‘That’s true,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘I shall simply be accompanying Berthier in an advisory role. The command of the Army of Reserve is his.’
‘Or at least that’s how it will be presented to the people of France,’ said Talleyrand. He dipped his head in acknowledgement of Napoleon’s neat circumvention of the new rules.
‘It seemed the obvious thing to do,’ Napoleon replied offhandedly. ‘It should be safe enough for me to leave Paris for a few months. The people will be loyal to the new regime for a while yet.’
‘I can imagine,’ said Talleyrand. ‘Fouché is busy censoring the newspapers and I hear that soon all theatre owners must have their plays approved by him as well. Meanwhile, your brother Lucien has been hard at work commissioning patriotic songs and monuments to the glorious dead.’
‘Your cynicism is misplaced,’ Moreau responded coldly. ‘Whatever you may think, the dead sacrificed their lives for France, which is more than you have done, citizen.’
Talleyrand shrugged. ‘I have devoted my life to the service of my country. That is my sacrifice.’
Moreau snorted. ‘What does a civilian know of sacrifice?’
‘Did not Danton, Desmoulins and Robespierre know the meaning of sacrifice?’ Talleyrand replied with icy calm.
‘Gentlemen!’ Napoleon raised a hand. ‘That’s enough. We do not have time for such petty altercations. Now then, to details. The plan was forwarded to the senior army commanders before Christmas. It was my intention that General Moreau’s Army of the Rhine would deliver the main blow.To achieve this it was to deploy one of its corps to pin the Austrian army in the region of the Black Forest, while the other three corps crossed the Rhine near Schaffhausen, turned the enemy flank and fell on the rear of the Austrian army.’
‘It sounds like a viable scheme.’ Talleyrand raised his fine eyebrows. ‘So why the past tense?’
‘Because General Moreau has pointed out what he believes are unwarranted risks in the original plan,’ Napoleon replied calmly. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Moreau?’
‘Indeed.’ Moreau stood up and leaned over the map.‘It’s a bold plan, Bonaparte, I grant you that. But it’s too bold. There’s not enough room for three corps to manoeuvre at Schaffhausen. Besides, if the enemy got wind of the plan they could defeat my army in detail.’
‘Assuming they could march fast enough,’ added Berthier.
‘It is still a significant risk,’ Moreau insisted. ‘With all due respect to Bonaparte’s plan, in my view it would be wiser to advance on a broad front on the north bank of the Rhine. And that is what I shall do,’ Moreau concluded, and resumed his seat.
‘Thank you, General.’ Napoleon smiled.‘I’m sure you are wise to be cautious, given that you command by far the largest and best of our field armies. Consequently, I have amended the campaign plans, and now, instead of striking the main blow in Germany, it will fall in Italy instead. Gentlemen, it is my intention that the Army of Reserve will advance into Switzerland, and when it is fully equipped and provisioned - no later than the end of April - it will turn south, cross the Alps and cut across behind the Austrian army of General Melas so that the enemy will be crushed between the forces of Masséna and those of Berthier.’
‘Cross the Alps in May?’ Moreau shook his head. ‘It can’t be done. The passes will still be covered in snow and ice. It would be impossible to get the guns over the mountains, and what of the danger of avalanches? It would be the height of folly to attempt it.’
‘The Austrians would never expect it,’ Napoleon replied. ‘That is why it must be done. That is why it will be done. And that is why we will defeat them . . . decisively.’
Moreau was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t approve of this plan.’ ‘I don’t believe anyone asked you to,’ said Talleyrand and Moreau glared at him.
‘Yes, well that is the plan in any case.’ Napoleon tapped the map. ‘It will go ahead according to schedule, and I will be requiring you to release Lecourbe’s division to reinforce Berthier the instant we open a route across the Alps.’
Moreau thought it over. ‘Lecourbe commands one of my best divisions.’
‘That is why I need his men.’
‘Of course.’ Moreau nodded. ‘I will reinforce Berthier, as you suggest. Now, if you don’t mind, Bonaparte, I must go. I have to leave for my army at first light. I will send you word the moment I begin my campaign.’
‘That would be appreciated, General.’
The small meeting broke up as Talleyrand took his chance to leave with Moreau. Once they had left, Berthier stared at the door that had closed behind them.
‘I don’t trust those two.’
‘Nor do I,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘But I need them both, and I dare not antagonise Moreau, not until it is clear to every French soldier which one of us is the master. So I must win this campaign, Berthier. If I lose, those two will throw me to the wolves.’
Chapter 53
The air was as clear and fresh as any Napoleon had ever tasted and he breathed deeply and filled his lungs as he gazed down the length of the Great St Bernard Pass. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was sinking behind the mountains to the west, making the snow-capped peaks appear blue in the watery light that remained. Napoleon gazed back along the narrow track he had ascended. A long line of soldiers, dark against the snow, snaked down into the treeline. Here and there several men struggled to help mules and horses haul small wagons and empty gun carriages up the slope. The barrels of the cannon, the most awkward of burdens to be taken over the pass, had been tied securely into hollowed-out tree trunks, each one harnessed to a hundred men who were tasked with hauling them up the pass, and then gingerly steering them down the far side.
It had been Marmont’s idea, and Napoleon felt pleased that his choice for the Army of Reserve’s artillery commander had been vindicated. So many of the officers who had served with Napoleon since the early days had turned out to be fine commanders, in spite of humble origins in many cases. Men like Masséna, and Desaix. Thought of the latter made Napoleon smile. A day earlier he had had news that Desaix had broken the blockade of Egypt and returned to France. Napoleon had sent for him at once; a man of Desaix’s talent could be vital to the success of the present campaign. That was the real triumph of the revolution, Napoleon thought with a slight nod. A man might rise as high as any on the basis of merit alone, and not because of some accident of birth. That was why France would win, in the end. For what nation could hope to stand against a nation of men free to pursue their ambitions?
For a moment the cares and concerns of leading an army were forgotten as Napoleon marvelled at the view afforded him from the top of the pass. To one side of the track the hospice of St Bernard squatted in the thick snow, and its monks stood at the entrance passing bread, cheese and wine into the hands of the soldiers as they tramped past, wrapped in coats and blankets, hands in gloves or bound with strips of cloth to save them from the cold, and frostbite. Napoleon watched as a company of the Consular Guard stood and ate their rations, stamping their feet and breathing plumes of steamy breath into the gloomy blue twilight.
Even though Napoleon was wrapped in a large fur coat he felt the sting of the icy air, and the perspiration that he had shed in the final climb up to the top of the pass now chilled his skin.
‘God, it’s cold,’ he muttered.
Junot turned to him. ‘Sir?’
‘I think we’d better get moving again, before it gets dark.’
‘Yes, sir. A lodge has been prepared for us a few miles down the path. We will eat and sleep there.’
Napoleon nodded. For the soldiers there would be no shelter. They would only rest when they reached the treeline, having marched for over two days in the numbing cold with no chance to sleep.