Текст книги "The Fields of Death"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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There was little doubt that his victory was complete. Aside from a few battered divisions fighting a rearguard action as they withdrew to the east, the bulk of the French army, its baggage, most of its guns and, most important of all, the war chest of King Joseph, would be taken. The last alone would provide the wherewithal for the army to operate for some months independently of the ports on the northern coast of Spain.

General Alava coughed. ‘My lord, may I congratulate you on a most brilliant victory.’

Arthur looked at him coldly.‘You may, once the victory is in the bag, and not before.’

‘But my lord, look there,’Alava protested, sweeping his arm across the panorama of abandoned vehicles between which the British cavalry pursued the enemy. ‘There is your victory!’

As the officers paused to watch the final destruction of the French army Arthur noticed that more and more of his cavalry were breaking off their pursuit and heading for the baggage train. The first of the infantry had just begun to catch up with their mounted comrades and were dashing through and round the town to join the orgy of looting that was breaking out.

‘Damn them!’ Arthur cursed as he snapped his telescope shut and thrust it into his saddle bucket. ‘The bloody fools are letting the enemy escape.’

Sure enough, the remnants of the enemy army were streaming away towards the low hills to the east, wholly unhindered as the allied soldiers began to break ranks and descend on the baggage train, desperate not to miss out on the plunder.

‘Sir?’ Somerset spoke quietly. ‘What are your orders?’

‘Orders?’ Arthur shook his head. ‘What is the point of giving orders to that rabble? The scum of the earth.’ He drew a deep breath and sighed. ‘Very well. I want every formation that has yet to reach Vitoria halted and sent back at least three miles. We must have some order established if there is going to be any kind of pursuit tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir. And where will you establish headquarters? Vitoria?’

‘No. I have no desire to witness the spectacle of my army turned into a mob of thieves. I will be at Arinez. Find me there.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘One final thing. And do this at once. I want a company of reliable men. Men that can be trusted not to join in the looting. They are to locate the French army’s pay chest. Once they have located it, they are to guard it with their lives.’

‘I understand, my lord. I’ll see to it.’

As Somerset rode away, Arthur took one last long look at the wagons and carriages, thousands of them, being systematically looted by his men. Then he turned his horse away from the spectacle and headed back east towards the village of Arinez, at the foot of the two hills rising up from the valley floor. He gritted his teeth and muttered again,‘Scum of the earth.’

Late that night Somerset reached the headquarters that had been set up in a tavern a short distance above the village. Arthur was sitting out in the open at a long wooden table by the light of a lantern. A folded map lay before him, together with a small notebook and pencil. He was staring out across the valley towards Vitoria and the blaze of torches and bonfires that defined the extent of the baggage train. He looked round as Somerset approached the table.

‘You’ve taken a long time.’

‘I apologise, my lord, but it took a while to locate the wagons with the enemy’s pay chests.’

‘You found them then?’ Arthur’s expression brightened. ‘Well done!’

‘I found some of them, sir. They have been placed under guard.’

‘Some of them? How much exactly?’

‘Difficult to say. At a guess I would imagine there is perhaps a quarter of a million francs in gold remaining.’

‘A quarter of a million?’ Arthur rubbed his cheek wearily. ‘My spies reported that there was five million in those wagons. Now it’s in the pockets of that rabble. And not just the gold. They’ll be loaded down with every valuable they can find. Then there will be the drink and there are sure to be fights. I dare say the army will be unfit to continue the campaign for days.’

‘That might have been true even if they had not given in to temptation, my lord,’ Somerset suggested mildly. ‘They have marched hard for the last six weeks, across some of the most difficult terrain to be found in Spain. The men are exhausted; they have to be rested at some point. Why not now?’

‘Why not now? Because they have let the enemy escape. That should not have happened, Somerset. We should have pursued them to destruction. That was the entire purpose of my plan.’

‘In which case, I would say that the plan was successful in almost every detail, my lord. Today’s victory is sure to end French rule in Spain. The first reports say we have captured all but a handful of their guns. Why, we almost captured Joseph Bonaparte.’

‘What?’

‘One of our troops of hussars came upon his carriage a few miles to the east of Vitoria, caught up in a column of vehicles trying to escape. Apparently Joseph jumped out of one side of his carriage just as one of our officers was climbing in the other. He managed to reach some of his bodyguards and find another mount, and they cut their way free of the column and rode off into the night.’

‘By God, that would have been some blow to Boney, if we had taken his brother prisoner. As it is, the episode hardly enhances Joseph’s dignity.’ Arthur smiled.

‘He’s not the only one whose dignity has been pricked.’ Somerset fished inside the haversack he used to carry his notebooks and pencils and brought out a short rod, covered with purple velvet and encrusted with small gold eagles. He handed it to Arthur.‘Marshal Jourdan’s baton, my lord. It was found in another carriage not far from Joseph’s.’

Arthur held the baton up to the lantern and examined it. ‘A pretty thing. I should imagine a bauble like this will amuse the Prince Regent. I shall send it back to England together with the victory despatch.’

‘All Britain will be overjoyed by the news, my lord. And not just Britain. When word of your victory reaches the rest of Europe, it will fire the hearts of our allies to bring Bonaparte down.’

Arthur nodded slowly.‘That may be, Somerset. What is certain is that French interests in Spain cannot recover from this blow. All that is left to them now is a thin strip of land this side of the Pyrenees, and Suchet’s army, bottled up in Valencia.’

‘What are your plans now, my lord?’

Arthur tapped the map with the captured baton. ‘Our work in the Peninsula is all but complete. The time has come to take the war to France. I aim to lead our army on to French soil before the onset of this very winter.’

Chapter 41

Napoleon

Dresden, 26 July 1813

Napoleon received the Austrian Foreign Minister in one of the Residenzschloss palace’s smaller salons the night Metternich arrived from Vienna. Despite the season he felt cold and a fire was burning in the grate, creating a comfortable fug in the room which was enhanced by the rosy hue cast by the steady flames glowing on the candelabras. Ever since he had returned from Russia Napoleon had found that he was more sensitive than before to the cold and had developed a relish for being in the warm. The scars of that campaign had been borne across every sphere of life in France. Of the six hundred thousand men he had led into Russia the previous summer, scarcely ninety thousand had returned, and many of those had been crippled by frostbite. Others were broken men, unable to face the rigours of another campaign. Only the very strongest and the bravest had endured, and for a while they were all that stood between the forces of the Tsar and France’s German territories.

In the months after his return to Paris Napoleon had been forced to scrape together every available man to rebuild his forces to face the threat from the east. The eighty thousand men of the National Guard were inducted into the army by imperial decree, as were tens of thousands of youths who were not due to be conscripted for another two years. Discharged veterans were recalled to serve under the eagles once again, and the marines and gunners of the navy were reassigned to fill out the ranks of the army’s corps of artillery. Whatever their quality, there had been enough men to provide Napoleon with an army of a quarter of a million men when spring returned.

However, it was rather harder to find new mounts. Only a few thousand horses had survived the Russian campaign, and once Frederick William had switched sides and joined the Tsar the horse-breeding estates of northern Prussia were denied to France. Napoleon had felt their loss immediately when the year’s campaign had opened. Murat’s forces had been unable to adequately screen the movements of the French army. Nor had they been able to scout effectively, often leaving Napoleon in the dark as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Worse still, they were too few to prevent units of Cossacks from raiding the French supply lines.

As a result, despite winning two battles, the French had not been able to achieve a decisive result. After two months of exhausting marches across the plains and hills of the German states and the lands of western Prussia, Napoleon had been relieved by the Tsar’s offer of an armisitice at the start of June. It had been agreed that the ceasefire would last until the end of July, while negotiations were conducted over the terms for a peace treaty. The Emperor of Austria, Francis, had offered to act as mediator and so Prince Metternich had spent the last weeks travelling between Napoleon’s headquarters in Dresden and the Tsar and Frederick William in Berlin.

A sharp knock on the door broke into Napoleon’s thoughts as he stood gazing into the heart of the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked up as the door opened and Bertheir entered the room.

‘Prince Metternich is here, sire.’

‘Good. Show him in.’

Berthier bowed his head and left the room, leaving the door open. He returned a moment later and ushered the Austrian diplomat into Napoleon’s presence. Metternich was accompanied by two members of his staff and they remained a respectful distance behind their master as he approached Napoleon and took the hand that the Emperor extended towards him.

‘It is good to see you again.’ Napoleon smiled warmly. ‘I trust the accommodation for you and your staff is satisfactory?’

‘Most comfortable, I thank you, sire. Though it would have been agreeable to have taken some refreshment and a rest before continuing our business.’

‘I am sorry for that, but the peace of Europe comes before the comforts of the peacemakers, as I am sure you would agree.’

Metternich smiled thinly. ‘Indeed, sire.’

‘Good. You may wish to know that the Empress has written to me. She sends her warmest affection to her father, and trusts that he still regards France as a good friend and ally.’

‘I will pass on her words to Emperor Francis,’ Metternich replied flatly. ‘He will be pleased to hear from his daughter.’

‘I’m sure.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘And do reassure his imperial majesty that his son-in-law echoes the sentiments of his wife.’

‘Of course.’

‘Come then, and sit.’ Napoleon waved his guests towards the oval table that had been set in the middle of the room. The Austrians waited for the Emperor to be seated first and then took their places, before Napoleon signalled to Berthier to sit beside him. When all had settled, Napoleon folded his hands together and addressed Metternich.

‘So, my dear Prince, what terms have Alexander and Frederick William decided to offer me?’

Napoleon saw that Metternich was unsettled at the directness of the question, no doubt discomforted by the absence of the extended pleasantries that had been a convention of diplomatic negotiations in the days when Talleyrand had served as Napoleon’s Foreign Minister. Metternich turned to one of his aides. ‘The document case, please.’

The aide reached down for a small leather satchel, unfastened the buckle and opened it on the table before sliding it across to Metternich. The Foreign Minister picked up the top sheet of paper and looked up at Napoleon.

‘Since you are determined to address matters directly, I’ll just present you with the summary of their terms.’

Napoleon nodded.

Metternich held the document up close to his eyes and began.‘One: agreement to dismantling of the Duchy of Warsaw and the division of its existing territories between the central powers of Europe. Two: agreement to the disestablishment of the Confederation of the Rhine. Three: Prussia is to have its frontiers of 1805 restored. Four: the Continental Blockade is to be lifted and France is to respect the shipping of neutral nations. Five: all French troops are to be withdrawn behind the Rhine.’ He lowered the document and looked up.‘There are other terms, but they are peripheral and can be negotiated once the main points are agreed to.’

Napoleon sat still and silent for a moment as he stared at Prince Metternich. Then he laughed contemptuously. ‘Is that all they ask of me? There is no demand that I give up my territories in Italy, or that I abandon my brother in Spain?’

‘The Tsar and the King are prepared to let you retain your possessions in Italy,’ Metternich replied, and then allowed himself a slight smile.‘As for Spain, I suspect that the Peninsula will not be within your gift for much longer, sire.’

‘Really? And what makes you so certain of that, I wonder?’

‘The latest accounts of the war indicate that your armies there are exhausted and demoralised, and the population is almost wholly against the reign of your brother. And now General Wellington is marching across Spain with impunity.’

‘What is Wellington to me?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘Just another over-cautious English general who will be thrown back into the sea the moment I deign to lead my armies against him in person. For the present, I am content to hold on to what can be defended in that country, but in due course the Spanish will be tamed and Wellington and his rabble of British, Spanish and Portuguese soldiers will be crushed. All Europe can be certain of that, at least.’

Metternich shrugged. ‘I can only admire your formidable confidence, sire. However, Spain is not an issue for the present. We are here to discuss the armistice. I need to know if you accept the terms offered by Russia and Prussia, and if you have any counter-proposals to make.’

Napoleon stared down at his hands.‘You must realise that there is no question of my accepting the terms as they stand. France would be humiliated before the eyes of the world. Iwould be humiliated. How long do you think it would take the people of France to rise up and depose me, as they did Louis? What if there was another revolution? All would be swept away and the powers of Europe would be dealing with another popular tyranny bent on tearing down the institutions of the old regimes. I am all that stands between the thrones of Europe and anarchy. Alexander and Frederick William would do well to remember that before they seek to depose me.’

‘They have not said that that is what they want to achieve,’ Metternich responded carefully.

‘Of course not. They just want peace,’ Napoleon sneered.

Metternich did not rise to the bait and sat silently. Napoleon looked up and stared coldly at the Austrian. He noted the long nose and narrow face, and the same haughty air of superiority and condescension that Metternich shared with Talleyrand, and which so easily enraged him. None of these people, none of the rulers and aristocrats who held sway over the masses through an accident of birth, none of them would rest easy while a man who had fashioned his own destiny ruled France. He stirred slowly in his seat and leaned closer to Metternich.

‘What does Austria hope to gain from this?’

‘Sire?’

‘Let us assume for a moment that I am not some naive simpleton who is happy to believe that Austria is playing the honest broker. So, what does Austria hope to gain?’

Metternich smiled. ‘This is becoming the kind of conversation that is best conducted in confidence, sire.’

Napoleon nodded.‘Very well. Berthier, you others, leave us. At once.’

Berthier instantly rose to his feet, gathered his notes and headed for the door. After an enquiring glance at Metternich, and a brief nod from him, the aides followed suit, closing the door behind them.

‘That’s better, sire. Now then, you want to know Austria’s position? I will tell you. But first you must know that this is what I believe, and while I cannot speak directly for Emperor Francis and his inner council I know that they have some sympathy with my views. Beyond that, they are, how shall I put it?’ He smiled thinly.‘They are susceptible to a well-reasoned argument.’

‘As you are susceptible to financial inducement,’ Napoleon cut in. ‘Or shall we speak plainly, Prince Metternich? You will take a bribe.’

‘You mean to bribe me?’ Metternich touched his breast and affected a hurt look. ‘Sire, I would have you know that I am not Talleyrand. He raised corruptibility to an art form. I am not nearly so well versed in the craft.’ He continued hurriedly as he saw Napoleon’s brows begin to knit together. ‘You ask what Austria wants from the present situation. It is simple. We want stability. Both within Europe, and between Europe and Russia. We need a real balance of power in Europe. France must give up some of her influence to Austria and Prussia. If we can draw Prussia into common cause with us, then Frederick William will have no need of an alliance with Russia. Every year the Tsar pushes his frontiers closer to Europe.’

‘Closer to Austrian lands, you mean.’

Metternich nodded.‘True. That is why it would be better for Austria to be in alliance with France than with Russia. Yet that would only be acceptable to my Emperor if France reliquished its grip over much of the territory it presently controls.’

‘I will not do that.’

Metternich sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he continued.‘Sire, let me be brutally frank with you. You cannot win a war against the combined strengths of Russia, Prussia, Sweden and Britain. While this armistice has been in place your enemies have added new strength to their armies. You are outnumbered, and the odds against you will grow as each day passes. Our spies report that your men are weary, that Saxony cannot sustain your army for much longer and that your stocks of ammunition will be exhausted after another month’s campaigning. Save your army, save your throne and make peace now. If you don’t then I have to warn you that there is a good chance that Austria may well throw her lot in with those powers allied against you.’

‘Why?’ Napoleon narrowed his eyes. ‘Why would Francis do such a thing? You said it yourself, he has more to fear from the Tsar than from me. Austria should be fighting alongside France.’

‘That is true, sire. But see it from our point of view. There are many in Vienna who are still smarting over the harsh terms of the peace you imposed after Wagram. They, and others, also point to the disaster that you involved us with in Russia. Now the nations of Europe are gathering their strength against France. If you are defeated and we are defeated alongside you then Austria can be sure that Russia will force peace terms on us even more unpleasant than those you imposed. So . . .’ Metternich smiled. ‘An alliance with France is not without its risks. If we remain neutral and you are beaten, which seems the most likely outcome, then we will be powerless to intervene when the peace terms are imposed. That will be to the Tsar’s advantage. Therefore, as some of my compatriots argue, it would be better for Austria to be on the winning side in this war, even if that means being an unwilling ally of Russia. That is the real danger you face, sire. Your position is made more vulnerable still by any reverses you suffer elsewhere in your empire. If you would avoid disaster, then I urge you to make peace.’

‘I see.’ Napoleon folded the tips of his fingers together and fixed Metternich with a piercing stare. ‘You make a good case. But you did neglect to mention one thing. The fact that England has offered to pay Austria half a million pounds in gold if you declare war on me, and another two million to support your war effort thereafter.’ He smiled. ‘You see, I have my spies too.’

‘And they are well informed indeed, sire,’ Metternich admitted. ‘Yes, that is true. But I believe Emperor Francis would still prefer to have peace than to take a bribe and have war. However, if you refuse these terms then Austria will be compelled to act.’

‘Am I to take that as an ultimatum?’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon’s eyebrows flickered. ‘I see. You have a copy of the detailed demands?’

‘Of course, sire.’

‘Then leave them here. I must have time to consider them.’

‘Yes, sire. The Tsar has authorised me to offer you an extension to the armistice, by two more weeks.’

‘That is generous. Please express my gratitude to him.’ Napoleon stood up abruptly. ‘Very well, I will discuss the terms with my advisors and we will draw up our own terms to put before Alexander and Frederick William. Since the hour is late, I suggest we conclude this discussion.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Metternich hurriedly pulled out a copy of the peace terms and left it on the table as he swept the rest of the documents and notes back into his leather case and refastened it. Napoleon escorted him to the door of the salon and they exchanged a formal bow before Metternich left, summoning his aides to join him as he made his way along the corridor towards the stairs leading down to the main hall of the palace.

Napoleon stared after him for a moment and then snorted with derision. He returned to the table and carried one of the chairs over to the fire and sat down, leaning forward and resting his chin on his knuckles. After a moment he reached inside his waistcoat for the small locket he always carried with him. Clicking it open he gazed at the miniatures of the Empress and his infant son, gently caressing them both with his thumb. He had hoped that his marriage into the Austrian royal family might provide the necessary link that would prevent the two nations from engaging in yet another war against each other. Now it seemed that blood-letting was thicker than blood, he mused. He snapped the locket shut and slipped it back in his pocket. A short while later, Berthier entered the room.

‘Prince Metternich has left the palace, sire.’

‘Good.’ Napoleon nodded towards the small door concealed in the wall of the salon that linked the room to a service corridor. ‘Did you hear everything?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘What do you think?’

Berthier carefully considered his response. ‘Sire, the proposed terms are unacceptable. Our enemies must know that. I suggest we do what we can to prolong the negotiations and see what concessions we might win from them. Who knows, we could even have a peace agreement.’

‘Peace? Do you really think the Tsar wants peace? He will not be content until France, the last obstacle to his ambitions in Europe, is brought down. There can be no peace between us.’

‘Then let us use the negotiations to buy us as much time as possible, sire. Metternich knows some of the truth about the condition of our army, but not all.’ Berthier waved a hand helplessly. ‘More than half the army is in no condition to fight. We have too many boys. This morning I inspected some of the latest reinforcements. They had been given two weeks’ training before being marched to Germany. When they left France only half of them had muskets and they had fired just two rounds of blanks during training. They haven’t been issued with full kit and they haven’t the slightest idea how to live off the land.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘Sire, we are sending lambs to the slaughter.’

‘Nonsense! Boys become men as soon as they taste battle. And there are plenty of veterans in the Grand Army who will teach them the skills they need to live while on campaign.’ He paused to look closely at his chief of staff. ‘Perhaps the problem is that you are getting too old for this, my friend.’

‘Sire?’

‘You have worked tirelessly for many years, Berthier. Too many years. You are losing heart. It is is only natural.’

Berthier forced himself to stand stiffly, and shook his head. ‘I am fit enough to carry out my duties, sire. I merely wished to point out that Metternich was right. This could be a war that we cannot win.’

‘Cannot win?’ Napoleon was astounded. ‘Cannot win! You are defeatist, Marshal Berthier. I have never seen that quality in you before. And you are wrong. We can win. What our men lack in experience and equipment they more than make up for in their patriotism, and their devotion to their Emperor. That is why we shall win.’

‘Sire, what if Austria joins the coalition? If that happens then our enemies can put over half a million men into the field against us. We will have to face them with little over half that number.’

‘We have been outnumbered before, and won the day.’

‘Not this time, sire.’

Napoleon frowned. What had happened to Berthier, he wondered. He searched the man’s anguished expression, and saw as if for the first time that this, the most loyal and efficient of his officers, was close to exhaustion. Napoleon rose from his chair and approached him, touching him gently on both shoulders.

‘My friend, you are weary. So are we all. Yet we must brace ourselves for one more effort. If we defeat the enemy then the coalition will collapse. This war is no longer about numbers of men, horses and guns. It is about spirit, and the will to endure. In that quality lies the secret of our success. I ask this one final effort of you, and all my soldiers. Then we shall have a great victory and we can rest. I swear it.’

Berthier looked at him, a spark of hope burning faintly in his eyes. ‘You swear it?’

Napoleon nodded.

‘Then I am your man, sire.’

Napoleon smiled warmly. ‘I could not fight my wars without you, old friend. Now go, get some rest.’

Berthier bowed his head and turned to leave the room. After he had gone, Napoleon returned to the fire, stoking up the embers and adding some more wood before he resumed his seat. As the fresh wood cracked and hissed he reflected on all that had been said during the evening. He was certain that he could defeat the armies of Alexander and Frederick William, but if Austria did enter the war on the side of his enemies it would be the greatest military test of his career. He had no doubt that he would be able to meet the challenge, but the question that troubled him greatly was whether the officers and the men of his army would match him in the pursuit of glory.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, with not a single cloud to be seen in the sky as Dresden woke to a fine summer day. After he had taken breakfast Napoleon went for a walk in the Great Garden that stretched out to the south-east of the old city where the palace was situated. Some of the townsfolk were out, following the gravel paths that divided the ornate rose gardens, flowerbeds and clusters of trees. The half-company of guardsmen that screened the Emperor made certain that no one could get within pistol shot, and so Napoleon walked head down, deep in thought, oblivious of the curious faces that watched him pass at a distance.

He reached the far end of the garden and turned back, returning the same way he had come, consumed with thought over the planning for every eventuality when the armistice inevitably came to an end.

‘Sire!’

Napoleon looked up and saw Berthier striding along the path towards him. He forced a smile and raised his hand in greeting.

‘Did you sleep well, as I ordered?’

There was no smile in the marshal’s face as he approached, and he spoke in a low voice. ‘Sire, we have received a despatch from Marshal Jourdan. His majesty the King of Spain was defeated a month ago, at a battle outside Vitoria.’

‘Another defeat?’ Napoleon shook his head bitterly.‘Can none of my marshals teach Wellington a lesson?’ He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘No doubt Joseph’s army will have to fall back to regroup.’

‘Sire, there is no army to regroup. Two divisions escaped from the battle and retreated to France; the rest were routed. Only two guns were saved, and the army lost its entire baggage train.’

Napoleon stared at him, anxiety twisting in his guts. ‘And my brother?’

‘He escaped, sire.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Bayonne.’

‘Bayonne,’ Napoleon repeated numbly. He cleared his throat and faced Berthier sternly. ‘Then he has abandoned his throne. From now, our affairs in Spain fall under military authority. Soult is in Paris. I will send him to take command. Joseph is to be kept away from Paris, out of sight, so that he cannot shame me.’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon pursed his lips for a moment, absorbed in the implications of the news Berthier had brought him. ‘This is a harsh blow for us, Berthier. It will harden the resolve of our enemy. Emperor Francis will want to be on the side of the big battalions now.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It seems that there will be no rest for either of us for a while yet, eh?’

‘I imagine so, sire.’

‘Then we had better summon my marshals and make our war plans. It is only a matter of weeks, perhaps days, before Austria declares war.’

Chapter 42

Dresden, 26 August 1813

As Napoleon made his way to the city he nodded approvingly at the defences that Marshal St-Cyr had been putting in place since the armistice had ended. Napoleon had rushed to take command of MacDonald’s embattled corps when news of a threat to Dresden had forced him to return to the Saxon capital. Several artillery batteries had been dug into the slopes on the right bank of the Elbe covering the south-eastern approaches to the old city on the far bank. The centre of the city was protected by a moat and rampart, and the entrances to the outlying suburbs had been blocked and the houses turned into stongpoints. Five enormous earthworks had been constructed in a wide arc to the south of the city and packed with field guns. Any attempt to assault the city from the south would have to run the gauntlet of a devastating crossfire even before it reached the defences of the suburbs. St-Cyr’s preparations would be put to the test all too soon, Napoleon reflected.