Instead, the words died in his mouth as he beheld the sight before him. Thousands of enemy infantry and horsemen were advancing across the countryside towards the slender French line. Dense columns rippled along lanes and over fields. Long trains of field guns and their wagons trundled amongst them. This was no rearguard they had encountered, but the vanguard of the main Austrian army itself.
‘My God,’ Ney muttered. ‘There must be sixty thousand of them. At least.’
Napoleon nodded.
Ney scrutinised the approaching horde for a moment. On either side, the French soldiers, who had been cheering loudly a moment earlier, now stood in silence, aghast at the horde marching towards them. The cavalry that they had broken was already rallying at the foot of the slope, and more columns of horsemen were cantering forward to reinforce them.
‘Sire, we cannot stand and fight. We must fall back. At once.’
Napoleon turned to inspect the ridge. The slope was steeper on the far side. He thought aloud. ‘We have a good position here. If we can get our guns up here, then—’
‘No, sire,’ Ney said firmly. ‘We cannot stand here. We will fall back across the river at Arcis and blow the bridge.’
Napoleon stared at him. ‘You dare to give the orders?’
‘I am the commander of these men,’ Ney replied defiantly.‘I will not order them to go to a pointless death.’
‘They are soldiers. They will do as their Emperor commands. As will you.’
‘No. I will not. I am in command here, and my order is that they retreat. You may stay and fight if you wish.’
Without waiting for Napoleon to respond, Ney pulled his reins and steered his mount forward towards his staff officers. ‘Fall back! Form column and march for the bridge at Arcis. In good order. This is not going to turn into a rout.’
Napoleon glared at him, speechless. His heart was filled with bitter outrage that Ney had defied him so forcefully to his face. Then he felt a stab of fear and anxiety. What had happened to his authority? Why did his presence no longer seem to effortlessly command the opinions of others? He watched Ney sidelong and wondered how much trust he could afford to place in his marshals any more. He felt a strange tingling in his arm and looked down to see that the hand holding his reins was trembling. He stared at it for a moment, then tightened his fingers and turned his mount towards Ney.
‘Take command here,’ he ordered flatly. ‘I’m returning to headquarters.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Ney replied with a curt nod.
‘Report to me later.’ Napoleon turned his horse about and spurred it into a gallop, back down the slope towards the river.
Napoleon remained at his headquarters for the next four days, anxiously reading reports from his patrols and the commanders of the hard-pressed armies struggling to delay the advance of the allies. After the skirmish near Arcis there had been no more reports of isolated allied columns small enough for Napoleon to risk attacking. The enemy had adapted their strategy, he realised grimly. On the evening of the fourth day there was a message from Marmont informing the Emperor that he was powerless to prevent the allies from taking Paris. At once Napoleon summoned Marshal Ney and thrust the despatch towards him. ‘Read.’
He settled into his chair by the fire and waited while Ney concentrated on the message. At length the marshal handed it back to Napoleon, who tossed it on to the fire. ‘I want as few men aware of the situation as possible. Clear?’
‘Yes, sire. What do you intend to do?’
‘There is nothing I can do to save Paris. The Prussians will reach the capital at least three days before we could.’ Napoleon paused a moment and then shrugged. ‘Paris will fall. Therefore it makes sense to order Marmont to gather every man that he can and abandon Paris and combine forces with us.’
‘And then?’
‘We march east, and strike towards the Rhine. If we cut the enemy’s supply lines, then there is still a chance to force an armistice on them and buy some time.’
‘For what?’
Napoleon looked at him in surprise. ‘Why, to continue the fight, of course.’
Ney sighed. ‘Sire, the war is lost. You are defeated. France must come to terms.’
‘Damn France!’ Napoleon slapped his hand on to his breast. ‘ Iam France. Me. And I will not surrender. Not while I yet draw breath.’
Ney returned his glare with a calm, almost pitying expression. ‘If Paris falls, then I will conduct my own negotiations with the Austrians.’
‘How dare you?’
‘Because I will do what is right, sire.’ Ney stiffened his back and bowed his head. ‘Is there anything else, sire?’
Napoleon’s lips pressed together in a thin line as he regarded his subordinate. Then, when his temper had subsided, he shook his head. ‘This is treason.’
‘No, sire. Treason is committed when a man betrays the interests of his nation. Any man.’
‘I see.’ Napoleon sneered. ‘Then I had better leave, and find myself a commander who still has the courage to fight.’
If Ney felt any anger at this slight to his bravery he showed no sign of it. Napoleon pointed towards the door. ‘Now get out of my sight.’
After Ney had left, Napoleon slumped down into his chair and gazed into the fireplace. He watched the languid flames slowly die down into a failing glow as the night drew on, and then, at midnight, called for his horse to be saddled and a cavalry escort to be made ready to ride within the hour.
Leaving Ney and his men behind, Napoleon and his escort rode south-west, to ensure that he did not run into any enemy cavalry columns scouting deep into the French countryside. They stopped briefly to rest the following night, and then crossed the Seine and turned west and north towards the capital. Villagers and townsfolk stopped in surprise to see their Emperor pass through, and even though some cheered Napoleon rode on heedlessly. He dared not stop now, not when a royalist, emboldened by the approach of the allies, might make an attempt on his life.
As evening drew in on the last night of the month, Napoleon reached Essonnes, twenty miles from Paris, and sent for the commander of the garrison to arrange for food and forage for his escort before they began the last leg of the journey. A portly officer with grey wispy hair came puffing up to Napoleon as he entered the garrison headquarters, and bowed low.
‘Sire, it is an honour to receive you.’
‘Later. My men and horses need feeding before we take the Paris road.’
‘Paris?’ The colonel frowned. ‘Then you have not heard?’
‘Heard? Heard what?’
The colonel licked his lips nervously. ‘Paris has fallen, sire.’
Napoleon stared at him, and then shook his head. ‘No. Not yet. Marmont said he could hold on for a few more days.’
‘Sire, Marshal Marmont surrendered the capital in the early hours. Paris is in the hands of the Prussians.’ The colonel saw the stricken expression of his Emperor and then glanced down, refusing to meet Napoleon’s eyes.‘I have a copy of the official proclamation, sire. Do you wish me to fetch it for you?’
‘No . . . no. That is not necessary. If it is as you say, then there is nothing left for me in Paris. There is only one place left for me now.’ Napoleon steeled himself. ‘One place where I can summon my men, and make a stand.’
Chapter 50
Fontainebleau, 4 April 1814
The grounds of the chateau, once the preserve of the imperial court, were covered with tents. Most were makeshift arrangements hastily sewn together by veterans who knew the value of any kind of shelter from the elements. The others belonged to officers and varied in size according to rank. Thankfully the winter had passed and the early days of spring brought clear skies and slight warmth to comfort the weary men of the French Army. Inside the chateau the splendours of the dйcor were largely lost on the staff officers and couriers, coming and going, trailing mud across the finely tiled floors and expensive rugs. The mood was sombre and a wary quiet embraced the men whenever the Emperor emerged from his study.