The staff were fussing about more than usual. While many were busy with official duties most were just doing their best to keep out of the Emperor's way for he was in a foul mood. The mail from Paris was late. He was anxiously awaiting news of the deteriorating relationship with Austria, but what was really annoying him was that he had not heard from Josephine for two weeks.
The year 1808 had been an embarrassing one for Napoleon in Spain. His brother Joseph had been crowned King of Spain, but the Spanish revolted against the French occupation. The revolts were been extensive and the reprisals harsh. In July the unthinkable happened when the Spanish army defeated a French corps at Bailén, inflicting some 3,000 casualties and capturing a further 17,000. In August Joseph had been forced to abandon Madrid. Then later that same month the British had driven the French from Portugal. Fearing a total collapse on the Iberian Peninsula Napoleon decided that the hand of the master was needed and went to Spain in person with a force 290,000 men.
In no time he smashed the Spanish army and restored Joseph to his throne. When Sir John Moore entered Spain with a 30,000 strong British force and attacked French forces in northwestern Spain, Napoleon abandoned his plans to capture Seville and Portugal and led 80,000 men against Moore. In a winter campaign he swept through the Sierra de Guadarrama and occupied Laon while Soult smashed the Spanish at Mansilla on 30 December. Moore retreated towards the coast at Corunna with Soult in pursuit. As 1808 turned to 1809 the Emperor settled in Laon.
With most of his staff keeping well clear of him the Emperor sat alone at a large table in a residence opposite the cathedral, one foot up on a chair, sipping on a cup of coffee, observing the occupants of the room. As he sat there Marshal Berthier, his Chief of Staff, cautiously approached.
"Is there anything you need, sire?" he asked.
"No," the Emperor snapped gruffly and Berthier, not wishing to face the Emperor's wrath, turned to go. "Actually yes," Napoleon said. "That man in the corner over there, the tall one, who is he?"
"Bonhomme, sire, Henri Bonhomme, colonel of the 45th."
"He seems familiar, do I know him?"
"He has been around for a while sire. He was with you in Egypt I seem to remember. He found a tomb or something. Made a bit of a name for himself at Austerlitz too if I remember."
"Ah yes. I remember him from Egypt. That tomb...something connected to the Rosetta Stone if I remember correctly." Napoleon paused for a moment. "He is a good man...trustworthy?"
"I believe so sire and a skilled soldier I'm told," Berthier replied.
"Send him to me. I have a special task for him."
*******
Henri Bonhomme's regiment was encamped on the edge of town where he managed to install himself in a beautiful hacienda overlooking the Bernesga River. He returned to the house after his discussion with the Emperor and immediately sought out Baillard.
He and Baillard had been childhood friends, but in the early days of the Revolution they had taken different paths and lost contact. However, contact had been renewed in the days after the Battle of Austerlitz when the pair met accidentally in the abandoned home of a wealthy landowner where Bonhomme was acquiring some paintings and Baillard was helping himself to the silverware. Realising that their mutual interest in 'collecting' could benefit each other Baillard agreed to act as Bonhomme's servant, managing their combined business activities.
"Pack for five days," Bonhomme told Baillard, "we leave this afternoon."
"Where are we going?" Baillard asked.
"Tusinos. Its a Monastery in the foothills about 30 kilometers north of here."
"What's there?"
"Can't tell you...It's a special mission for the Emperor."
"It wouldn't involve 'liberating' some church property, would it?" Baillard asked coyly.
Bonhomme did not address the question and instead replied, "it'll be cold up there so pack some warm clothes and get some rations...and that half bottle of Cognac. I'm going to find Captain Dulac...we will take the first battalion with us."
At around 2:30 PM Bonhomme, Baillard, Dulac and his battalion took the road north towards the foothills.
*******
Twenty-nine year old Captain Jacob Cole commanded Third Company in the 38th (Staffordshire) Regiment of Foot. The third son of Arthur Cole, a merchant of Stoke-on-Trent, Jacob had had his commission in the Regiment purchased at the age of sixteen. In his fourteen years with the Regiment he had served across half the globe: in the Low Countries with the Duke of York, in the West Indies, in the Cape of Good Hope, in South America (where he had been slightly wounded in the attack on Buenos Aires) and more recently at Rolica and Vimeiro in Portugal just a few months ago.
On 5 January he had been ordered to take two companies out to reconnoiter towards Laon. He only got a few kilometres from his starting point when French cavalry moving west got between him and the rest of Moore's retreating army. Cole was forced to head north east to try to get around the French and make for the northern coast.
After several days of hard marching through the harsh terrain of the foothills Cole reached a small village near the Monastery of Tusinos. Here he chose to rest his cold and exhausted men. The villagers were generous to the British soldiers and provided them with hot food and gave them shelter in their barns and homes.
*******
The village seemed too quiet for Bonhomme's liking. At this time of the morning the villagers should be busy with their morning chores. But not a soul was visible. He cautioned Dulac to advance slowly with skirmishers deployed, but this wasn't Dulac's first bullfight and it was already done.
The skirmishers had not gone far when the first shots rang out. Within seconds fire erupted from the whole front of the village. In the cold air the smoke hung low to the ground making it hard to see.
"British." was the reply, "red coats!"
Bonhomme signaled to Dulac to throw men out to the right, to flank the village, but again Dulac was ahead of him. Two companies were in line with the voltigeurs out in front in as skirmishers.
The rest of the battalion was formed in column to the rear.
Dulac had already directed some of the voltigeurs to the right. Bonhomme watched them go. They were quickly engaged with the British.
"How many are there?" He thought. The volume of fire was not that great so it could only be a company or two, but they had the advantage of position. He moved a bit to the left to see if there was any commanding ground there that the troops could use, but he could see none.
Suddenly he felt a solid whack on chest. He was hit. He looked down and could see where the bullet had hit and had torn his coat. He felt a wetness but there was no pain. He felt the point of impact expecting to find blood, but there was none.
The bullet had struck a silver flask that he carried in a pocket inside this coat. It was an ornately engraved piece with a blue glass inner lining. He had taken it from a fallen Austrian officer on the field of Austerlitz. On the front was engraved "To Otto from Lotte". Now it was irreparably damaged the bullet had split the case and shattered the glass. Although he never met her, and was unlikely to ever meet her, Bonhomme was grateful to Lotte for her gift to Otto had undoubtedly saved him from a terrible wound or worse. He thought of tossing the damaged item to one side, but it was solid silver and could have some value so he thrust it back into his pocket.
"Are you alright?" Baillard asked.
"Yes, it hit the flask."
"Do much damage?"
"To me or the flask?"
"The flask of course...it's solid silver."
"Typical," Bonhomme snorted. "Its ruined. The glass is smashed."
"That's a shame," Baillard said. Then pointing at the point of impact, said "that's got to smart!"
"Yep...there is going to be a bruise there tomorrow, for sure."
Bonhomme looked back at the fight and was alarmed to see the voltigeurs that had moved to the right were scrambling back, supporting two wounded men. He rode in that direction.
******
The plan had worked. The French had been knocked back and seemed hesitant to come on again. Cole could see that the opportunity to evacuate had arrived.
He turned Lieutenant Haverstock. "It's time to go. You take your company back into those rocks. I'll cover you with the other, then you cover us as we come back. Then we'll work our way up through the ravine, and continue north..."
*******
Bonhomme saw the British officer fall. He saw another and a few men nearby try to carry him, but as the voltigeurs began to move close they left him and followed the other red coats up a ravine above the village. He called to Dulac to cease the pursuit and post pickets. The British would be happy to get away and his business was in the Monastery not with them.
As the firing died out he went forward with Baillard and ten picked men. As he rode past the fallen officer Baillard relieved him of his watch and a small purse of coins which he distributed the coins among the voltigeurs, which was probably a wise thing given their next task.
The little group proceeded to the monastery, where the friar was reluctant to let them enter, but relented when presented with bayonets.
"Don't even think of it," Bonhomme hissed. Baillard cast a wicked smile in his direction, but Bonhomme was busy counting...one, two, three...the third alcove on the left. He went inside and there was the painting, high on the wall and bathed in reflected light from the stained glass window. The Blessing the Fallen Women by Vasco da Colombo. In this light it had an ethereal look, with the sun glinting off the gold highlights.
Despite the protests of the friars he had the voltigeurs take the painting from the wall and rested it against a pew.
"Is that what we are here to get?" Baillard asked. "Damned ugly thing if you ask me."
He was right. Out of the light that gave it the ethereal look, it was ugly and poorly painted too.
"That's what he wants. He was very specific. The Blessing the Fallen Women by Vasco da Colombo." Bonhomme squinted to read the writing on the brass plate to confirm the title. "He wants it as a gift for Josephine. Apparently she saw it on a visit here when she was very young and called it her favourite painting. Seems he wants to use it to get back in her good books."
"Well I hope it lives up to her memory otherwise he'll be in the dog box for a while longer."
"Must admit it wouldn't even find space in my privy," Bonhomme said. "Still, no accounting for taste. Let's get the thing packed and get out of here,"
*******
The Emperor drew back the cloth from the painting.
"Oh my God!" He gasped. "I can see why the fallen women needed blessing...look at that one...looks like she escaped from the leper colony! And that one...Oh my God!...this is awful...it looks like it was painted by a demented child! Josephine is a woman of taste, you know, but whatever did she see in this?"
"If I could make a suggestion, sire?" Bonhomme asked and Napoleon nodded. "At the monastery it was in a small room, quite high, in reflected light that caught the gold paint, and it looked quite different...ethereal even."
"Yes...er...thank you...that may be the answer. I need this to go down well with her, things are not good between us at the moment," Napoleon said and walked over to the window. After a moment of silence, he continued, "I appreciate your help Bonhomme, and your discretion." He paused again. "There are troubles brewing with the Austrians again and I expect to be at war with them before the year ends...if it comes to that, you will command a brigade."
With that he patted Bonhomme on the shoulder and wandered off.
"A brigade," Bonhomme thought. Outside Baillard was waiting for him with the horses. Bonhomme saw what looked to be a few silver candlestick holders in his saddlebags. He shook his head, smiled snd thought, "General de Brigade...its got a nice ring to it..."
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