The Fields of Death

by Scarrow, Simon

  The doctor took a quick look across the room to the bed and then spoke in a low urgent tone.‘Sire, I have to tell you that there is a danger that you may lose both your wife and the child if the labour continues much longer. If it comes to the crisis we may still be able to save one or the other. But I must know now which it is to be: the mother or the child.’

  Napoleon raised a hand and clasped it to his forehead as he considered the doctor’s words. He had risen early the day before to deal with state business, and shortly before noon a breathless servant had arrived in his office with the news that the Empress had gone into labour. Napoleon had rushed to her side at once and remained there through the rest of the day, and on through the long night into the next morning. He was exhausted, and it took some effort to marshal his thoughts. The main purpose of his marriage to Marie-Louise was to secure an heir. Now he was on the cusp of achieving that goal. If it came to a choice he knew that he should put the child before the mother, in the interests of France.

  And yet, he hesitated. It was true that he had married her out of cold-blooded self-interest, but since they had met, and he had bedded her on that first occasion, a genuine affection for her had grown in his heart. She was not beautiful, but she had an innocent grace about her. The first night the sex had been strained and functional, but she had quickly surrendered herself to the pleasure of the act. For his part, Napoleon enjoyed the thrill of bedding a virgin. Not just any virgin, but the flower of one of the oldest royal families in Europe. Now, finally, he had taken a wife worthy of an emperor and with good fortune there would one day be a prince who would unite the interests of France and Austria. For that reason, as much as any, he loved her.

  And if he chose the child and let the mother die, then the damage to relations with Austria would be incalculable. At present, Napoleon was cultivating an alliance with Austria against the day when he would finally be forced to confront the Russians on the battlefield. That thought settled his calculations and he looked up at the doctor.

  ‘If it comes to a choice, save the mother.’

  The doctor bowed his head. ‘Yes, sire.’

  They returned to the bed just as Marie-Louise had another agonising contraction and the doctor examined her again, this time nodding with satisfaction. ‘The dilation has increased. The child is coming, sire.’

  Napoleon resumed his place beside his wife and took her hand, and gently stroked her head with his spare hand as he spoke gently.‘Did you hear? The child is coming. Be strong, my love; it will be over soon and the pain will pass.’

  She gritted her teeth and nodded, then strained again.

  ‘The child is coming, sire,’ said the doctor. ‘I can see the crown emerging now.’

  Marie-Louise suddenly screamed and arched her back and a sudden, glutinous rush of liquids soaked the sheet covering her knees.

  The crowd outside the palace stirred as the signal flag was hoisted up the mast above the Tuileries. There was a brief roar of relief and delight that the Emperor’s child had been born, then the cheers subsided as they waited to discover if it was a boy or a girl. A distant thud sounded from the battery at Montmarte, then another, and the crowd counted each discharge as it rolled across Paris like thunder. As the twentieth gun sounded the crowd fell absolutely silent, and waited.

  Another gun fired, and some muttered to themselves, ‘Twenty-one.’

  The sound died away and then there was a pause. No more than the regulation interval between shots, but the moment seemed to stretch out intolerably.

  The boom of the next gun was instantly swallowed up by a roar of joyous exultation as the crowd waved their arms, and some threw their hats into the air. In amongst them were members of the Paris militia, and they stuck their cocked hats on the ends of their muskets and raised them high, the red plumes dancing above the crowd. Bottles and jars of wine were uncorked and passed around as the mob celebrated the arrival of the Emperor’s heir.

  In the palace, Napoleon waited as the doctor and the midwife carefully swaddled the cleaned child. On the bed, Marie-Louise sat propped up. Now that the delivery was over she looked exhausted but radiantly happy, and she smiled at her husband.

  ‘Show him to the people, but not for too long. It is cold outside.’

  ‘Yes, my dear.’ Spontaneously, Napoleon rushed across the room and held her gently as he kissed her on the lips. ‘You have made me the happiest man in all Europe.’

  ‘That pleases me.’

  He looked down at her fondly. ‘This means everything to me. My son, our child, marks the true union of France and Austria, and our own.’

  She touched his cheek. ‘I am glad. I am also tired, my dear husband. I must sleep. But you must show our son to your people. Go now.’

  Napoleon kissed her again and crossed to the midwife who was holding his child. As he took the small bundle in his arms and gazed down at the tiny wrinkled face he felt a surge of tenderness and love that he had never experienced before in his life. Then the doctor opened the long glazed door on to the balcony, and Napoleon emerged with his child. The cheers of the crowd reached a deafening climax as they beheld the Emperor and his heir. Napoleon turned slowly so that all the people who had gathered in the Place du Carrousel, tens of thousands of his subjects, could see the child as the guns continued to thunder out across the capital. Already the signal stations that stretched across France would be carrying the news to every city, town and village. Soon the guns of every French army would be echoing the salute across the empire, from the cold expanse of Poland to the hills and plains of Spain and Portugal.

  The celebrations for the birth of the emperor’s son, whom Napoleon named François Charles Joseph, soon abated and Napoleon turned his mind back to the growing number of problems besetting his empire. When his advisory council met in the palace on a clear spring day there was little sense of any good cheer that the change of seasons had brought to the capital. Looking down the table Napoleon was struck by how few men of genuine talent remained for him to call on. Talleyrand remained in disgrace. Fouché had been removed from office after rumours had reached Napoleon’s ear that the Minister of Police was plotting against his master yet again. Fouché had been attempting to negotiate with the English to discover what terms they would consider, if anything happened to the Emperor. It had been tempting to have Fouché imprisoned, but the minister had many supporters in the capital, as well as a network of agents across the country. Napoleon could not risk becoming a victim of his vengeance.

  Talleyrand had been implicated in the same plot, and had been stripped of his office as the Emperor’s Grand Chamberlain. There was no question that Talleyrand could ever be trusted, but his intelligence and peerless diplomatic connections meant that Napoleon did not dare dispense with his services completely. For the moment Talleyrand must be shunned, to teach him a lesson. In time Napoleon would readmit him to his close circle of advisors, but only when Talleyrand had come to appreciate that his influence and power were at the whim of his Emperor.

  Napoleon had replaced Fouché with General Savary, a man whose loyalty was unquestionable. Sadly, his ability was somewhat more uncertain, and he was neither as well connected as his predecessor, nor as clever and cunning. As a consequence government officials had returned to their old vices and were as corruptible as they had ever been under the Bourbons. The Minister of Finance, Cordet, was equally second rate and relied too heavily on the advice of his subordinates. Lastly, the new Foreign Minister, Maret, had no opinions of his own and merely deferred to everything that the Emperor said.

  The members of the council, and two of the imperial secretaries, had arrived first, as protocol dictated, and stood beside the table as they waited for their master to appear. Napoleon arrived promptly at the scheduled time and took his seat. Once he had made himself comfortable he waved a hand at the others. ‘Sit down, gentlemen.’

  Their chairs scraped as the officials took their seats, and the secretaries settled at their desks, set to one side. They hurri
edly took out inkwells, pens and notebooks from their satchels and prepared to take notes. When he could see that they were ready, Napoleon began.

  ‘Gentlemen, we have a considerable number of difficulties to resolve, foremost of which is the need to increase the flow of revenue to the treasury. Even allowing for the corruption of sundry officials, our receipts continue to fall. This is not acceptable at a time when it is essential to expand the army and the navy to meet current and future threats. Cordet, you speak for the treasury. What are your plans to deal with the situation?’

  Cordet swallowed as he flipped open his folder and quickly consulted his notes. ‘Sire, my officials are doing all that they can to collect taxes efficiently. I am told that a drop in tax raised from trading activities is the area where our loss of income is most pronounced.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Sire, trade is increasingly restricted right across Europe, due to the Continental Blockade,’ he ventured warily. ‘The embargo on trade with England is stifling all of the economies of Europe, including ours.’

  ‘I am aware of that,’ Napoleon cut in tersely. ‘But we are at war with England. If we are to defeat them then we must strike at their weak spot. England needs to trade with other nations, or die. There is no question of lifting the restrictions on trade with our enemy.’

  ‘All nations need to trade with England, sire, or their economies will wither. We and our allies have suffered enough already. In fact, I would argue that the Continental Blockade is doing far more to harm France’s cause than to assist it.’

  Napoleon frowned. He knew that Cordet spoke the truth. In Holland, Napoleon’s brother, King Louis, had all but abandoned any adherence to the system and the Emperor had been forced to annex the country and run it as a province of France. Louis had fled and gone into hiding, eventually resurfacing in the court of a Bohemian prince. Napoleon had been furious at first, but in the end he put his brother’s resistance to his will down to weakness of mind, and insanity.

  Cordet continued.‘Sire, for the good of France, it would be better to dismantle the system at once. Allow free trading to resume and tax revenues will rise.’

  Napoleon shook his head. ‘We have almost brought England to her knees. I know it. All it requires is one last push. If we can bind Europe to the system just a little longer England must sue for peace.’

  ‘With respect, sire, the Continental Blockade is failing. It is openly flouted right across Europe. Why, our ambassador to St Petersburg reports that English goods are freely available in the shops and markets there. English ships come and go from the port without the slightest hindrance. Is that not so?’ Cordet turned to the Foreign Minister.

  Maret looked pained, and shrugged. ‘That is what Ambassador Lauriston says. However, he is relatively new in his post and he may have been responding to hearsay. I shall write to him to ask for a more detailed report, sire.’

  Cordet shook his head in derision.‘You do that, Maret. Anything but make a decision, eh?’

  ‘Silence!’ Napoleon intervened. He stared round the table, daring anyone to defy him. Then he continued. ‘While we are at war with England, while our soldiers are needed to subdue Spain and Portugal, and while Russia seems intent on provoking us into a war, then the needs of our economy must serve the needs of our army, and our navy. Therefore we need to raise sufficient funds to pay for them. That is the problem we need to resolve, gentlemen.’

  There was a brief silence. Cordet shifted uneasily in his chair.

  ‘Sire. We have no choice but to cut back on our spending. Since military costs consume such a high proportion of government expenditure, they must be cut back.’

  ‘No,’ Napoleon responded sharply. ‘There is no question of cutting military expenditure. It would be madness to do that now, on the very cusp of victory.’

  ‘But, sire, the nation will be in debt for generations to come if you continue spending as you are.’

  ‘If a country is at war, then it must spend whatever is required to achieve victory. We can worry about the debt when we have achieved peace.’

  ‘And if we don’t have peace?’ Cordet countered. ‘Our economy will be crippled. Sire, might I remind you that it was the debt of the last of the Bourbon kings that brought on the Revolution. Would you risk a similar fate?’

  ‘There will not be another revolution. King Louis was weak. He gave too much ground to his opponents and his reign slipped from his fingers. I will not repeat his mistake. I rule with an iron fist.’ He nodded towards Savary. ‘My Minister of Police will ensure that the newspapers report what I want them to report. His agents will ensure that even the smallest hint of conspiracy will be investigated and any plotters eradicated. Is that not so, General?’

  Savary nodded. ‘As my Emperor wishes.’

  ‘Indeed. As I wish,’ Napoleon repeated emphatically.‘Very well, then. Now that we all understand how things stand, let me relate my military requirements to you. Cordet, take note.’ Napoleon continued without any need to refer to his notes. ‘One: the Army of Germany requires eighteen thousand more horses. These must be bought and delivered to training depots before the end of the year. Two: I will need another fifty thousand recruits to bring the armies of Germany and Spain up to full strength. Masséna’s reverses in Portugal have cost France dearly. He must be reinforced so that he can crush Lord Wellington and his army before the year is out. Three: the navy must be expanded as soon as possible. We must make good the losses of Trafalgar and then shift the balance in our favour sufficiently to overwhelm the Royal Navy. To that end I will issue orders for the construction of a hundred new ships of the line, together with seventy-five frigates.’

  He looked round the table. Cordet looked stunned.

  ‘Sire, you ask the impossible. We cannot possibly afford such an expense.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it will be done. We must be ready for war with Russia, when it comes. I shall expect a report from you within the month explaining to me how these requirements will be financed.’

  ‘A war with Russia is not inevitable,’ said Maret. ‘We should be concentrating our energies on finding an accommodation with them. It is by far the least costly option, in gold as well as lives.’

  ‘There can only be one great power in Europe,’ Napoleon said firmly. ‘It must be France, whatever the cost. As things stand, the situation is propitious for striking at Russia next year. At present the Tsar is engaged in a war with Turkey and a large army is tied down in that conflict. For the moment we enjoy good relations with most of the lands bordering Russia and they can be persuaded to contribute men towards the armies we deploy against the Tsar. Now Bernadotte has been called on by the Swedes to be their Crown Prince, we have a united front running from the Baltic to the Black Sea. The time is ripe, gentlemen. We have but to seize the opportunity afforded to us by fate.’

  There was another silence before General Savary cleared his throat and spoke up.‘Sire, I have no doubt that you are right about the timing. However, we are heavily committed in Spain. Is it wise to fight two campaigns at once?’

  ‘I have considered that,’ Napoleon replied, and then smiled faintly. ‘You are right, my dear general. We must deal with Spain. To that end I have already sent word to my brother, King Joseph, to come to Paris to confer. Once our remaining difficulties in Spain are resolved then nothing shall stand in the way of humbling the Tsar.’

  Chapter 19

  The baptism of the new prince was set for June and the Emperor summoned his family, the leading aristocrats of the empire and foreign dignitaries to witness the ceremony. When King Joseph arrived towards the end of May, the Paris newspapers reported that he had travelled from Madrid to celebrate the arrival of his brother’s heir. The other purpose of his visit - to brief Napoleon on the situation in Spain - was kept secret from the people, particularly since Joseph was the bearer of bad news.

  ‘Masséna failed to relieve the fortess at Almeida,’ Joseph explained as he walked round the garden at Fontaine
bleau. It was a fine early summer day, and the new leaves gleamed a vibrant green on the trees, while the last of the cherry blossom floated down on the light breeze. On the lawn, in front of the orangery, the Empress and her ladies in waiting were fussing round the infant boy as he lay in his cot. Napoleon spared them a quick glance as he continued listening to his brother’s report.‘He was turned back by the British army at Fuentes de Oñoro and was forced to retreat. The last message I received from the garrison at Almeida said that the food had run out and their ammunition was almost exhausted. If they were not relieved within ten days the commander said that he would be forced to surrender. There was nothing I could do. Almeida has fallen to Wellington’s army.’

  ‘Yes. But it can be retaken in due course.’

  Joseph paused in mid-stride and turned to his brother. ‘You think it is that simple, brother? I think you overestimate the soundness of our position in Spain. We are fighting a new kind of war in the Peninsula. In order to control the country we have to disperse our troops to police every town, village and road. It is the only way to keep the people in check. Yet whenever Wellington advances we are forced to concentrate our forces and abandon control over the countryside. And if we advance against Wellington with an army large enough to overwhelm him, he simply gives ground, luring us on, to the limit of our supply lines, until we are forced to give up the pursuit. And then we have to pacify the countryside all over again. I tell you, we will lose the war in Spain. While our numbers are whittled away, the enemy grows ever stronger. Our soldiers have been pushed out of Portugal and the British are poised to seize all the frontier fortresses and invade Spain.’

  Napoleon shook his head. ‘Wellington is not strong enough to launch an invasion. He has no more than a fifth of the number of men available to you. Besides, I think you overrate his ability. He is the same as all the other British generals - too cautious to cause us much trouble. He cannot afford to lose any men. The longer the war goes on, the more certainly the English army will be frittered away. Besides, he lacks the experience of my marshals. Before he arrived in Portugal he commanded very modest forces out in India. I hardly think that a general of sepoys would be capable of besting the commanders of the finest army in Europe.’