Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

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The third in this epic quartet of novels focusing on two giants of European history, Wellington and Napoleon. In the early years of the nineteenth century, Arthur Wellesley (elevated to Viscount Wellington in the course of the novel) and Napoleon Bonaparte are well-established as men of military genius. Wellesley has returned from India, where his skill and bravery made a remarkable impression on his superiors. He faces trials and tribulations on the political scene before becoming embroiled militarily in Copenhagen, then Portugal and finally Spain. Napoleon, established as Emperor, is cementing his control on Europe, intending finally to crush his hated foe across the Channel: Britain. The time is fast approaching when Wellington and Napoleon will come face to face in confrontation and only one man can emerge victorious...

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Napoleon raised a hand to them. ‘Easy there! Just an old comrade come to warm himself at your fire, and share rations, if there is any soup to spare.’

As he stepped into the orange loom of the crackling blaze Legros took a battered bowl and spoon from his kit and proffered it to the Emperor. Even though rations were short, it was clear the sergeant felt honoured to share his supper with Napoleon.

‘Thank you.’ Napoleon took the bowl and turned to the man at the cauldron. ‘May I?’

‘Yes, sire!’ The man instantly passed over the ladle. Leaning towards the steaming cauldron, Napoleon dipped the ladle in and gave the stew a quick stir before scooping up a portion and pouring it into his bowl. He returned the ladle and took up his spoon. Raising the bowl he gave it a cautious sniff, and found that the warm hearty smell was to his liking, particularly as he had eaten nothing since dawn. He took a spoonful and blew carefully across the surface before he sipped. It was hot, but not so hot as to burn his mouth, and he swallowed it eagerly before looking up at the expectant faces surrounding him. More and more shadows were emerging from the darkness as word spread through the camp that the emperor was present.

‘Good soup!’ Napoleon announced.‘A bit saltier than I used to have it when I was a junior lieutenant, but good all the same.’

He took another spoonful as he let the men marvel that their Emperor had once lived on the same fare as themselves. It was another chance for Napoleon to win their hearts and he smiled to himself as he observed the crowd gathering round him.After a few sips he handed the bowl back to Sergeant Legros and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. ‘Thank you. I needed that.’ He raised his voice. ‘Soldiers! I know of your brave deeds yesterday. But tell me, who is the bravest man in this regiment?’

There was a pause before Legros’s name was shouted, and at once there was a widespread roar of approval. Napoleon grinned as he turned back to the huge figure looking slightly embarrassed by the shouts of his comrades.

‘It seems that you are the regiment’s hero, Legros.’

‘Just doing my duty, sir.’

‘Of course.Well then,’ Napoleon frowned slightly as if considering a problem and then suddenly laughed and clasped Legros’s hand, ‘I promote you to lieutenant.Your regiment is going to need good officers if it keeps fighting as fiercely as it did yesterday. Congratulations, Lieutenant Legros.’

The man looked astonished and tilted his head slightly from side to side. ‘Don’t know what to say, sir.’

‘Thank you will do.’

The men around laughed, and then someone cheered for the newly promoted Legros and the others joined in. Napoleon let them indulge themselves for a moment before he turned to one of his staff officers to ensure that the promotion was noted and made official as soon as possible. As he was talking there was a pounding of hooves down the road and Napoleon glanced round to see a staff officer galloping towards the fire.

‘Where’s the Emperor?’ the new arrival shouted as he saw Napoleon’s escort. He jumped down from his hard-breathing mount as soon as he saw Napoleon and thrust his way through the soldiers.With some difficulty he composed himself enough to stand to attention and salute before he ripped a folded sheet of paper from inside his coat.‘Sire! Despatch from Marshal Ney.’

‘What’s happened?’ Napoleon asked quietly as he took the message.

‘We’ve got them, sir. The Austrians. Ney’s vanguard captured an Austrian colonel. He told them that Mack’s army is at Ulm. We’ve caught them on the wrong side of the Danube, sir. With their backs to the hills and the Black Forest, they’re caught like rats in a trap.’

‘As I always knew they would be,’ Napoleon responded tersely, as he read the full details by the light of the fire. When he finished he crumpled the message and tossed it into the blaze, then turned to the crowd of soldiers who had gathered to see him.

‘Tomorrow the Grand Army closes its fist round the throat of General Mack! First blood to the Grand Army!’ Napoleon punched his hand into the air and the men roared their approval. He watched their excited faces for a moment and then turned to re-join his waiting staff officers and escort. Behind him the cheers echoed to the skies.

Chapter 9

Ulm, 16 October 1805

Hemmed in on all sides, the Austrians retreated to Ulm and prepared the hapless town for an assault. As nearly a hundred thousand men of the Grand Army closed around the defenders, the guns of the artillery reserve were brought forward and batteries were dug into the hills surrounding the town. At dawn, Napoleon was sitting on a campaign chair a short distance above the largest battery.Around him scores of staff officers talked in muted tones as they waited for the bombardment to begin. Napoleon ignored them. He was filled with an immense feeling of gratification that his plans had come to fruition so swiftly. The night before, he had received word from Marshal Bernadotte that the Russian army of General Kutusov had finally been located, two hundred miles from Ulm. Napoleon nodded faintly as he considered the situation. Kutusov was far enough away to give the Grand Army time to defeat the Austrians before turning to face the Russians. He pulled his coat more tightly about his shoulders and hunched down into the collar as he concentrated his gaze on the panorama stretching out before him.

Below his position lay the lines of the Grand Army, and a short distance beyond, the hastily erected redoubts and earthworks that ringed Ulm. A faint mist had risen from the Danube, on the far side of the city, and most of the buildings were grey and indistinct. Only the spires of churches and the roofs of taller buildings were high enough to be seen clearly.The air was filled with the shouts of artillery officers as they trained their guns on distant targets and gave the order for the weapons to be loaded with round shot. It was a cold morning, and a gleaming frost covered the frozen ground. Ideal conditions for artillery fire, as the cannonballs that did not immediately strike an object would take several bounces before coming to rest, thereby greatly increasing their range and capacity to do damage.

Out of the corner of his eye Napoleon saw a staff officer come trotting up to General Marmont. He saluted and spoke briefly before his superior strode across the slope towards the Emperor.

‘Sire, I beg to report that the artillery is ready to commence the bombardment, on your order.’

Napoleon nodded, drew a draught of chilled air deep into his lungs and took one last look at the peaceful town of Ulm nestling beside the dull gleam of the Danube. Then he breathed out. ‘Very well.You may open fire.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Marmont saluted and turned to bellow the order to the crew of the signal gun. ‘Open fire!’

The gunner with the linstock lowered the smouldering end to the powder in a small paper cone poking into the vent. There was a brief flare, then a jet of flame and smoke billowed from the muzzle an instant before the booming report carried up the hill to Napoleon and his staff. A moment later the rest of the massed guns of the Grand Army opened fire with a deep rolling roar that filled the morning sky like thunder. Hundreds of plumes of flame and smoke spat from the muzzles of the French guns, and then roof tiles exploded off the buildings of Ulm to show where some of the shot had struck home. Those guns that had been ordered to direct their fire at the Austrian earthworks began to take their toll, gouts of soil bursting into the air as fascines and timber fortifications were battered down.The defenders soon returned fire and the French positions received their damage in turn. But such was the weight of the Grand Army’s fire that General Mack’s outlying batteries were gradually silenced as the morning wore on.The sun rose in the sky and the mist from the Danube cleared from the streets of Ulm, only to be replaced by a thick cloud of dust swirling up from the masonry being pounded to pieces by heavy iron shot.Thick banks of smoke hung over the artillery positions of both sides, making them fire blind as they trusted to the careful laying of the guns before the bombardment to stay on target.

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