The orderly saluted and spurred his horse forward. Bending low over the animal’s neck he raced across the ground in front of the Spanish infantry and reined in with the surviving men of the escort, who were busy forming up in the shelter of the rocks. Napoleon saw the orderly gesturing back towards the hillock as he passed on the order. The captain of the escort seemed to argue for a moment and then turned away, making for the head of his small band of comrades. His sabre flashed as he raised it up, held it there for a moment and then swept it towards the nearest Spanish battery. The squadron burst out of the cover of the rocks and charged towards the enemy guns. As soon as they emerged, the Spanish artillery opened up, firing case shot into the charging Poles.The blasts tore men and horses apart, and ripped up the ground around them.The distance to the guns was no more than a quarter of a mile, and every shot struck down two or three men at a time as they charged towards their objective. The men’s instinct for self-preservation caused their ranks to spread out so they presented a more open target as they galloped on, swords flashing, desperately shouting their war cries. It was all over in less than a minute. The last man reached the earthworks, spurred his horse up above the gunners, and was instantly shot from his saddle. The rest of his comrades, and their mounts, lay strewn across the ground in front of the battery.

Napoleon swallowed at the pitiful sight.They had died at his order. His temper had snapped and their lives had been thrown away. His headache was worse than ever and he reached up and rubbed his brow. Then he gestured to one of his remaining orderlies. ‘Ride back to headquarters. I want a regiment of Guard cavalry brought forward.They are to wait below the pass until they are ordered to charge.’

As he waited for reinforcements Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s men steadily fought their way forward again and began to take on the Spanish infantry in an unequal musket duel. Better training and discipline on the part of the French meant that enemy soldiers soon melted away. A dense column of chasseurs pounded up the road past Napoleon’s hillock, formed into lines just below the crest and stood waiting with drawn sabres. Up ahead the smoke from the musket duel wreathed the pass, swirling away here and there as the wind carried it off. Through such a gap Napoleon saw that the Spanish line was wavering and immediately sent forward the order to charge.

The strident notes of cavalry trumpets echoed down the slope and then the horsemen swept forward in a rumbling wave, sweeping round the end of Ruffin’s infantry and rolling up the enemy line before splitting in two and charging each of the enemy batteries. It was a brave sight. Too brave for the defenders, who threw down their weapons and their equipment and ran for their lives. Napoleon watched for a while longer until he could be sure that the pass was in French hands. Then, wincing at the pounding agony in his head, he turned his horse away from the battle and rode back down to the village of Sepúlveda. Berthier sent for his camp bed from the army wagon train and had it set up in a small cell built on one side of the church for the local priest. Napoleon gratefully collapsed on to his bed, fully dressed, and fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 49

As soon as the last of the enemy was cleared from the pass the army advanced over the Guadarrama range and on to the plain beyond. The first French cavalry patrols rode warily into the suburbs of the Spanish capital the day after the Battle of Somosierra. They reported back to imperial headquarters that the Madrid junta had ordered the arming of thousands of the common people, and the construction of makeshift defences and artillery positions to cover the approaches to the capital’s gates. In the first days of December the French army made camp outside the city and constructed their own batteries of siege guns ready to pound the hastily erected defences surrounding the entrance to Madrid.

While preparations for the assault were made Napoleon sent an envoy forward to demand the surrender of the capital. On the first day the envoy was rudely rebuffed, but on the second, the junta requested the opportunity to discuss terms. Accordingly, as evening fell over the plain and the soldiers began to light their fires, a small party of representatives rode out from Madrid and were shown to the gated estate that had been chosen for the imperial headquarters. Napoleon waited for them with his brother Joseph, and Berthier was with them to take notes, as ever. Once the representatives had been searched they were escorted into the Emperor’s presence by a section of guardsmen, who remained in attendance, watchful for any sign of treachery from the Spaniards. Napoleon had decided to keep the encounter as brief and formal as possible and there were no chairs in the room. The fire had not been lit, but the room was brightly illuminated by scores of candles burning in the heavy iron holders suspended from the ceiling. The leader of the Spaniards, a tall, graceful man of advanced years, stepped forward to speak for the junta.

‘I am Don Francisco Pedrosa of Castille, grandee of Spain and member of the Madrid junta, your imperial majesty.’ He concluded with an elaborate bow. Don Francisco had studiously avoided looking at Joseph, as if he was not even in the room, and Napoleon felt his anger rise at this deliberate slight to his brother.

‘Are you authorised to accept terms, or merely to discuss them?’ he asked tersely.

‘I speak and act for the junta,’ Don Francisco answered. ‘If we make an agreement here, tonight, it will be binding.’

‘And these other men with you.Who are they?’

‘Members of the junta and representatives of the Madrid councils.’

‘Do they speak French?’

‘They do. The junta insisted that negotiations be held in front of witnesses.’

‘Really? But your witnesses are hardly impartial, Don Francisco.’

‘Any more than yours are, sire.’The Spaniard smiled wearily.‘I doubt there is an impartial man left in Europe these days.’

Napoleon returned the smile. ‘We live in difficult times, señor. Though that does not need to be the case. France and Spain are allies.’

‘Allies? I think not, sire.You come here as invaders.’

‘No.We come here to restore the rightful King of Spain to his throne and end the civil strife that is tearing his kingdom apart.’ Napoleon placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. ‘You have but to acknowledge his legitimacy and set down your arms and I swear to you that my soldiers will leave Spanish soil.’

‘All of them?’ asked Don Francisco.‘And can you guarantee that they will not return?’

‘They will not return of my volition. I have no desire to enter the territory of an ally, without that ally’s express permission.’

‘I see.’ Don Francisco nodded. ‘You will forgive me for asking, sire, but from whom would such permission be sought?’

‘Why, your King, naturally.’

‘Ah, there we have something of an impasse between us, since neither the Madrid junta, nor indeed any junta in Spain, recognises the authority of your brother.’