THE GENERALS

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Then we must proceed to Manila at once, sir,’ said Arthur. ‘Before they can arrive in these waters.’

  ‘Wait.’ The general brandished the letter again. ‘There’s more. The French navy is not the only threat, nor perhaps the most dangerous. The Goveror General has had fresh intelligence from his sources in Mysore. It seems that a small party of French officers arrived in Seringapatam at the end of June. They offered an alliance to Tipoo and possibly some form of assistance, be it money or weapons. Soon after they arrived Tipoo issued orders for the massing of his forces at Seringapatam. In view of this new threat Sir John has instructed us to reconsider the assault on Manila. IfTipoo decides to attack then our forces will be needed to subdue him. So I must decide whether to return to India, or proceed with the attempt to take Manila.’

  The general dropped the dispatch on to the table and sat down. His officers sat in silence for a moment as they considered the situation outlined to them. One of the commanders of the Company battalions, Colonel Stephens, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. ‘What are your intentions, sir?’

  ‘My intentions?’ St Leger looked faintly bemused. ‘Why, to listen to the advice of my senior officers, of course.’

  ‘Sir, Manila is but a few days’ sail from here. At the moment I am confident we could take the place easily enough. But the longer we sit here, the better their chances of frustrating us.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, Stephens.’

  ‘Then we must strike quickly, sir. Take Manila, garrison it, then return here to await further orders.’

  ‘And what if Tipoo attacks while we are engaged at Manila?’

  ‘You know how those native armies are, sir. It will be some months yet before Tipoo is ready to take the field against us.’

  ‘That is true,’ the general conceded, and Stephens, sensing that his commander was wavering, pressed home his opinion.

  ‘Then continue with the operation against Manila, while we still have the advantage over the Spanish. Sir, we must not let Sir John’s timidity overrule sound judgement. Manila is ripe for the plucking, and with it most of Spain’s possessions in the East Indies. We’d be fools to let the chance of a great victory slip through our fingers for want of resolve - on the part of Sir John,’ he added quickly. ‘Strike now, sir, and snatch Spain’s prize colony for England.’ He slapped his hand down on the table. ‘That’s my advice, sir.’

  Arthur had been listening to the exchange with a growing sense of despair at the fragility of his commander’s authority, and now he cleared his throat and shook his head. The general spotted the gesture at once.

  ‘What is your opinion, Colonel Wesley?’

  Arthur quickly ordered his thoughts before he replied.

  ‘Sir, it is true that the best chance of taking Manila is now. If there is a strong force of French warships in the area they could make good use of Manila as a base of operations, in which case it would be foolhardy for us to attempt any attack on the place. Their ships would blow these Indiamen out of the water long before we could land our troops.We may only have a short time left in which it is practical to continue the operation. If you are to attack you must do it swiftly.’

  ‘There!’ Stephens nodded approvingly. ‘You see, sir? Now is the time for boldness.’

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ Arthur cut in firmly. ‘While there may be truth in what has been said, we have to consider other possibilities. What if we do take Manila, at great cost; or, worse, what if we are rebuffed and forced to retreat? Then we will have lost many men who may be needed if there is a war with Tipoo. Worse still, once word of our failure leaks out to the other principalities and states in India we will lose face, and that might be enough to spur the warlords who are still undecided about joining Tipoo to declare war on us. If you proceed to Manila, and fail, then you will be damned by those men back in England who will judge your actions.’

  General St Leger stirred uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Damned if I do and damned to be forgotten by posterity if I don’t.’

  ‘Sir,’ Colonel Stephens leaned forward. ‘You have Manila in your grasp. All that remains is to pluck it.’

  The general sat back and rubbed his forehead wearily. ‘I will let you know my decision as soon as I’ve considered the options. You may return to your ships.’

  The men on the vessels anchored around the general’s Indiaman did not have long to wait. Scarcely half an hour after Arthur had returned from the flagship, signal flags rose up the halyards. Arthur and Fitroy turned to the first mate for an explanation.

  ‘All ships, prepare to make sail. Course, west by north,’ the mate intoned.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Fitzroy asked as the first orders were bellowed across the deck of the transport and the sailors went to their stations.

  The mate scratched his chin.‘It means that we’re heading back to Calcutta.’

  ‘Calcutta . . .’ Fitzroy repeated quietly in a tone of disgust. ‘What a bloody waste of time.’

  Arthur pressed his lips together. Once again, another chance to win his spurs had been snatched away from him.The war was likely to be over long before he could prove himself, and the only prospect that the future would hold out for him would be an undistinguished oblivion. He cursed the latest twist of fate with all his heart, and bitterly began to wonder how much more he could have achieved if only he had been one of the blessed few young soldiers who were the darlings of fate, like that damned fortunate Frenchman, Bonaparte.

  Chapter 27

  Napoleon

  Paris, December 1797

  The treaty that France had signed with Austria at Campo Formio brought peace to Europe, for the moment. Only the old enemy, England, remained, watching warily from the other side of the Channel. When Napoleon and Junot returned to his modest home on Rue Chantereine Napoleon was surprised to see how quickly the people of Paris had responded to peace. The shop windows were full of luxury items and well-dressed dandies and their ladies walked the streets cheek by jowl with the dowdy masses, almost as if there had never been a revolution. Expensive carriages rattled over the cobbled boulevards, weaving through the pedestrians and sedan chairs.

  ‘You’d never guess this was the same city described by Augereau,’ Junot muttered. ‘I thought the place was supposed to be simmering on the edge of a violent uprising.’

  ‘Seems peaceful,’ Napoleon agreed, his bright eyes flickering from side to side as they rode down a street close to his home. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’

  Once the armistice had been signed some months earlier, Napoleon had sent General Augereau back to Paris to represent his interests during the negotiations with Austria. Augereau wrote regularly, and somewhat alarmingly, of the precarious state of the government, warning Napoleon that he had enough enemies in the capital to make it too dangerous for him to return until the treaty was signed and Napoleon could claim the fruits of victory from the grateful citizens.That was why Napoleon had told Josephine to remain in Milan until he sent for her. As he entered the house that they had shared for only three days after they had been married, Napoleon felt her absence more keenly than ever. She was far from home, and the marriage bed, but at least her friends would keep her company in his absence.

  Once he had bathed and rested Napoleon joined Junot in the small study and sat at his desk to dictate to his friend. There were letters to be written, and meetings to be arranged before he retired to bed. The first note was to Paul Barras and the other members of the Directory to notify them of his arrival in Paris. It was more than a courtesy, since the unannounced arrival of a successful and popular general in the capital would greatly alarm the politicians and cause them to suspect his motives even more than they already did. With that obligation out of the way Napoleon drew up a list of people he needed to see as soon as possible: the new foreign minister, Talleyrand; his brothers Joseph and Lucien; and some of the most prominent generals and politicians presently in the city. France would not endure the current constitution fo
r much longer, and when the inevitable happened, and the Directory was replaced, then a new generation of men would decide the fate of France. When that time came, Napoleon reflected, he must be prepared to play his part, and seize any opportunity.

  It was late in the evening before he had finished his tasks and told Junot to make sure that the messages were delivered immediately. As he left the study and made his way to the bedroom Napoleon was aware of a flickering glow through the windows at the front of the house, accompanied by the muted sounds of a gathered crowd. At once he feared that a mob had discovered his return and was bent on attacking his home. In the years of the revolution no man had been safe from the fickle attentions of the Parisians. He turned back to his study in alarm.

  ‘Junot! Come quickly.’

  His friend hurried from the study, clutching the sealed letters under his arm. ‘What is it, sir?’

  ‘There, look.’ Napoleon pointed to the window and beckoned to Junot to follow him as he padded cautiously towards the front of the house. Keeping to the shadows they peered round the curtains, down into the street outside. Over a hundred people were gathered there, some carrying torches, and all talking in an excited babble.

  ‘What do they want?’ Junot said quietly.

  ‘Whatever it is, let’s keep out of sight. Find the groom and send him out there to see what’s going on. Better tell him to use the rear entrance. He can go along the alley to reach the end of the street. Got that?’

  Junot nodded.

  ‘Send him straight to me the instant he returns.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  As Junot retreated down the corridor Napoleon stayed at the window for a moment, taking care to keep hidden in the shadows. Then, realising that his presence there served no purpose, he returned to his study and waited. A short while later footsteps mounted the stairs and Junot entered the room, ushering in the groom.

  ‘Well?’ Napoleon said tersely.

  The groom gave a nervous smile and gestured towards the front of the house. ‘They’ve come to see you, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ The groom could not hide his surprise. ‘Because you’re a hero, sir. Everyone’s talking about the treaty, and the war you won against Austria. The crowd started gathering as soon as they heard you had arrived in Paris.’

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘To see you, sir. That’s all. They want to be the first to see the man who won all those battles. The man who led the attack on that bridge at Arcola.’

  Napoleon could not help smiling faintly. The reports of the charge he had led into the hail of Austrian grapeshot had clearly reached far beyond the army newspapers, as he had hoped. Seeing the smile, Junot nodded towards the window.

  ‘Does the great general want to reveal himself to his adoring public?’

  Napoleon frowned. ‘Don’t be a fool, Junot. Any one of them could be carrying a firearm. I’d make a fine target of myself the moment I stood at the window.’

  ‘Then what do we do, sir?’

  ‘Nothing. Let them stand there if they want to, but I’m not parading myself in front of them. Not yet, at least.’ He turned to the groom and nodded to the door.The man bowed and left the two officers to continue their conversation alone.

  ‘You deserve their acclaim, sir.’ Junot waved a hand towards the window.‘No other general has won as much glory for France in recent years. Besides, the more popular you are with the people the more popular you will become with the politicians. They can hardly afford to offend you if you enjoy the support of the populace.’

  ‘The support of the populace . . .’ Napoleon snorted. ‘What is that worth? I tell you, Junot, that mob would be baying for my blood if we had suffered a setback in Italy.’

  ‘But you gave them victories instead. They are grateful. Perhaps it would be wise to recognise their gratitude, sir. And make full use of it.’

  ‘It would hardly be wise.They might want to see me now, and their thanks will be genuine enough for a while at least. Then they will forget me and shift their acclaim to another general, or some actor or soprano.That is the way of fame.’ Napoleon paused and stroked his chin for a moment before he continued.‘So I will not give them what they want. I will not satisfy their desire to pay their respects. I will ration my public appearances. Maybe that will make this fame of mine last as long as possible. Long enough for me to use it to win my next command.’

  Junot looked at him questioningly and Napoleon laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘See what, sir?’

  ‘All in good time, Junot. Now we should get some sleep.We’ll need it in the days to come.’

  Napoleon glanced round the sitting room, richly decorated and flamboyant, like its owner, Charles Talleyrand, the recently appointed foreign minister. Napoleon had been here only once before, to attend a recital with Josephine over a year ago. Even then he had been struck by the proliferation of gold leaf and lacquer that glowed with a molten luminescence in the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. Some of the furniture was chipped and the upholstery faded, a reminder that many of the aristocrats who had emerged from the revolution no longer possessed the same fortunes that their forebears had enjoyed. Maybe so, Napoleon thought to himself, but at least they had kept their heads.

  He wondered if the men gathered around him were destined for a similar fate. Any meeting of men with military and political influence in Paris was rightly regarded with suspicion by the government. If this meeting came to the attention of the Directory, then Napoleon and the others would be closely watched for any signs of treason. If such evidence came to light then all of them would face banishment, prison or the guillotine after the briefest of trials.

  There were only a few guests and they sat on ornately scrolled chairs in one corner of the room, facing Napoleon: his brothers Joseph and Lucien; Junot; General Poucelle, the military commander of Paris; and Marcel Foudrier, a leading radical in the Chamber of Deputies. They were waiting impatiently for their host so that the meeting could begin.

  Poucelle glanced towards the double doors on the far side of the sitting room. ‘What’s keeping him?’

  Napoleon smiled. ‘Calm yourself, General. Talleyrand can be trusted.’

  ‘Really?’ Poucelle raised his eyebrows.‘What makes you think that? The man is a politician, after all.’

  Poucelle had spoken without thinking, and glanced hurriedly at Lucien and Foudrier. ‘I meant no offence, gentlemen. It’s just that I trust some politicians less than others.’

  ‘No offence taken.’ Lucien shrugged. ‘I feel the same way about most soldiers.’

  Poucelle glared back at him, lips compressed into a thin line. Napoleon could not help laughing, and wagged a finger at his brother.

  ‘Take care, Lucien. General Poucelle is more than a match for you, despite his years.’

  The backhanded compliment made Poucelle add a frown to his expression as he grumbled,‘I did not come here to be insulted by a pair of young striplings. Be so good as to respect my rank and my experience, if not my person.’

  Napoleon shot a warning look at his brother and Lucien nodded gently as he responded. ‘I apologise, General. It’s just that I don’t think that soldiers have an exclusive claim on morality and honour. They have as much predilection to corruption and personal ambition as the rest of us.’

  ‘Including your brother?’ Poucelle shot back.

  Lucien looked quickly at Napoleon and nodded. ‘Including Napoleon. Otherwise we wouldn’t be meeting here.’

  They were interrupted by the sound of the doors being wrenched open and turned to see Talleyrand entering the room. He shut the doors firmly and turned to limp across the room towards his guests. A birth defect had crippled his foot and he walked carefully and hid his pain behind a fixed smile.

  ‘Gentlemen, I apologise for keeping you waiting. I had a visitor who simply refused to leave my house until I had to be quite firm with her.’

 
‘I can imagine,’ Lucien muttered and Napoleon realised the implication in an instant, and looked more closely at Talleyrand. He was in his early forties, curly hair streaked with grey, yet he was the kind of fine-looking man Napoleon could imagine drawing admiring glances from the women of the salons Talleyrand frequented. He pulled up a chair and joined the others with polite nods of greeting.