In February 1792, in Paris, the polemic between Brissot and Robespierre still raged. Although the latter had already been driven into a position of clear disadvantage, the man from Arras continued, in imitation of a laughable Don Quixote, to proclaim anti-war arguments everywhere, at any cost. News came from Thuriot that, after Carnot’s meticulous analysis, Robespierre had concluded that the French army was weak in fighting power, insufficient in numbers, and lax in morale; it could not defeat the battle-hardened Austrians, still less annex the Austrian Netherlands in the north.

  Therefore, everything L’Incorruptible had been scrambling about to do was, in effect, to validate—after a French defeat—his own great, glorious, correct, and unparalleled foresight. In André’s view, upright Robespierre might not be tempted by money or beauty, yet by now he had already fallen into the trap of the game of power, unable to tear himself free.

  In the Ardennes, as a commissioner dispatched by the Legislative Assembly, Deputy André’s principal duty on this mission was to inspect the defensive condition of the frontier in this region. Yet apart from December 27, the day he arrived, André spent only two days in the capital, Charleville-Mézières, and in passing accepted the warm hospitality of his bargain-priced elder brother-in-law, the Ardennes governor Legoff, and Legoff’s officials. After that, the Paris commissioner’s field headquarters had, for more than two months, been fixed at Sedan, eighteen kilometres away. The address, of course, was not the garrison camp of the northbound detachment, but the estate of the retired Justice Vinault: a villa by the banks of the Meuse.

  As for wearing himself out to patrol the frontier line, there was no need. Since last year, agents of the Military Intelligence Office had been spread throughout the Ardennes Forest and the Meuse basin, closely watching every movement of the Austrians. Moreover, the Ardennes was densely wooded, with complicated mountain terrain—easy to defend and hard to attack. The Austrian army would not, as a rule, choose this as its breakthrough for an invasion of France, unless German armoured units were to drive through it a hundred and fifty years later.

  In addition, the strongest elements of the Champagne Composite Brigade’s northbound detachment were deployed here: a total of 3,000 men, including horse artillery, plus more than 10,000 reserve soldiers from the Ardennes, all of them selected from the National Guard units of various places and put through three to five months of strict training. Given only one or two weeks, this northbound detachment could be expanded into a composite division.

  In André’s view (his view alone), it was not particularly difficult to obtain weapons, equipment, and capable manpower. The true difficulty lay in obtaining sufficient military funds. In Paris, General Narbonne claimed that 20,000,000 livres had been prepared as war funds—yet it was nowhere near enough—and in fact only one fifth of the money ever reached the frontier troops. The northern detachment received even less and could only shift the financial pressure onto the localities.

  In the relatively well-off Marne and Ardennes, it was already extremely burdensome for the public finances to sustain the composite brigade’s high-intensity field exercises, in addition to the routine training of 20,000 reserve troops; and the shrinking smuggling trade could not subsidise such vast military expenditures. If the gold treasure taken from the Madonna statue in the Papal Palace had not already been transported to Reims, André—driven nearly mad by the layers of military budgets—would have been close to ordering his forces to begin hostilities with the Austrians two to three months ahead of schedule.

  …

  On a fine day in late February, André stood upon green hills, gazing again and again over the tranquil, beautiful Meuse, savouring the comfort of the winter sun upon his face and body.

  The river before him—the Meuse, also called the Maas—rises in the Langres plateau in Haute-Marne, in the Champagne-Ardenne region of France; it flows through Belgium, and finally empties into the North Sea in the Netherlands. Its total length is 950 kilometres: 500 kilometres in France, 192 kilometres in Belgium, and 258 kilometres in the Netherlands. It is one of the principal waterways linking France and the Low Countries.

  From its source, the Meuse flows north through the Ardennes highlands. In the Southern Netherlands (present-day Belgium), the Sambre joins it on the left bank, while the Lesse and the Ourthe, among other rivers, join on the right. From Namur, the river turns east, passes Liège, then resumes its northward course into the Netherlands, and finally turns west to enter the North Atlantic.

  On the far side of the valley where André stood, mountain ridges rose and fell in long succession; as far as the eye could see, there were endless oak forests, the principal source of timber for the oak barrels and corks used to make and store Champagne. On his own side, the vineyards lay in bare, leafless tracts. A week earlier’s snow had melted away completely, leaving everywhere a scene of decline and mud, so that what had once been an elegant pastoral view now looked wretched. Only the clear, slightly rapid water, striking the shore stones, still made its constant rustling splash.

  Before long, the neatly dressed old steward brought the new master the hot coffee he wanted—extra milk and extra sugar. André turned back, intending to sit on the deck chair behind him and rest, only to find that Madame Marguerite and the nurse had already carried the babbling little one outside to bask in the sun. This came from André’s advice last May: that more sunlight in moderation could help an infant build up the body (its immunity) and prevent the dreadful rickets. At two months old, the child had also been inoculated with the cowpox smallpox vaccine.

  As for Justice Vinault, although he had careful family care and an elegant, fresh environment, he still suffered a third stroke last October. From that time onward, this Justice of the Palais de Justice fell into a state of brain death (a vegetative state). All day he could only lie in bed without awareness, or be propped in a wheelchair, sustained by nutrient gruel forcibly injected through a tube into his mouth, in a vain attempt to delay Death’s approach.

  André kept his promise. Even though he could not come to Sedan for years at a stretch, he remained attentive to Justice Vinault, to Madame Marguerite, and to their only child, little Marie, not yet ten months old. André’s power sheltered the mother and daughter; any madmen who dared come to harass them, or any local officials who attempted extortion, without exception met the fate of being sunk to the bottom of the Meuse.

  In addition, last August André also used no small amount of political capital to force Madame Marguerite’s elder brother Legoff onto the seat of governor of the Ardennes. He even dispatched a detachment of gendarmes to rotate in garrison at the estate.

  Not long after, little Marie seemed to be awakened by the winter sun; in the nurse’s arms, she babbled and waved her small hands, asking to be held. Madame Marguerite took her, intending to walk over toward the child’s father to enjoy a family moment together—when, suddenly, the urgent sound of hooves came from afar and rapidly approached.

  André lifted his eyes. It was his intelligence officer, Major Penduvas. There was no need to guess: it must be urgent military business. Since arriving in the Ardennes, André felt that his duties had become almost entirely military. He rose from the deck chair and, with an apologetic air, gave the mother and daughter a slight shake of the head, signalling that his holiday was coming to an end.

  The dispatch was still issued from Paris. Its content was unmistakable: it required Deputy André to continue westward, in the capacity of plenipotentiary commissioner of the Legislative Assembly, to inspect the frontier line of the Meuse Department and the Moselle Department, and to urge the state of war preparations at the Metz camp of Marshal Lafayette’s central army group (the Army of the Moselle). At the same time, André would still retain his post as Executive Secretary of the Committee of the Interior until he returned to Paris.

  Moreover, in order to emphasise the exalted status of the Legislative Assembly as the highest authority of the state, it also approved a proposal initiated by Brissot and the Military Committee: to confer upon André Franck the rank of Major General in the National Guard, thereby narrowing the gap in rank between him and Marshal Lafayette.

  Under the current French system, the formal ranks at the general level consisted only of Brigadier General and Major General; Lieutenant General and Marshal were honorary distinctions. They began as marks of the supreme commander’s extensive experience, but later gradually became symbols of hierarchy. Yet if the two had no relation of command in their posts—for example, Deputy André as plenipotentiary commissioner and Lafayette as army commander—then a Major General and a Marshal were, in practice, on equal footing, and there was no question of superior and subordinate.

  In terms of duties, as the temporary commissioner attached to the Army of the Moselle (central army group), André could not only inquire into military affairs with full legitimacy (though he could not directly command or move troops), but could also, as Executive Secretary of the Committee of the Interior, insert his hand into provincial affairs. In that sense, his power exceeded that of the Army of the Moselle (central army group)’s supreme commander, Lafayette.

  It was not hard for André to see that all of this was a carefully laid, open stratagem by Brissot and his circle: the aim was to keep André on the frontier for a long time, while Brissot and his friends pressed the king in the Tuileries into establishing a cabinet government that would serve the coming war.

  After a sustained campaign of external war propaganda, Brissot successfully gathered Jacobin members and left-wing deputies to his side, and his prestige surged. He and his friends, therefore, began to demand, impatiently, the right to form a cabinet from the Tuileries. To apply pressure, the Legislative Assembly showed great indignation toward certain ministers who were passive in preparations. In particular, the decision to prosecute Lésart alarmed the king; the king had no choice but to select new ministers from the victorious faction.

  To save liberty and the throne, there was only one way: to form an alliance with those who now held the dominant position in the Revolution. This alliance restored harmony and unity between the Assembly, the crown, and the municipality; if it could endure, then the Jacobins led by Brissot could, together with the court, accomplish—after the split—what they believed could only have been done without the court. Soon, in early March, the king approved the new members of the cabinet: Lacoste as Minister of the Navy; Clavière as Minister of Finance; Duranthon as Minister of Justice; Grav as Minister of War (Comte de Narbonne dismissed); Scipion Champbonneau as Minister of Foreign Affairs; and Roland as Minister of the Interior.

  From beginning to end, André had never believed that Brissot could win this war; and likewise, Brissot did not trust André, fearing that the influence of the man from Reims would interfere with the formation of the cabinet. Thus, both sides guarded against each other, yet used each other, and both were careful to avoid certain sensitive red lines between them.

  Three months earlier, after being jointly “set up” by Deputy André and the Minister of War, and then forced onto the post of commander-in-chief of the Saint-Domingue expeditionary force, Major General Dumouriez publicly declared that he did not wish to be far from Paris, nor far from France. He schemed constantly to find an escape route, hoping the Assembly and the cabinet would cancel his appointment.

  Very soon, André wrote Brissot a letter and told him bluntly: “Either you make Dumouriez leave France before January 15, or I return to Paris and personally send him aboard the ocean-going warship bound for the colonies.”

  And so, a week later, Major General Dumouriez departed Paris with a bellyful of resentment, reluctant to leave, and sailed for the colony of Saint-Domingue, 6,000 kilometres away.

  …

  After the Brissot faction successfully whipped up the war fever of the Parisian public and the cabinet ministers, Comte de Narbonne—then Minister of War (Minister of the Army)—and even his successor, Minister Grav, also became fevered. In defiance of the disastrous reality of mass officer desertions and collapsing morale, they sat in the luxurious comfort of ministerial offices and drafted a military offensive plan that sounded excellent, yet was in truth absurd in the extreme.

  This minister, Narbonne, divided the northern field forces of France—from the Rhine in the east to the Atlantic in the west—into three army groups from right to left: the Army of the Rhine on the right, the Army of the Moselle in the centre, and the Army of the North on the left.

  The left army group, the Army of the North, was commanded by the veteran Marshal de Rochambeau, with headquarters at Lille, less than 10 kilometres from the frontier. Its defensive line ran from Dunkirk to Philippeville. Under Marshal de Rochambeau were two generals—General Dillon and General Biron—and the plan called for a fighting force of more than 50,000 men.

  The Army of the Moselle (central army group) was commanded by Marshal Lafayette. Its line ran from Philippeville to Wissembourg, with an expected strength of about 52,000 men, including the Moncey infantry regiment and the Hoche cavalry regiment stationed at the Sedan camp. Lafayette took Metz, the former base of the Germanic army group, as his headquarters, so as to threaten at any time the two Electorates of Trier and Mainz, a few dozen kilometres away. Yet under the Minister of War’s offensive plan, Lafayette was required, before mid-April of this year, to move the Army of the Moselle (central army group)’s headquarters to Sedan.

  It must be noted that both men had served in the American War of Independence. If Lafayette was the French general who took the earliest part and gained the greatest fame there, then Rochambeau was the one whose achievements on that battlefield were the most distinguished; the victory at Yorktown was his masterpiece.

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  In July 1780, Lieutenant General Rochambeau was ordered to command 6,000 French troops (volunteers) landing from Rhode Island onto the American continent, to assist the Continental Army and support the independence of the North American colonies. In June 1781, Rochambeau led the Franco-American allied force to encircle Yorktown, compelling the British general Charles Cornwallis to surrender in October. The Battle of Yorktown was the decisive battle of the American War of Independence, and that victory fundamentally altered the course of the war in North America.

  The right army group, the Army of the Rhine, was commanded by Marshal Luckner, with headquarters at Strasbourg on the Rhine, on the Franco-German frontier. Its line ran from Wissembourg to Basel, and its strength was about 40,000 men.

  It must also be said that Luckner was an aged Germanic cavalry officer who, in the Seven Years’ War, had beaten the French armies of Louis XV’s era with masterful tactical command. By 1761, he came over to the French side—a common occurrence in Europe—and not only gained promotion to Lieutenant General, but was also created a Comte. The famous “La Marseillaise,” originally titled the “War Song of the Army of the Rhine,” was composed in Strasbourg by an engineer captain, Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle, and dedicated to the great hero of his heart, Marshal Luckner.

  In early March, Acting Brigade Commander General Berthier of the Champagne Composite Brigade rode from the Bacourt camp to Sedan and met his “old chief,” Commissioner André, at the northern detachment’s camp. Those present in the meeting room included Colonel Moncey of the 1st Infantry Regiment, Colonel Hoche of the cavalry regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Brune, deputy commander of the gendarmerie regiment, and Major Penduvas of the Military Intelligence Office.

  After the chief of staff, who had ridden hard drank two cups of hot coffee in succession, ate a few pieces of pastry, and rested briefly, André asked Berthier, “I trust you read Paris’s strategy on the road last night. Now, give me your view first—no reservations. Let them fight their war; we will fight ours.”

  Berthier’s heart jolted; unconsciously, he bit at his lip. Taking the pointer from the intelligence officer, he faced the massive wall map and explained with a grave expression, “Forgive me, but in this plan I cannot see any possibility of victory at all. The right army group, since it serves only a containing role and relies on the Rhine’s natural barrier to defend, will not affect the overall situation regardless of success or failure, so I will set it aside.

  “The Army of the Moselle (central army group)’s plan is to depart from Metz, pass through Stenay, Sedan, Mézières, and Givet, and force-march toward Namur. However, the greatest enemy it faces is not the Austrian army in Liège and the Duchy of Luxembourg (present-day Luxembourg), but the vast Ardennes Forest itself and the broken roads within it. I can almost assert that before the Army of the Moselle (central army group) has gone 30 kilometres beyond the frontier, the atrocious roads and the difficulties of supply will drive the soldiers to turn back.

  “The only consolation is that Marshal Lafayette, though not an outstanding commander, is an upright and cautious soldier. Ordinarily, he would never, for personal glory, demand that soldiers push through an uninhabited forest zone without supplies. Therefore, the Army of the Moselle (central army group)’s offensive is doomed to end without result.

  “As for the left army group, from what I know, Marshal de Rochambeau strongly advocates a defensive posture to protect the frontier, not an active offensive. What infuriates the old marshal most is that Comte de Narbonne, the Minister of War, has bypassed Marshal de Rochambeau and issued orders directly to General Dillon and General Biron: one is to lead 4,000 men from Lille toward Tournai, the other to lead 10,000 men from Valenciennes toward Mons…

  “To carry out such a plan requires troops with the capacity to adapt; they do not have it. It requires close coordination among commanders at every level; that too will be difficult. Moreover, the number of troops is gravely insufficient. Marshal de Rochambeau wrote to tell me that the Minister of War previously promised 50,000 trained soldiers for the left army group, but now there are only half that number, and many of them are recruits who have not even undergone basic training. To fight in such a manner, the main attacking force is not strong enough—indeed it could be called incapable of a blow.

  “On the Austrian Netherlands side, according to reliable intelligence provided by the Military Intelligence Office, the Austrians have deployed 20,000 to 30,000 troops toward Lille; 10,000 in the direction of Liège and the Ardennes Forest; and, in addition, 30,000 infantry and cavalry from Bohemia are being transferred to the vicinity of Brussels as a general reserve—something the French Minister of War does not even believe. If the war requires it, this general reserve can at any time become the main striking force for an invasion of France.

  “In terms of mobilised strength, Austria is at a clear numerical disadvantage. Yet the Austrian troops, including mercenaries, from common soldiers to senior officers, more than four-fifths have fought in the three-year war against the Turks. They have rich combat experience and strict discipline, especially those fiercely charging Austrian cavalry regiments. Meanwhile, apart from our Champagne Composite Brigade, I have not seen any other French army carry out formation drills for hollow squares to meet cavalry attacks. In truth, many of them have not even completed the most basic recruit training.”

  When the chief of staff finished, André pointed at the map and asked, “Now tell me: which army group will be the first to collapse in this war?”

  Berthier answered with certainty, “The Army of the North. Because of General Narbonne’s interference, Marshal de Rochambeau has, in effect, lost command of that army group. Once some misfortune occurs—once they lose—he will resign as commander and take the blame of his own accord.”

  “Very good!” André rose at once and issued orders to the officers present.

  “Berthier, draft an operational plan immediately: when the Army of the North collapses along the line, how the Champagne Composite Brigade will intervene to provide reinforcement and check the Austrian counterattack. Moncey: your 1st Infantry Regiment will begin at once to expand to 4,000 men. Hoche: your cavalry regiment may increase to 1,600 men. In addition, I will order Colonel Sénarmont to bring you up to five artillery companies. Other manpower will be handled according to the previous scheme. As for the training subjects for the next two months, I trust you know them perfectly well. Chief of Staff Berthier will also remain at the Sedan camp for a time and will provide you with guidance.

  “And you, Brune: follow the original scheme as well—expand the gendarmerie battalion stationed in the Ardennes to 1,200 men as the 2nd Gendarmerie Regiment, and await my orders, ready at any time to march west and be stationed in the Aisne and Nord Departments. As for you, Penduvas, your agents must keep close watch on the movements of the Army of the North; at the first change, report at once to the commanders present… Does anyone have any views or objections?”

  No sooner had he finished than Colonel Moncey raised his hand and asked André, “Sir, Lafayette issued an order to the Sedan camp yesterday, urging Hoche and me to bring all our troops and report to Metz within five days.”

  André cursed bitterly, “That damned Lafayette. A week ago, I received multiple complaints from Assembly representatives, accusing the Army of the Moselle (central army group) of withholding soldiers’ pay for a long time, so that deserters in the camp have already exceeded 500. Ha! If you take your several thousand men to Metz as well, what for—go there to whistle for their supper?”

  Amid the room’s laughter, André changed his tone and said bluntly to Moncey, “You may reply to that marshal: say that the deputies and the governor of the Ardennes require you to remain at the Sedan camp to guard against an Austrian raid out of the Ardennes Forest. In a few days, I will personally go to the Metz camp and, on behalf of the Assembly and the cabinet, inspect the Army of the Moselle (central army group)’s state of preparation.”

  By this time, the positions of André and Lafayette had reversed. The former was no longer the timid little lawyer who had once encountered the latter outside the Jacobins’ club lounge. As the plenipotentiary representative of the Assembly and the cabinet for France’s 25,000,000 people—including both military and civil affairs—André’s flood of authority was enough to wash away the halo of honour around Lafayette.

  …

  By March 1792, the shadow of war already lay over the whole of northern France. Unlike the irresponsible high talk in the night sky of Paris, the people of the northern departments—especially the countryside—had their terror of war driven to a peak, close to frenzy.

  In both town and village, rumours of war and slaughter clamoured without end. The ferocious Austrians of legend, the dissatisfied nobles, and the bandits who did every kind of evil were said to be almost at hand. Because rural grassroots organisations led by parish priests had fallen badly out of control, people could not judge what was true; they therefore fled with wives, children, and elders, screaming as they hid from place to place—some trekking to Paris, others running to the comparatively calm and prosperous Marne.

  Reports from the gendarmerie stated that this great terror sweeping the northern departments was comparable to the Great Fear of the summer of 1789. In less than two months, 52,000 people crossed the departmental borders from east to west to take refuge in Reims and Chalons. In addition, the gendarmerie, together with the local National Guard and the police bureau, suppressed more than thirty riots triggered by refugees; during these actions, twenty-eight were shot, and 154 were sentenced to hard labour for varying terms, and the peace and unity of Marne and the Ardennes were ultimately maintained…

  It was precisely the high-pressure posture André had always insisted upon that effectively guaranteed order in the Marne and the Ardennes. But in the other northern departments, the riots induced by panic were far more severe. Beyond manufactured chaos, the shortage of grain was also the most vexing issue—especially in Pas-de-Calais and Moselle, which resisted the introduction of potatoes. Paris newspapers had already reported cases of people starving to death.

  There was no doubt that, while André instructed Marne to provide emergency aid of 2,000 tonnes of potatoes to the hungry victims in Pas-de-Calais and Moselle, respectively, he also submitted to the Legislative Assembly a proposal to impeach the senior officials of those two departments, and published it in full in Le Figaro, authorising it for public reporting.

  With an indignant tone, André accused the senior officials of Pas-de-Calais and Moselle of refusing to implement measures to increase grain production in order to manufacture a famine by human design, thereby spreading terror among the populace, and covertly collaborating with the counter-revolutionary forces of the émigré nobles at Koblenz in a conspiracy to overthrow the revolutionary regime of France… (The charge was, indeed, enormous.)

  Soon, the governors, deputy governors, and chief provincial prosecutors of Pas-de-Calais and Moselle were forcibly suspended by their respective departmental general councils and handed over to a mission appointed by the Legislative Assembly for review of the alleged crimes.

  Once again, officials of two departments fell under André’s boot. In three months, three departments had already seen seven provincial officials overturned and forced out. Moreover, André’s method of striking his enemies was extraordinarily brutal and overbearing: with a casual set of “five great labels”—anti-constitution, anti-Assembly, anti-people, anti-government, and counter-revolutionary—one might not die, yet would still lose half one’s life. The earliest offender, the former governor of the Aisne, had already crossed the seas to the colony of New Orleans.

  From that time on, Deputy André’s writs became, in the fifteen northern departments—especially the border departments—as unimpeded as an eastern emperor’s sacred edict. Anyone bold enough to provoke him could do no more than hide under the covers and mutter one or two cautious complaints.

  On March 1, Leopold II suddenly died. He had been King of Hungary and Bohemia, Grand Duke of Austria, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and also Holy Roman Emperor. He was succeeded by Francis II, Leopold II’s brother—a warlike Austrian and the brother of Queen Marie.

  On the 10th, with the approval of King Louis XVI, the new bellicose cabinet was finally formed, and there was no longer any obstacle on the road to a formal declaration of war. The “war of European liberation” entered its final countdown. At this moment, Brissot wielded enormous influence in Parisian politics, beyond what even Mirabeau or Barnave could match. He boasted smugly to a friend, “André’s influence is limited to the fifteen northern departments; but I can control all of France, and all its eighty-three departments.”

  On the 12th, Deputy André, as a commissioner dispatched by the Legislative Assembly, set out by carriage for Metz, more than 100 kilometres from Sedan, under the escort of a full company of gendarmes. Originally, he wished to travel light and arrive as quickly as possible to finish this detestable assignment, but at Major Penduvas’s strong insistence, Major General André finally brought a company of gendarmes as his escort.

  The intelligence officer’s concern proved necessary. The public order in the Meuse Department was tolerable, at least: in daylight on the roads, André saw no robbers. There were, certainly, refugees driven by hunger or war panic, but there were not many; they usually had relatives in Marne or the Ardennes to take them in, rather than wandering without aim as vagrants who robbed at will.

  Seizing this opportunity, both the Military Intelligence Office and the gendarmerie department infiltrated the Meuse Department under various pretexts, and grain was naturally a weapon that could do anything. Potatoes, in particular, with their high yields, were omnipotent. When the spring of 1792 arrived, the total potato output of Marne alone had already exceeded 800,000 tonnes. In theory, this could serve as a year’s staple consumption for 2,000,000 people—though only to fill bellies, not to speak of nutrition or taste. Thus, André did not hesitate to swing potatoes as a weapon, forcing neighbouring departments to accept the leadership of Chalons-en-Champagne.

  In every town and village of the Meuse Department along the route, the moment people saw André’s carriage they gathered of their own accord. Wave after wave of warm applause followed, with cheers rising one after another to shake the sky. Women along both sides of the road kept throwing flowers toward the carriage and the cavalry, while municipal officials, alerted in advance, waited with the utmost deference at road junctions to receive Deputy André.

  Captain Suchet, the gendarmerie company commander, ran over and flattered him loudly: “My General, the people welcome you with such warmth because you once ordered all the wagons and ox-carts along the departmental border to load in haste and transport 10,000 tonnes of potatoes to the disaster areas throughout this department. Therefore, the moment the people of the Meuse see an official carriage from Marne, they smile and hold it in respect.”

  André smiled faintly. He stepped down from the carriage and casually patted the officer’s shoulder boards—one stripe and three stars—and said, “All right, all right. I give your flattery 99 points. I deduct one point only so that you won’t become proud.”

  After André and his escort had passed through five towns in succession, the superior, already irritated by the dragging pace, could no longer bear it. He ordered Captain Suchet to bypass all towns along the route as much as possible and to stop accepting the cheers of the fevered crowd.

  When they entered the Moselle Department, what they saw and heard along the way became another picture altogether. Unlike the Meuse Department, which received the first 10,000 tonnes of grain aid (30,000 tonnes in two deliveries), the Moselle received only 2,000 tonnes in total—no more than a drop in the bucket.

  Thus, in the towns, residents built high barricades at every gate, piled countless stones on upper floors, and had women prepare boiling water, ready at all times to meet bandit attacks. In the countryside, peasants assembled to the peal of long alarm bells and rushed onto the roads to intercept refugees who sought to steal food.

  When villagers had no food to eat, they would take clubs and sickles in their hands, run in bands to nearby towns, and play the bandit for a time to demand food—or rob passing merchants.

  Before reaching Metz, André was attacked several times by such villagers. Yet whenever Captain Suchet ordered the escort to draw sabres and prepare to charge, the villagers who had been playing the brigand scattered at once and fled like startled birds.

  5 chapters in advance of the Royal Road schedule. You can find it here:

  https://www.patreon.com/cw/wentaj

  free to read on Royal Road as always, so there’s absolutely no pressure — this is just for readers who want to be a little ahead and help me spend more time writing and researching this series.