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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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‘By the authority vested in me by the people I take this crown and assume the imperial throne of France. I pledge my honour to all present that I will defend the nation against all enemies, and that, by God’s will, I shall govern in accordance with the wishes of the people, and in their interests. Let this moment signify to the world the greatness of France. Let this greatness act as a beacon to other nations so that they may join us in the glory of the age to come.’

He paused and then raised the crown directly above his head and slowly lowered it.The gold wreath was heavier than he anticipated and he was careful to ensure that it was firmly seated before he withdrew his hands. At once the choir struck up again from the balcony behind the altar and sang a piece composed to celebrate the moment. Napoleon tilted his head back a fraction and gazed out over the ranks of the guests stretching out before him. There were mixed expressions there. Some smiled. Some looked on with grave faces and others dabbed at the tears on their cheeks as the emotion of the great occasion overwhelmed them. He looked towards Joseph again and saw that his older brother’s lips were quivering awkwardly as he struggled to restrain the pride and love he felt for Napoleon. The same pride and love that he had always felt, ever since they had shared the same nursery in the modest home in Ajaccio all those years ago when the proud Corsican family had struggled to find the money to ensure the boys had a decent education in a good French school.

Napoleon permitted himself to exchange a quick smile with his brother before his gaze passed on, over the ranks of his marshals and generals, many of whom had shared his perils and adventures from the earliest days of his military career. Brave soldiers like Junot, Marmont, Lannes and Victor. Men he would lead to yet more victories in the years to come, if the other powers of Europe dared to defy the new order in France.

As the choir came to the end of their piece and fell silent the Emperor turned to Josephine and she stepped forward, her train held by the two friends she had selected for the honour after Napoleon’s sisters had refused the task. Like her husband she wore a heavy scarlet robe richly decorated with gold motifs, and even though her face remained composed her eyes glittered like priceless gems as she advanced gracefully towards the steps and took her place on the cushion, kneeling at Napoleon’s feet. She inclined her head and was still.

There was a pause as Napoleon cleared his throat and addressed the audience.‘It is our great pleasure to confer the crown of the Empress of France on Josephine, whom we love as dearly as life itself.’ He took the remaining crown and approached his wife. He held the gold circlet over her head and then slowly lowered it over the neatly coiled tresses of her brown hair.The moment he stepped back from her the choir began the piece that had been composed in her honour, their melodious voices carrying the length of the cathedral. Napoleon bent forward and took Josephine’s hands, raising her up to her full height as she stepped on to the dais and turned to stand at his side to face their subjects.

The ceremony ended with a prayer from the Pope and then Napoleon led his Empress down the steps and back towards the entrance of Notre-Dame. As he passed his older brother he leaned towards him and muttered, ‘Ah, Joseph, if only our father could see us now!’

Chapter 2

April 1805

Napoleon stood in front of the window, staring down into the neatly regimented gardens of the Tuileries palace. The first buds of spring had sprouted from the branches and the sky was bright and clear, following a brief outburst of rain and wind that had swept away the grimy shroud of smoke that habitually covered Paris. Such a fine morning would usually lift his soul, but today the Emperor regarded the scene with a blank expression. His mind was clouded with a succession of worrying thoughts over the report Talleyrand had just outlined to him. No man in Europe doubted that France was the greatest power on the continent. Her influence stretched from the shores of the Baltic sea to the Mediterranean. But there, at the water’s edge, Napoleon’s power failed. Out to sea, the warships of the British navy mocked his ambition and the defiance of Britain nourished the simmering hostility of Prussia, Austria and Russia.

With a weary sigh Napoleon turned away from the tall window and stared at his foreign minister. ‘Our agents are certain of this?’

‘Yes, sire.’ Talleyrand nodded. ‘The orders have been given to the Austrian generals to begin concentrating their forces outside Vienna from the end of June.The supply wagons are already gathering at depots along the Danube. Agents of Emperor Francis have been travelling the length and breadth of the continent buying up remounts for their cavalry. The fortresses that guard the passes from Italy have been strengthened and fresh outworks erected around their perimeters. Our ambassador has questioned the Austrian court about these issues and demanded an explanation.’

‘And?’ Napoleon cut in tersely.

‘The Austrians are claiming it is no more than a long overdue adjustment of their defences. They deny that there is anything sinister about these developments.’

‘They would.’ Napoleon smiled grimly. ‘Nevertheless, there is no mistaking it: these are preparations for war.’

‘It appears so, sire.’

‘What of the intelligence from our ambassador to Russia? Much as the Austrians might boast of their military prowess, I sincerely doubt that they would risk war with France without an alliance with at least one other European power. The question is, will Russia fight alongside Austria, or will Prussia?’ Napoleon paused briefly. ‘Or all three? All subsidised and cajoled into action by their British paymasters, of course.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Talleyrand nodded again. ‘I imagine the British will be extending their usual lines of credit to our enemies, together with supplies of arms and equipment and a steady flow of gold and silver.’

‘Of course.’ Napoleon sniffed with derision. ‘As ever, the British spend their riches, and save their lives, leaving the shedding of blood to their allies. So, what of Russia?’

Talleyrand briefly consulted a note on the sheet of paper he held in one hand, then glanced up at his Emperor. ‘Ambassador Caulaincourt reports that the Tsar seems to be reluctant to enter into a war against us on his own. None the less there has been a degree of mobilisation of Russian forces that cannot simply be attributed to a defensive posture. If Austria does declare war on us, then I imagine that Russia might well be persuaded to join the cause.’

Napoleon folded his hands together and rested his chin on the ends of his fingers. As ever, his rivals seemed intent on the destruction of France. Almost for the sake of it. If only they would accept that France had changed. There would be no return to Bourbon tyranny. France offered a model of a better society, Napoleon reflected, and that was what they feared above all. If their own people began to realise that there was an alternative to the parasitical aristocracy of birth, then their governments would collapse like a line of dominoes. Given time, they would follow France down the road of revolution, and emerge at the far end more enlightened, more liberated, and inevitably drawn into a family of nations under the influence of France, and her Emperor. Napoleon frowned.That day was still a long way off. For the present his enemies were gathering, like wolves, and the first step to defeating them must be to find some means of dividing them. He looked up at Talleyrand. ‘What do you make of the new Tsar?’

Talleyrand pursed his lips for a moment and composed his reply. ‘Judging from Caulaincourt’s reports and my conversations with the Russian ambassador here in Paris, it would seem that Tsar Alexander is an impressionable young man. And something of an idealist. He desires to improve the lot of his people, perhaps to the extent of abolishing serfdom. However, he is no fool. He knows well enough that his ambition is opposed by the landowners, and he knows how dangerous that can be.’

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