Novels online

Chapter 893: Risks and Steady Progress

Bartholtz quickly reached a consensus with his officers. He ordered the van to halt its advance and mass five kilometers north of Trento, standing ready to repel any sudden French assault.

Immediately afterward, Bartholtz penned a report to the Austrian commander-in-chief, Alvinczy, detailing the French deployments near Trento.

The following afternoon.

In the town of Cles.

At the head of the Austrian marching column, Alvinczy handed the report from the forward scouts to Marshal Leo, a man whose reputation as the "Spear of the Southern Netherlands" preceded him. Alvinczy’s expression was grim as he spoke.

"Bartholtz believes the French intend to force a decisive battle north of Mantua. Given your extensive combat experience, do you think such a possibility exists?"

Leo immediately struck a pose of profound contemplation, though his mind was a complete blank.

His title of Marshal was something he had stumbled into through luck and political maneuvering; where was he supposed to have found "extensive experience"?

If the Emperor himself hadn't personally visited him twice to plead for his return to service, he wouldn't have set foot on the front lines for all the gold in the world.

He knew the combat prowess of the French better than anyone; the vast majority of his military achievements had been gained by merely following in the wake of General Lefebvre and picking up the pieces.

Thus, he offered the most cautious advice his heart could muster. "I believe we must never engage the French in battle without being absolutely, perfectly prepared."

'Even if we are prepared, we probably won't win,' he added silently to himself.

Alvinczy nodded solemnly at those words. "Your thoughts align perfectly with mine."

"General Wurmser failed precisely because he was too eager for success," Alvinczy continued. "He split his forces into three columns for the southern advance, allowing Napoleon to find a vulnerability and crush his right wing with concentrated, superior numbers. While I do not yet know what trap Napoleon has laid at Trento, the fact remains that we hold the numerical advantage."

"Therefore, as long as we keep our forces concentrated and advance steadily, no ambush or sneak attack can possibly succeed!"

"Indeed," Leo agreed instantly, nodding in approval. "Hmph. Back in the day, that was exactly how I defeated the Prussians during the Silesian campaign—through steady, methodical progress."

The two men discussed their strategy for a while longer before Alvinczy turned to his messenger.

"Order Quosdanovich's corps to abandon their current objective and rendezvous with me here at Cles. Command General Bajahaza to move westward and maintain a distance of no more than half a day's march from the main body. We shall advance on Trento in synchronization."

"At once, Marshal," the messenger replied.

As the man turned to leave, Alvinczy called out to stop him. "Wait. You must stress to them that they are not to relax their reconnaissance just to maintain marching speed. I can accept them arriving a few days late, but I will not tolerate them being ambushed by the enemy!"

His orders were swiftly delivered to the corps on the left and right flanks, and the two units began closing in toward him. Simultaneously, the pace of the central Austrian column slowed to ensure a tight formation and concentrated strength.

However, Alvinczy had poured all his energy into guarding against a French surprise attack and failed to notice that by contracting his flanks, the area under Austrian control was shrinking rapidly.

Originally, the right wing could provide early warnings from the base of Monte Care to Monte Castello, while the left wing extended toward the Cordevole River.

With the contraction of their forces, massive gaps appeared on both flanks.

Furthermore, Napoleon’s main force wasn't in Trento at all—there were only fifteen thousand soldiers stationed there.

At that moment, he was leading over twenty thousand men from the elite Royal Third Infantry Division and the Lyon Legion. They had reached Monte Castello, forty kilometers west of Trento, and were now racing northward.

Meanwhile, fifty kilometers east of Trento in the town of Feltre, the twenty thousand men of Augereau’s and Marmont’s corps—who had been waiting for the signal—were also rushing north along the Cordevole River.

They would bypass both sides of the Austrian main force simultaneously and then swing inward to close the trap, encircling Alvinczy from three sides.

Logically, Napoleon and Augereau had to travel forty to fifty kilometers in opposite directions. If Alvinczy launched a fierce assault on Trento during this time, the French forces there would never be able to hold out long enough for the encirclement to be completed.

But Napoleon had told Victor with absolute certainty that he would be faster than Alvinczy.

The actual state of the battle was unfolding exactly as he had predicted. For the sake of safety, Alvinczy remained near Cles, waiting for his wings to close in.

Moreover, the units on the Austrian flanks were marching at a snail's pace to avoid any potential ambushes.

By the time Napoleon reached the eastern foothills of Monte Castello, Quosdanovich on the Austrian right had not even reached Cles.

At the same time, inside the Mantua Fortress, Wurmser received news that reinforcements were approaching. A messenger certainly couldn't get through the lines, but they could signal the fortress by setting off different colors of fireworks at night according to a prearranged code.

Wurmser and Beaulieu immediately fell into a heated argument.

"We have no idea where the reinforcements actually are," Beaulieu shouted, slamming his hand onto the map. "For all we know, they might have only just reached Venice!"

Wurmser interrupted him coldly. "The last time we failed, it was because you refused to take the initiative and break out, causing us to miss the chance to catch the French in a pincer movement with me!"

Beaulieu gave a disdainful smirk. "If I had rashly left the fortress back then, this place would already belong to the French."

"Then you stay here and keep guarding it," Wurmser declared. As the commander-in-chief of Mantua, he held final decision-making power. "General Argentau and I will go to meet the relief force."

Beaulieu froze, stunned. "How many men do you intend to take?"

"Seventeen thousand. You will take four thousand to hold the fortress."

"No, this is far too risky..."

"You know full well how much food we have left!" Wurmser roared. "I've been eating nothing but black bread for three days!"

It was true. The food supplies within the Mantua Fortress would last less than half a month. The common soldiers were already resorting to catching rats to supplement their meager rations.

Beaulieu suddenly let out a long sigh and slumped into a chair, waving a hand dismissively. "I understand. Just leave me two thousand men."

"Perhaps... it's time for all of this to end anyway..."

"I thank you for not losing your courage entirely." Wurmser tipped his hat and turned to leave.

Watching his departing back, Beaulieu crossed himself and whispered, "I hope His Majesty the Emperor can forgive me..."

The moment the French forces in Trento spotted the Austrian relief army, the news was carried by a team of mounted scouts to Genoa. From there, it was transmitted to Paris via the Chappe signal towers.

Following the signing of the Mediterranean Security Organization Agreement, member nations had begun constructing signal towers. However, because Genoa was close to France and willing to spend the necessary funds, it was the first to successfully link its domestic towers with the Parisian network.

According to the current pace of construction, the major cities of Northern Italy would all be enjoying the benefits of the "optical telegraph" service within six months at most.