The Generals r-2

by Simon Scarrow

  After twenty minutes of terrible carnage, the Austrians were still attempting to draw their men up in a battle line. Napoleon realised that this was the moment to strike the decisive blow.

  ‘Order Marmont to cease fire. Tell Desaix to charge home!’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Berthier nodded.

  As soon as the last of the guns fell silent, the leading battalions of Desaix’s men marched through the dense bank of smoke and emerged a short distance from the enemy. Napoleon watched as Desaix ordered his men to halt and volley fire, before they advanced to point-blank range and halted to reload and fire again. Volley after volley rang out from both sides, each one wreaking terrible carnage. As he watched Napoleon sensed that the impetus was quickly draining from the French attack. Unless the Austrians broke soon, he doubted that they ever would.

  A sudden sheet of flame tore up into the sky a short distance behind the head of the enemy column and Napoleon saw scores of men hurled aside by the blast. The red flame of the explosion faded and a rolling mushroom cloud billowed above the Austrian lines. He saw a crater in the road and scores of blackened bodies and body parts lay scattered around it.

  ‘Jesus,’ Napoleon muttered in horror. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Must have been an ammunition wagon,’ Berthier replied. ‘Lucky shot from our side must have set it off.’

  The explosion caused a brief lull in the fighting.The Austrians had turned towards the sound of the blast, dazed and frightened. At that moment a trumpet call sounded from Napoleon’s left and he turned and saw that the small body of cavalry covering the left flank was moving, picking up speed as it surged forward down the side of the enemy column, and then wheeled inwards towards the Austrians, still shaken by the blast.

  ‘The young fool!’ Berthier said through clenched teeth. ‘He’ll get himself killed.’

  Napoleon strained his eyes and realised that the cavalry formation belonged to Kellermann, the son of the hero of Valmy, and one of Murat’s most promising officers. Napoleon shook his head. ‘No, he’s done the right thing. It’s perfectly timed. Look!’

  Kellermann’s troopers launched themselves into a charge, trumpets blaring and colours rippling in the wind as they spurred their mounts forward, extending their heavy swords until the glinting blades pointed directly at the terrified Austrians in front of them. A few had the presence of mind to turn and fire their muskets at the charging horsemen; then they were engulfed by the French cavalry and the Austrian column shattered. Men threw down their heavy muskets and ran, fleeing back down the road towards Marengo, and away from the advancing lines of the men of Victor’s and Lannes’s divisions. As far as Napoleon could see the battlefield was covered with white-coated figures streaming away from their French pursuers. Large bodies of men, still in column, laid down their arms and surrendered and their colours were snatched from their hands by jubilant Frenchmen.

  As dusk gathered over the battlefield Napoleon made his way forward with Berthier. There was a thick belt of bodies where Marmont’s guns had torn into the leading battalions of the enemy column and then two lines of corpses where Desaix’s men had exchanged volleys with the enemy before they had finally broken. From the earliest reports to have reached headquarters it seemed that over five thousand of the enemy had been killed and an even larger number taken prisoner, along with forty guns, fifteen colours and General Zach, the second in command of the Austrian army. Nightfall, and the presence of strong detachments of Austrian cavalry, had ended the French pursuit and across the plain the exhausted men were re-forming their units and marching back to camp.

  Amid all the reports there had been no word from Desaix and Napoleon felt a growing concern for his friend as he edged across the battlefield. Then, just outside the hamlet of Vigna Santa, he saw a group of officers gathered beside the road. Amongst them stood an Austrian general, head bowed in shame. Napoleon strode across the corpse-littered ground towards them and saw that they were clustered about a body sprawled on the ground. Napoleon pushed his way through and looked down.

  Desaix lay on his back, head flung to one side, eyes wide open. A bloody hole had been torn through his breast. His sword lay at his side.

  Napoleon knelt down. He stared at the body, and his throat tightened. No words came to him. His heart felt heavy and he reached forward and closed Desaix’s eyes as Berthier approached the group.

  Berthier clapped his hands together as he gazed round the battlfield. ‘My God! We’ve won! We’ve beaten them. Sir, you’ve won a geat victory . . . sir?’ Then he saw Desaix. ‘Oh, no . . .’

  ‘Excuse me,’ a voice interrupted, in accented French. ‘General Bonaparte?’

  Napoleon glanced up and saw the Austrian officer standing over him in the gloom, holding out his sword, handle first. Rising to his feet, Napoleon faced his enemy. General Zach stood stiffly as he surrendered his weapon.

  ‘To you the victory, General Bonaparte.’

  Napoleon took the sword, noting its finely wrought hilt and jewelled guard. He held it for a moment and then shook his head.

  ‘The victory is not mine. Had it not been for Desaix I would be presenting you with my sword. No, the victory is not mine. Truly, it belongs to another.’

  He knelt down again, and placed the sword across Desaix’s chest, and folded the dead man’s arms across the blade. Then he stood up and pushed his way through the cordon of officers and strode back towards his headquarters before anyone could see the first tears welling up in his eyes.

  Chapter 55

  Arthur

  Seringapatam, May 1799

  As the sun rose on Tipoo’s capital, the day after the city had fallen, it revealed the men of General Baird’s assault column still plundering the city and wholly out of control. Smoke billowed up from several fires that were spreading, unchecked by the British forces inside the walls.

  As he waded across the south Cauvery river with Captain Fitzroy Arthur looked at the columns of smoke billowing up into the rosy sky with growing anger. His companion sensed his mood and muttered, ‘What the hell does Baird think he’s playing at? If those fires aren’t put out we’ll lose half the city.’

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur replied quietly. ‘That’s something we’ll have to put right as soon as I take charge.’

  He unconsciously touched the bulge in his jacket, where he had put the orders from General Harris authorising him to take command of all British forces in the city. The same orders required Baird and his staff to quit Seringapatam and return to Harris’s camp two miles to the west. Arthur had already given instructions for his regiment, the 33rd Foot, to be formed up and ready for action the moment he assumed command of the forces inside Seringapatam and restored order to end the looting, raping and murder.

  By rights, as brigadier of the day, Baird should not be relieved until midday, but General Harris realised that the sacking of the city had to be ended as soon as possible. Baird was not the man to do it. His dislike of Indians generally, and his vengeful hatred of the people of Mysore in particular, meant that he was the very last man in the British army who could be trusted with bringing order back to the city and steering it towards a long-lasting alliance with Britain and the East India Company. By contrast, there was hardly a man more suitable for the job than Arthur Wellesley. He spoke the native tongue, and had the necessary tact and respect to work alongside the people of Mysore. More shrewdly, Harris was aware that the younger brother of the Governor General would be sure to do his utmost to implement Richard’s policy of expanding British power in India by way of treaties, alliances and, where necessary, force. A policy of which Harris wholeheartedly approved.

  Arthur and Fitzroy emerged on the far side of the crossing and entered the wall through the breach. Baird had sent word that he had moved his headquarters to the Dowlut Baugh,Tipoo’s palace on the far side of the city. The streets were quiet, as most of the looters were sleeping off the debauchery of the previous night. The inhabitants of Seringapatam were still hiding, behind locked and barricaded
doors, hoping that their homes would prove too much of a challenge to the looters and encourage them to search for easier pickings amongst their neighbours. There were some men, more resilient or simply more sober than their comrades, who were still looking for booty, women and drink, and they made no effort to stand to attention and salute as the two officers strode past. For his part, Arthur ignored them.There was no sense in getting caught up in an ugly scene that might well result in harm to him and his companion. The British soldiers were not the only looters on the street. A number of natives were breaking into shops to steal whatever they could while the city was lawless. The situation was made worse by the prisoners who had escaped from the city’s dungeons during the assault.

  Those killed in the looting as well as the fighting lay in the streets and Fitzroy looked in disgust at the body of a dark-skinned native girl, no older than twelve or thirteen, who lay on her back, her sari thrust up around her waist and her legs apart.

  ‘That has to stop,’ Arthur said firmly. ‘At once. If ever I take another enemy city, then I’ll hang the first man I catch who commits rape and murder.’

  The Dowlut Baugh had been built just beyond the wall of the city on the bank of the north Cauvery. It was surrounded with ornamental gardens. Unlike the palace in the city, the Dowlut Baugh was airy and spacious and seemed more suited to a philosopher king than a warrior tyrant like Tipoo. The gate was guarded by the grenadiers from Arthur’s regiment who had taken part in the assault. Major Shee emerged from the guardhouse as soon as he had word of Arthur’s arrival.

  ‘Good to see you, sir!’

  ‘And you. Where are the rest of the men?’

  ‘They’re gathering at the mosque. I’ve had the officers and sergeants rounding them up since we got your orders, sir.’

  ‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded approvingly. ‘You had better join them. I want twenty-man patrols ready to scour the city as soon as I take command.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Where’s General Baird?’

  ‘At breakfast.’ Shee nodded to the palace. ‘In the banquet hall. You can’t miss it, sir.’

  ‘Right. Come, Fitzroy.’

  They left Shee and crunched up the gravel path to the ornately carved white stone of the entrance portico. The palace was guarded by more of the grenadiers, who stiffened to attention as their colonel entered the building. Inside the entrance was a large reception hall with arched doorways leading to other chambers. The sounds of light-hearted conversation could be heard through the door to the left and Arthur led the way over to it. Inside, the walls rose up to a domed roof decorated with hunting scenes.The room was perhaps thirty yards across, and on a dais on the far side Baird and his officers were sitting at a table. Several of the palace servants were serving them freshly prepared mangoes, oranges and other small fruits. As Arthur and Fitzroy crossed the hall Baird and his officers turned at the sound of their footsteps. Baird rose up, cigar in hand, and waved towards the table.

  ‘Wellesley! Come and join us!’

  Arthur ignored the invitation with a shake of his head. ‘Sorry, sir. I have orders to carry out.’ He reached inside his jacket for the folded letter and handed it to Baird. ‘From General Harris, sir.’

  Baird tore open the wafer seal and unfolded the sheet of paper. Holding it in one hand as he lifted the cigar to his mouth with the other, his eyes scanned the document. Then he glanced up.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this? I’m brigadier of the day, and as commander of the assault I should be left in charge of the city.’

  ‘I didn’t get the impression that anyone is in charge when we made our way through the streets just now, sir.’

  ‘The lads are just having some fun.’ Baird waved. ‘They’ve earned it. Rules of war are clear enough. If a town or city does not yield before the breach is practical, then it’s fair game for the besiegers.’

  ‘These people had no part in Tipoo’s war against us. They’re little more than bystanders.To subject them to the full horrors of an unrestrained army is immoral, General. The looting has to stop.’

  ‘Does it?’ Baird smiled. ‘On whose authority?’

  ‘Mine. General Harris has appointed me acting Governor of Mysore with immediate effect. As it says in the letter.’

  Baird glanced at the sheet of paper again, until his eyes found the phrase. ‘Immediate effect . . . So it does.’

  For a moment Baird stared at Arthur, with a glowering expression. His officers looked on in uncomfortable silence, ignoring their food. Then Baird leaned forward and stubbed his cigar out on his plate. ‘Damn you, Wellesley! You’ve been up to your bloody tricks again.’

  ‘Tricks, sir?’ Arthur responded icily.

  ‘You know damn well what I’m talking about! Milking your family connections for all they’re worth.’

  ‘I can assure you, sir, that I had no part in making this decision.’ Arthur felt his pulse racing as he responded to the attack on his honour. ‘If you are suggesting that I have not acted as a gentleman should in this matter, then you would leave me little choice but to ask for satisfaction.’

  Baird rose to his feet, towering over Arthur, and jabbed a thick finger at him. ‘You impudent fool, I could swat you away like a fly. But we all know what harm that would do to my career with your brother running the show. So there’ll be no duel.’

  ‘As you please, sir,’ Arthur replied. ‘Now, with these men as witnesses, I hereby relieve you of command of the forces in Seringapatam.’

  Baird glared at him, then flicked Harris’s letter aside and turned to his officers. ‘Come, gentlemen, it seems we are not wanted here.’

  Arthur felt his anger and frustration boiling up inside him. So far he had managed to contain it, but now, at Baird’s petulant behaviour, his reserve snapped.

  ‘Oh, finish your damned breakfast!’ He turned about and strode away, followed by a bemused Fitzroy. Outside in the hall he stopped and whacked his palm against his thigh. ‘As long as there are men like that exercising any kind of power in India, we cannot hope to win her people over.’

  ‘I rather thought we were here to defend the Company’s interests,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Not to court popularity amongst the natives.’

  ‘You cannot have one without the other.’ Arthur turned to look his friend directly in the eyes. ‘Besides, there are bigger issues at stake. These lands may yet become the greatest prize that any empire has ever won.’

  The first challenge to face Arthur was to bring order to the ravaged streets of Seringapatam. As soon as he had assumed authority over the city he joined Major Shee and the 33rd Foot. Summoning the officers he swiftly briefed them on his intentions.

  ‘It is vital that the people here can resume a normal life as soon as possible.That can only happen if they believe that we will not tolerate any further indiscipline.’ Arthur paused to make sure that his next words would be clearly understood. ‘To that end you will each be assigned a section of the city by Captain Fitzroy. You will enter your areas and detain any soldiers you encounter. They are to be escorted outside the city walls at once. Those caught in the act of looting will be flogged on the spot, before being thrown outside. Any man caught in the act of murder or rape will be taken to the nearest city gate and hanged. I want no one to be in any doubt about the consequences of indiscipline. Any questions?’

  Major Shee nodded.‘Does that apply to our lads as well as the natives?’

  ‘It applies to all soldiers, without regard to race or regiment. That includes the men of the 33rd.’

  One of the younger officers nervously raised his hand.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Begging your pardon, sir. But won’t hanging white soldiers damage morale?’

  ‘Perhaps. But if we don’t do it, then far more damage will be done to the reputation of our army and the Company.You have your orders and you will carry them out. Understand?’

  The officer nodded.

  ‘Then, go to it, gentlemen. I want order restored on the streets
by no later than the end of the day. Dismissed!’

  By dusk, the fires had been put out, a curfew had been established on the streets and the city was firmly under the control of the acting Governor. The last remnants of Baird’s assault force had been turned out of the city, some bearing the red stripes of a recent flogging, and four red-coated bodies hung from a gibbet over the Mysore gate. The next day, Arthur turned his attention to another pressing issue: the disposal of the corpses that littered the streets and walls of Seringapatam. They had already been exposed to the heat of the Indian sun for nearly two days and the stench of putrefaction filled the still air. Hundreds of the prisoners were ordered to dig mass graves on the eastern end of the island and for five days carts and wagons loaded with bodies trundled out of the city and deposited their grisly burdens into the pits. Over nine thousand of the enemy had been killed in the assault, dwarfing the British losses of little more than three hundred dead.

  Tipoo was spared the indignity of a mass grave and granted full honours of war the day that Arthur took control of the city. He organised the burial rites in person.Tipoo’s sons, his surviving ministers and officers from his army were permitted to attend and followed the gun carriage bearing his body to the pyre in a corner of the grounds of the Dowlut Baugh as dark clouds thickened overhead. An honour guard of men from the 33rd lifted the body on to the carefully built layers of wood, decorated with flowers and ornately patterned shrouds. Then, as the first flames licked up around the body, the guns on the city wall boomed out one by one in a solemn salute to the fallen ruler. As his followers wept, rain began to fall, accompanied by jabs of forked lightning that stabbed down from the heavens in blinding daggers of dazzling light.

  More than one man had fallen, Arthur reflected as he watched the smoke swirling up into the sky, where it was quickly lost against the heavy black clouds hanging overhead. Tipoo would be the last of his line to rule Mysore. His sons were to be sent into exile in Vellore and the throne of Mysore was to be restored to its original line of Hindu rajas, the sole survivor being a five-year-old boy. Since Krishna Wodeyar was too young to rule in his own right, a regent needed to be found. Another problem that vexed Arthur, since the man in question must have the respect of the native population, as well as the trust of the British.