Chapter 934: The Iberian Strategy
By noon the following day, the Marquis of Talavera watched the French army receding toward the east. With a dark expression, he grumbled to a nearby officer, "Cunning Frenchmen. We already control the entire region north of the Douro River; there is absolutely no need to protect any supply lines."
"He wouldn't even consider my suggestion to move to Penafiel. Good God, he just wants to hide in the rear and shirk his duties!"
Penafiel was located thirty kilometers east of Porto. If necessary, troops there could provide immediate support to the Spanish forces besieging the city.
Yet Junot had insisted on stationing his troops in Vila Real, nearly a hundred kilometers away, under the pretext of "protecting the logistical supply lines."
In reality, Vila Real was only 120 kilometers from the Spanish border, placing it firmly within the rear of the Franco-Spanish allied forces.
However, according to the terms of the Franco-Spanish alliance, the Marquis of Talavera had no authority to command Junot's troops.
After venting his frustrations for a while, the Marquis had no choice but to lead his own army toward Porto.
The Franco-Spanish coalition had previously launched a surprise attack, easily capturing the Almeida Fortress on the Spanish-Portuguese border. Since then, they had encountered almost no resistance, reaching the outskirts of Porto in less than twenty days.
Consequently, everyone in Madrid believed he could breach Porto in short order, which put immense pressure on him. To have Junot abandon him for "rest and reorganization" at such a critical moment filled the Marquis with resentment.
"Colonel," he whispered, "are we truly going to Vila Real?"
He gestured toward the soldiers marching nearby. "Look at them. Everyone is waiting for a real fight. We don't need rest."
"Rest?" Junot laughed and gave him a playful shove. "Did those girls in Madrid scramble your brains last month?"
"Of course we aren't resting. We are going to prepare for the salvation of the Spanish army."
Renier's eyes lit up, but he remained puzzled. "But there don't seem to be any enemies to the east..."
Junot nodded. "We aren't actually going to Vila Real. That's just to deceive the Portuguese spies. You know the Spanish can't keep a single secret."
"The General Staff believes that forcing a decisive battle against the Anglo-Portuguese forces at Porto would be extremely disadvantageous for us."
"The British can continuously bring in supplies by sea. Furthermore, the place is bordered by water on two sides and protected by formidable fortifications."
Renier agreed, "We would also face the issue of overextended supply lines. The British could strike our logistics at any moment."
"Exactly. Therefore, the General Staff has decided to fight the decisive battle on the eastern bank of the Tamega River." Junot pointed ahead with his riding crop. "We are going there now to set up defensive lines. Oh, and you'll need to take some men to show your faces in Vila Real over the next few days. There are bound to be Portuguese spies there as well."
The Tamega River was a north-south flowing river about forty kilometers east of Porto, joining the Douro River to the south.
Renier asked again, "It seems you didn't tell the Marquis of Talavera about our operational plan?"
"Correct," Junot said matter-of-factly. "That way, when he eventually retreats from Porto, the British won't suspect a thing."
What Junot didn't mention was that, according to the French General Staff's plan, the battle on the Tamega River was only the opening move.
Afterward, the Franco-Spanish forces would continue to retreat, eventually making another stand on the upper reaches of the Douro River.
That location was less than fifty kilometers from the Spanish border city of Lumbrales, making resupply incredibly convenient. In contrast, the Anglo-Portuguese army would have to haul their supplies all the way from Porto, while the French could constantly harass their long logistical tail.
This was the correct way to conduct a war of attrition.
For Portugal, reclaiming the Almeida Fortress on the eastern border was a necessity, so they would inevitably drag the British along to chase the French into the predetermined battlefield.
Meanwhile, the Franco-Spanish forces would launch continuous diversionary attacks on the southern front.
Olivenza in southern Portugal—the famous orange-producing region—was currently garrisoned by only three or four thousand soldiers. The allied forces could seize it at any time and then push west directly toward Lisbon.
The British would then be forced to rush back and forth between the north and south to put out fires.
As for Spain, this time they had the financial backing to sustain such a long-term conflict.
At the Royal Palace in Madrid...
Campos, the Spanish Minister of the Interior, scanned the seven or eight Archbishops standing before him. His voice brooked no argument.
"I believe you all understand the importance of this war to reclaim our western territories."
"Therefore, we must achieve victory!"
He signaled his assistant to unfurl a gold-edged document, showing it to the men present.
"This is the latest edict issued by His Majesty."
The Archbishops hurriedly stood up to show their respect for the royal decree.
Campos continued, "Based on the income of each diocese, you are to 'contribute' between 300,000 and 800,000 escudos toward the war effort within two months."
Before he could even finish, the Archbishops' eyes widened in shock.
The escudo was a gold coin issued by the Spanish government, with one escudo being roughly equivalent to eleven francs.
In other words, the King of Spain was demanding that each diocese pay between 3.3 million and 8.8 million francs in military expenses.
Spain had eleven dioceses on the mainland alone. If they all paid in full, it would amount to a staggering sum of over 50 million francs!
As for the overseas dioceses, though they weren't as wealthy, squeezing another three or four million francs out of them shouldn't be a problem.
This was the "terrifying depth" of Spain's wealth!
The Church's influence was vast; for centuries, they had been stuffing their pockets with gold, effectively draining the nation's lifeblood. While Spain's national strength had dwindled, the greed of the Church remained a primary cause.
Campos was certain that the Church could absolutely afford this sum!
Archbishop Jimenez of the Leon Diocese immediately protested, "Count Campos, the property of the Church belongs to the Lord. His Majesty has no right to do this!"
The Archbishop of the Aragon Diocese nodded in agreement. "Furthermore, the Church simply does not have that much money..."
Campos had long anticipated this response. The roots of the Spanish Church were deeply intertwined with every aspect of the country's politics, economy, and culture.
Even a capable monarch like Charles III had only managed to slightly weaken the Church's interference in politics after a lifetime of effort.
When these Archbishops joined forces, even the King was usually powerless against them.
However, this time, a cold smile played on Campos's lips. "Do you find it curious why Archbishop Ortiz and Archbishop Serrano aren't here today?"
The Archbishops looked at one another, but none knew the reason.
Campos said nonchalantly, "Because they will soon be stepping down from their positions as Archbishops."
Archbishop Jimenez snapped back, "How is that possible? The Holy See would never replace three Archbishops at the same time..."
Campos raised a hand to cut him off. "Actually, the messengers sent by the Holy See to reclaim their pastoral staves and episcopal rings are already on their way. They will arrive at their respective dioceses by next week at the latest."
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