Bernadotte bit his lip. ‘You would countenance that?’
‘If that was the verdict of the court, what else could I do? I will not side with you against the will of the Grand Army.’
Bernadotte took a half-step towards the table and gestured in the direction of the signed order.‘Sire, this is absurd. I am no traitor. I would never betray the interests of France. I am your loyal servant, and I am married to the sister of your brother Joseph’s wife.’
It was a desperate gambit, and Napoleon could not help feeling contempt at such a naked appeal to place family concerns before national interest. He stared back at the miserable Bernadotte and let him suffer through a prolonged silence before he spoke again.
‘I have made my decision, Bernadotte. You have brought disgrace upon yourself, and upon your men, who little merit it. There is no question that you deserve to stand trial.’
Bernadotte clasped his hands together. ‘Sire, I know I made an error of judgement, but I do not deserve this. I swear to you, on my life, that I will never let you down again. I swear it by all that I hold dear!’
Napoleon’s lips curled in contempt for a moment, then he reached for the order and held it in his hands. He stared at the document for a moment before he spoke again. ‘I know full well that if I issue this it is the same as giving the order for you to be shot.’
Napoleon stood up and walked slowly towards the fire. He ripped the order in two and tossed the pieces into the blaze. He watched as flames flared along the edges of the paper and a moment later there was nothing left of the document but charred flakes and ash.Then he turned back to Bernadotte and noted the amazed expression on the other man’s face.
‘You have made your great mistake in life, Bernadotte. Every man is entitled to one such error. There will be no more chances.You must atone for your failings with every breath of life that remains to you. If there is any sense of honour in you, then you will own up to your disgrace and see that neither I, nor any of your comrades, ever have cause to regret my leniency.’
Napoleon picked up his coat and strode towards the door. Bernadotte finally managed to recover from his shock and surprise, and muttered, ‘Sire, I thank you with all my heart, and I swear you shall never regret this. I swear that I will devote my life to your service.’
Napoleon paused at the door and looked back at the man, feeling sickened by his grovelling display of gratitude. ‘Very well. That is a promise I will hold you to as long as you live.’
Bernadotte nodded gravely. ‘And it is one that I shall honour above all else, for ever.’
Chapter 24
Warsaw, January 1807
Napoleon pulled the thick fur robe more closely about his shoulders as he stared into the fireplace. A servant had built the fire up before retiring and leaving him alone in the study.That had been over an hour ago, and the split logs had long since burned through. The charred timber was gilded with bright orange specks that pulsed slowly amid the slender fingers of flame flickering up from the heart of the fire. Outside, the wind moaned round the castle as the blizzard that had begun at dawn continued into the dusk, blanketing the city in a thick mantle of white snow. Winter gripped the land and across Poland the men of the Grand Army huddled in their billets and only ventured abroad to search for food and firewood, or when required for patrol and sentry duties.
As the previous year had come to an end the Emperor had finally sent his army into winter quarters, before exhaustion and a sharp decline in morale caused it to fall apart. Despite the victories at Jena and Auerstadt and the subsequent pursuit of the remnants of the Prussian army until its almost complete destruction, the Prussians had not surrendered. Even as Marshal Davout had led his corps in triumph through the streets of Berlin the Prussian King, Frederick William, had fled east to join his Russian allies and continue the war against France. All that was left of his army was one rag-tag column scraped together from the survivors, barely a match for a single corps of the Grand Army. Yet, Napoleon knew, the Russians were massing formidable numbers of men to confront the French army once the worst of the winter had passed. Or so he had thought until the first reports of Russian movements had reached imperial headquarters. It seemed that the Russian soldiers were injured to the effects of winter and were already advancing towards the French outposts.
Napoleon idly stroked his chin as he considered the situation. Berthier had updated his notebooks the previous night, and examining them the following morning Napoleon had been shocked to learn how his army had been ravaged by the onset of winter. Almost half of the men were absent from their units as they ranged across the frozen countryside stealing food and looting whatever valuables they discovered in the villages and estates surrounding Warsaw. Discipline was breaking down and already there had been reports of men killing officers and sergeants who had attempted to hold them back from committing the worst excesses.
Napoleon had been shocked by the backwardness of Poland compared to the rest of Europe. There were few good roads, and those that existed became impassable the moment the autumn rains turned their surfaces into a glutinous mire that sucked down the wheels of wagons and cannon and made an effort of every step taken by men and horses. Such conditions meant it was impossible to bring supplies forward and Napoleon had been forced to call a halt to operations. It had been his intention to wait until spring came to continue his advance against the Russians, but it looked as if his hand would be forced if the Russians decided to attack while Poland was still in the grip of winter.
Life was not hard for all the men of the Grand Army. Those at imperial headquarters, and the men of the Imperial Guard quartered in Warsaw, were comfortable enough, and had plenty of diversions to entertain them through the winter. For many years the Poles had suffered at the hands of their Russian, Austrian and Prussian neighbours and they had greeted the French as liberators. Napoleon had been pleased to play such a role and had made every effort to befriend them and offer promises of independence once the Russians had been driven out of Polish territory. Thousands of Poles had already volunteered to serve with the French and Napoleon needed the reinforcements. But if his men continued to plunder the countryside the Grand Army would not be welcome for much longer. While the soldiers could march swiftly when they lived off the land it did mean that they tended to operate like a plague of locusts, leaving discontent and hunger in their wake. Napoleon frowned as he considered the matter. If he attempted to supply his men on the march, it could only be achieved by advancing more slowly, and operating with smaller armies with which it would be impossible to overwhelm the nations that opposed him.
In any case, however an army was supplied, it could not hope to march far and fight in the depths of such a winter. Napoleon leaned forward in his chair, closer to the fire, and stretched his hands out to warm them. For a moment he cursed his enforced stay in Warsaw. But only for a moment as his thoughts turned to the young countess, Marie Walewska, who had arrived in Warsaw a few days earlier. Her breathtaking beauty had instantly captured the attention of the French officers at headquarters, and Napoleon had felt his heart quicken when she was introduced to him at a ball given in his honour. They had talked briefly, then he had invited her to join him for a late supper after the ball, and before midnight had struck they were in each other’s arms beneath several blankets in the Emperor’s bed. She was as good a lover as he had ever known and he felt his lust return as he recalled the smoothness of her skin, the gentle curves of her limbs and the smooth fullness of her breasts. He resolved to send for her again that very night.