Authors: Simon Scarrow
Fire and Sword (24 page)
‘The enemy losses are over fifteen thousand killed; another twelve thousand are prisoners. In addition we have captured nearly two hundred cannon and fifty standards,’ Berthier read from the summary he had prepared.
Napoleon stretched his shoulders until he felt the muscles crack, then straightened his spine and clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he braced himself for the other side of the balance sheet. ‘And our losses?’
‘One thousand three hundred dead, six and a half thousand wounded and a few hundred taken prisoner.’
Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. ‘Better than I had feared.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Very well, make provision for the wounded to be taken to Vienna. The prisoners can follow.They can be held there until the campaign is over. Now, I want you to issue orders for the army to re-form and be ready to march by noon.’
Berthier nodded and made a note. Outside, the first rays of dawn pierced the church windows with hazy orange shafts of light. Napoleon was grateful for the clear skies and cold air, which would aid his pursuit of the Russians. He was determined to drive them far to the east before the surviving Austrian forces could concentrate and re-join their allies.
The sound of hooves on cobbled stones came from outside the church and there was an excited challenge from one of the imperial guardsmen protecting headquarters. Napoleon glanced at one of Berthier’s clerks. ‘See what that is.’
While the man hurried off to do the Emperor’s bidding Napoleon sat down on one of the pews that lined the walls of the church and buried his face in his hands to rest his eyes for a moment. There was a brief exchange of voices in the street before the clerk returned, with another man.
‘Sire?’
Napoleon took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks as he sat up and regarded the clerk. Behind him stood Count Diebnitz.The Austrian was no longer scrupulously neat. His cheek was covered with bristles and his uniform was spattered with mud and there was a tear in one sleeve. He eyed Napoleon with a sullen, bitter expression.
‘Well, Count Diebnitz, I am glad that you survived yesterday’s encounter. Many of your countrymen did not, alas.’
Diebnitz’s nostrils flared angrily but he kept his mouth shut and reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded and sealed document.
Napoleon cocked an eyebrow at it. ‘What is that?’
‘A message, sir. From the Emperor of Austria.’
‘Tell me what it says,’ Napoleon continued wearily.‘I am a busy man, Count. Spare me the need to read it.’
Diebnitz swallowed his pride and lowered the document on to the pew beside Napoleon before he spoke. ‘His imperial majesty wishes to discuss an armistice.’
‘An armistice?’ Napoleon smiled thinly. ‘And why should I agree to one now, when I hold every advantage? Unless, of course, this is merely a preparatory step . . .’
He waited for the Austrian nobleman to get over his discomfort and come to the point.
Diebnitz spoke in a monotone. ‘His imperial majesty requests an armistice, in order to negotiate a peace agreement.’
‘Ah! I thought so.’ Napoleon smiled triumphantly. ‘Then you may tell the Emperor that I would be happy to discuss peace, on my terms.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Diebnitz bowed his head stiffly. ‘I will inform him at once.’
‘Wait.’ Napoleon narrowed his eyes as he stared at the Austrian. ‘Before you leave, you must know that there can be no peace while Russia is still your ally.’
‘Ally?’ Diebnitz sneered. ‘Our ally is in full retreat, towards Russia, sir.The Tsar has abandoned Austria to run and hide and lick his wounds. We have no ally, sir. Not any more. It would appear that your victory is complete.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Yes, it would.You may go, Count Diebnitz.’
The Austrian bowed his head and turned to march out of the church. Napoleon waited until he was out of earshot before springing up and rushing over to clasp Berthier’s hand in delight.
‘It’s over then.The war is over.The coalition is humbled.’
‘Yes.’ Berthier grinned back. ‘A triumph for you, sire.’
‘Indeed, my friend. We have crushed our enemies,’ Napoleon said with relish. ‘I’d give a small fortune to see Prime Minister Pitt’s face when news of Austerlitz reaches him.’
Chapter 16
Arthur
London, February 1806
‘It was Austerlitz that killed him,’ said William as he leaned back in his chair and lowered his soup spoon. ‘It broke Pitt’s heart. He never recovered after hearing the news. Austerlitz changes everything.’
Arthur shook his head.‘Austerlitz changes nothing.We are still at war with France and the future peace of Europe can only be achieved if we defeat Bonaparte. Pitt knew that well enough and devoted his life to the prosecution of the war.’
‘Well, now Pitt is dead, and so is his grand alliance against France,’ William continued gravely. ‘Austria has been humbled, Prussia is too afraid to fight and the armies of Sweden and Russia have retreated back inside their national boundaries. Our new Prime Minister and his government are of a very different line to Pitt and his followers. More’s the pity.There are many men in Parliament who argue that now is the time to make peace with France.’
‘Then they are fools.’ Arthur reached for the decanter and topped up both their glasses.They were dining at William’s London house. Richard had been invited but had sent word that he was too ill to attend, so they had started eating without him. Arthur had only recently returned from the abortive attempt to land an army in Germany to march and join with the Russians and Austrians against the French Emperor. News of the crushing defeat at Austerlitz had reached the expeditionary force before it had even landed, and the transports and warships had been recalled to Britain. A frustrated Major-General Wellesley had returned to London to seek a new opportunity to serve his country on the battlefield. But the national mood was far from bellicose and he had been offered, and reluctantly accepted, command of a brigade based at Hastings.
It was over a month since William Pitt had died, his declining health given its death blow by the news of Austerlitz. The nation had marked his passing with solemn respect. Arthur knew the worth of the man who had given the best years of his life in the service of his nation. Not only had Pitt’s single-mindedness and administrative genius made it possible for Britain to counter the threat of France, but also he had made it possible for the powers of Europe to join the fight against the Republic, and the Corsican tyrant who usurped it.Vast sums of money, and convoys of supplies and equipment, had flowed to Britain’s allies thanks to Pitt’s vision. Now that he was dead, and Napoleon had crushed the alliance forged by Britain, the will to continue the fight was ebbing away swiftly, Arthur reflected sadly. The newspapers were filled with items bemoaning the continuation of a war that had yielded little in the nation’s interest and only served to deepen the national debt.The talk in the coffee houses was dominated by those who proclaimed the invincibility of Bonaparte.
There had been no obvious successor to Pitt.There were men with the ability to take on the responsibility of the office, Arthur mused, but none had sufficient support in Parliament to form a stable government. The mercurial Canning was not trusted by the political class, and Castlereagh was unpopular with the people. In the end it was Pitt’s cousin, Lord Grenville, who had emerged as a compromise candidate and persuaded the King to confer the position on him. But at a price. Gone were all the old friends and supporters of William Pitt and in their place was a mixed bag of politicians of all political persuasions. When Arthur attended a handful of debates in Parliament, the Whigs, who had opposed the war for many years, made smug speeches about the unnecessary cost in lives and bullion and demanded an end to the war. The so-called government of ‘all the talents’ even included the populist liberal Charles Fox. Arthur frowned.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked William, noting his brother’s expression. ‘Something wrong with the soup?’
‘No, it’s not the soup. I was just thinking about that scoundrel Fox. If Pitt could see it now he would groan in his grave. I can’t believe that Grenville would make such a man Foreign Secretary. Good God,’Arthur shook his head, ‘Fox betrayed us to the rebels of the American colonies, and I’ve even heard people mutter that he is in the pay of Talleyrand.’
‘You should not believe everything you hear, Arthur, but I agree with you that Fox holds some questionable views.’
‘Questionable!’ Arthur’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve heard the man often enough in Parliament. Time and again he has spoken out against the war. And now he would even have us open peace negotiations with France! He would dishonour all that we have sacrificed over the years.’
William shrugged. ‘Charles Fox is a political animal, Arthur. As such he is a pragmatist, and a weathervane in the cross-currents of popular opinion. He knows that the people are weary of war and desire peace, so much that they would even treat with the Corsican tyrant himself. So Fox will use every ounce of his charm to persuade Grenville to open negotiations with Talleyrand.’
‘God help us,’ Arthur responded bitterly. ‘Is the man so foolish that he thinks he can persuade Bonaparte to agree to terms that are remotely in the interests of Britain?’
‘His position is a little more subtle than you think.’ William spoke evenly as he raised his glass and sipped it contemplatively. ‘Consider for a moment the question of Napoleon’s primary virtue.’
‘Virtue?’ Arthur smiled thinly. ‘There! You have me already, brother, for I cannot think of a single virtue pertaining to Bonaparte.’
William sighed irritably. ‘Indulge me, then. Let us suppose that Napoleon’s ability finds its truest expression in the art of war.Would you agree with me on that at least?’
Arthur considered this for a moment and then nodded.‘For the sake of argument.’
‘I do not see how you can deny it, Arthur. He has defeated his enemies comprehensively, and, indeed, seems to relish the substance and trappings of a martial existence. All of Europe, and many of our own countrymen, regard the French Emperor as the greatest commander of the age. Now, whether you agree with that or not is immaterial. The point is that Fox believes it. So, being the shrewd thinker that he is,’ William laced his words with irony, ‘the Foreign Secretary has concluded that the best way to frustrate our enemy is to deny him that which he craves above all things, namely war. To which end Fox has persuaded Grenville to allow him to approach Talleyrand with some preliminary proposals for a lasting peace.’
Arthur had lowered his glass as his brother spoke and now stared at him across the table. ‘Good God . . . Do you have any detail on these proposals?’
‘Oh, yes.’ William smiled. ‘Fox was good enough to discuss his ideas when I met him in the House earlier this week.’
‘You met him? Why?’
‘I wanted to discuss the prospect of finding you a seat in Parliament.’
‘Parliament?’ Arthur’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why would I want such a thing? I am a blunt soldier. I lack the necessary tact and guile to be a politician.’
‘Come now, Arthur, false modesty is a vice, not a virtue.You are as capable of being a politician as any man, and besides, I dare say that a bit of blunt speaking would be a welcome change in the House. I must talk to some people and see what I can do.’
Arthur stared at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. ‘I’d rather not, all the same. I had my fill of politics back in the Irish Parliament.’
‘Ah, but you were nothing then,’ said William, and then waved a hand in apology as he saw his brother’s expression darken. ‘I mean no offence. But then you were young and inexperienced, with little achievement to your credit. Now, you are Sir Arthur Wellesley, hero of Assaye. Your voice would count and you would be able to influence events. Besides,’ William’s tone became more serious, ‘our brother Richard needs all the friends he can get in the House. His political future is at stake, and that of our family.Without influence, Arthur, what hope have you of being given any worthwhile military appointment? Do you know how many major-generals there are on the army list? One hundred and forty-eight, and the majority of them are senior to you. That is why you have been assigned to that tedious backwater down in Hastings.’
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