‘I’m afraid I don’t really understand what you’re getting at.’
‘I think those two are sodomites! Now do you understand better?’
‘Personally, I don’t have any prejudices against such men.’
‘Neither do I, in fact. Only against bad payers.’
‘Are you sure of what you’re suggesting about their relationship?’
‘No, but it wouldn’t surprise me.’
Colonel Fidassio was riding some way off from his regiment, as was his custom. He turned pale when he noticed von Stils. Nedroni, who was at his side, immediately galloped up to meet these unwelcome visitors.
He brought his horse to a halt in front of them, to block their way, saluted politely and said: ‘May I enquire as to the reason for your visit?’
‘I am Captain von Stils, from the Saxony Life Guards, and this is Captain Margont from the 84th,’ the Saxon replied in a curt tone of voice. ‘We’ve come to talk to Colonel Fidassio about the debts he’s supposed to have paid us some time ago.’
‘I’m extremely sorry but that is impossible. Commanding the regiment occupies all the colonel’s attention.’
Von Stils turned even redder than from exposure to the sun. ‘It’s a matter of honour, sir! I insist!’
Nedroni remained courteous but firm. ‘It’s impossible and I’m sincerely sorry. But if you’re willing to leave me a message, it will be delivered in the shortest possible time.’
‘A message!’
‘Yes, we do have a message,’ Margont intervened. ‘Tell the colonel that we are going to ask General Dembrovsky to order your colonel to receive us immediately.’
Nedroni was taken by surprise. ‘You aren’t going to pester a general about money problems, surely?’
‘Deliver your message by all means,’ said Margont sarcastically before setting off towards the brigadier-general and his aides-de-camp, who were surveying the surroundings through field glasses from the top of a hill.
‘Very well,’ Nedroni conceded. ‘Please follow me, but be brief.’
When they reached Colonel Fidassio he was conversing with a major of the chasseurs. As this officer was French, that was the language the two men were using. The colonel’s face betrayed his dismay.
‘Have you deployed your squadrons to protect our flanks?’
‘Yes, Colonel,’ the chasseur assured him.
The major looked puzzled. It was clear that Colonel Fidassio was faced with a difficult choice. The chasseur couldn’t see what the problem was and was cursing himself for his lack of perceptiveness.
‘Yes, but aren’t your squadrons too spread out? If they are too spread out they won’t be able to stand up to a large-scale attack at one particular point. Tell your troopers to be at the ready but not too spread out. There needs to be a happy medium between being spread out and grouped together.’
‘I’ll transmit your orders immediately, Colonel.’
‘Everything in life is a question of a happy medium. “Always a little, never too much!”’
Always a little, Colonel, never too much, thought Margont.
The chasseur went away feeling he had not properly understood his instructions. Fidassio seemed to be about to call him back to add or subtract something but he restrained himself. Nedroni’s knuckles were white from holding the reins so tightly.
‘Colonel, these two officers wish to speak to you. I told them how overburdened with work you were but they insisted. They quite understand that you can only give them a few seconds.’
The few seconds in question seemed longer to Fidassio than eternal damnation. His face fell when Margont informed him that he’d been entrusted by the late Lieutenant Sampre with the task of recovering the dead man’s debt. Fidassio explained that he did not have the requisite amount on him but paid each of the two men a down payment of two hundred francs in exchange for a receipt. Fidassio kept looking at Nedroni for help. It’s Nedroni who’s the colonel and Fidassio his shadow, concluded Margont.
He and von Stils set off again. Margont turned round. Fidassio seemed more downcast than ever as Nedroni talked to him. Nedroni gave the Frenchman a look of hatred. He was angry with him for having guessed his friend’s secret, for discovering that a colonel’s magnificent epaulettes were too heavy for Fidassio’s shoulders and that Nedroni was helping him to bear this glorious burden. ‘Why did my mother want to make me a colonel?’ Fidassio must have lamented to himself. Yes, of course. But also, why had Fidassio gone along with it? It was true, however, that colonels always obeyed generals.
CHAPTER 23
AT the end of August the Tsar promoted General Kutuzov to generalissimo and the latter thus found himself in command of the Russian army. Barclay de Tolly had been demoted because the public were exasperated by his successive retreats. The choice of his successor had proved difficult. The Tsar did not like Kutuzov and criticised him for ‘having obeyed too well’. It was no secret that at the battle of Austerlitz, Kutuzov had advised against withdrawing troops from the plateau of Pratzen, the centre of the Austro-Russian position, and sending them to try to break through the French right flank. But despite this advice, the Tsar ordered the manoeuvre, falling into the trap set by Napoleon, who had not given ground on his right flank but had happily broken through the weakened enemy centre. But, because Kutuzov was so popular, the Tsar was forced to choose him. Kutuzov was sixty-six. He was considered an old man because he frequently dozed off – even during councils of war – because his excessive weight made it difficult for him to mount a horse, and because he was lethargic by nature. A pupil of Suvorov, one of the greatest Russian strategists, he had lost an eye during one of the many campaigns he had fought. Caution was one of his watchwords and he loved to give the impression that he was a crafty old fox who said nothing but took in everything.
Kutuzov was convinced of Napoleon’s superiority and wanted to continue the scorched-earth policy. But now Moscow itself was under threat, Moscow the cradle of the nation! The Russian people were wondering how things could have come to this. Public opinion and the Tsar’s decision had combined to force a confrontation on Kutuzov. Deeply religious and fatalistic, he now considered that a clash between the two armies was a necessary evil. Napoleon would at last have his battle.
Kutuzov chose an area close to the village of Borodino as the battlefield. Whilst the Russians called the confrontation the battle of Borodino, Napoleon preferred to call it the battle of the Moskva. The Moskva was a river nearby, and although Moscow itself was still more than ninety miles away, calling it the battle of the Moskva made it sound as if they were just outside the city walls. This was in a way correct because if the Russian army were crushed, Moscow would inevitably fall into French hands.
One hundred and fifteen thousand Frenchmen and allies, and their five hundred and ninety cannon – all that was left of the Grande Armée – were preparing to attack one hundred and fifty-five thousand Russians equipped with six hundred and forty cannon, which were often of larger calibre than the French ones. The Russians had set themselves up along a convex front more than six miles long. The terrain was winding and undulating, interspersed with small woods and bushy ravines, and bordered by forests of pine and birch. The Russian right wing, commanded by Barclay de Tolly, came up to the villages of Borodino and Gorki and their environs. The River Moskva flowed along this side. In the centre was the valley of the Kolocha, a tributary of the Moskva.
To the rear on a hillock, the Russians had built an entrenchment called the Great Redoubt or the Raevsky Redoubt, named after the general commanding it. This redoubt was the cornerstone of the Russian centre and it was an impressive construction. It extended for more than one hundred and eighty yards and was protected by a wide ditch. An earthwork had been built in front of it and to the sides. To the rear, a gorge, blocked off by a double stockade, enabled the defenders to come and go. Embrasures had been made to allow nineteen cannon to be fired. In addition, General Raevsky had had ‘wolf holes’ dug in front of the position in order to halt a possible cavalry charge. The large number of infantrymen given the task of protecting the Great Redoubt – twenty battalions – had positioned themselves wherever they could: in the Semenovskaya Ravine, on the slope of the hill and to the left of the redoubt, and in the village of Semenovskaya.