Chapter 815: The Great Victory at Marengo
"Yes, to the west." The cavalryman nodded. "Our company commander has been keeping a constant watch. At least twenty thousand enemy troops have already reached a point three kilometers from the Bormida River."
Napoleon gazed into the distance with confusion, muttering to himself, "What are the Austrians trying to do?"
At this moment, his troops were heavily depleted and exhausted. Any enemy commander with a shred of military common sense would never pass up such a golden opportunity to attack him.
'Are they trying to lull me into a false sense of security?'
Napoleon shook his head. Given the current situation, if the Austrian army to the north didn't pin him down, he could immediately pivot to attack Melas at Cabianca to the south.
'Are they using their own commander-in-chief as bait?'
'No, no, there must be a conspiracy here. I shouldn't be fooled by appearances. I need to think this through...'
Just as Napoleon was lost in thought, a captain directed his soldiers to place a stretcher before him. He stood at attention and reported, "Commander, this man claims he was sent by Amedeo III to deliver a message."
Napoleon glanced at the man on the stretcher. He appeared to be in his thirties, wearing a Sardinian uniform. His left leg was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, clearly wounded.
"He says his name is Eugenio," the captain replied. "Last night, he was acting suspiciously near our camp. The soldiers saw he was Sardinian and opened fire."
Napoleon crouched beside Eugenio and asked, "The King of Sardinia sent you to find me?"
The man nodded, his face pale. He spoke weakly, "His Majesty... has already... withdrawn our army... to Turin."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes... Last week, His Majesty... signed an agreement... with your Crown Prince. Sardinia... is withdrawing from the war..."
Napoleon turned to glare at the captain, his eyes as sharp as knives. "Why wasn't he brought to me last night?"
"We... we thought he was just a lying spy."
The captain stammered an explanation for a long while before Napoleon finally understood. It turned out Eugenio had been unconscious after being shot the previous night. Two others who had come with him were killed on the spot. When he woke up in the middle of the night, the French soldiers had ignored him, leaving him until now.
Napoleon cursed the officer harshly and ordered the army surgeon to treat Eugenio. He then turned to Lucien. "Order the entire army to stand by. Send out outriders to scout the enemy's movements thoroughly."
Forty minutes later, the cavalry returned to report that nearly twenty thousand Sardinian troops had indeed returned to the west bank of the Bormida River.
Napoleon was overjoyed, even instinctively crossing himself as he whispered, "Thank you, Your Highness. You truly are the most powerful reinforcement!"
Although he was confident he could use his soldiers and his own command ability to maneuver against and eventually defeat the Austro-Sardinian coalition, it would have cost him dearly.
Such a battle would have resulted in massive casualties, potentially rendering the Army of Italy unable to fight another major engagement for quite some time.
But now, the Crown Prince had "eliminated" nearly twenty thousand enemy troops with a single stroke.
The coming battle would be much easier.
He began to envision himself leading the Army of Italy and the Royal Third Infantry Division to attack Mantua, Austria's last stronghold on the Italian Peninsula.
Indeed, in his eyes, Melas's corps was no longer worth much attention.
Napoleon took a long, deep breath and said to Lucien, "Keep the cavalry's eyes on the Austrians at all times. The other corps will return to Marengo to rest and reorganize for three days."
Beside him, Joubert expressed some concern. "Commander, what if the Austrian army to the north attacks us? Most of our soldiers haven't recovered yet..."
Even with the Sardinians retreating, there were still over ten thousand soldiers under Argentau's command north of Marengo. They hadn't seen much action the previous day and were in good condition. If they launched a full-scale assault, it was uncertain if the French could hold them off.
Napoleon smiled slightly. "Don't worry. Right now, the Austrians must be nervously debating how to defend against our attack."
"After that series of defeats, they've lost their courage."
"Especially with Sardinia's sudden withdrawal; it will severely crush their morale."
"Actually, what I'm worried about now is that they might abandon Melas and flee back to the Mantua Fortress."
Just as he expected, Argentau retreated all the way to Castelceriolo and began setting up defensive works there.
It wasn't until noon the next day that the liaison sent by Talleyrand reached Napoleon's headquarters to inform him of the signing of the Treaty of Turin between France and Sardinia.
The liaison had been worried that the Bormida River line would be blocked by the Austrians, so he had taken a long detour through the Lombardy region to the north. As a result, he arrived a day and a half later than the Sardinian messenger who had taken a direct route.
Three days later.
Napoleon personally commanded his recovered and reorganized corps in an attack against Melas, who was holed up in Cabianca.
The French soldiers seemed completely unaffected by the loss of thousands of their comrades just a few days prior. Instead, they sang songs and excitedly boasted to one another, their morale soaring.
"Haha, even with over fifty thousand men, they were crushed by us in an instant!"
"I was right behind Colonel Bonaparte that day. I charged in and bayoneted a mounted officer right away..."
"The Austrians are practically made of paper."
"Yeah, didn't you see how the Sardinians were scared off?"
"Genoa, Pavia, Milan... where are we headed next?"
"It's time for Mantua!"
Inside the church in Cabianca, Cervoni hurriedly pushed open the door and spoke to Melas, who was sitting by the window. "General, our defensive lines are about to collapse. I'll cover your retreat toward Cascina..."
Melas glanced at him, shaking his head despondently. "It's pointless. What good would retreating to the coast do? There's no British fleet there to pick us up..."
He suddenly roared, "Those useless British! They promised to provide continuous supplies from the sea, but it was the French ships that entered Genoa! Where are they? Where are they?!"
He took a breath, his voice rising even higher. "And those Sardinian cowards! All of them! The French hadn't even won yet, and they bolted back into their holes like rabbits seeing a dog!"
Cervoni helplessly signaled the guards to carry their commander away.
Melas cursed and brushed the soldiers aside. Listening to the thunderous roar of cannons around him, he sat back down in his chair, defeated. He waved his hand dismissively. "Send a negotiator. Tell the French we want a ceasefire..."
September 6, 1793.
The Austrian Army of Italy officially announced its surrender.
A high-spirited Napoleon accepted the surrender of over ten thousand prisoners, along with a vast quantity of weapons, horses, banners, and other spoils of war.
However, Argentau's corps fled toward Mantua as soon as they heard the news, which slightly diminished the overall spoils of the victory.
Far away, over eight hundred kilometers away, Joseph received the news through the Chappe signal station and ordered the acceptance of Melas's surrender terms—allowing Melas to return to Vienna in exchange for a meager ransom of seven hundred thousand francs.
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