Текст книги "The Fields of Death"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 38 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

Arthur puffed out his cheeks. ‘Now then, we must think on the implications of this afternoon’s attempt on my life. Pass the word to our agents, that they are to keep their eyes and ears open for any hint of another plot. I want to know everything. Also, the embassy’s officials will need to be aware of the threat. They will need to be diligent about their safety whenever they leave the embassy. I will take an escort with me from now on. Pick four good men. They are to ride behind my carriage when I go out. They are to dress plainly and keep their weapons out of sight. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, your grace. And what of your wife’s excursions?’

‘My wife?’ Arthur stroked his chin. ‘I’ll speak to her first. At dinner.’

‘I don’t understand, my dear.’ Kitty shook her head. ‘If there is nothing to fear, then why should I curtail my social rounds?’

‘It is just a precaution,’ Arthur replied gently. ‘You’ve seen how it is in the streets. The Bonapartists are more open about their grievances than ever. Now is not a particularly good time to be English in Paris. But it will pass. The new regime will not tolerate them for much longer.’

Kitty cheerfully sawed into another piece of beef as she replied, ‘My dear Arthur, I have not seen anything to discomfort me when I am abroad. But if it is your wish that I exercise caution, then I will.’

‘Thank you, Kitty.’

She popped her fork lightly into her mouth and chewed the meat before she spoke again. ‘And what of the children? Are they to join us at Christmas, as we planned?’

Arthur had already considered this, and nodded. ‘Let them come. I am sure there is no danger. Besides, if they did not come our French hosts might be offended.’

‘Oh?’

‘Kitty, we must show them that we are not fearful. We must continue as normal.’

‘You said there was no danger.’

‘Nor is there. No real danger.’

Kitty paused and narrowed her eyes as she stared across the table at her husband.‘You are not telling me the whole truth, are you? What has happened, Arthur?’

‘Nothing that need concern you, my dear,’ he replied, with what he hoped was a comforting smile. ‘Perhaps I am being over-cautious.’

‘And perhaps you are endangering our sons.’

Arthur stared at her for a moment. ‘I would never do that. Believe me. They will be safe enough in Paris, I give you my word.’

‘Safe enough?’

‘By God, Kitty, I tell you they will be safe!’ Arthur snapped. ‘Arthur and Charles will join us here. It is decided.’

Kitty lowered her knife and fork and sat back in her chair, her expression nervous. ‘There is no need to raise your voice, my dear. I bend to your will in all things. You know that, and I know that you think less of me for it. I am not such a fool as you sometimes think.’

‘Kitty, I never—’

‘Hush. I know you would never say it to my face. But I ask you, what kind of father places his children in a position of lesser safety for the sake of his country’s reputation?’

Arthur stared at her in silence for a moment before he responded flatly, ‘We do what we must for our country. All of us. It is as simple as that. It is the duty that comes with our rank, even for the youngest of us.’

Arthur and Charles arrived late in December, escorted by a maidservant and three footmen, one of whom turned out to be a government agent carrying a despatch for Arthur. After greeting his children he withdrew to his office to break open the seal and read the contents. Lord Liverpool had given much thought to the deteriorating situation in Paris and was anxious that Arthur be preserved from the dangers of assassins since his country may have need of his services as a general once again. Therefore Castlereagh was to be recalled from Vienna and Arthur would represent Britain’s interests in his place. Somerset would remain in Paris to run the embassy and Arthur was advised that Kitty and the children should also remain, to reassure King Louis that Arthur intended to return to Paris once the Congress had concluded its business.

Although the diplomatic situation was still grave there was some good news. A peace had been agreed between Britain and the United States. That, Arthur was reassured, would mean that the government’s attention could focus on Europe. It would also mean that more soldiers would be available for deployment in the army under Arthur’s command in the Netherlands.

Christmas passed peacefully and Arthur and Kitty did their best to entertain the two boys by showing them the sights of the French capital. Even as he tried his best to play the role of a dutiful father, Arthur’s mind was distracted by the burdens of wider affairs. He had urged the French King to order Talleyrand to co-operate with Castlereagh in Vienna, and early in the new year a secret treaty was signed, binding Britain, France and Austria in a pact against the other two powers if war broke out.

Arthur left Paris in the last week of January, travelling by carriage to Vienna where he arrived on the evening of 3 February. Despite the late hour he sought out Castlereagh at the fine mansion that had been allotted to the English representatives at the Congress. Castlereagh looked grey and exhausted when Arthur was shown into his study by a servant. The other man rose, smiled wearily and came across the room to take Arthur’s hand.

‘Good to see you again, Arthur. How was the journey?’

‘Long and wet.’

‘Loquacious as ever,’ Castlereagh chuckled. ‘Still, reticence will serve you well here in Vienna. Despite civilised appearances – there seems to be a ball, banquet or ballet happening almost every hour of the day – the place is a nest of vipers.’

‘So I gathered from your letters.’

‘Talleyrand and Metternich are the most devious scoundrels I have ever encountered, forever doing the rounds of private salons and offices proposing secret deals and selling confidences. Why, they have turned such practices into a virtual industry. I suppose I should be grateful at least that they happen to be “our” scoundrels. At least for the present.’

‘I take it that you have had to offer them disbursements to support our position?’ Arthur asked as he sat down. Castlereagh resumed his seat and nodded.

‘I probably did not need to have offered such inducements, but the situation is such that I was not prepared to take the risk. Now that we have the treaty signed and sealed, I hope that you will not have to pay them another penny.’ Castlereagh smiled faintly. ‘I know you have a pronounced distaste for bribes and back room chicanery.’

‘That is right,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘I believe that men of honour can achieve more lasting good through being patient and observant than through politicking.’

‘Then you will be something of an oddity at the Congress.’ Castlereagh paused and looked at Arthur shrewdly. ‘Though I dare say such an approach might win much favour after the deviousness of recent months. Besides, your reputation goes before you. The Tsar considers you to be the greatest hero of the age, to the chagrin of his own generals, of course.’

‘Tsar Alexander is inclined to be generous in his praise,’ Arthur recalled from his meetings with the Tsar in London the previous summer.

‘Don’t be fooled, Arthur. Alexander is as absolute a ruler as Bonaparte ever was, and just as keen to expand his domains. He has managed to dupe the King of Prussia into supporting his claims and paid him off with the promise of a few sops from Poland as well as a free hand as far as the other German states are concerned. If that is permitted then there can be no question of a just equilibrium in Europe, and war will be inevitable. That is what you must prevent at any cost.’ Castlereagh paused briefly. ‘At least with the treaty, you will have a stick to beat them with if Alexander and Frederick William continue to push for more advantages in the final settlement.’

‘It is good to have the treaty,’ Arthur agreed. ‘But I shall use it only in the last resort.’

‘As you will,’ Castlereagh bowed his head slightly. ‘It would be most gratifying to see reason prevail, rather than veiled threats. I wish you the best of luck, Arthur. I shall be glad to quit this place.’

As Castlereagh had warned him, there were two distinct worlds at the Congress. With the gathering of so many rulers and statesmen and their entourages it was inevitable that grand social occasions should be given such prominence. In between such events the negotiations continued in the suite of rooms in the vast sprawl of the Schцnbrunn palace. The fires were continually built up by servants, and the delegates from the great powers discussed the terms of the European settlement in sweltering heat. The uncomfortable atmosphere was made more taxing still by the Tsar’s worsening hearing difficulties, which obliged the other delegates to strain their voices as they conversed in French, the common tongue of most of the royal courts on the Continent. Arthur’s refusal to enter into any secret meetings and his forthright discussion of the need to reach agreement and the dangers of not doing so quickly won him the respect of the other powers, and the Tsar began to give ground on his demands.

A month after he arrived, the morning dawned clear and crisp and Arthur rose early to dress for a hunt that was to take place in the vast park that stretched out across the landscape to the west of the palace. He breakfasted, and was waiting for his horse to be saddled and brought to the courtyard at the rear of the British delegation’s mansion when there was a sharp rap on the door of his private dining room. Arthur lowered his coffee and called out, ‘Come!’

The door opened and a tall, thin-faced man entered. He wore a thick coat, spattered with mud. It was unbuttoned and revealed the gold braid across the red jacket of a British army officer. He strode across the room, halted in front of the breakfast table and saluted. Arthur frowned.

‘Who the devil are you?’

‘Colonel Sir Neil Campbell, your grace.’

‘Campbell?’ Arthur repeated, then his eyes widened. ‘The resident in Elba?’

Campbell nodded anxiously. ‘Yes, your grace.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your grace, I beg to report that Napoleon Bonaparte has escaped from Elba.’

‘Escaped? Where to?’

‘I know not. All I know is that when I returned to the island he was gone.’

‘You left the island?’ Arthur frowned. ‘In God’s name, why?’

‘I – I was invited to Florence for a ball, your grace.’ Campbell’s gaze faltered. ‘I was gone for a matter of days. Nothing seemed amiss when I left. When I returned, Bonaparte had vanished, together with his men. I made for Italy at once and sent a message to London, and now I have come to Vienna to inform the powers at the Congress.’

Arthur glared at the man. The monster of Europe was loose again, thanks to Campbell’s lack of diligence. ‘Stay here. I will question you more closely when I return.’

‘Yes, your grace.’

Arthur rose from his chair and strode towards the door. He walked quickly to find one of his aides waiting in the hall to join Arthur at the hunt. ‘You can send the horses back to the stable.’

‘Your grace?’

‘Another has bolted,’ Arthur responded. ‘Run to the other delegations. Tell them we must meet at the Schцnbrunn at once, on a matter of the gravest urgency. Run, man, as if the very devil himself were at your heels!’

‘Escaped?’ Metternich shook his head, and then laughed. The other delegates in the room joined in, though their laughter was more nervous than humorous, Arthur noted.

‘Where does he think to hide?’ the King of Prussia snorted. ‘He is the most notorious figure in Europe. Who would dare harbour him?’

‘I do not know where his ships were headed, your majesty,’ Arthur replied. ‘But I suspect that he would most likely make for Italy.’

‘Why Italy? Why not France?’

Talleyrand shook his head.‘He would be arrested, or assassinated, the moment he set foot on French soil. I agree, he will go to Italy. He has friends there, and family. Napoleon will go to Murat.’

‘Even though Murat betrayed him last year?’ Metternich queried.

‘I imagine he will ask his brother-in-law for asylum,’ Talleyrand suggested. ‘I know him, I know his strength of will. He is a hard man to refuse. Murat will take him in. Then, when the moment is ripe, Napoleon will seize power. The kingdom of Naples will be his new base of operations.’

It made some sense,Arthur reflected. Murat’s domains would provide him with an army large enough to threaten the rest of the Italian kingdoms.

The Tsar cleared his throat and leaned towards the conference table. ‘The question is, gentlemen, what shall we do about this?’

Talleyrand looked at him with a faintly surprised expression. ‘Do, your majesty? Why, we should organise an army to march on Napoleon and crush him, before he has time to prepare. That much is obvious. Meanwhile, the Congress must continue. The peace settlement is more important than the pursuit of a criminal, however notorious.’

The other delegates nodded their agreement, but Arthur was not so certain. He had witnessed the strong loyalties that Bonaparte still commanded in Paris. If the former Emperor raised his banner in Naples, then many thousands would flock to join him, and those who remained would be sure to unsettle the new regime in France.

Over the next few days messages were sent out from Vienna to mobilise the allied armies. The audacity of Bonaparte’s escape had shocked the delegates, but there was little sense that he posed an immediate danger to Europe, and the powers continued their deliberations as they awaited confirmation of his location. It was four days after Colonel Campbell broke the news of his disappearance that the truth was learned. One of Talleyrand’s aides entered the chamber just before the midday recess and whispered urgently in his ear. Arthur watched as the French Foreign Minister’s face drained of blood. Metternich was speaking, reading verbatim from notes, and had not noticed the little drama.

Talleyrand rapped his knuckles sharply on the table and the Austrian minister looked up irritably, stopping his address mid-sentence.

‘Pardon my interruption,’ said Talleyrand as he looked round the table, ‘but I have just been informed that Napoleon landed on the coast of France six days ago. He has declared that he has come to reclaim his throne and is marching on Paris.’

There was a moment’s stunned silence, then Arthur spoke. ‘Did the local authorities oppose him?’

‘On the contrary. I am told that they went over to him without a shot being fired.’

‘By God, that’s bad news. Others will surely follow. If he gathers them up en route to Paris, I fear he will not be stopped.’ Arthur cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could, to ensure that the Tsar caught every word. ‘Your majesties, ministers, delegates, this changes everything. The peace of Europe is once more endangered. Every available soldier must be made ready to fight. If Bonaparte makes good his claim, then he will have the armies of France at his back again. We must face him on the battlefield once more.’

‘We must do more than that,’ Talleyrand interrupted. ‘We must ensure that he never troubles Europe again. I beg to move that before the Congress is suspended to deal with the threat it passes one last resolution. That Napoleon Bonaparte is declared an international outlaw. In the event that he is taken, then the powers gathered here shall jointly decree that he is beyond the protection of the law.’

‘I cannot agree to that,’ Arthur protested. ‘It would be nothing less than an incitement to assassination. Murder. Regardless of the ethical issues, it is a game that two can play. I would urge you to reflect on that.’

‘Nevertheless, it is a step we must take,’ Talleyrand countered. ‘Speaking for France, I propose the resolution.’

‘And Prussia supports it!’ King Frederick William blurted out.‘Death is exactly what that tyrant deserves.’

‘Very well,’ Talleyrand turned to Metternich. The Austrian nodded, and Talleyrand fixed his gaze on the Tsar. ‘Your majesty? What do you say?’

Alexander did not respond immediately, and raised a hand to touch his forehead. His lips pressed together in a tight line, and then he drew a deep breath and nodded. ‘I support the resolution.’

‘Four to one,’Talleyrand faced Arthur again. ‘Will Britain unite with the other powers, or will you still extend the protection of the law to Bonaparte?’

Arthur stared back coldly. He was being forced into a position he had no wish to be in. The disposal of Napoleon was in the interests of every man, woman and child of Europe, yet Arthur could not bring himself to cast aside the civilised values England had striven to preserve throughout the long years of the struggle to free Europe from tyranny. Nor would the British government he anticipated. Yet Talleyrand was right. If Britain failed to declare Bonaparte an outlaw then he would be sure to seize on that as an admission of his legitimacy. Worse still, he would see it as a schism in the ranks of his enemies and would exploit it to divide them. With a weary sigh Arthur nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well. I support the resolution.’

At once Talleyrand turned to one of his aides. ‘Have that drafted for the delegates to sign. Now, I suggest that the Congress goes into recess. Are we agreed? Yes?’

The delegates rose and began to file out of the room. Arthur felt a hand touch his shoulder as he reached the door and turned to find the Tsar looking at him gravely.

‘Your majesty?’

‘What will you do, my dear Duke?’

‘I must send word to my family to quit Paris as soon as possible. Then I will conclude our business here as swiftly as I can and make for Brussels to take up my command.’

‘Ah. Then it is for you to save the world again.’

‘That is the burden of us all, your majesty. The great test of our age is upon us.’

‘And if we fail?’

Arthur stared at him for a moment and shook his head.‘We dare not.’

Chapter 54

Napoleon

Laffrey, near Grenoble, 7 March 1815

‘Why have your men stopped?’ Napoleon demanded, as his carriage rattled to a halt on the rough track.

General Cambronne, the commander of the company of guardsmen leading the advance, pointed down the track in the direction of Grenoble.‘We ran into a battalion of infantry shortly after we set off this morning, sire.’

‘There was no shooting, I take it?’ Napoleon asked sharply. He had warned Cambronne against spilling any French blood when he had given him his orders to lead the vanguard of the tiny force Napoleon had brought with him from Elba. The former Emperor had landed near Antibes with just over a thousand men, a squadron of lancers and two cannon. It was a minuscule army with which to reclaim his throne, Napoleon mused, but he had advanced from the coast at once. Given the royalist sympathies of the people of Provence, he had chosen to avoid the easiest route towards Paris in favour of the road leading through the hills to Grenoble. So far he had been received with muted enthusiasm in the towns and villages he had passed through. Even though the enthusiasm for the Bourbons had waned, the people were anxious to avoid reprisals if Napoleon’s outrageous gamble failed. So they waited to see the outcome of his latest venture.

General Cambronne shook his head. ‘There was no violence of any kind, sire. As soon as we encountered their leading company I told our men to greet them warmly, and share some wine. Their captain would have none of it, though. He ordered his men to fall in and march back to join the rest of the battalion. I was told not to follow him, or he would order his men to open fire.’

‘Very well,’ Napoleon scratched the bristles on his cheek. This was the moment he had been fearing. So far, no one had stood in his way. Now he was confronted by armed men, whose officers were clearly determined to oppose his progress. The question was, would the men follow their orders when the crisis came?

Napoleon sat in his carriage and thought carefully about the situation. Throughout the ten months he had remained on Elba he had followed events in France closely. In addition to regular scrutiny of the newspapers he had been receiving secret reports from sympathisers, and even from Fouchй, who had been shrewd enough to keep a foot in both camps. Napoleon, and most Frenchmen, had been surprised when King Louis had appointed the arch-schemer as his Minister of Police, the post he had once held under Napoleon.

It was Fouchй who had informed him that the Comte d’Artois, the next in line to the throne, intended to reverse the liberties gained by the common people in the years following the Revolution. D’Artois was also planning to reverse the land reforms that had transferred many aristocratic estates to the peasantry. The mood in France was poisonous, Fouchй wrote to his former master. The common people were suspicious of the Bourbons and their followers. The sentiment was echoed by the demobbed soldiers who were struggling to find a place within the new regime, and looked back on the days of empire with increasing fondness.

As Napoleon read the reports, he resolved to quit his tiny kingdom of Elba at the earliest opportunity. No island of twelve thousand inhabitants could satisfy his ambitions, or sate his boredom, and he began to make preparations in secret. His small army was regularly drilled and his one warship, a small brig, was supplemented by five other small vessels sufficient to carry Napoleon and his men to France. All of this had to be carried out under the gaze of the British resident. Colonel Campbell was a kindly officer, much in awe of his host, and Napoleon was careful to speak with enthusiasm about his plans for improving Elba whenever the two had occasion to talk. Campbell seemed satisfied that Napoleon had accepted his new, minor station in life. Such was his confidence that Napoleon no longer presented any danger that he had announced he was making a brief visit to Florence.

Napoleon concealed his delight at the news as he enquired the date by which Campbell might return, on the pretext that he was planning a ball and did not want the Englishman to miss the event. As soon as Campbell had departed, Napoleon and his followers hurriedly loaded stores and equipment aboard the flotilla of small vessels and departed mere hours before the return of the Royal Navy brig that had conveyed Campbell to Italy.

Luck, as ever, had favoured him, Napoleon reflected. But now he faced the great test of his new adventure. The road ahead was blocked by regular soldiers, sent by the royalists to confront and arrest him.

‘Sire, what are your orders?’ Cambronne interrupted Napoleon’s thoughts. ‘Should I deploy the men?’

‘No. Have them form up in column, lancers to the front. You and I shall ride at the head of the column. How far ahead is the road blocked?’

Cambronne turned to look up the track. It inclined gently down towards the side of a hill and then turned along the shore of a small lake, the end of which could just be seen. To the left steep hills rose up sharply, creating a narrow defile through which Napoleon and his men must march to reach Grenoble.

The veteran pointed towards the place where the road disappeared round the side of the hill. ‘Just beyond the hill, sire, close to the far end of the lake.’

‘Very well, let’s proceed.’

Cambronne hesitated.‘Shall I have the guns moved close to the front of the column, sire? If there’s any trouble, they can clear the way with a few rounds of case shot.’

‘There will be no trouble,’ Napoleon replied flatly. ‘If there is, then our cause is as good as lost. Now, give the order for the men to make ready to advance. Make sure every man understands that they are not to fire a shot without my express order. If anything happens to me, then you are to lay down your arms at once. Is that clear?’

Cambronne nodded reluctantly, then turned away and strode over to the men who had fallen out alongside the track, bellowing at them to re-form their ranks.

A few minutes later the column started down the track. Napoleon was now riding a white horse, and he wore the old grey coat and battered bicorne that was familiar to every soldier who had campaigned with him over the years. As the track rounded the hill he felt his heartbeat quicken. To his right the small lake stretched out, the calm waters reflecting the wooded ridge on the far side. At the far end of the lake there was a stretch of open ground, perhaps a hundred paces across, between the hillside and the shore of the lake. A body of soldiers stood waiting, formed in line, with fixed bayonets that glinted in the afternoon sunshine.

‘What unit is that?’ asked Napoleon.

‘The first battalion of the Fifth Regiment of the Line, sire.’

Napoleon nodded.

The column advanced in silence, marching along the side of the lake. Napoleon glanced back, past the flickering pennants of the lancers, and saw the grim expressions fixed on the faces of the guardsmen. If it came to a fight, the veterans would make short work of the men opposed to them. But the instant the first blood was spilled, France would be bitterly divided. Even if Napoleon survived such a struggle, he would be forced to deal with the other European powers with almost no chance of success.

As the gap between the hillside and the shore began to widen, Napoleon raised his hand to halt the column.

‘Have the Guard form line. They are to shoulder arms. The lancers are to fall back and dismount.’

Cambronne sucked in his breath, but saluted and turned away to give the orders. As the guardsmen trotted out on either side of the track and formed ranks, Napoleon stared at the line of infantry barring his way. They stood silently as their commanding officer sat on his horse and raised his telescope.

Once the men were in position Cambronne resumed his place at Napoleon’s side. ‘What now, sire?’

‘It’s time you announced me,’ Napoleon replied.

Cambronne edged his spurs in and trotted forward towards the waiting soldiers. Their commander lowered his scope and watched the solitary rider approaching. When Cambronne was no more than fifty paces away the other officer cupped a hand to his mouth and called out. ‘Stop there!’

Reining in, Cambronne raised his hat and replied. ‘Comrades! Our Emperor has returned! Join us!’

‘Silence!’ the officer shouted, then ordered his men, ‘Advance your muskets!’

The bayonets angled forward, cold gleaming tips pointing towards Cambronne.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he barked. ‘How dare you threaten me? What do you think you are doing?’

‘I have orders to prevent you proceeding,’ the officer replied firmly. ‘You will hand over the outlaw behind you, and tell your men to lay down their arms.’

‘I shall do no such thing!’

‘If you do not surrender within ten minutes, I will give the order to open fire.’ The officer pulled out his fob watch and looked down at it.

‘If you fire on the Emperor you will be responsible to all of France!’ Cambronne responded. ‘Come now, we are all Frenchmen.’

He sat in his saddle and waited for a response. Eventually the officer looked up from his watch and spoke. ‘Nine minutes . . .’

With a muttered curse Cambronne turned his mount round and trotted back towards Napoleon. ‘You heard him, sire?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think he will give the order?’

Napoleon stared at the line of soldiers for a moment. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

He dismounted and handed his reins to Cambronne. ‘Stay here. If anything happens to me remember your orders.’

‘Sire, you can’t put yourself in danger. France needs you.’

‘Quiet,’ Napoleon said. He drew a long deep breath and started walking slowly towards the soldiers. As he did so he unbuttoned his coat to reveal the green jacket of a colonel of the Guards. His heart beat quickly as he gazed steadily at the row of bayonets angled towards him. He knew that he was placing his reputation in the balance against the discipline of these soldiers. If he was mistaken then it would be likely that he would be dead within the next few minutes. Although it was spring, he felt cold and had to clench his fists behind his back to stop them trembling. They must not see my fear, he thought fiercely.

He continued to approach them steadily, taking in the details of the expressions of those men closest to him. It was impossible to tell whether they meant him any harm. Behind them, the officer on horseback glared defiantly at Napoleon as he stopped, no more than twenty paces from their bayonets.

‘Soldiers of the Fifth! Do you not recognise me? Am I not your old general?’

His words echoed off the side of the hill and then there was silence until he spoke again. ‘If there is a man amongst you who wants to kill his Emperor . . . then here I am!’ He pulled back his coat and presented his breast to them.

‘Present arms!’ the officer called out, and the men in the front rank raised their muskets.

‘Take aim!

Napoleon pressed his lips together and widened his eyes as he stood his ground and stared into the muzzles of the muskets pointing directly at him.

‘Fire!’

Napoleon felt an instant of icy terror, then the moment was past. There was no crash of a volley, no flame and no smoke. Nothing but a strained silence.

‘Fire, damn you!’ the officer shouted angrily. ‘Obey the order!’

Before the sound of the words had died on his lips, another voice cried out, ‘Long live the Emperor!’

The soldiers lowered their muskets and cheered, almost as one, as they broke ranks and surged towards Napoleon. Some clasped his hand, while others, more awestruck, satisfied themselves with touching his coat. But all cheered his name again and again. Cambronne and his men joined in and ran forward to greet the other men as comrades. Napoleon smiled at those around him and then began to pace forward, the throng parting to let him pass. He stopped before the mounted officer, a young major.

‘What is your name?’

‘Lansard,’ the man replied through gritted teeth. His face flushed with bitter shame over the failure of his authority. He ignored his men as he fixed his eyes on Napoleon. He took the handle of his sword and drew it from its scabbard, and then tossed it on to the ground at Napoleon’s feet. He glanced down at the sword and then gestured to one of the soldiers next to him. ‘Pick that up and hand it back to the Major.’