‘Good. I’ll sleep now. Wake me before the third hour. Have the reports ready to present to me then.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon wearily made his way into the priest’s humble sleeping quarters, where a single candle guttered in a bracket on the crudely plastered wall. There was a small table and stool, a cupboard, and the bed: a simple straw mattress covered in worn blankets. Napoleon undid the buttons of his greatcoat and spread it out on top, then sat down and pulled off his boots before easing himself under the blankets and laying his head on the rough hessian of the bolster. He was asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes and Berthier smiled to himself as his master began to snore. Then he turned back to his reports and began calculating the cost of victory.
‘The enemy losses are over fifteen thousand killed; another twelve thousand are prisoners. In addition we have captured nearly two hundred cannon and fifty standards,’ Berthier read from the summary he had prepared.
Napoleon stretched his shoulders until he felt the muscles crack, then straightened his spine and clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he braced himself for the other side of the balance sheet. ‘And our losses?’
‘One thousand three hundred dead, six and a half thousand wounded and a few hundred taken prisoner.’
Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. ‘Better than I had feared.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Very well, make provision for the wounded to be taken to Vienna. The prisoners can follow.They can be held there until the campaign is over. Now, I want you to issue orders for the army to re-form and be ready to march by noon.’
Berthier nodded and made a note. Outside, the first rays of dawn pierced the church windows with hazy orange shafts of light. Napoleon was grateful for the clear skies and cold air, which would aid his pursuit of the Russians. He was determined to drive them far to the east before the surviving Austrian forces could concentrate and re-join their allies.
The sound of hooves on cobbled stones came from outside the church and there was an excited challenge from one of the imperial guardsmen protecting headquarters. Napoleon glanced at one of Berthier’s clerks. ‘See what that is.’
While the man hurried off to do the Emperor’s bidding Napoleon sat down on one of the pews that lined the walls of the church and buried his face in his hands to rest his eyes for a moment. There was a brief exchange of voices in the street before the clerk returned, with another man.
‘Sire?’
Napoleon took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks as he sat up and regarded the clerk. Behind him stood Count Diebnitz.The Austrian was no longer scrupulously neat. His cheek was covered with bristles and his uniform was spattered with mud and there was a tear in one sleeve. He eyed Napoleon with a sullen, bitter expression.
‘Well, Count Diebnitz, I am glad that you survived yesterday’s encounter. Many of your countrymen did not, alas.’
Diebnitz’s nostrils flared angrily but he kept his mouth shut and reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded and sealed document.
Napoleon cocked an eyebrow at it. ‘What is that?’
‘A message, sir. From the Emperor of Austria.’
‘Tell me what it says,’ Napoleon continued wearily.‘I am a busy man, Count. Spare me the need to read it.’
Diebnitz swallowed his pride and lowered the document on to the pew beside Napoleon before he spoke. ‘His imperial majesty wishes to discuss an armistice.’
‘An armistice?’ Napoleon smiled thinly. ‘And why should I agree to one now, when I hold every advantage? Unless, of course, this is merely a preparatory step . . .’
He waited for the Austrian nobleman to get over his discomfort and come to the point.
Diebnitz spoke in a monotone. ‘His imperial majesty requests an armistice, in order to negotiate a peace agreement.’
‘Ah! I thought so.’ Napoleon smiled triumphantly. ‘Then you may tell the Emperor that I would be happy to discuss peace, on my terms.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Diebnitz bowed his head stiffly. ‘I will inform him at once.’
‘Wait.’ Napoleon narrowed his eyes as he stared at the Austrian. ‘Before you leave, you must know that there can be no peace while Russia is still your ally.’
‘Ally?’ Diebnitz sneered. ‘Our ally is in full retreat, towards Russia, sir.The Tsar has abandoned Austria to run and hide and lick his wounds. We have no ally, sir. Not any more. It would appear that your victory is complete.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Yes, it would.You may go, Count Diebnitz.’
The Austrian bowed his head and turned to march out of the church. Napoleon waited until he was out of earshot before springing up and rushing over to clasp Berthier’s hand in delight.
‘It’s over then.The war is over.The coalition is humbled.’
‘Yes.’ Berthier grinned back. ‘A triumph for you, sire.’
‘Indeed, my friend. We have crushed our enemies,’ Napoleon said with relish. ‘I’d give a small fortune to see Prime Minister Pitt’s face when news of Austerlitz reaches him.’
Chapter 16
Arthur
London, February 1806
‘It was Austerlitz that killed him,’ said William as he leaned back in his chair and lowered his soup spoon. ‘It broke Pitt’s heart. He never recovered after hearing the news. Austerlitz changes everything.’
Arthur shook his head.‘Austerlitz changes nothing.We are still at war with France and the future peace of Europe can only be achieved if we defeat Bonaparte. Pitt knew that well enough and devoted his life to the prosecution of the war.’
‘Well, now Pitt is dead, and so is his grand alliance against France,’ William continued gravely. ‘Austria has been humbled, Prussia is too afraid to fight and the armies of Sweden and Russia have retreated back inside their national boundaries. Our new Prime Minister and his government are of a very different line to Pitt and his followers. More’s the pity.There are many men in Parliament who argue that now is the time to make peace with France.’
‘Then they are fools.’ Arthur reached for the decanter and topped up both their glasses.They were dining at William’s London house. Richard had been invited but had sent word that he was too ill to attend, so they had started eating without him. Arthur had only recently returned from the abortive attempt to land an army in Germany to march and join with the Russians and Austrians against the French Emperor. News of the crushing defeat at Austerlitz had reached the expeditionary force before it had even landed, and the transports and warships had been recalled to Britain. A frustrated Major-General Wellesley had returned to London to seek a new opportunity to serve his country on the battlefield. But the national mood was far from bellicose and he had been offered, and reluctantly accepted, command of a brigade based at Hastings.