that they were mostly civilians, clustered together under a white flag.
‘I think not. It seems that they want to parley,’ Arthur said. ‘After all, Soult has abandoned them. They have nothing to gain from defending the town.’
Even before dawn, Arthur’s cavalry patrols had discovered the French column, picking its way to the south- east under cover of darkness. General Hill had immediately set off in pursuit, with orders to observe Soult and not engage him. Toulouse was a valuable prize and the army needed to rest and recover from the previous day’s battle for the Heights of Calvinet which dominated the town.
‘Hm.’ Somerset slowly trained his telescope along the walls. ‘There are still plenty of cannon on the walls, and I can see some soldiers.’
‘That may be,’ Arthur muttered, then snapped his telescope shut. ‘However, there’s no harm in talking to them. Ride down there and see what they want.’
Somerset lowered his telescope and nodded. ‘And if they want to discuss terms, sir? What shall I say?’
‘They are to surrender, without conditions, else we will sack the town.’ Arthur paused, and then smiled thinly. ‘You might mention that we have a division of Spaniards with us who are inclined to show little pity to the French.’
Somerset looked shocked. ‘That’s hardly fair, sir. Morillo’s men are as disciplined as any in the army.’
‘Yes, but they don’t know that,’ Arthur replied patiently as he nodded towards the waiting Frenchmen. ‘Now then, don’t tarry, Somerset.’
Arthur watched as his aide mounted his horse and cantered down the slope to cross the canal that separated the Heights from the town. The Spanish corps and Beresford’s two divisions were stretched out along the Heights, on either side of Arthur’s command post, and their sullen mood was evident in the slowness with which they had roused themselves at dawn and apathetically set to digging the earthworks Arthur had ordered constructed in case Soult decided to counter-attack. Even though the French army appeared to have quit Toulouse, Arthur thought it prudent to continue the work. If nothing else, it gave his men something to take their minds off the bitter fighting of the previous day. It had cost the allies over four thousand men to take the Heights, and across the slopes, raked by roundshot and canister, were clusters of freshly dug graves. With the war all but over, Arthur felt such losses ever more keenly. Even so, all the news from the north was encouraging. Paris had fallen and Bonaparte and what was left of his army must surely be compelled to surrender soon.
The distant figure of Somerset had reined in before the small crowd in front of the gates and was engaged in conversation with a man who had emerged as their spokesman. Arthur raised his telescope to follow the exchange more closely. A moment later, Somerset dismounted and the Frenchman rushed forward to embrace him, kissing the British officer on both cheeks. A light breeze lifted the white flag behind them and now Arthur could make out a design that had been hidden in the folds, a blue fleur-de-lys, the emblem of the Bourbons.
So that was it, Arthur thought with relief: the royalists had taken over the town. A moment later Somerset was in the saddle again and galloping back across the canal and up the slope towards Arthur. His face was flushed with excitement as he reined in and swung himself down.
‘Sir, I have the honour to report that Toulouse is ours.’
‘Yes, I gathered.’
‘The mayor asks me to convey his fraternal greetings to you.’
‘That’s very fine of him, I’m sure.’
‘He asks if you will do him the honour of addressing him, and the other worthies, before entering the town.’
‘Not for the present.’ Arthur shook his head wearily. ‘There will be time for that. Tell the mayor that I would be grateful if he permitted me to set up my headquarters in his offices. When that is done I will be pleased to celebrate the liberation of Toulouse.’
‘Yes, sir,’ his aide replied, somewhat deflated. ‘As you wish.’
Arthur looked at him sternly. ‘Now then, Somerset, the war is not over, and the army must be commanded and its needs catered for. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. Once we have attended to our duties, you will be free to enjoy the hospitality of Toulouse.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset glanced down towards the Frenchmen waiting outside the gate.‘What about them? They seem quite keen to greet their liberators, sir.’
‘Oh, damn it, then send Beresford. Let him enjoy the mob’s adulation if he likes.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur stared towards the small crowd at the town gates.‘I’ll take my turn in Paris, when the time comes, if that makes you feel any better, Somerset.’
‘It does, sir.’ The aide smiled warmly.
While General Beresford and his officers, accompanied by several companies of grenadiers, basked in the adulation of the French townsfolk, Arthur and his staff officers entered by a smaller gate further along the wall. Somerset had arranged for one of the mayor’s clerks to lead them through the back streets to the town square. Every so often the thin young Frenchman would turn and grin and call out,‘
‘If that fellow keeps this up, we shall attract a crowd of our own,’ Arthur hissed testily.
‘You can hardly blame him, sir,’ said Somerset. ‘With the prospect that Napoleon will be forced to make peace any day now.’
The man cried out again and Arthur glared at him, to no effect, and let out an exasperated sigh. His officers read his expression and kept their silence for the rest of the short ride to the
Early in the afternoon the mayor arrived, somewhat drunk, to invite Arthur and his officers to a special performance of patriotic songs and recitals to be held at the town’s theatre that evening, followed by a banquet. In the interests of cementing the friendship of the people of Toulouse, Arthur accepted, and grudgingly made arrangements to have a bath and shave while his baggage was collected from the camp. So it was that he was standing before a mirror, face lathered in soap and razor poised above his throat, when the door to the washroom was unceremoniously opened and Somerset rushed in, accompanied by another officer whom Arthur recognised as Colonel Ponsonby, from the army outside Bayonne.
‘What the devil?’ Arthur growled, lowering the razor. ‘You surprise me like that, and it won’t be an enemy bullet that takes me. I’ll die by my own bloody hand!’
‘Sorry, sir.’ Somerset thrust Ponsonby forward. ‘But you must hear the news.’
‘Ponsonby?’ Arthur frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was sent to find you directly General Hope received the officers sent from Paris.’
‘Officers? What officers?’
‘Colonel Cooke, and Colonel St-Simon of the French army, sir.’
‘Well?’
‘Sir, I have extraordinary news for you.’
There was no mistaking what the man would say. Arthur held up his hand to silence the colonel. ‘It’s peace. I knew that we would have it.’
‘Aye, sir, we’ve all expected it. But there’s more. Napoleon has abdicated.’
‘Abdicated? It’s time indeed.’ Arthur replied without thinking. Then the full truth of it struck him. Napoleon was finished. With no throne, he would no longer be able to threaten the peace of Europe. At once his severe expression was split by a wide grin. Tossing his razor down into the basin, he clasped Ponsonby’s hands. ‘Abdicated! You don’t say so?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘By God . . . by God, this is wonderful!’ He turned to Somerset and could not help laughing. His whole mind and body was seized by the most pure and irresistible delight. ‘Hurrah! Hurrah!’ Releasing Ponsonby’s hands, he snapped his fingers and hopped lightly from side to side. ‘That I should live to see this!’
