Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

With his affairs in eastern Europe settled, for the moment at least, Napoleon concentrated his attention on Spain. Three of his finest marshals, Ney, Mortier and Victor, together with their veteran corps had been transferred from Germany to the Peninsula and it was these troops who formed the new Army of Spain. With such fine men at his back Napoleon was confident that it would require only a brief campaign to crush Spanish resistance and bring the entire Peninsula under French rule, in the person of King Joseph. Thought of his brother caused Napoleon to frown. Joseph had barely been in Madrid long enough to be crowned before he had abandoned his new capital and retreated. Clearly he lacked the ruthless streak that was necessary to cow the rebellious Spaniards.Yet Napoleon had set him on the Spanish throne and there was no question of replacing him, or letting him be driven out. Napoleon’s prestige was at stake and he was firmly resolved to teach Spain that her people could not be permitted to defy the will of the Emperor.

It was dark when the imperial convoy at last entered the gates of Vitoria and made its way through the streets to the citadel that served as the army’s headquarters. The four squadrons of lancers that had accompanied the Emperor’s carriage across the mountains clopped straight to the stables, where the frozen riders dismounted and rubbed their stiff backsides and tenderly stretched their legs.

Napoleon’s carriage lurched to a halt in front of a narrow flight of steps leading up into the central keep of the citadel.The steps were lined with soldiers in greatcoats carrying torches in place of their muskets. The steam from their breath puffed out in little clouds as the Emperor climbed stiffly from the carriage and made his way up the steps to the entrance of the keep. A small group of officers, led by Berthier, waited to greet him formally.

‘Sire, it is good to see you.’ Berthier bowed his head. ‘The army is keen to teach the Spanish a lesson.’

‘Good,’ Napoleon muttered. ‘That’s the spirit. Is everything prepared?’

‘Yes, sire. There’s food and wine in the hall and your quarters are ready to receive you . . .’

‘Be quiet,’ Napoleon said irritably.‘I meant is everything in readiness for the campaign?’

‘Apologies, sire. I will brief you after you have eaten and rested, if you wish.’

Napoleon shook his head.‘You can do it as I eat. Show me the way.’

Berthier led him inside the keep and Napoleon relished the warmth as they entered the great hall, where a large fire was blazing in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the chamber and its furniture. A large framed map hung on one wall and was illuminated by a lantern hanging from a stand.Taking off his cloak and handing it to a footman Napoleon approached the fire and held out his hands, smiling as the blaze began to warm him through. At length he turned away and made his way to the table where there were several platters of cold meats, cheese and bread. A bowl of soup steamed at one end. Napoleon summoned a footman and pointed out his requirements.

‘I’ll have the chicken, this cheese and a bowl of soup. Over there, that seat to the left of the fire.’

‘Yes, sire.’ The footman bowed and started to gather the food on a plate bearing his master’s crest. Meanwhile, Napoleon crossed over to a couch by the fire and gestured to Berthier as he eased himself down. ‘Proceed.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier stood in front of him, notebook in hand in case he needed to consult it, and cleared his throat. ‘From the latest reports from our spies in Madrid it appears that the junta there is trying to take control of Spanish resistance to our forces. It’s proving to be a challenge for them, sire, since other juntas and the leaders in the regions are not keen to subordinate themselves.’

Napoleon smiled. ‘Already they are divided. They do our work for us, Berthier.Very well, if they choose to fight us separately then we shall destroy them one after the other. Good. Continue.’

The footman approached with a small table in one hand and a tray bearing the food in the other. He quietly set the table down and laid out the plate and cutlery as Berthier spoke.

‘Based on the reports of our agents I estimate that the Spanish can field as many as one hundred and thirty thousand regular soldiers, with perhaps another seventy thousand militia. In addition, we face the British army in Portugal, under General Moore. He is thought to command more than twenty thousand men.’

Napoleon nodded as he tore some flesh off a chicken leg and chewed. ‘It is well for us that the British government does not choose to reinforce Moore. Junot has told me how good their men are.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe they are good. Or maybe Junot was never quite the general I had hoped he would be. No matter. We have two hundred thousand of our best men here in Spain. More than enough to deal with those who choose to deny the authority of my brother. Once they are swept aside there will be peace in Spain. And I need peace here,’ Napoleon added wearily. ‘The men need to return to Germany, and discourage any desire on the part of our Austrian friends to make war on us.’

Berthier raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side.

‘You have something to say?’ Napoleon asked. ‘Speak freely.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier chewed his lip for a moment before he continued. ‘I fear this war in Spain will be different from those we have fought before.’

‘Different?’ Napoleon had finished his chicken leg and now turned his attention to a slice of cheese and a hunk of bread.

‘Yes, sire. We are not just waging a war against regular troops. The people of Spain are against us too. Our soldiers dare not forage in small numbers. We have lost many men to groups of villagers, or those rebels who have formed bands and taken to the hills. Scores of our couriers have simply disappeared on the roads. Some bodies have been found, mutilated. As things stand, our commanders are obliged to send two or three squadrons of cavalry to protect their messengers.’

Napoleon swallowed quickly and lowered his. ‘Then we must respond with the utmost severity. I want every act of rebellion met with reprisals. For every French soldier killed, the nearest village will be burned and ten of its inhabitants put to death. Send that instruction out to every one of our columns at once.’

‘Yes, sire,’ Berthier replied quietly.

‘You disagree with my suggestion?’

‘Of course not, sire. It’s just that I do not see how it might help us to win the people round to supporting King Joseph.’

Napoleon stared at his chief of staff. ‘Believe me, if we could win over their hearts then I would spare no effort to do so. But we do not have the time for that. I must have order in Spain as soon as possible. The only way to achieve that is by exercising ruthlessness. Spain must be whipped into submission, like a dog. Once these people accept our rule, then we can exercise a degree of leniency. But first we must break their will to resist.’

Berthier did not look convinced, but he responded, ‘As you order, sire.’

Napoleon nodded sourly, and bit off another chunk of bread. ‘Yes, as I order. Now then, what of these Spanish soldiers? Do we know how their forces are disposed? Are they still as they were when you reported to me last week?’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier approached the map and indicated the salient features as he spoke. ‘The enemy appears to be trying to encircle our forces, from the west of the River Ebro, and here to the east at Tarazona. There is a third army to the south of the Ebro, blocking the route to Burgos.’

Napoleon wiped his hands on the napkin that had accompanied the plate, then joined Berthier in front of the map and examined it closely for a moment before he spoke. ‘Since our enemies are insistent on dividing their forces and adding to their blunder by advancing to meet us, we shall make the most of their mistake.’ He studied the map and then pointed at the Ebro, where it cut across the north of Spain, above Burgos. ‘The army will cross here, and then Lefebvre and Victor will wheel to the right to cut behind the western thrust of the enemy. Once we are certain we have them trapped then Ney and Lannes can turn to the east and destroy the enemy’s right flank.The rest of the army, under Marshal Bessières, will make for Burgos. As soon as our flanks are secured I will march on Madrid.’