Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

There was a knock at the door, and Berthier entered. Napoleon stared at him for a moment, uncertain whether to be angry with the man for causing the earlier scene, or to feel pity for Berthier’s mortal failings. In the end he opted for the latter, and smiled condescendingly.

‘What is it?’

‘A report from one of our light cavalry regiments, sire. They have been scouting along the River Duero and have discovered that the British are on the march.’ Berthier crossed to the map and tapped it. ‘They are heading in the direction of Salamanca.’

‘Salamanca?’ Napoleon considered the map briefly. General Moore’s army was thought to amount to little more than twenty thousand men. Hardly a critical threat to the Army of Spain.Yet one that could not be ignored. ‘We could march towards Salamanca and defeat the British,’ he mused. ‘But it would mean leaving the conquest of Madrid until later.’

Berthier was emboldened by his master’s thoughtful tone. ‘That is true, sire, but I must admit the prospect of dealing a humiliating blow to the long-time enemy of France is alluring. It would be a fine thing to offer up a victory over Britain to the rest of Europe.’

‘Yes, it would.’ Napoleon scrutinised the map again and made his decision. Nevertheless, we can leave Moore until later. First we must crush these Spanish rebels and place my brother on his throne. So, then, we march on Madrid.’

Chapter 48

Before the Army of Spain lay the forbidding mass of the Guadarramas, a long barrier of hills protecting the northern approaches to Madrid. The weather had turned cold but the soldiers had been spared rain as they prepared to assault the Spanish forces defending the Somosierra pass. The night before, the enemy garrison in the village of Sepúlveda had abandoned the position and fled west, rather than face the mass of the French army drawn up before them. As dawn broke, skirmishers advanced through fog to capture the village, and soon afterwards the Emperor and his staff rode forward to climb the church tower, which rose above the fog, and inspect the defences of the main enemy force blocking the pass.

Through his telescope Napoleon followed the narrow road that wound up the side of the hill to the head of the pass. There he could make out the lines of Spanish troops waiting for the French. No more than ten thousand men, Napoleon calculated, in addition to twenty guns mounted in some hastily erected redoubts on either flank which covered the road from Sepúlveda.There did not seem to be any attempt to defend the slopes on either side of the pass and Napoleon briefly considered sending men into the hills to work round the enemy position. But that would cause delay, and he was determined to capture Madrid and settle matters in Spain as swiftly as possible. Besides, Spanish troops were no match for his veterans and would be brushed aside easily enough.

Snapping his telescope shut Napoleon curtly gave an order to Berthier.‘We’ll use General Ruffin’s division to clear the pass.They can advance up the road and deploy in line the moment they come within range of the enemy’s artillery.’

‘Yes, sire. How many guns shall we send forward to support them?’

‘Guns?’ Napoleon pursed his lips for an instant and then shook his head. ‘It will be a quick affair, Berthier. Ruffin’s men will not need artillery support.’

Berthier looked surprised, and seemed to be about to query the instruction, but nodded instead. ‘As you wish, sire.’

Napoleon’s head ached terribly this morning, something he put down to a lack of sleep since the advance from Burgos three days before. ‘Give the orders, Berthier. I’m going forward with Ruffin as far as that hillock beside the road there, to view the attack.’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Carry on,’ Napoleon dismissed him, and thrust the telescope into the long pocket of his coat before descending from the tower. As he left the small church he was aware of some shouting a short way down the street and saw two soldiers approaching, with a third man held firmly between them. Behind them marched a young infantry officer.

‘Let go of me!’ the man shouted. ‘Let me go, you fuckers!’

One of the men holding him suddenly lashed out and smashed a fist into the soldier’s jaw. ‘Shut your mouth!’

Napoleon paused in the street as the little party drew close to the church. As soon as they recognised him the soldiers halted and stared at him awkwardly.

‘Well?’ Napoleon glared at them. ‘Don’t you salute your emperor?’

The officer recovered first. ‘Attention!’

The three men ahead of him snapped their arms to their sides and stood straight-backed, chins up.The man in the middle stood still as the blood oozed from his cut lip and dripped on to his white cross-straps. Napoleon strode up to them.

‘What is the meaning of this? Lieutenant, what has this man done?’

‘We caught him looting a shrine on the edge of the village, sir.’

‘Looting, eh?’ Napoleon turned to the middle man. ‘What is your name?’

‘Geunet, sire.’The man’s gaze did not flicker as he continued to stare straight ahead. ‘Jean Geunet, private, third company, first battalion, forty-second regiment of the line, sire.’

‘One of General Ruffin’s regiments then.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘And what did you manage to loot from the shrine, Geunet?’

‘Sire, it was only an offering of food. Half a loaf of bread and a joint of lamb.’

‘I see. And you are of course aware of my orders concerning pillaging?’

‘Yes, sire.’The man straightened up.‘But it was not pillaging. I did not steal it from anyone.’

‘But you did steal it from the shrine, did you not?’

The soldier nodded. ‘I was hungry, sir. All the lads are. Almost starving.’

‘But these men with you have not stolen anything, have they?’

The soldier’s eyes met those of his Emperor.‘I don’t know.Why don’t you ask them, sire?’

‘Because you were caught and they weren’t. That’s why, you impudent dog.’ Napoleon turned to the lieutenant again.‘Is this man in your unit?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘And where are you taking Private Geunet?’

‘To battalion headquarters, sire.’ The lieutenant held up a haversack. ‘The bread and meat are in here, sire, and these two men witnessed the theft. The private’s case will be heard by the colonel, and then he will be sentenced, according to your general order, sire.’

Napoleon frowned.‘Your colonel is about to be a very busy man. He has no time to deal with this matter.’ Geunet puffed his cheeks out in relief and looked towards the Emperor with a grateful expression. In other circumstances Napoleon might have pardoned the man, but that morning, in the chill of the fog, with the ache in his head and several restless nights behind him, the Emperor’s mood was surly and cold to the point of cruelty. He turned round and beckoned to one of the orderlies who accompanied him along with his personal escort of Polish light cavalry.

‘Give me some paper and a pencil.’

‘Yes, sire.’ The orderly delved into his despatch bag and handed the requested materials to his Emperor with a bow.

‘Turn round,’ Napoleon ordered. ‘Keep your back still.’

As the orderly did as he was ordered Napoleon held the paper to his back and began to write. By the authority of his imperial majesty, the Emperor Napoleon, Private Jean Geunet has been found guilty of pillaging. In accordance with standing orders he is sentenced to summary execution. By order of Napoleon.

He signed his name and handed the document to the lieutenant. ‘There. Have it entered into regimental records. Now take Private Geunet back to the shrine and shoot him.’