Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

‘No doubt,’ Napoleon responded. ‘But if you had followed your orders there would be no reason why the campaign need continue for a matter of months.’

‘Sire?’

Napoleon slapped his hand down on the table. ‘You let the Russians get away! Now they will be licking their wounds, waiting for the Austrian forces to join them from Italy. All the good work of this campaign may be undone by your foolhardy drive towards Vienna. The entire point of my strategy was to divide our enemies. Now you have given them the chance to concentrate their strength and we must fight a much harder battle than I had hoped.Thanks to you.’

‘Sire, I - I had no thought of compromising you when I gave the order.’

‘You had no thought at all, as far as I can see.’

Napoleon glared at his subordinate. Murat wilted and looked down, crestfallen. ‘I had hoped to please you, sire.’

‘You had hoped to win the glory for yourself, you mean,’ Napoleon snapped.Then he drew a deep breath, and closed his eyes to control his rising temper. Murat had made a mistake. One that would cost Napoleon the lives of many of his soldiers and might indeed prolong the campaign by a matter of months, unless the situation was speedily resolved. Very well, then. Let Murat make amends by reverting to his original orders. His eyes flicked open.

‘I want you to return to your command at once.’

‘Sire, my staff and I have only just arrived at headquarters. We’ve been in the saddle for the best part of two days.’

‘At once.’ Napoleon ignored his protest. ‘You are to pursue the Russians immediately. When you make contact, stay on them. Give Kutusov no chance to stop and rest. Drive them back, away to the east and north, as far from any Austrian forces as you can.Then pray that you have acted in time. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Then go.’ Napoleon leaned his head forward on to his knuckles. ‘Now.’

Murat nodded, rose from his bench, and paused a moment, trying to think of some words of self-justification to say. Then he gave up and strode back towards the door, yanked it open and bellowed at his staff to get outside and mount up at once. There was a chorus of scraping chairs and the pounding of heavy boots as the cavalry officers hurriedly gathered their capes and hats and left the building, calling out to the grooms to fetch their horses from the stables.

Chapter 14

After a brief rest to gorge themselves on the supplies stockpiled in Vienna the men of the Grand Army crossed the Danube into Moravia as the winter began to settle across the landscape in earnest. Even during the day the temperature rarely rose more than a few degrees above freezing and the frequent rain chilled the men to the bone. It was nearly two months since the campaign had begun and the weariness of the troops was readily apparent to their commanders as they tramped miserably across the rolling countryside in pursuit of the Russians. All the time reports were reaching Napoleon that Prussia was preparing for war and mobilising its army in readiness to strike. From the south came yet more disturbing news: Marmont was expecting ninety thousand Austrian troops to march from Italy any day.

Towards the end of November, Napoleon halted the army near Brunn, to rest and consider the increasingly dangerous situation. Murat’s scouts had reported that Kutusov’s army had been swelled by reinforcements so that he could field nearly a hundred thousand Russians and Austrians against the Grand Army.

‘What is our strength?’ Napoleon asked Berthier that night.

‘We have fifty thousand here, sire. If Bernadotte and Davout are ordered to concentrate with us, then that will give seventy thousand men.’

‘Which will still leave us outnumbered,’ Napoleon mused. Numbers were not everything, he reminded himself. Man for man, the Grand Army’s soldiers and officers were the best in Europe. And it was also a matter of leadership. Kutusov was a capable enough commander, but old and schooled in ways of war that Napoleon considered outdated. In addition, the Russian general was leading a polyglot force, and would have to contend with interference from Austrian generals. To make matters worse for Kutusov, the Tsar had loudly proclaimed that he would lead his men in person to victory over France and had set off from Moscow to assume command. So the disparity in numbers was bearable, Napoleon reflected - provided a battle was fought soon. But time was on Kutusov’s side. With the Prussians mobilising, and a large Austrian army about to emerge from the Alps, Napoleon would be caught between his enemies and overwhelmed. He was also troubled by the lack of supplies for his men. They had been on the march for over two months and were at the end of a very long and vulnerable supply chain. Foraging was difficult given that the Russians had stripped the land ahead of the Grand Army and left little in their wake.

He nodded to himself and then looked up at Berthier. ‘We are in a dangerous position. It would seem that our best course is to retreat to Ulm and wait for reinforcements before continuing the campaign.’

‘If you think that is wise, sire,’ Berthier said carefully.

Napoleon smiled. ‘Well, you obviously don’t.’

Berthier folded his hands together and chewed his lip for a moment before continuing. ‘It will appear to the wider world that we have been forced to retreat, sire. That we have been worsted. Once our enemies trumpet that view of events, they may find ready allies to join them in a war against France.’

‘My thoughts exactly. So we dare not retreat, and we dare not advance, and we dare not sit here and wait.’

Berthier shrugged. ‘A dangerous position indeed, sire. What are you going to do?’

‘The only thing I can.’ Napoleon stretched out his arms and yawned before he continued. ‘We must persuade Kutusov and his Austrian allies to attack us.’

‘Persuade them?’ Berthier’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘How?’

‘We give Kutusov an opportunity he will not be able to resist.’ Napoleon reached forward over his campaign table and pulled a map towards him. He scanned it for a moment and then tapped his finger on a feature indicating high ground. Leaning forward he read the inscription.

‘We will bait the trap here, on the Pratzen Heights, close to this town.’ His finger moved fractionally across the map. Berthier bent his head forward to read the name.

‘Austerlitz.Very well, sire.’

‘Austerlitz,’ Napoleon repeated softly as he began to consider the details of the plan that was forming in his mind. It would entail a degree of risk and fine timing, as well as a good deal of subterfuge. ‘We must crush them at Austerlitz, or be crushed in turn.’

The following day Napoleon gave orders that the corps of Soult, Murat and Lannes were to advance and occupy the Pratzen Heights, where their fifty thousand men would be in full view of the Austrian scouts. The very next day an Austrian officer arrived in the French camp with an offer to open negotiations for an armistice. He was led through to the first line of the Grand Army to await the Emperor. The Austrian officers’ sharp eyes took in every detail of the worn-out soldiers and their threadbare uniforms. Some looked back with sullen expressions of vague curiosity, but most simply sat around their campfires in dejected silence.

Napoleon and Berthier came riding forward shortly afterwards. The Emperor’s coat was stained with mud and his uniform jacket unbuttoned. He had not shaved and he wore a weary expression. He lowered himself from the saddle with a grunt and turned to meet the enemy envoy.

‘I bid you welcome, sir. Might I know your name?’

‘Count Diebnitz, at your service.’ The Austrian was immaculately turned out and had to restrain a sneer at the unkempt appearance of the French Emperor. He bowed his head briefly, then began to state his terms without any preamble. ‘The Emperors of Austria and Russia graciously offer you an armistice, of ten days’ duration.’