‘Indeed,’ Arthur added, fixing his gaze on Kellermann. ‘To begin with, precisely how do you propose to repatriate your forces?’
‘Alas, since the French fleet was defeated by your Lord Nelson our navy has not been equal to the tasks requested of it. So it would seem most reasonable to ask that the army is conveyed to a home port by British ships.’
‘British ships?’ Arthur was astonished. ‘In British ships? Out of the question.’
‘Restrain yourself, please,Wellesley,’ Dalrymple said firmly, and spoke to Kellermann again. ‘And why should we agree to such a suggestion?’
The Frenchman shrugged. ‘It is the quickest way to remove our soldiers from Portugal. Of course, if you would be prepared to wait until a sufficient force of French warships was ready to carry them away . . .’
That would delay the surrender of Portugal for at least a month, Arthur realised. Plenty of time for fresh French columns to arrive from Spain and continue the struggle. The point was clear to all, and Dalrymple nodded.
‘Agreed. There is a convoy of merchant ships, as well as Admiral Cotton’s squadron, lying at anchor. They should suffice for the task.’
‘That is good.’ The Frenchman smiled. ‘I am sure your navy will carry out the task with their customary efficiency.’
‘You can count on it.’
‘Now, is there anything else you wish to query, sir?’ Kellermann continued. ‘If not, then perhaps you and I might draft the armistice now.’
‘Now?’ Dalrymple was taken aback by the sudden challenge.
‘I see no reason why not, sir. There is no need to delay the completion of your conquest of Portugal.’
‘Liberation,’Arthur interrupted.‘We are here to liberate Portugal, not conquer it.We are not Frenchmen.’
‘Tsk, Wellesley,’ Dalrymple muttered. ‘There’s no call for that.’
‘I disagree, sir. There is a world of difference between liberation and conquest. Or at least there should be.’
‘Liberation then,’ Kellermann conceded and turned his attention back to the British commander. ‘May we commence with drafting the agreement?’
‘Yes.Yes, I suppose so.You may leave, Burrard, and you too,Wellesley. Wait for us outside.’
‘Perhaps it would be better for us to remain here, sir,’ Arthur suggested. ‘In case any of the finer points require further discussion.’
‘I am quite capable of making my own decisions, thank you,’ Dalrymple said coldly.‘Now be so good as to leave General Kellermann and myself to draft the document.’
Arthur stared back at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘Yes, sir.’
For the next hour Arthur sat in the shade of an awning a short distance from the tent. From there he had a good view over the slope that had been so hotly contested the day before. Today all was quiet, but the traces of the battle were plain to see: gouges in the earth and rock where cannonballs had thudded home, and the bodies of hundreds of men strewn across the stubble and clumps of gorse and myrtle. Most were French, and only a handful of British corpses had not yet been removed by burial parties. The French dead would have to wait until the last of the redcoats were interred. Some of the bodies were naked, their clothes and other belongings taken in the night by camp followers and the local peasants. A faint breeze stirred and carried the sickening stench of decay up to Arthur and he felt his stomach clench in revulsion.
It was not just the thought of the dead that occupied his mind. He was worried about the terms of the armistice. Although it would mean that the Portuguese campaign was over for the present, with no further loss of life, the prospect of allowing Junot’s army to escape galled him. Worse still, he could imagine how people back in London might react to the news that a French army had been carried home in the holds of British warships.That was the kind of detail the newspapers and public opinion were bound to focus on, rather than the fact that the expeditionary force had achieved what it had set out to do, and expelled French forces from Portugal.
‘Sir!’
He turned and saw a staff officer beckoning to him. ‘Sir, the general wishes you to attend him.’
With a sigh Arthur rose to his feet and strode back across the top of the hill to General Dalrymple’s tent. Inside he saw that his superior and Kellermann were sitting side by side on the far end of the table. Dalrymple indicated the seat nearest Arthur.
‘Sit down,Wellesley.We have a draft for the armistice. Since you had the honour of winning the battle that led to this happy opportunity I feel it only fair that you should witness the fruits of your victory. So I will read the terms through to you and then you may comment on them, if you wish.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Dalrymple proceeded in a dry monotone and when he had finished he laid down the draft. ‘Well?’
There was little deviation from the details they had discussed earlier, but there was one matter Arthur wanted clarification of. ‘I do have a question for General Kellermann, sir. What exactly constitutes the “property” the French wish to take home with them?’
Kellermann stirred uneasily. ‘Just a question of personal effects. The clause mostly concerns our officers, as you might imagine.’
‘And what is the precise nature of this property?’
‘It is hard for me to say.’ Kellermann shrugged. ‘I should imagine it comprises silverware, wardrobes, the odd painting or piece of statuary. Perhaps a carriage or two.’
‘I see.’ Arthur’s eyes narrowed.‘Can I take it that none of these items were acquired during the course of the French army’s campaign in Portugal?’
Kellermann stiffened. ‘Are you accusing me, or my brother officers, of carrying off spoils of war?’
‘Not if you can give me your word that your property is not loot.’
‘Enough, Wellesley!’ Dalrymple slapped his hand on the table. ‘I will not have you undermine the armistice by making such accusations. Now then, those are the terms. General Kellermann, will you do me the honour of signing first?’
‘I would be pleased to, sir.’
Kellermann reached for a pen, flipped open the inkwell, dipped the nib and signed both drafts with a flourish. He was about to hand the pen to Dalrymple when he paused, and for an instant Arthur saw a crafty expression flash across the French officer’s features before he composed his face into a respectful smile.
‘General, I think that it would be appropriate for an officer of equal rank to sign on behalf of the British.’
‘Really? Why is that?’
‘Out of respect for your rank, sir. It would not be seemly for your name to appear on equal terms with my own.’
‘Oh, I see. No, of course not.’
‘In that case, sir, may I ask General Wellesley if he would do me the honour?’
Dalrymple looked up at Arthur. ‘Well, what d’you say?’
Arthur was sorely tempted to refuse. He had had no hand in drafting the terms of the armistice, and some of the clauses were far too generous to the enemy. But if he refused it would only cause further ill will between him and his superior. He nodded, and took the pen offered to him by General Kellermann.Then the French officer slid the documents across the table and indicated the space beneath his own signature. Arthur dipped the nib in the ink, composed his hand and signed his name with neat, deliberate strokes. When he had finished he laid the pen down and sat back as the documents were whisked away. Kellermann handed one to Dalrymple and folded the other to tuck inside his coat as he stood up.
‘I must return to General Junot and tell him the good news.’
Dalrymple and Arthur rose to their feet and exchanged handshakes with the French officer before Kellermann strode out of the tent, mounted his horse, and galloped away. As Arthur watched him go, he could not help doubting the wisdom of what his commander had agreed to. But at least the French would quit Portugal. Once Portugal was established as a base of operations the British army could turn its attention to Spain, and the next, far more ambitious, phas
e in the campaign to eject the French from the Peninsula.
A week later General Junot surrendered the Portuguese capital to the British. Dalrymple, reinforced by Sir John Moore and another fifteen thousand troops, moved south to occupy the city. There was a brief celebration in the streets as the inhabitants cheered the departure of the French garrison, but joy soon turned to disbelief and anger when it became apparent that the ‘property’ that the enemy were taking with them, with British consent, included gold and silver plate from Lisbon’s churches and other loot taken from the royal palaces and homes of the wealthy. It was a bad business, and Arthur, who had signed the armistice, began to dread the manner in which it would be received in London. Worse still was the mood in the army. The plodding nature of Dalrymple, and the common knowledge that he had permitted the French to get the better of him, soured the mood of officers and common soldiers alike.The fact that they continued to report to Arthur in the first instance caused understandable resentment in his superiors. Arthur felt himself to be in a peculiar bind. On the one hand he had proved himself to be a fine commander who had the respect and affection of his men, which meant that it was impossible for him to serve with the army in a subordinate role. On the other, he did not wish to quit in case senior officers complained that he was unwilling to serve where he did not command.
The difficult situation was resolved for him late one afternoon in the middle of September when a message arrived from London. Somerset brought the despatch to Arthur’s office in the Lisbon house he was renting, where he had been reading through the latest correspondence from home. His brother William was full of news of the public outcry over the armistice, and his letter included a newspaper clipping that referred to Dalrymple, Burrard and Arthur himself as cowardly curs. William urged his brother to seek leave and return to London to clear his name.
Arthur looked up as Somerset rapped loudly on the door frame.
‘Come in!’
Somerset crossed the room, emerged on to the balcony and held out a sealed letter. ‘From Castlereagh, sir.’
‘Ah.’Arthur felt his heart sink a little, already guessing at the contents of the letter. He hesitated a moment before taking it from his aide and breaking open the seal. Unfolding the sheets of paper he read through them quickly and then looked out over Lisbon, glowing in the light of the late afternoon sun.
‘Well, Somerset, it seems that my campaigning days may well be over.’
‘Over?’ Somerset frowned. ‘Why, sir? What’s happened?’
‘I have been summoned home immediately, to face a military inquiry. Generals Dalrymple and Burrard are to follow. General Sir John Moore is to assume command of the army. That’s something, at least. Moore is a fine officer, and he’ll keep his blade in the Frenchman’s back.’
‘I suppose so, sir.’ Somerset frowned. ‘But it isn’t fair, sir.You are not at fault.The whole army knows it.’
Arthur raised a hand to quiet his subordinate.‘I must defend my part in the treaty.You have to hand it to that fellow Kellermann. He outfoxed us.’ Arthur smiled bitterly as he recalled the manner in which he had been coerced into signing the armistice. ‘Me most of all.’
Chapter 47
Napoleon
Vitoria, November 1808
The journey across the Pyrenees had been chilly and wet, and even though he had spent most of the day huddled beneath heavy fur robes Napoleon felt as if the cold had penetrated through to every bone in his body. His sour mood was not helped by the many hours he had spent reflecting on developments across the empire. Junot had failed him in Portugal, and now a British army had a foothold in the Peninsula. The bitter anger he had felt at the news had slightly abated at the gratifying storm of outrage the terms of Junot’s treaty had caused in Britain. Napoleon could well imagine how it must have stuck in the throat of the British to have Junot’s army given free passage back to a French port aboard the vessels of the Royal Navy.The memory passed and his mood became sullen again. He had met the Tsar at Erfurt in October and it had soon become clear that the cordial warmth which had existed between the two rulers following the meeting at Tilsit little over a year earlier was waning.
Napoleon had made lavish arrangements for the meeting, filling Erfurt with the very best entertainers to be had across Europe. But behind the glittering ceremonies, the fine theatrical performances and the spectacular concerts, the hard business of striking deals had not gone the Emperor’s way.The Tsar was well aware of the difficulties Napoleon was facing in Spain. News of the loss of Portugal to the British and the defeat and surrender of General Dupont and his entire army to the Spanish at Bailén had echoed round Europe and given fresh hope to all who opposed France and her Emperor.
Accordingly, the Tsar had claimed that the Continental System was harming Russian commerce, and he argued that some concessions to trade with Britain had to be made. He had also demanded that Napoleon reduce the Prussian reparations by twenty million francs, and that Russian annexation of Finnish lands, as well as Moldavia and Wallachia, was recognised by France. Finally, the Tsar had made no secret of his designs to seize Constantinople and gain access to the Mediterranean from the Black Sea. In return for so many concessions by Napoleon, the Tsar had agreed to support Napoleon in the event of another war between Austria and France.
The reports from French spies in Austria were alarming. Every month more and more men were being recruited into the army. Hundreds of new artillery pieces were being cast and horse-buyers were travelling across Europe to secure the best mounts for the Austrians’ growing number of cavalry regiments. It was clear to Napoleon that these were preparations for war, and if Russia could be induced to declare her support for France in such a conflict then it was possible that the Austrians might be discouraged from taking the final step. But Alexander’s guarantees to France were unconvincing and Napoleon had little faith in his ally. The only good to come out of Erfurt was the appearance that the two rulers were still allies.
With his affairs in eastern Europe settled, for the moment at least, Napoleon concentrated his attention on Spain. Three of his finest marshals, Ney, Mortier and Victor, together with their veteran corps had been transferred from Germany to the Peninsula and it was these troops who formed the new Army of Spain. With such fine men at his back Napoleon was confident that it would require only a brief campaign to crush Spanish resistance and bring the entire Peninsula under French rule, in the person of King Joseph. Thought of his brother caused Napoleon to frown. Joseph had barely been in Madrid long enough to be crowned before he had abandoned his new capital and retreated. Clearly he lacked the ruthless streak that was necessary to cow the rebellious Spaniards.Yet Napoleon had set him on the Spanish throne and there was no question of replacing him, or letting him be driven out. Napoleon’s prestige was at stake and he was firmly resolved to teach Spain that her people could not be permitted to defy the will of the Emperor.
It was dark when the imperial convoy at last entered the gates of Vitoria and made its way through the streets to the citadel that served as the army’s headquarters. The four squadrons of lancers that had accompanied the Emperor’s carriage across the mountains clopped straight to the stables, where the frozen riders dismounted and rubbed their stiff backsides and tenderly stretched their legs.
Napoleon’s carriage lurched to a halt in front of a narrow flight of steps leading up into the central keep of the citadel.The steps were lined with soldiers in greatcoats carrying torches in place of their muskets. The steam from their breath puffed out in little clouds as the Emperor climbed stiffly from the carriage and made his way up the steps to the entrance of the keep. A small group of officers, led by Berthier, waited to greet him formally.
‘Sire, it is good to see you.’ Berthier bowed his head. ‘The army is keen to teach the Spanish a lesson.’
‘Good,’ Napoleon muttered. ‘That’s the spirit. Is everything prepared?’
‘Yes, sire. There’s food and wine in the hall and your quarters are ready to rec
eive you . . .’
‘Be quiet,’ Napoleon said irritably.‘I meant is everything in readiness for the campaign?’
‘Apologies, sire. I will brief you after you have eaten and rested, if you wish.’
Napoleon shook his head.‘You can do it as I eat. Show me the way.’
Berthier led him inside the keep and Napoleon relished the warmth as they entered the great hall, where a large fire was blazing in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the chamber and its furniture. A large framed map hung on one wall and was illuminated by a lantern hanging from a stand.Taking off his cloak and handing it to a footman Napoleon approached the fire and held out his hands, smiling as the blaze began to warm him through. At length he turned away and made his way to the table where there were several platters of cold meats, cheese and bread. A bowl of soup steamed at one end. Napoleon summoned a footman and pointed out his requirements.
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