The Fields of Death

by Scarrow, Simon

  ‘Sire?’

  ‘Let us assume for a moment that I am not some naive simpleton who is happy to believe that Austria is playing the honest broker. So, what does Austria hope to gain?’

  Metternich smiled. ‘This is becoming the kind of conversation that is best conducted in confidence, sire.’

  Napoleon nodded.‘Very well. Berthier, you others, leave us. At once.’

  Berthier instantly rose to his feet, gathered his notes and headed for the door. After an enquiring glance at Metternich, and a brief nod from him, the aides followed suit, closing the door behind them.

  ‘That’s better, sire. Now then, you want to know Austria’s position? I will tell you. But first you must know that this is what I believe, and while I cannot speak directly for Emperor Francis and his inner council I know that they have some sympathy with my views. Beyond that, they are, how shall I put it?’ He smiled thinly.‘They are susceptible to a well-reasoned argument.’

  ‘As you are susceptible to financial inducement,’ Napoleon cut in. ‘Or shall we speak plainly, Prince Metternich? You will take a bribe.’

  ‘You mean to bribe me?’ Metternich touched his breast and affected a hurt look. ‘Sire, I would have you know that I am not Talleyrand. He raised corruptibility to an art form. I am not nearly so well versed in the craft.’ He continued hurriedly as he saw Napoleon’s brows begin to knit together. ‘You ask what Austria wants from the present situation. It is simple. We want stability. Both within Europe, and between Europe and Russia. We need a real balance of power in Europe. France must give up some of her influence to Austria and Prussia. If we can draw Prussia into common cause with us, then Frederick William will have no need of an alliance with Russia. Every year the Tsar pushes his frontiers closer to Europe.’

  ‘Closer to Austrian lands, you mean.’

  Metternich nodded.‘True. That is why it would be better for Austria to be in alliance with France than with Russia. Yet that would only be acceptable to my Emperor if France reliquished its grip over much of the territory it presently controls.’

  ‘I will not do that.’

  Metternich sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he continued.‘Sire, let me be brutally frank with you. You cannot win a war against the combined strengths of Russia, Prussia, Sweden and Britain. While this armistice has been in place your enemies have added new strength to their armies. You are outnumbered, and the odds against you will grow as each day passes. Our spies report that your men are weary, that Saxony cannot sustain your army for much longer and that your stocks of ammunition will be exhausted after another month’s campaigning. Save your army, save your throne and make peace now. If you don’t then I have to warn you that there is a good chance that Austria may well throw her lot in with those powers allied against you.’

  ‘Why?’ Napoleon narrowed his eyes. ‘Why would Francis do such a thing? You said it yourself, he has more to fear from the Tsar than from me. Austria should be fighting alongside France.’

  ‘That is true, sire. But see it from our point of view. There are many in Vienna who are still smarting over the harsh terms of the peace you imposed after Wagram. They, and others, also point to the disaster that you involved us with in Russia. Now the nations of Europe are gathering their strength against France. If you are defeated and we are defeated alongside you then Austria can be sure that Russia will force peace terms on us even more unpleasant than those you imposed. So . . .’ Metternich smiled. ‘An alliance with France is not without its risks. If we remain neutral and you are beaten, which seems the most likely outcome, then we will be powerless to intervene when the peace terms are imposed. That will be to the Tsar’s advantage. Therefore, as some of my compatriots argue, it would be better for Austria to be on the winning side in this war, even if that means being an unwilling ally of Russia. That is the real danger you face, sire. Your position is made more vulnerable still by any reverses you suffer elsewhere in your empire. If you would avoid disaster, then I urge you to make peace.’

  ‘I see.’ Napoleon folded the tips of his fingers together and fixed Metternich with a piercing stare. ‘You make a good case. But you did neglect to mention one thing. The fact that England has offered to pay Austria half a million pounds in gold if you declare war on me, and another two million to support your war effort thereafter.’ He smiled. ‘You see, I have my spies too.’

  ‘And they are well informed indeed, sire,’ Metternich admitted. ‘Yes, that is true. But I believe Emperor Francis would still prefer to have peace than to take a bribe and have war. However, if you refuse these terms then Austria will be compelled to act.’

  ‘Am I to take that as an ultimatum?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  Napoleon’s eyebrows flickered. ‘I see. You have a copy of the detailed demands?’

  ‘Of course, sire.’

  ‘Then leave them here. I must have time to consider them.’

  ‘Yes, sire. The Tsar has authorised me to offer you an extension to the armistice, by two more weeks.’

  ‘That is generous. Please express my gratitude to him.’ Napoleon stood up abruptly. ‘Very well, I will discuss the terms with my advisors and we will draw up our own terms to put before Alexander and Frederick William. Since the hour is late, I suggest we conclude this discussion.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’ Metternich hurriedly pulled out a copy of the peace terms and left it on the table as he swept the rest of the documents and notes back into his leather case and refastened it. Napoleon escorted him to the door of the salon and they exchanged a formal bow before Metternich left, summoning his aides to join him as he made his way along the corridor towards the stairs leading down to the main hall of the palace.

  Napoleon stared after him for a moment and then snorted with derision. He returned to the table and carried one of the chairs over to the fire and sat down, leaning forward and resting his chin on his knuckles. After a moment he reached inside his waistcoat for the small locket he always carried with him. Clicking it open he gazed at the miniatures of the Empress and his infant son, gently caressing them both with his thumb. He had hoped that his marriage into the Austrian royal family might provide the necessary link that would prevent the two nations from engaging in yet another war against each other. Now it seemed that blood-letting was thicker than blood, he mused. He snapped the locket shut and slipped it back in his pocket. A short while later, Berthier entered the room.

  ‘Prince Metternich has left the palace, sire.’

  ‘Good.’ Napoleon nodded towards the small door concealed in the wall of the salon that linked the room to a service corridor. ‘Did you hear everything?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Berthier carefully considered his response. ‘Sire, the proposed terms are unacceptable. Our enemies must know that. I suggest we do what we can to prolong the negotiations and see what concessions we might win from them. Who knows, we could even have a peace agreement.’

  ‘Peace? Do you really think the Tsar wants peace? He will not be content until France, the last obstacle to his ambitions in Europe, is brought down. There can be no peace between us.’

  ‘Then let us use the negotiations to buy us as much time as possible, sire. Metternich knows some of the truth about the condition of our army, but not all.’ Berthier waved a hand helplessly. ‘More than half the army is in no condition to fight. We have too many boys. This morning I inspected some of the latest reinforcements. They had been given two weeks’ training before being marched to Germany. When they left France only half of them had muskets and they had fired just two rounds of blanks during training. They haven’t been issued with full kit and they haven’t the slightest idea how to live off the land.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘Sire, we are sending lambs to the slaughter.’

  ‘Nonsense! Boys become men as soon as they taste battle. And there are plenty of veterans in the Grand Army who will teach them the skills they need to live while on campaign.’ He
paused to look closely at his chief of staff. ‘Perhaps the problem is that you are getting too old for this, my friend.’

  ‘Sire?’

  ‘You have worked tirelessly for many years, Berthier. Too many years. You are losing heart. It is is only natural.’

  Berthier forced himself to stand stiffly, and shook his head. ‘I am fit enough to carry out my duties, sire. I merely wished to point out that Metternich was right. This could be a war that we cannot win.’

  ‘Cannot win?’ Napoleon was astounded. ‘Cannot win! You are defeatist, Marshal Berthier. I have never seen that quality in you before. And you are wrong. We can win. What our men lack in experience and equipment they more than make up for in their patriotism, and their devotion to their Emperor. That is why we shall win.’

  ‘Sire, what if Austria joins the coalition? If that happens then our enemies can put over half a million men into the field against us. We will have to face them with little over half that number.’

  ‘We have been outnumbered before, and won the day.’

  ‘Not this time, sire.’

  Napoleon frowned. What had happened to Berthier, he wondered. He searched the man’s anguished expression, and saw as if for the first time that this, the most loyal and efficient of his officers, was close to exhaustion. Napoleon rose from his chair and approached him, touching him gently on both shoulders.

  ‘My friend, you are weary. So are we all. Yet we must brace ourselves for one more effort. If we defeat the enemy then the coalition will collapse. This war is no longer about numbers of men, horses and guns. It is about spirit, and the will to endure. In that quality lies the secret of our success. I ask this one final effort of you, and all my soldiers. Then we shall have a great victory and we can rest. I swear it.’

  Berthier looked at him, a spark of hope burning faintly in his eyes. ‘You swear it?’

  Napoleon nodded.

  ‘Then I am your man, sire.’

  Napoleon smiled warmly. ‘I could not fight my wars without you, old friend. Now go, get some rest.’

  Berthier bowed his head and turned to leave the room. After he had gone, Napoleon returned to the fire, stoking up the embers and adding some more wood before he resumed his seat. As the fresh wood cracked and hissed he reflected on all that had been said during the evening. He was certain that he could defeat the armies of Alexander and Frederick William, but if Austria did enter the war on the side of his enemies it would be the greatest military test of his career. He had no doubt that he would be able to meet the challenge, but the question that troubled him greatly was whether the officers and the men of his army would match him in the pursuit of glory.

  The next morning dawned bright and clear, with not a single cloud to be seen in the sky as Dresden woke to a fine summer day. After he had taken breakfast Napoleon went for a walk in the Great Garden that stretched out to the south-east of the old city where the palace was situated. Some of the townsfolk were out, following the gravel paths that divided the ornate rose gardens, flowerbeds and clusters of trees. The half-company of guardsmen that screened the Emperor made certain that no one could get within pistol shot, and so Napoleon walked head down, deep in thought, oblivious of the curious faces that watched him pass at a distance.

  He reached the far end of the garden and turned back, returning the same way he had come, consumed with thought over the planning for every eventuality when the armistice inevitably came to an end.

  ‘Sire!’

  Napoleon looked up and saw Berthier striding along the path towards him. He forced a smile and raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘Did you sleep well, as I ordered?’

  There was no smile in the marshal’s face as he approached, and he spoke in a low voice. ‘Sire, we have received a despatch from Marshal Jourdan. His majesty the King of Spain was defeated a month ago, at a battle outside Vitoria.’

  ‘Another defeat?’ Napoleon shook his head bitterly.‘Can none of my marshals teach Wellington a lesson?’ He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘No doubt Joseph’s army will have to fall back to regroup.’

  ‘Sire, there is no army to regroup. Two divisions escaped from the battle and retreated to France; the rest were routed. Only two guns were saved, and the army lost its entire baggage train.’

  Napoleon stared at him, anxiety twisting in his guts. ‘And my brother?’

  ‘He escaped, sire.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Bayonne.’

  ‘Bayonne,’ Napoleon repeated numbly. He cleared his throat and faced Berthier sternly. ‘Then he has abandoned his throne. From now, our affairs in Spain fall under military authority. Soult is in Paris. I will send him to take command. Joseph is to be kept away from Paris, out of sight, so that he cannot shame me.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  Napoleon pursed his lips for a moment, absorbed in the implications of the news Berthier had brought him. ‘This is a harsh blow for us, Berthier. It will harden the resolve of our enemy. Emperor Francis will want to be on the side of the big battalions now.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It seems that there will be no rest for either of us for a while yet, eh?’

  ‘I imagine so, sire.’

  ‘Then we had better summon my marshals and make our war plans. It is only a matter of weeks, perhaps days, before Austria declares war.’

  Chapter 42

  Dresden, 26 August 1813

  As Napoleon made his way to the city he nodded approvingly at the defences that Marshal St-Cyr had been putting in place since the armistice had ended. Napoleon had rushed to take command of MacDonald’s embattled corps when news of a threat to Dresden had forced him to return to the Saxon capital. Several artillery batteries had been dug into the slopes on the right bank of the Elbe covering the south-eastern approaches to the old city on the far bank. The centre of the city was protected by a moat and rampart, and the entrances to the outlying suburbs had been blocked and the houses turned into stongpoints. Five enormous earthworks had been constructed in a wide arc to the south of the city and packed with field guns. Any attempt to assault the city from the south would have to run the gauntlet of a devastating crossfire even before it reached the defences of the suburbs. St-Cyr’s preparations would be put to the test all too soon, Napoleon reflected.

  The enemy was already driving in the French outposts and small groups of men were skirmishing with the enemy’s light infantry and cavalry as they fell back towards the defences of the old city. Beyond the approaches to Dresden, dense columns of infantry and cavalry together with artillery trains were closing in on the city across an arc of six miles.

  Napoleon frowned as he gazed at the enemy. The bitter sense of betrayal he felt towards Austria’s cynical opportunism still chilled his heart. Once Austria had joined the coalition against France the peace negotiations had ceased abruptly. Now another quarter of a million soldiers were arrayed against the Grand Army. When the campaign was over, and his enemies were defeated, Napoleon resolved to make the terms he imposed so severe that neither Austria nor Prussia would ever be able to wage war on him again. Already, Marshal Oudinot was advancing towards Berlin to take the city, and if that did not provoke the enemy into suing for peace Oudinot was to burn the Prussian capital to the ground. As for Russia, Napoleon knew now that the Tsar could only ever be contained. The vast scale of Alexander’s domain made conquest an impossibility.

  As ever, the Austrians had advanced slowly, making their way through the hills of Bohemia towards Dresden. St-Cyr had already sent their vanguard reeling back, but now the full weight of the Austrian army, together with detachments of Russian and Prussian troops, was descending on the French supply base at Dresden. Some distance behind Napoleon marched Marshal Ney and the Imperial Guard, and behind them the corps ofVictor and Marmont - recently returned from Spain - though they would not reach Dresden until the end of the day. St-Cyr and his garrison had to hold their position for the next twelve hours, Napoleon reflected.

  The guards on the main gate recognised Napol
eon from afar as his entourage cantered up the road, and let out a cheer of ‘Long live the Emperor!’The cry spread across the city, and as he entered the gates and rode down the main avenues towards the bridge across the Elbe he was thronged by the excited, and relieved, men of St-Cyr’s corps. Napoleon smiled back at them, raising his hat in greeting every so often, which brought forth a fresh crescendo of cheers each time. As he entered the old city Napoleon beckoned to the first officer he saw to guide them to the marshal’s headquarters.

  St-Cyr had occupied the cathedral, whose towers afforded a fine overview of the city’s defences and the landscape to the south. The nave had been cleared to make way for a map table and the desks of the marshal’s aides and clerks. Everyone immediately rose and stood to attention as the Emperor entered the building, thrusting his riding crop and gloves at Berthier before he removed his hat and handed that over as well.

  ‘Sire, you do not know how glad I am to see you.’ St-Cyr smiled as he bowed.

  ‘There is no time for pleasantries,’ Napoleon responded brusquely. ‘What is your present strength?’

  St-Cyr swallowed as he hurriedly collected his thoughts. ‘A little more than twenty thousand, sire. Sixteen thousand deployed in the defences of the old town, and the rest in the new town.’

  ‘Then pull your forces out of the new town at once. Every man is needed here.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  Napoleon approached the map table as he unbuttoned his coat. He leaned forward to examine the map.‘Your men will have to buy us time, St-Cyr. The Guard will reach the city about an hour from now. It will take perhaps another two hours for them all to assume their positions in the old city. Victor and Marmont will not reach Dresden before the end of the day, so we must hold out until then. Be clear on this: if Dresden falls, then the campaign is over and we lose everything east of the Elbe.’

  ‘I understand, sire.’

  ‘Then let me inspect your defences.’