‘Yes, sir.’

‘Meanwhile, we’ll take Milan and give the men a brief rest. The Austrians aren’t going anywhere for now. We’ll march on them again once the men are fed and in good spirits. That’s enough business for tonight. Berthier will send you your orders at first light. Good night, gentlemen.’

They rose from their chairs and filed out of the room. Napoleon sat and stared at the map. The Austrians had retreated yet again, but they were running out of space to retreat into. Some time, in the coming weeks or months, there would be a reckoning. When it came, it was vital that the Army of Italy was strong enough to face a hard battle and win.

There was a knock on the door frame and Napoleon looked up to see Berthier holding a waterproofed document bag.

‘Dispatches and papers from Paris, sir. Will you read them now, or wait until morning?’

‘Now, please, Berthier.’

‘Yes, sir.’ His chief of staff crossed to the table and unfastened the straps. Inside was a carefully wrapped bundle of newspapers, a sealed packet from the War Office and a letter addressed to him in Josephine’s hand. Napoleon warmed at the sight and he instinctively picked up the letter and ran his fingers gently over the writing. He smiled. It was typical of her to use her contacts to get a letter included in the official dispatch bag. For a moment he lingered over the letter, then set it aside and reached for the packet and broke the seal.

There were two documents inside, one from Carnot at the War Office and the other from Barras on behalf of the Directory. He read Carnot’s letter first. The War Office was unable to send the requested reinforcements to the Army of Italy for the present, but assured General Bonaparte that he would be given priority the instant reinforcements were no longer needed on the Rhine. The letter concluded with an intelligence report revealing that Beaulieu was shortly to be joined by fifteen thousand fresh troops. Napoleon felt a cold rage flow through his veins. With fifteen thousand fresh men, he himself could sweep the enemy from Italy and chase them all the way back across the Tyrol to Vienna. He wondered, idly, who constituted the greater danger to his army. The Austrian forces, or the politicians back in Paris?

He opened the letter from Barras, glanced over the usual official preambles and started reading the substance of the wishes of his political masters. When he got to the end he lowered the document on to the table, his hand trembling with anger.

‘Damn them,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Damn them all.’

Berthier stood silently, waiting for his superior to elucidate on the contents of the letter. At length Napoleon looked up, his brow creased into a furious frown.

‘It seems that the Directory wants to split the command of the Army of Italy.’

‘Sir?’

Napoleon stabbed a finger at the text. ‘The Directory has ordered me to hand over half of the army to General Kellermann. I am not to continue the offensive. I am not to invade the Tyrol. I am not even permitted to occupy Milan. Those operations are to be carried out by Kellermann. Instead,’ he continued icily, ‘I am to take two divisions south to apply pressure to the papal states and the Kingdom of Naples to make peace with France. It seems that our leaders want to cut me down to size.’ He shook his head as he glanced at the letter again. ‘Apply pressure - what the hell does that mean? I think these politicians must mistake me for a fool.’

There was a short silence before Berthier nervously cleared his throat. ‘Why is that, sir?’

‘The phrase is far too vague, don’t you agree? What kind of pressure am I supposed to apply? Diplomatic or military? If I apply the former and fail to secure an agreement then the Directors will say I should have used force. If I use force and fail, or if I antagonise other states in Italy, then they will say I was exceeding my orders and should have negotiated. So I must succeed or be damned. Of course, that’s assuming that I do decide to relinquish half my army to Kellermann.’ Napoleon looked up, eyes shifting rapidly as he examined the map on the table. His mind was racing.

If the Army of Italy moved swiftly enough he could seize Milan and Pavia. Once those cities were in French hands Napoleon could begin to exact loans and ‘donations’ from the wealthier classes, and perhaps some of the neighbouring states and principalities. Why stop at money, he reflected. The lands of northern Italy were awash with art treasures. Once the Directory received this booty they would think twice about replacing the man who was feeding badly needed wealth into France’s empty treasury. He would gamble on that. Meanwhile he would also offer them a more reasoned and acceptable case for retaining him as the sole commander of the army.

‘Berthier, send me my secretary.’

When Bourrienne had set out several sheets of paper and the inkwell and readied his pen, Napoleon began to dictate a reply to the Directors. He was careful to ensure that his tone was respectful and unemotional. It was essential that his arguments be seen as objective, well reasoned and in the vital interests of France. As the early hours dragged by Bourrienne scratched out the rough draft of the letter. Napoleon emphasised, as forcefully as he dared, that unity of command is the most important thing in war. While the Army of Italy was under one general it could be wielded in the most effective manner. He was careful not to disparage Kellermann, who still basked in the afterglow of being hailed as the saviour of the revolution following his victory at Valmy. Napoleon drew a deep breath as he dictated the concluding section.

‘General Kellermann will command the army as well as me, for no one is more convinced than I am that the victories are due to the courage and audacity of the men.’ He smiled at that touch: underscoring his modesty with praise for the revolutionary zeal of his men.Then he continued, ‘However, I consider that uniting Kellermann and myself in Italy will put all our gains at risk. I believe that one bad general is better than two good ones.’

He nodded contentedly at this conclusion and looked over at Bourrienne. ‘There, that should do it. Draft a fine version and bring it here as soon as it’s done.’

‘Yes, General.’ Bourrienne snapped the lid of his inkwell closed and began to clean the nib of his pen on an old rag. ‘Do you want me to have a courier prepared to carry it to Paris?’

Napoleon thought a moment and then shook his head. ‘No, we’ll wait a few days. I want the news of any booty that I have seized to arrive close on the heels of this.’

‘Very well, sir.’ Bourrienne tucked the papers under his arm, bowed his head and left Napoleon alone.

For a long time he was still, staring at the map as his mind concentrated on the letter he had received from the Directory. It had come as a shock to him that the government was so insecure that it considered him a threat. Napoleon had been aware of some of the bad feeling directed towards him after the crushing of the royalist uprising, but had assumed that any jealousy of his acclaim could be countered by his own unswerving loyalty and good service. If this was how those in power in Paris treated successful generals, then perhaps Napoleon would be better off campaigning as far from the French capital as this war could take him.

For now he would have to fight the politicians in Paris to retain his command of the Army of Italy, every bit as hard as he had to fight the Austrians. A knife in the back would finish him just as surely as a bullet in the chest. He sighed wearily. This was no way to wage war. But unless he learned to fight on both fronts he could not hope to win the renown and respect that he craved.

The coming weeks were going to be more vital than ever. He must risk everything, even his life, to make the Directors believe that he was irreplaceable.