Fire and Sword (89 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
‘Gentlemen, I had summoned you to discuss the growing threat from Austria, but first there is another matter that needs to be settled. A grave matter concerning the loyalty of two of my most important ministers.’ He paused, deliberately avoiding the eyes of Fouché and Talleyrand. ‘Two men who owe everything to me yet now seem determined to stir up public opinion against their Emperor. Well, they should be careful before they play with the sentiments of the people. Those who dabble in revolution are holding a wolf by the ears, and they are fools if they think that they would not be swept away in the first days of any popular uprising.’
Lucien rose to his feet, on cue. ‘Sire, who are these traitors?’
‘My chief of police, Fouché, and the former Grand Chamberlain, Talleyrand.’
There was an excited murmur amongst those assembled, while Fouché squirmed in his seat and glanced round desperately to gauge the balance of sympathy amongst the other ministers. Talleyrand simply stirred in his chair and turned to face Napoleon directly, his features devoid of surprise, fear or indeed any emotion.
Napoleon raised a hand to command silence from the council.When their tongues had stilled he continued, ‘I have been handed clear evidence of their plot against me. Reports of their movements, whom they have met, letters they have exchanged with other plotters, most notably Marshal Murat, whom they have invited to take my throne once I have been removed.’
Napoleon at last turned to Talleyrand, his face twisting slightly into a cold sneer of contempt. His finger stabbed out as he raised his voice. ‘You, Talleyrand, are a traitor and a coward.You believe in nothing but yourself. For that you have deceived us all and betrayed your country. You have taken the coin of our enemies and sold your soul to them. Is there nothing you would not sell for your own personal gain? You have failed me, failed your people and failed yourself.You are contemptible. Even as you have enjoyed all the honours I have lavished on you, you have been attacking my achievements in Spain, lying to the people of Paris about what has been happening there.’ He glared at Talleyrand. ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself, you miserable cur?’
Talleyrand returned his gaze steadily and did not utter a word. Napoleon felt a genuine rage well up inside him at the man’s insouciance. ‘You heinous little cripple! You faithless husband! For all your pretensions you are nothing more than a pile of shit in silk stockings! You hear me? You turd! I ought to have you shot like that scum the Duke of Enghien. Shot, or hanged, or guillotined, and then have your body thrown to the crows.That is the least punishment you deserve. You and any other man who commits treason against his Emperor.’
As Napoleon shouted at his former foreign minister, the other members of the council were cringing in their seats, none more so than Fouché, who had slumped down and swallowed nervously throughout the tirade. Napoleon drew some comfort from that. As he had hoped, by turning the main weight of his rage against Talleyrand he had scared the others, and left Fouché in no doubt over the fate that might await him if he was ever again suspected of plotting against his Emperor.
With a last glare of contempt at Talleyrand, Napoleon abruptly turned and marched out of the audience chamber, slamming the door behind him so that the jarring crash made his advisers jump in their chairs.
‘Do you think it has worked?’ Napoleon asked Lucien two weeks later as they sat in the same room, on either side of the fire. Outside, rain lashed down on Paris so that the tiled roofs gleamed like fish scales.
‘As well as it could,’ Lucien conceded. ‘Talleyrand has not made any more comments about your policy in Spain, or any form of criticism. The same goes for Fouché, who has even refused to be seen in the same room as Talleyrand for fear of being associated with him. People are being very careful about what they say in public at the moment. I think you can rest easy.’
‘Good.’
‘The thing is, I still don’t see why you don’t at least have them quietly sent into exile. They are dangerous men and should not go unpunished.’
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.’
‘And the rest of the speech?’
‘Usual flummery, sir. And a nice bit about how you are going to crush the French armies in Portugal and Spain before you finally defeat the French Emperor himself.’
‘Ah, well, yes,’ Arthur responded awkwardly. ‘Please convey my humble appreciation for the honour the chamberlain does me.Tell him that I give my word that the French aggressors will rue the day that they ever dared to wage war on the people of Portugal.’
Beresford translated, speaking loud enough for his words to be clearly audible to the element of the crowd closest to the stage. As he finished the crowd erupted in a great cheer and Arthur turned towards them and raised his hat to acknowledge their acclaim. When he had finished, he crammed his bicorn back on his head, this time front to back to indicate that he was on active service. He turned to Beresford.
‘Better cut this as short as we can. There are matters to discuss, not to mention the usual formalities.’ Before Arthur could assume command of the army he would have to present his authorisation to the current commander, General Cradock. It would be an altogether more formal affair than the occasion when Burrard had superseded Arthur on the battlefield of Vimeiro. It suddenly struck him that the worm had finally turned.This was the first time he had enjoyed the fruits of seniority.
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