‘Prince, you’ll have to wait . . .’ said Kozlovsky. ‘The disposition of Bagration’s troops . . .’
‘Is it surrender?’
‘No, it’s not. We’re getting ready to take them on!’
Prince Andrey walked over towards the door of the room from which the voices were coming. But just as he was about to open it, the voices inside stopped speaking; the door opened and there in the doorway stood Kutuzov with his familiar aquiline nose and podgy features. Prince Andrey was standing directly opposite Kutuzov, but from the look in the commander-in-chief’s one good eye it was clear that he was observing very little, being preoccupied with so many thoughts and anxieties. He looked his adjutant straight in the face and didn’t recognize him.
‘Well, have you finished?’ he inquired of Kozlovsky.
‘Very nearly, your Excellency.’
Bagration followed his commander-in-chief out of the room, a short lean man, still relatively young, his semi-oriental features suggesting a phlegmatic man of strong character.
‘Beg to report back, sir.’ Prince Andrey had to say it twice in rather a loud voice before handing Kutuzov an envelope.
‘Oh yes, back from Vienna? Very good! Later, later!’ Kutuzov went out to the steps accompanied by Bagration.
‘Well, Prince, I bid you farewell,’ he said to Bagration. ‘Christ be with you! You have my blessing for the great task ahead!’ Kutuzov’s face suddenly softened; there were tears in his eyes. With his left hand he drew Bagration to him, and with the other, which bore a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him, a gesture which seemed to have become second nature. He offered him a podgy cheek, but Bagration ended up kissing him on the neck. ‘Christ be with you!’ repeated Kutuzov, walking away towards his carriage. ‘Get in with me,’ he said to Bolkonsky.
‘Your most high Excellency, I would like to be of some use here. Please allow me to remain in Prince Bagration’s detachment.’
‘Come in,’ said Kutuzov, and noticing that Bolkonsky was still hanging back, he added, ‘I need some good officers myself. Yes, indeed I do.’
They took their seats in the carriage and for some time neither of them spoke.
‘We still have a very great deal ahead of us,’ Kutuzov said, seeming to penetrate with the sharp wisdom of a veteran all the spiritual torment that was troubling Bolkonsky. ‘If one-tenth of his detachment gets through tomorrow, I shall thank God for it,’ added Kutuzov, apparently to himself.
Prince Andrey glanced at this man, only inches away from him, and his eyes were drawn to the sharp outline of the scar on his temple where that bullet had gone through his head at Izmail, and the empty eye-socket. ‘Oh yes, he’s earned the right to talk so casually about the destruction of all these men,’ thought Bolkonsky.
‘That’s why I’m asking ask you to send me to that detachment,’ he said.
Kutuzov didn’t reply. He seemed to have forgotten what he had been saying, and sat deep in thought. But five minutes later, rocking comfortably in the smoothly sprung carriage, Kutuzov looked at Prince Andrey. His face now showed no trace of emotion. With shrewd amusement he questioned Prince Andrey about the details of his interview with the Emperor, and how the court had reacted to the Krems affair and also about certain ladies known to them both.
CHAPTER 14
On the 1st of November Kutuzov received an intelligence report that placed his army in an almost impossible situation. A spy reported that the French, having crossed the bridge at Vienna, were moving in great numbers on Kutuzov’s line of communications with the reinforcements marching up from Russia. If Kutuzov were to remain at Krems, Napoleon’s army of a hundred and fifty thousand men would cut him off from all communications, and surround his weary army of forty thousand, and he would find himself in the same situation as Mack before Ulm. If he wanted to abandon the road connecting him with the Russian reinforcements, he would have to go off the roads altogether into unknown territory, the mountainous region of Bohemia, pursued by the cream of the enemy’s forces, and would give up all hope of joining with Buxhöwden. If he decided to retreat down the road from Krems to Olmütz to join up with the forces coming from Russia he ran the risk of being intercepted by the French who had crossed the Vienna bridge and having to engage them on the march, encumbered with stores and transport – an enemy three times as numerous and hemming him in on two sides. Kutuzov went for this last option.
