The Russian Emperor’s aide-de-camp is an impostor. Officers are nothing when they have no power; this one had none . . . The Austrians let themselves be tricked into allowing us across the Vienna bridge; now you are falling for a trick played on you by one of the Emperor’s adjutants.
NAPOLEON.
Napoleon’s adjutant galloped off at full speed bearing this ominous letter to Murat. Distrusting his generals, Napoleon himself moved to the battlefield with his whole guard, worried that a ready victim might slip through his fingers. Meanwhile the four thousand men of Bagration’s detachment cheerfully lit their campfires, dried themselves out and got warm, and cooked porridge for the first time in three days, none of them realizing or even dreaming of what might be in store for them.
CHAPTER 15
It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon when Prince Andrey, who had finally persuaded Kutuzov to release him, reached Grunth and joined Bagration. Napoleon’s adjutant had not yet reached Murat’s detachment and the battle had not yet begun. In Bagration’s detachment they had no idea how things were going. There was talk of peace, but no one believed it was possible. There was also talk of battle, but no one believed that was about to happen either.
Knowing Bolkonsky to be a popular and trusted adjutant, Bagration gave him his warmest welcome and special indulgence, as a commanding officer. He informed him that action would probably begin that day or the next, and gave him absolute freedom either to remain with him during the battle or to retire to the rearguard and supervise the order of the retreat, also ‘a matter of some importance’.
‘But I don’t think there’ll be any fighting today,’ said Bagration reassuringly to Prince Andrey.
‘If he is one of the run-of-the-mill little staff dandies sent here to win himself a cross,’ he was thinking, ‘he can do that in the rearguard, but if he really wants to be with me, I may as well let him . . . I can use him, if he’s got any guts.’ Without replying, Prince Andrey asked leave to ride around the territory and learn the disposition of the forces, so that if he had to deliver any messages he would know where to take them. One of the duty officers, a handsome and elegantly dressed man with a diamond ring on his forefinger, a confident speaker of bad French, was detailed to conduct Prince Andrey.
On all sides they could see rain-soaked officers with dejected faces who seemed to be looking for something, and soldiers carrying doors, planks and fences from somewhere in the village.
‘Just look at these men. They’re all over the place,’ said the staff officer, pointing to them. ‘Their officers let them run riot. And look here.’ He pointed to a canteen set up under a tent. ‘They come in here and just sit around doing nothing. I sent them all out this morning, and look, it’s full again. I must just ride over and give them a scare, Prince. One moment.’
‘Let’s both go, and I’ll get myself some bread and cheese,’ said Prince Andrey, who had not yet had time to eat.
‘Why didn’t you say, Prince? I could have offered you something.’
They got off their horses and went in under the tent. Several officers, with flushed and exhausted faces, were sitting at the tables, eating and drinking.
‘Now what’s all this, gentlemen?’ said the staff officer, in the reproachful tone of a man who has said the same thing over and over again. ‘You can’t keep leaving your posts like this. The prince gave orders that nobody should be in here. What about you, Captain?’ he said to a grimy, thin little artillery officer standing there in his stockings having handed his boots to the stallholder to dry them. He stood up when they came in, with a rather forced smile on his face.
‘What about you, Captain Tushin? Shame on you,’ the staff officer persisted. ‘I’d have expected you as an artillery officer to set an example, and here you are in bare feet. If the alarm goes you’ll look fine with no boots on.’ (The staff officer smiled.) ‘Back to your stations, gentlemen, if you don’t mind,’ he added in a tone of authority.
Prince Andrey couldn’t help smiling as he glanced at Captain Tushin. Saying not a word, Tushin was smiling at them, hopping from one bare foot to the other and looking inquiringly with his big, shrewd, kindly eyes from Prince Andrey to the staff officer and back.
‘The men say it’s easier in your bare feet,’ said Captain Tushin, with a shy smile, keen to cover his embarrassment with a joke or two. But before the words were out of his mouth he could see that this one was going wrong; they didn’t like it. He was even more embarrassed.
‘Please go back to your post,’ said the staff officer, struggling to maintain due gravity.
Prince Andrey glanced again at the little figure of the artillery officer. There was something odd about him, something unmilitary, rather comic but very engaging.
The staff officer and Prince Andrey mounted their horses and rode on.
