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
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 Napoleon 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.’
St-Cyr could not hide his surprise. ‘Now, sire?’
‘Yes. Come.’ Napoleon turned round and strode back towards the door, clicking his fingers at Berthier for his hat, gloves and crop, which Berthier had only just put down on a large chest. St-Cyr hurriedly ordered one of his aides to transfer the whole of the corps to the old town and hurried after the Emperor.
The party of senior officers followed Napoleon as he made a swift tour of the defences. The last of the outposts had been pulled back and a lull had settled over the battlefield to the south as the enemy formed up for a massed attack. Hundreds of cannon were brought forward and unlimbered to form great batteries to pound the defenders before the infantry was sent forward to assault the makeshift walls and strongpoints of the suburbs. The men of St-Cyr’s corps watched the preparations with grave expressions as they lined the defences, peering over the walls and out of their newly cut loopholes. The imperial party finished the tour of the defences at the earthwork nearest to the bank of the Elbe: a large fort surrounded by a deep ditch. The side facing the enemy formed into a broad chevron so that the guns could sweep the ground before the city, creating a crossfire with the cannon from the neighbouring earthwork. St-Cyr had placed thirty guns in each of the forts, and the shot garlands sat by each weapon, with the main stores of powder dug into covered bunkers to protect it from enemy mortar shells.
