Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

Napoleon pressed his lips together briefly. ‘It is enough for them to know that I am aware of their treachery, and that I can have them shot or thrown in prison at the click of my fingers. Besides, they serve as an example to the wider public that nothing escapes the Emperor’s eye.’

Lucien was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. ‘I still think you should have disposed of them. In time they are sure to be amongst your bitterest enemies.’

‘Perhaps. In time.When that happens I will deal with it. At present I cannot bring myself to destroy them.’ Napoleon looked up at his brother with a wistful smile. ‘Call it a sentimental streak, but Talleyrand, Fouché and I have shared much over the years. Our fates are bound together, for better or worse.’

‘Forgive me, brother, but that is madness. You cannot afford to indulge yourself in such obligations.You are the Emperor of France. If you fall then France will be crushed by her enemies.You are not free to place some misguided sense of mercy above the nation’s interests.’

‘Nevertheless, I will,’ Napoleon replied firmly, and then frowned.‘No more of this, Lucien. There are other matters to attend to. Far more important matters. There is no longer any doubt that Austria means to make war against us. Our ambassador reports that the court of Emperor Francis is openly hostile. Our agents suggest that the Austrian army numbers well over three hundred thousand men. It seems that they have not forgotten, or forgiven, the shame they incurred at Austerlitz. They mean to have their revenge and crush me utterly.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘The thing is, they have never been in a better position to do it. I have one hundred and twenty thousand men on the Rhine. If we scour the garrisons in the German states and in France we might raise another eighty thousand. We are also short of officers, although we might make the numbers up by recalling those who have retired, or promoting sergeants.’ He sighed wearily. ‘The truth is that time is against us.’

‘Time is always against us,’ said Lucien. ‘All that a man can do is acquit himself as well as he may, and not waste the smallest span of his life bemoaning the fact.’

‘You are right, of course. If Austria wants war, then she shall have it.’ Napoleon closed his eyes and after a moment he continued quietly,‘The greatest challenge I will ever face lies before me, Lucien. I had hoped that we might have subdued Europe by now, but that is not the case. The Tsar is building his strength, and each report from Moscow reveals that he is slipping further away from me. I have little doubt that Russia will seek again to humble us before too long. If there is a war with Austria we can be sure that Russia will join with our enemy.’ Napoleon paused to contemplate the prospect. ‘That will be war on a new scale. War such as no man has ever seen. And when it comes, I will lead the Grand Army to Moscow itself, if I have to, and burn the city to the ground.’

He turned to Lucien and smiled. ‘The best is yet to come, my brother. The battle of the hosts, from which France will emerge triumphant, and the name Napoleon will be carved into the very bedrock of history.’

Chapter 55

Arthur

Lisbon, April 1809

‘It appears that all of Lisbon has turned out to greet you, sir.’The captain of the frigate grinned as he gestured towards the crowd crammed along the quay. The waiting Portuguese were waving brightly coloured streamers and the national flag and their cheers carried clearly across the waters of the river Tagus.

‘So it seems.’ Arthur could not help smiling. Evidently the Portuguese had put the bitter experience of the Cintra armistice behind them. That was good. He had feared wasting valuable time rebuilding trust between Britain and her ally, but if this greeting was representative of the people’s allegiance then Arthur would be able to put his plans into effect as swiftly as possible. Throughout the short voyage from Southampton he had been busy in the stern cabin the frigate’s captain had let him use. It had been a hurried departure from Britain. His staff officers had been carefully selected; the latest books on conditions in the Peninsula had been purchased. His private stores for the campaign had been ordered and packed in trunks and sent down to the embarkation port. Then there had been a final round of social visits to make, as well as settling his family and political affairs.

Arthur had resigned as Chief Secretary of Ireland with some small measure of regret over unfulfilled ambitions to improve the lot of the common people. He had also given up his seat in Parliament. Henceforth, he would dedicate himself to his duties as a soldier, with a private resolve not to quit his new command until the French generals and marshals in the Peninsula had been humbled, or he himself had been killed in the process. He did not speak of this resolve to Kitty when he had informed her that he was off to war again.

Their parting had been emotional. This time it was likely that Arthur’s duties would keep him away from home for years rather than months. Kitty had not been able to hold back her tears at the prospect and clung to him on the morning of his departure from their home in Phoenix Park. Once Kitty had overseen the packing of their possessions she would move to the house in London to await his return.

As he gazed at the sprawling tiled roofs of the Portuguese capital Arthur could not help wondering at the scale of the task he had set himself. If all went well, it would be a long time before there could be any prospect of returning to Kitty and he felt pricked by guilt at the satisfaction the reflection afforded. But he brushed the thought aside as the frigate dropped anchor and the crew lowered the launch over the side to convey the new commander of the British army ashore.

Escorted by a company of men from one of the regiments that had newly arrived from Britain, Arthur made his way through the crowd towards the reception committee of local dignitaries waiting on a small stage in a large public square decorated with ribbons and flags. He was relieved to see Major-General Beresford amongst them. Beresford had served under him at Vimeiro, and had, thanks to his command of Portuguese, remained in Portugal to train soldiers recruited from the local populace. The two officers exchanged a salute before Arthur grasped the other man’s hand.

‘Good to see you again, Beresford.’

‘And you, sir.’

‘I understand that you have been promoted in my absence.A marshal of Portugal, no less.’

‘The rank serves its purpose,’ Beresford replied self-consciously. ‘At least the locals respect it. Makes my job of training them that much easier. Besides, I shan’t be the only Englishman with such a fine rank bestowed on him.’ Beresford turned to the local dignitaries and exchanged a few brief words with a small dapper man in a fine dress coat with a bright red sash across his shoulder.

‘This is the High Chamberlain of the Royal Court, sir. The senior official left behind after the government fled to Brazil.’

Arthur bowed to the chamberlain and at once the man burst into speech, talking so rapidly that Beresford could not keep up and struggled to follow the man’s address. At the end the chamberlain turned and clicked his fingers at one of his officials and the man stepped forward with an ornate case.The chamberlain took the case and opened it carefully to reveal a jewelled star on a purple ribbon, together with a gilded baton. He offered the case to Arthur with a deep bow.

‘What’s this?’ Arthur asked Beresford.

‘The acting head of the Portuguese government confers upon you the rank of marshal-general of the allied forces in Portugal.’