men let out a lusty cheer that echoed back off the palace walls as they passed the Emperor and snapped their eyes to the right. Napoleon raised his hat to acknowledge them, with a smile. Once the entire division was formed up, he descended from the balcony and began a close inspection of his soldiers, stopping regularly to question individuals, and to award medals and other rewards to those who had been singled out for their courage by their superiors.
It was as he was handing a sword to the captain of the first company to enter Madrid that a staff officer came running up to Berthier and muttered something to him in a low voice. Napoleon was aware of the interruption but continued his congratulations to the captain before he passed on, with a brief gesture to Berthier to accompany him.
‘What is the news?’
‘A message from General Dumas, sire. He reports that his scouts have observed elements of the British army advancing towards Marshal Soult.’
‘Soult?’ Napoleon drew up and closed his eyes, visualising the disposition of his forces across Spain. Of all the major formations in his army, Soult’s was one of the weakest, comprising twelve thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry. It was tasked with policing the regions of Castille and Leon. In a moment Napoleon grasped the danger to which he had exposed Soult. His eyes flicked open and he turned to Berthier. ‘What else did General Dumas have to say?’
Berthier looked uneasy as he replied, ‘Dumas has taken it upon himself to divert forces to support Soult. I have told his staff officer to ride back and order Dumas to halt his movements pending approval from imperial headquarters. He is also to send patrols out to find the British army and confirm their position.’
Napoleon considered Berthier’s decisions for a moment and then shook his head.‘No. Cancel your orders. Dumas did the right thing.The British are more daring than I had thought. General Moore seeks to isolate and destroy Soult . . . Well then, we shall turn the tables on Moore. If we can move swiftly enough we can trap the British between Soult and the forces that are camped around Madrid.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Imagine it, Berthier. The annihilation of Britain’s only field army.Their government would not survive such a catastrophe. This could be the very chance I have always sought to bring this war to an end!’
He clasped his hands together and nodded towards the division standing silently behind the two officers.‘Cancel the review. Send word to all divisional commanders to have their men ready to march at once. And have all my senior officers summoned to the palace. The fates are with us, Berthier.Within a month we will have caught and crushed the British army.’
Orders for the redirection of the campaign flowed out of imperial headquarters over the following two days.The day after the news of the British move had arrived, Marshal Ney’s corps was already on the march, climbing over the pass through the Guadarrama mountains to Villacastin. Napoleon remained in Madrid long enough to see his brother installed in the royal palace, protected by thirty-five thousand men under the command of Marshal Lefebvre. Joseph was left with strict instructions to ensure that the Madrid newspapers reported that the British army was trapped and would be crushed within weeks. Satisfied that he had set in motion a host of men to catch and trap the British, Napoleon set off from Madrid a day later.
Winter had set in with a vengeance as they approached the mountains, which were shrouded in a thick layer of snow. A biting cold wind was blasting down from the north and made the going tough even before the column reached the bottom of the route leading up into the pass. There they camped for the night, taking advantage of any shelter from the wind that they could find in peasant hovels and behind low walls and rocky outcrops. The men huddled round fires that flared and roared as they were discovered by stray blasts of the wind. It was almost impossible to sleep in the icy cold of the night, and before dawn thick flakes were borne down on the howling wind to swirl around the shivering men and horses of the French army.
As dawn broke faintly across the bleak landscape the men shook themselves free of the snow and prepared to climb up the slope to the pass. Napoleon watched as the infantry formed up in long shivering columns and the artillery train harnessed their horses to the limbers and caissons.The men were silent and any attempt at levity in the ranks died away almost as soon as it began. The dragoons of the Imperial Guard were the first to advance up the slope. Both men and mounts lowered their heads into the wind that howled down from the pass as they trudged forward. Napoleon had ridden a little way ahead and watched as the dragoons passed by with hardly a sound. The thick snow had deadened the sound of their progress and fresh flurries added to the drifts that had formed across the narrow winding track.They advanced slowly, and eventually the tail of the column disappeared into the snowstorm, as the first of the infantry battalions made ready to follow.
In less than an hour a messenger arrived from the commander of the dragoons. His breath burst from his lips in ragged puffs that were instantly ripped away by the wind as he reported to the Emperor.
‘Sire, the colonel begs to inform you that his men can go no further. The colonel has halted to await orders.’
‘Await orders? The colonel has his orders! Tell him to keep moving. I will not have my army held up because the colonel can’t bear a little cold.’
The messenger bowed his head, and then looked up nervously.‘I beg your pardon, sire, but my colonel is right. It is not possible to advance any further.’
‘And why not?’ Napoleon asked tersely. ‘Explain.’
‘Sire, the conditions up there are far worse than they are here. The wind is so strong that our horses can barely stay on their legs, while the riders are nearly being swept from their saddles when the gusts strike. Then there’s the ground, sire. There’s ice under the snow, and now the first squadron’s hooves have cleared the snow away the rest of the regiment are struggling to keep their footing.’
‘Excuses!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘You ride back and tell the colonel to keep advancing. I don’t care how strong the wind is, and I don’t care about the ice.You tell him I don’t care if he has to make his way across the pass on his belly, pulling his horse behind him. I don’t care what he says. It is possible. It will be done.You tell him.’
The messenger looked as if he was about to make a further protest, but there had been a dangerous tone in Napoleon’s voice, and he saluted instead. ‘Yes, sire.’
Once the dragoon had turned his horse back to the slope and was trotting it carefully through the thicker snow along the side of the track Napoleon nudged his spurs in and walked his own mount on to the slope. Followed by his escort he began the ascent. The horses and men who had already passed that way had packed the snow down, and stretches of the track were already compacted into sheets of ice that gleamed like marble. The iron-shod boots of the infantry had some purchase on the ground, but the horses began to slither dangerously as Napoleon and his party pressed on.
‘Clear the way there!’ a sergeant called out as he saw the imperial party struggle to pass by. The infantry moved stiffly to the sides of the track. Napoleon noticed that there were none of the usual cries of‘Long live the
