bench on one side of the table, and then seated himself on the room’s single chair at the head of the table.
‘You’ve come to make your report, I understand.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘So, do tell me what you have achieved.’
Murat looked surprised and then puffed out his cheeks. ‘We have taken the enemy capital. So far my men have discovered over five hundred guns and perhaps as many as a hundred thousand muskets in the Austrian arsenals, besides huge stockpiles of supplies and equipment. Sire, we could replenish the entire Grand Army for some months from what we have seized. Enough to carry us through the rest of the campaign.’>
‘No doubt,’ Napoleon responded. ‘But if you had followed your orders there would be no reason why the campaign need continue for a matter of months.’
‘Sire?’
Napoleon slapped his hand down on the table. ‘You let the Russians get away! Now they will be licking their wounds, waiting for the Austrian forces to join them from Italy. All the good work of this campaign may be undone by your foolhardy drive towards Vienna. The entire point of my strategy was to divide our enemies. Now you have given them the chance to concentrate their strength and we must fight a much harder battle than I had hoped.Thanks to you.’
‘Sire, I – I had no thought of compromising you when I gave the order.’
‘You had no thought at all, as far as I can see.’
Napoleon glared at his subordinate. Murat wilted and looked down, crestfallen. ‘I had hoped to please you, sire.’
‘You had hoped to win the glory for yourself, you mean,’ Napoleon snapped.Then he drew a deep breath, and closed his eyes to control his rising temper. Murat had made a mistake. One that would cost Napoleon the lives of many of his soldiers and might indeed prolong the campaign by a matter of months, unless the situation was speedily resolved. Very well, then. Let Murat make amends by reverting to his original orders. His eyes flicked open.
‘I want you to return to your command at once.’
‘Sire, my staff and I have only just arrived at headquarters. We’ve been in the saddle for the best part of two days.’
‘At once.’ Napoleon ignored his protest. ‘You are to pursue the Russians immediately. When you make contact, stay on them. Give Kutusov no chance to stop and rest. Drive them back, away to the east and north, as far from any Austrian forces as you can.Then pray that you have acted in time. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Then go.’ Napoleon leaned his head forward on to his knuckles. ‘Now.’
Murat nodded, rose from his bench, and paused a moment, trying to think of some words of self-justification to say. Then he gave up and strode back towards the door, yanked it open and bellowed at his staff to get outside and mount up at once. There was a chorus of scraping chairs and the pounding of heavy boots as the cavalry officers hurriedly gathered their capes and hats and left the building, calling out to the grooms to fetch their horses from the stables.
Chapter 14
After a brief rest to gorge themselves on the supplies stockpiled in Vienna the men of the Grand Army crossed the Danube into Moravia as the winter began to settle across the landscape in earnest. Even during the day the temperature rarely rose more than a few degrees above freezing and the frequent rain chilled the men to the bone. It was nearly two months since the campaign had begun and the weariness of the troops was readily apparent to their commanders as they tramped miserably across the rolling countryside in pursuit of the Russians. All the time reports were reaching Napoleon that Prussia was preparing for war and mobilising its army in readiness to strike. From the south came yet more disturbing news: Marmont was expecting ninety thousand Austrian troops to march from Italy any day.
Towards the end of November, Napoleon halted the army near Brunn, to rest and consider the increasingly dangerous situation. Murat’s scouts had reported that Kutusov’s army had been swelled by reinforcements so that he could field nearly a hundred thousand Russians and Austrians against the Grand Army.
‘What is our strength?’ Napoleon asked Berthier that night.
‘We have fifty thousand here, sire. If Bernadotte and Davout are ordered to concentrate with us, then that will give seventy thousand men.’
‘Which will still leave us outnumbered,’ Napoleon mused. Numbers were not everything, he reminded himself. Man for man, the Grand Army’s soldiers and officers were the best in Europe. And it was also a matter of leadership. Kutusov was a capable enough commander, but old and schooled in ways of war that Napoleon considered outdated. In addition, the Russian general was leading a polyglot force, and would have to contend with interference from Austrian generals. To make matters worse for Kutusov, the Tsar had loudly proclaimed that he would lead his men in person to victory over France and had set off from Moscow to assume command. So the disparity in numbers was bearable, Napoleon reflected – provided a battle was fought soon. But time was on Kutusov’s side. With the Prussians mobilising, and a large Austrian army about to emerge from the Alps, Napoleon would be caught between his enemies and overwhelmed. He was also troubled by the lack of supplies for his men. They had been on the march for over two months and were at the end of a very long and vulnerable supply chain. Foraging was difficult given that the Russians had stripped the land ahead of the Grand Army and left little in their wake.
He nodded to himself and then looked up at Berthier. ‘We are in a dangerous position. It would seem that our best course is to retreat to Ulm and wait for reinforcements before continuing the campaign.’
‘If you think that is wise, sire,’ Berthier said carefully.
Napoleon smiled. ‘Well, you obviously don’t.’
Berthier folded his hands together and chewed his lip for a moment before continuing. ‘It will appear to the wider world that we have been forced to retreat, sire. That we have been worsted. Once our enemies trumpet that view of events, they may find ready allies to join them in a war against France.’
‘My thoughts exactly. So we dare not retreat, and we dare not advance, and we dare not sit here and wait.’
Berthier shrugged. ‘A dangerous position indeed, sire. What are you going to do?’
‘The only thing I can.’ Napoleon stretched out his arms and yawned before he continued. ‘We must persuade Kutusov and his Austrian allies to attack us.’
‘Persuade them?’ Berthier’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘How?’
‘We give Kutusov an opportunity he will not be able to resist.’ Napoleon reached forward over his campaign table and pulled a map towards him. He scanned it for a moment and then tapped his finger on a feature indicating high ground. Leaning forward he read the inscription.
‘We will bait the trap here, on the Pratzen Heights, close to this town.’ His finger moved fractionally across the map. Berthier bent his head forward to read the name.
‘Austerlitz.Very well, sire.’
‘Austerlitz,’ Napoleon repeated softly as he began to consider the details of the plan that was forming in his mind. It would entail a degree of risk and fine timing, as well as a good deal of subterfuge. ‘We must crush them at Austerlitz, or be crushed in turn.’
The following day Napoleon gave orders that the corps of Soult, Murat and Lannes were to advance and occupy the Pratzen Heights, where their fifty thousand men would be in full view of the Austrian scouts. The very next day an Austrian officer arrived in the French camp with an offer to open negotiations for an armistice. He was led through to the first line of the Grand Army to await the Emperor. The Austrian officers’ sharp eyes took in every detail of the worn-out soldiers and their threadbare uniforms. Some looked back with sullen expressions of vague curiosity, but most simply sat around their campfires in dejected silence.
Napoleon and Berthier came riding forward shortly afterwards. The Emperor’s coat was stained with mud and his uniform jacket unbuttoned. He had not shaved and he wore a weary expression. He lowered himself from the saddle with a grunt and turned to meet the enemy envoy.
‘I bid you welcome, sir. Might I know your name?’
‘Count Diebnitz, at your service.’ The Austrian was immaculately turned out and had to restrain a sneer at the unkempt appearance of the French Emperor. He bowed his head briefly, then began to state his terms without any preamble. ‘The Emperors of Austria and Russia graciously offer you an armistice, of ten days’ duration.’
‘An armistice?’ Napoleon raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips as if deep in thought. So, the allies were trying to buy time for Archduke Charles to join them with the army from Italy, he thought. He forced himself to keep hidden any sense of amusement at the transparency of the armistice offer. Instead, he nodded and smiled.‘Yes, yes, an armistice would serve both sides well. It would be the humane thing to do.’ Napoleon gestured at his men. ‘I imagine your army is as tired of running as we are of pursuing you.’
Count Diebnitz’s lips pressed together briefly before he replied through clenched teeth. ‘The Austrian army does not run, sir. I cannot speak for the Russians, but the Austrian army does not run.’
‘No, of course not,’ Napoleon said in a placating tone. ‘I did not mean to offend you.’
‘You did notoffend me,’ Diebnitz replied fiercely. ‘Now, sir, will you accept the terms or not? I must have your answer at once.’
‘At once?’ Napoleon looked anxious. ‘How can I reply at once? I need to know the precise terms of the offer. You can’t expect me to accept at such short notice.’
‘That was the demand of my emperor.’
Napoleon glanced helplessly at Berthier before he turned back to the officer. ‘I offer my compliments to the Emperor.Tell him that I am more than willing to negotiate, but I must have the terms in writing before I can agree to anything.’
‘I doubt that he will brook any such delay.’
‘Nevertheless, return to the Emperor and ask him.’
Count Diebnitz frowned for a moment, then replied, ‘As you wish, sir. I doubt the Emperor will be in the mood to talk. But I will carry your words to him all the same.’
‘Thank you,’ Napoleon replied with an expression of relief. He maintained the expression as the Austrian remounted, wheeled his horse and rode back through the lines towards the enemy outposts around the small town of Austerlitz. Once Diebnitz was a safe distance away Napoleon relaxed and muttered to Berthier, ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘I think that the theatre lost a great actor when you decided to become a military man, sire.’ Berthier could not help chuckling. ‘I just hope that every Austrian over there is as easy to fool.’
‘We shall see soon enough.’ Napoleon straightened his jacket and refastened the buttons. He nodded to the nearest men of the regiment that Diebnitz had ridden through.‘Find some wine and spirits for those men.They deserve it after such a fine performance.’
The soldiers overheard and one instantly rose to his feet and raised his cap to cheer the Emperor, but froze as Napoleon glared at him.
‘Sit down, you fool! If the enemy see everyone jump up and shout their heads off they’ll see through the ruse in an instant!’
The soldier slumped down and was immediately nudged by the men around him as they teased him about his over-reaction. Napoleon turned away, nimbly remounted his horse and trotted back towards headquarters, cheerfully acknowledging the greetings from soldiers as he passed by. Back in his tent Napoleon and Berthier examined the map of the surrounding area.
‘Assuming they take the bait,’ Napoleon said quietly, ‘they will think we are far weaker than they are. I doubt they will be able to resist the chance to defeat the Grand Army, and humble Emperor Napoleon.’ He smiled grimly as he tapped the map. ‘The moment they make their move we fall back, behind the Goldbach stream, and send for Davout and Bernadotte. We’ll keep the main bulk of the army hidden behind the Zurlan hill there, and then leave Soult to hold the centre. If he spreads his men thinly and keeps them in open view, then even Kutusov won’t be able to resist the opportunity to throw his columns against us, weak as we shall appear.’
‘It’s a fine plan, sire. A clever trap,’ Berthier said approvingly. ‘I just hope the enemy fall for it.’
Napoleon drummed his fingers on the map as he examined the ground he had chosen for his battle. ‘We shall know soon enough.’
General Kutusov waited two days before he gave the order to advance. As the Austrian columns advanced on the Pratzen Heights Napoleon gave the order to retreat. The men had been ordered to give the impression of being in a panic and they hurried from the enemy in a disordered mass. Several damaged guns and supply wagons were left behind to enhance the impression of a hasty retreat and the leading elements of the Russian and Austrian army jeered after the French as they took the abandoned positions on the Heights.
As the first day of December wore on, fine and bright, the French formed a line behind the Goldbach stream, facing the slopes now dominated by enemy troops. Napoleon was satisfied that he had played his hand as well as he could. From the vantage point of the Prazen Heights the French position would look weak and poorly defended. The looming mass of the Zurlan hill on the French left would easily conceal the corps of Lannes and Bernadotte, together with the Imperial Guard. From the enemy’s position it would seem that the enfeebled Grand Army was ripe for destruction.
All through the day Napoleon kept watch on the Heights, until at last, as the late afternoon sun began to sink towards the horizon, he started to pick out the dense columns of infantry moving opposite the centre and right of the French line.
‘There!’ He pointed the enemy out to Berthier. ‘I told you it would work. Send word for Davout and Bernadotte to join us at once. And issue a general order to the army. Let them know that there will be a battle tomorrow. Tell them that we shall win a great victory.’
‘Yes, sire.’
As night fell over the winter landscape Napoleon entertained his senior officers with a simple dinner at the inn in Bellowitz, a small village at the foot of the Zurlan hill. The main course, a steaming bowl of fried potatoes and onions, was consumed with relish and accompanied by some of the wine looted in Vienna. As they ate, reports continued to come in of the loom of campfires on the Heights, directly opposite the French centre, so there could be no doubt over the enemy’s intentions for the next day.Then, at midnight, Napoleon and his officers heard the beating of drums and wild cheering close at hand.
‘What’s that?’ Napoleon asked. ‘Berthier, find out what is going on.’
Berthier smiled. ‘Sire, have you forgotten?’
‘Forgotten?’
‘The date.’ Berthier pulled out his pocket watch. ‘It is past midnight, sire.’
‘So?’
‘It is the second of December. The first anniversary of your coronation.The men are celebrating.’
‘Of course,’ Napoleon replied quickly, angry with himself for letting such an important detail slip his mind. ‘Then I must let the men see their Emperor.’
He left the table and went outside, followed by the others. It was a cold night and his breath plumed in the light cast by the brilliant stars scattered across the heavens. All around the village, and up on the Zurlan, bright campfires flickered in the night, and the cheers of the soldiers carried clearly to the Emperor. As he emerged from the inn, there was a burst of applause and greetings from the men of the Imperial Guard who stood in the street. Some carried torches made from twisted straw and Napoleon could see the warm grins and smiles of his veterans, men who had served with him in previous campaigns. One of the grenadiers took off his bearskin hat and placed it over the muzzle of his musket before hoisting it high into the air as he cheered. Others followed suit and as Napoleon descended the small flight of steps into the street an avenue of cheering soldiers opened before him. He walked slowly down the street, smiling back at his men with genuine warmth.
‘Long live the Emperor! Long live Napoleon!’ The cries echoed down the street and were quickly taken up by the troops outside the village until the night resounded with the chant. Napoleon felt his heart swell with affection and gratitude to these men who had followed him through the years, and now trusted him with their lives. He turned to Berthier and muttered, ‘Did you put them up to this?’
‘No, sire. They do it because they love you.’
‘Love me?’ Napoleon smiled, and for a moment he was tempted to think Berthier must be flattering him. But there was no guile in the faces around him and he in turn realised that Berthier spoke the truth. He patted Berthier on the arm.‘I think this has been the finest evening of my life. And with the dawn will come my finest day.’
