As they walked through the camp Napoleon felt the keen sense of anticipation amongst his soldiers. So different from little over a month earlier when the army had been thrust back on to the island by the Austrians. Napoleon’s brow creased into a frown as he recalled the scene. The survivors of the battle had slumped on the ground in exhaustion. Thousands of injured men had been forced to spend two nights in the open, and hundreds had died from their wounds and been buried in a mass grave on the south of the island.
Eventually the wounded had been evacuated to Vienna, including Marshal Lannes, whose legs had been smashed by a cannon ball. With both legs shattered the imperial surgeon, Dr Larrey, had no choice but amputation. Napoleon had gone to his friend’s side after the operation and found the veteran of many campaigns lying on a bed in a small chapel. A thin sheet covered Lannes and his arms lay at his sides. The sheet fell flat to the bed from his thighs down. Lannes was in a troubled sleep, his face slick with perspiration, as Napoleon and Dr Larrey entered the room.
Napoleon turned to Dr Larrey and asked quietly, ‘What are his chances of surviving?’
‘Good enough. The marshal has a strong constitution. Provided there is no corruption of the wound, the stumps will heal in time.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Keep me informed of his progress.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Napoleon glanced back through the door and felt a great sadness over the knowledge that the courageous and utterly dependable Lannes would never again be at his side during a battle. It would be hard for a man so full of vitality to accept life as a cripple, Napoleon realised. As he closed the door, he wondered if it might not have been kinder if Lannes had been killed outright.
Marshal Jean Lannes died eight days after he had been wounded. The pain of his loss still burned in Napoleon’s heart. He had wept at the news, and the army had been stunned. Many had seen Lannes in the front rank in battle and had been steadied by his example. He had risen from amongst their ranks and had shared their perils and their wounds, and they openly grieved for him as the news spread through the ranks.
Jean Lannes would be avenged, Napoleon vowed silently as they approached a group of sergeants sitting beside the track running across the camp. The men had a small keg of brandy with them and a haunch of cured venison. One of them looked up as Massйna and Napoleon passed by.
‘Hey, friends, join us for a drink?’
Massйna was about to refuse the offer when Napoleon nudged him and smiled a greeting. ‘Why, yes. Thank you.’
Massйna shot him a surprised glance, but Napoleon simply pulled his cap down a bit further as he sat on the crushed grass. After a moment’s hesitation Massйna joined him. The sergeant who had invited them held out two battered copper cups and lifted the keg to pour a small measure into each. Napoleon raised his cup. ‘Good health!’
The other sergeants, ten or so of them, raised their cups to return the toast and then, after a sip of the fiery liquid, Napoleon wiped his lips and asked, ‘So what unit is this, then?’
‘First battalion, Eighty-second regiment of the line. In Friant’s division.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Davout’s corps, then. Only just arrived.’
‘Not only that,’ the sergeant continued, ‘but only just formed. The battalion’s marched here from the depot at Lyons.’
Another sergeant cleared his throat and spat on to the ground beside him. ‘Most of the recruits are just boys.’
‘And what about you lot?’ asked Massйna. ‘What’s your service record?’
‘Us?’The first sergeant laughed.‘Up until a couple of months ago we were just customs officers. Then the call-up comes from Paris. The Emperor needs a new army and his recruiters are scouring France for discharged veterans, National Guard officers and NCOs, and finally, at the bottom of the barrel, us. That’s why I asked you to join us.’ He pointed at their jackets.‘You’re from the Imperial Guard. You must have seen a thing or two.’
Massйna nodded.
‘Then you must have been here when the army last went up against the Austrians.’
‘Yes.’
‘The army newspapers say that it was a tactical withdrawal after the enemy had been given a good hiding. Of course, no one believes a word of it. From what we’ve heard, it was a bloody disaster. Is that true?’
Massйna glanced at Napoleon, who was still for a moment before he nodded discreetly. This was a rare chance to hear what his soldiers really thought. Freshly arrived from Lyons, it was likely that none of them had ever set eyes on their Emperor. Most of the paintings and prints that were to be found around the country had him bedecked in glittering uniforms. They would not guess his identity, for now at least.
Massйna looked at the sergeant and nodded. ‘It was a hard fight, and yes, they drove us from the field. We lost good men, thousands of them.’
‘How did that happen?’
Massйna shrugged. ‘We advanced too far too quickly and the reconnaissance was sloppy, and somehow the cavalry patrols managed to miss spotting the Austrian army. That’s how.’
‘Then it’s like we were told,’ one of the others intervened. ‘The Emperor fucked up.’
Napoleon sensed Massйna freeze by his side, and he coughed and leaned forward.‘Careful, that’s dangerous talk. I wouldn’t let any officers overhear such an opinion. But, for what it’s worth, the Emperor made a mistake. I doubt he’ll make the same one again.’
‘Really?’ The sergeant raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you think so?’
Napoleon gestured at the vast camp surrounding them. ‘Every preparation has been made. I doubt there’s any army in the whole of Europe that could beat us now.’
‘I’m not worried about other armies. I’m worried about the one that’s waiting for us on the other side of the river. They’ve beaten us once. They’ll be thinking they can do it again.’
‘Then they’re wrong,’ Napoleon replied, and jerked his thumb at Massйna. ‘We’ve fought ’em before. Trust me, the Austrians can be beaten, and they will be beaten.’
The sergeant still seemed doubtful. ‘Well, I hope you’re right. God knows we need to beat them and end this war. Let’s hope this time we can have a real peace at the end of it all. Perhaps we’ll live to see the day when the Emperor has finally had his fill of war. All I want is peace, and the chance to go home to my family.’
‘Peace, and the chance to go home?’ Napoleon shrugged. ‘I’m sure that’s what the Emperor wants as much as the next Frenchman. The question is, will the other nations let us have peace?’
‘No chance,’ the sergeant replied bitterly. ‘War is all that kings, tsars and emperors understand. They love the uniforms, and pushing tokens round on maps, and all the time it’s the lot of common people to die. I thought the Revolution was supposed to put an end to all of that. We got rid of the King, and the aristos. Now look at us. Dukes, princes and barons as far as the eye can see, and Napoleon sitting on top of it all with his crown. What’s changed, tell me that?’