Fire and Sword r-3

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Let go of me!’ the man shouted. ‘Let me go, you fuckers!’

  One of the men holding him suddenly lashed out and smashed a fist into the soldier’s jaw. ‘Shut your mouth!’

  Napoleon paused in the street as the little party drew close to the church. As soon as they recognised him the soldiers halted and stared at him awkwardly.

  ‘Well?’ Napoleon glared at them. ‘Don’t you salute your emperor?’

  The officer recovered first. ‘Attention!’

  The three men ahead of him snapped their arms to their sides and stood straight-backed, chins up.The man in the middle stood still as the blood oozed from his cut lip and dripped on to his white cross-straps. Napoleon strode up to them.

  ‘What is the meaning of this? Lieutenant, what has this man done?’

  ‘We caught him looting a shrine on the edge of the village, sir.’

  ‘Looting, eh?’ Napoleon turned to the middle man. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Geunet, sire.’The man’s gaze did not flicker as he continued to stare straight ahead. ‘Jean Geunet, private, third company, first battalion, forty-second regiment of the line, sire.’

  ‘One of General Ruffin’s regiments then.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘And what did you manage to loot from the shrine, Geunet?’

  ‘Sire, it was only an offering of food. Half a loaf of bread and a joint of lamb.’

  ‘I see. And you are of course aware of my orders concerning pillaging?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’The man straightened up.‘But it was not pillaging. I did not steal it from anyone.’

  ‘But you did steal it from the shrine, did you not?’

  The soldier nodded. ‘I was hungry, sir. All the lads are. Almost starving.’

  ‘But these men with you have not stolen anything, have they?’

  The soldier’s eyes met those of his Emperor.‘I don’t know.Why don’t you ask them, sire?’

  ‘Because you were caught and they weren’t. That’s why, you impudent dog.’ Napoleon turned to the lieutenant again.‘Is this man in your unit?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘And where are you taking Private Geunet?’

  ‘To battalion headquarters, sire.’ The lieutenant held up a haversack. ‘The bread and meat are in here, sire, and these two men witnessed the theft. The private’s case will be heard by the colonel, and then he will be sentenced, according to your general order, sire.’

  Napoleon frowned.‘Your colonel is about to be a very busy man. He has no time to deal with this matter.’ Geunet puffed his cheeks out in relief and looked towards the Emperor with a grateful expression. In other circumstances Napoleon might have pardoned the man, but that morning, in the chill of the fog, with the ache in his head and several restless nights behind him, the Emperor’s mood was surly and cold to the point of cruelty. He turned round and beckoned to one of the orderlies who accompanied him along with his personal escort of Polish light cavalry.

  ‘Give me some paper and a pencil.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’ The orderly delved into his despatch bag and handed the requested materials to his Emperor with a bow.

  ‘Turn round,’ Napoleon ordered. ‘Keep your back still.’

  As the orderly did as he was ordered Napoleon held the paper to his back and began to write. By the authority of his imperial majesty, the Emperor Napoleon, Private Jean Geunet has been found guilty of pillaging. In accordance with standing orders he is sentenced to summary execution. By order of Napoleon.

  He signed his name and handed the document to the lieutenant. ‘There. Have it entered into regimental records. Now take Private Geunet back to the shrine and shoot him.’

  ‘Sire?’The lieutenant stared back.

  ‘Did you not hear my order?’

  ‘Well, yes, sire.’

  ‘Then carry it out immediately or I will have you charged with insubordination.’

  ‘Yes, sire!’ The lieutenant saluted and turned at once to his men. ‘Take hold of him!’

  Geunet’s expression was one of pure horror. A moment earlier he had been convinced that the Emperor had been about to pardon him, or at least order a lenient punishment. Now he collapsed to his knees and clasped the hem of Napoleon’s greatcoat.

  ‘Sire! I beg you. Show me mercy. I have a family, in Toulon. A wife, two children.’

  Napoleon looked down at him coldly. ‘Get your hands off me.’

  ‘Sire.’ Geunet’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t have me shot. Put me in the front rank. At least give me a chance to die with a musket in my hand. For my country. For you, sire.’

  Napoleon ignored him. ‘Take this man away, and carry out the sentence.’

  Geunet’s two companions grabbed his elbows and hauled him roughly to his feet before pinning his arms behind his back and thrusting him away from the Emperor, back down the street in the direction they had come from. Geunet struggled to twist his head round and called out, ‘Sire! Don’t let them shoot me. Please, sire!’

  Napoleon ignored his calls and walked to the horse being held by a groom. Once in the saddle he spurred the animal forward and rode down the street that led towards the pass.The escort followed him in a rumbling cascade of hooves, and as the party left Sepúlveda behind them the sound of two musket shots rang out.

  A short distance from the village the gradient of the road began to increase noticeably and within minutes they had emerged from the dawn fog and could clearly see the way ahead of them. Already some of Ruffin’s skirmishers were advancing up the hill, on either side of the road, warily watching for any signs of their opposite numbers. But there was no movement below the summit and Napoleon was sure that the enemy had positioned all available men in the pass itself. He went forward with his escort along the narrow cart track that began to zigzag up the slope. When they neared the small hillock he had spotted from the church, he led them off the track and towards the crest.As Napoleon had hoped, the slightly elevated position gave a good view of the Spanish defences less than a mile ahead.

  The Polish captain commanding the escort edged his mount closer to the Emperor and coughed. ‘Excuse me, sire. But aren’t we in range of the nearest battery?’

  Napoleon glanced at the earthworks opposite and slightly higher than the hillock.‘It would be extreme range. I doubt they will waste the ammunition.’

  ‘Even so, I would rather you did not take the risk, sire.’

  Napoleon turned towards him and glared.‘We are safe here, Captain. Besides, there is no other position from which to observe the fight. Now still your tongue.’

  The captain opened his mouth, then nodded and saluted before walking his horse away to a respectful distance behind the Emperor.

  Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s division marched out of the fog and began to climb the road up to the pass.As the men passed the Emperor’s position they cheered and Napoleon made himself raise his hat in acknowledgement, provoking fresh cheers from soldiers delighted by the simple gesture.As they neared the pass, the division halted and began to deploy in line. Ahead of them the skirmishers fired the first shots of the day at the enemy’s light infantry, who were sheltering behind rocks and folds in the ground just ahead of their main position. Soon tiny puffs of smoke were blossoming across the slope. Napoleon watched the deployment with a growing sense of impatience, tapping the top of his boot with his riding crop. At length the drums rolled and the division edged forward. As soon as they came in sight of the Spanish guns the latter opened fire and the first balls tore through the French ranks, scattering bodies in all directions. Ruffin’s men continued on towards the line of enemy infantry, the units on each flank taking the heaviest casualties as they approached the Spanish batteries. Inevitably, the line began to bow as the men being pounded by artillery slowed down, and finally stopped a short distance in front of the battery opposite Napoleon.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Napoleon muttered irritably. ‘Get moving . . .’

  The flanking battalion had suffered too many casualties and the men refus
ed to advance any further. As the officers and sergeants tried to urge them on, the soldiers loosed off their muskets at the Spanish guns, which were shielded by their earthworks. It was a futile gesture that did not ease the storm of shot tearing the battalion to pieces.Then the first of the men fell back, away from the guns. More followed, and then the entire battalion was retiring, some of the men running, not stopping until the guns were out of sight. A lone officer remained on the bloodied ground, surrounded by bodies. He raised his sword and shouted, trying to shame his men into re-joining the attack. Then, as Napoleon watched, a round shot cut him in half. His legs stood still for an instant, before buckling and collapsing amid the carnage.

  ‘Shit.’ Napoleon clenched his fists as he glared at the scattered men of the battalion, then at the Spanish battery. Some of the gun crews had climbed on top of the earthworks and were jeering at the Frenchmen.

  ‘Damn them!’ Napoleon growled. He turned angrily in his saddle and pointed at the captain of his escort.‘Take that battery for me! At the gallop! Now.’

  The captain looked up the narrow track to the pass, where it crossed the open ground in front of the enemy line.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Napoleon snapped.

  The captain saluted and turned to shout orders to his squadron.The eighty men of his command formed up in column, four abreast. Drawing his sabre, the captain spurred his horse forward and galloped up the track.With cries to urge their mounts on and the jingling of bits the rest of the men pounded after him. Napoleon watched as the squadron charged up the road, past the men of the battalion that had broken earlier. As they reached the pass and came within range of the nearest Spanish infantry the enemy loosed off a volley, knocking several men from their horses. The horsemen slowed, veered away towards the shelter of a small outcrop of rocks and reined in. Napoleon rose up in his stirrups.

  ‘What the devil? What are those cowards doing? Attack, you fools! Attack! How dare you cower in front of that gang of Spanish peasants?’ He turned to one of his orderlies. ‘You! Ride up there and tell them to continue the charge. Tell them that they shame themselves and they shame their Emperor. Go!’

  The orderly saluted and spurred his horse forward. Bending low over the animal’s neck he raced across the ground in front of the Spanish infantry and reined in with the surviving men of the escort, who were busy forming up in the shelter of the rocks. Napoleon saw the orderly gesturing back towards the hillock as he passed on the order. The captain of the escort seemed to argue for a moment and then turned away, making for the head of his small band of comrades. His sabre flashed as he raised it up, held it there for a moment and then swept it towards the nearest Spanish battery. The squadron burst out of the cover of the rocks and charged towards the enemy guns. As soon as they emerged, the Spanish artillery opened up, firing case shot into the charging Poles.The blasts tore men and horses apart, and ripped up the ground around them.The distance to the guns was no more than a quarter of a mile, and every shot struck down two or three men at a time as they charged towards their objective. The men’s instinct for self-preservation caused their ranks to spread out so they presented a more open target as they galloped on, swords flashing, desperately shouting their war cries. It was all over in less than a minute. The last man reached the earthworks, spurred his horse up above the gunners, and was instantly shot from his saddle. The rest of his comrades, and their mounts, lay strewn across the ground in front of the battery.

  Napoleon swallowed at the pitiful sight.They had died at his order. His temper had snapped and their lives had been thrown away. His headache was worse than ever and he reached up and rubbed his brow. Then he gestured to one of his remaining orderlies. ‘Ride back to headquarters. I want a regiment of Guard cavalry brought forward.They are to wait below the pass until they are ordered to charge.’

  As he waited for reinforcements Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s men steadily fought their way forward again and began to take on the Spanish infantry in an unequal musket duel. Better training and discipline on the part of the French meant that enemy soldiers soon melted away. A dense column of chasseurs pounded up the road past Napoleon’s hillock, formed into lines just below the crest and stood waiting with drawn sabres. Up ahead the smoke from the musket duel wreathed the pass, swirling away here and there as the wind carried it off. Through such a gap Napoleon saw that the Spanish line was wavering and immediately sent forward the order to charge.

  The strident notes of cavalry trumpets echoed down the slope and then the horsemen swept forward in a rumbling wave, sweeping round the end of Ruffin’s infantry and rolling up the enemy line before splitting in two and charging each of the enemy batteries. It was a brave sight. Too brave for the defenders, who threw down their weapons and their equipment and ran for their lives. Napoleon watched for a while longer until he could be sure that the pass was in French hands. Then, wincing at the pounding agony in his head, he turned his horse away from the battle and rode back down to the village of Sepúlveda. Berthier sent for his camp bed from the army wagon train and had it set up in a small cell built on one side of the church for the local priest. Napoleon gratefully collapsed on to his bed, fully dressed, and fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 49

  As soon as the last of the enemy was cleared from the pass the army advanced over the Guadarrama range and on to the plain beyond. The first French cavalry patrols rode warily into the suburbs of the Spanish capital the day after the Battle of Somosierra. They reported back to imperial headquarters that the Madrid junta had ordered the arming of thousands of the common people, and the construction of makeshift defences and artillery positions to cover the approaches to the capital’s gates. In the first days of December the French army made camp outside the city and constructed their own batteries of siege guns ready to pound the hastily erected defences surrounding the entrance to Madrid.

  While preparations for the assault were made Napoleon sent an envoy forward to demand the surrender of the capital. On the first day the envoy was rudely rebuffed, but on the second, the junta requested the opportunity to discuss terms. Accordingly, as evening fell over the plain and the soldiers began to light their fires, a small party of representatives rode out from Madrid and were shown to the gated estate that had been chosen for the imperial headquarters. Napoleon waited for them with his brother Joseph, and Berthier was with them to take notes, as ever. Once the representatives had been searched they were escorted into the Emperor’s presence by a section of guardsmen, who remained in attendance, watchful for any sign of treachery from the Spaniards. Napoleon had decided to keep the encounter as brief and formal as possible and there were no chairs in the room. The fire had not been lit, but the room was brightly illuminated by scores of candles burning in the heavy iron holders suspended from the ceiling. The leader of the Spaniards, a tall, graceful man of advanced years, stepped forward to speak for the junta.

  ‘I am Don Francisco Pedrosa of Castille, grandee of Spain and member of the Madrid junta, your imperial majesty.’ He concluded with an elaborate bow. Don Francisco had studiously avoided looking at Joseph, as if he was not even in the room, and Napoleon felt his anger rise at this deliberate slight to his brother.

  ‘Are you authorised to accept terms, or merely to discuss them?’ he asked tersely.

  ‘I speak and act for the junta,’ Don Francisco answered. ‘If we make an agreement here, tonight, it will be binding.’

  ‘And these other men with you.Who are they?’

  ‘Members of the junta and representatives of the Madrid councils.’

  ‘Do they speak French?’

  ‘They do. The junta insisted that negotiations be held in front of witnesses.’

  ‘Really? But your witnesses are hardly impartial, Don Francisco.’

  ‘Any more than yours are, sire.’The Spaniard smiled wearily.‘I doubt there is an impartial man left in Europe these days.’

  Napoleon returned the smile. ‘We live in difficult times, señor. Though that
does not need to be the case. France and Spain are allies.’

  ‘Allies? I think not, sire.You come here as invaders.’

  ‘No.We come here to restore the rightful King of Spain to his throne and end the civil strife that is tearing his kingdom apart.’ Napoleon placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. ‘You have but to acknowledge his legitimacy and set down your arms and I swear to you that my soldiers will leave Spanish soil.’

  ‘All of them?’ asked Don Francisco.‘And can you guarantee that they will not return?’

  ‘They will not return of my volition. I have no desire to enter the territory of an ally, without that ally’s express permission.’

  ‘I see.’ Don Francisco nodded. ‘You will forgive me for asking, sire, but from whom would such permission be sought?’