Murat, who had been absentmindedly stroking the tip of his tight, dark mustache throughout the entirety of Kellermann’s briefing, now unfolded his arms and turned to the bluecoats in the room. When he spoke for the first time, André heard a deep, confident baritone of a voice, perfectly audible throughout the tent.
“We are fighting against an army of hired guns, mercenaries, and royalist butchers. They may have the better training, but we have justice on our side.” Murat spoke directly to the ragged guardsmen now, those rough militia members who would face their first action tomorrow. “I have no doubt that our men have the heart.”
These blue-coated volunteers nodded now, proud of this individual attention from a brigadier general.
And now Murat cracked a smile, his tone lightening. “Soldiers with wet uniforms, dirt on their faces, empty stomachs, fire in their hearts, and pricks longer than their muskets will relish the sight of an overconfident enemy.” The pent-up tension inside the tent broke with a burst of deep belly laughter. General Murat held up his hand for silence, casting his glance across the assembled group, then turned his attention back to Kellermann and Dumouriez. “We are ready to do our duty. Tomorrow our Revolution will spread from the French nation and its people’s army, and be heard across the civilized world.”
“We will do our duty, Citizen Murat!” called out one of the guardsmen standing toward the front, his tone cocksure.
Murat nodded. “Good. And I don’t care how often you want to unload your other guns once we beat the Prussians back over the Rhine….you all know what they say about those German women.” Another burst of laughter echoed throughout the tent, even louder than the first.
André leaned in to LaSalle. “He seems optimistic.”
“It’s an act,” LaSalle reasoned. “Just trying to bolster their spirits. He knows that, in spite of their big talk, many of the new lads are trembling in their tattered boots.” True, André thought, and perhaps a boost of confidence to wavering hearts was not a bad thing.
General Kellermann allowed the chatter to continue for a moment before he raised his hands to silence the side conversation and laughter. “Let us take things one at a time, gentlemen. Our enemy has yet to be opposed, much less defeated. Tomorrow’s task will not be an easy one.”
“Simply trying to lighten the mood, Christophe,” Murat said, his wry smile dissipating. “I do not doubt the commitment of our brave volunteers for even a second.”
“Nor do I, General Murat,” Kellermann said, looking out across the assembly to the leaders of both groups. “But it is also important that we know the stakes. There is no shame in feeling apprehension or even fear, but as leaders, we must all do everything we can to master it, never revealing it to our men. Some of them are surely nervous. Make sure they get to sleep. And try, as best you can, to keep them away from the wine.”
As Kellermann wrapped up the meeting, André caught Murat’s steely eyes once more. The general had been smiling, still pleased by his own bawdy joke and the confidence some of the men clearly had in him, but as he met André’s gaze, the cheer fled from his face. André looked away and turned to follow the other officers filing out of the tent. A tremor of instinctual unease passed over him, a shadow of some inexplicable dread.
Outside once more, he breathed in the cool evening air. All was silent except for a few nervous mutters as the officers filed out. André was preparing to return to his men when he heard his name called out.
“Valière!”
André turned and his posture instinctively straightened when he saw General Kellermann approaching. “Sir, General Kellermann.” André saluted.
“Good to finally meet you, Captain.”
“And you, sir.” Of course André had seen the general many times, having served in his legion for close to a year. But he had never expected the general to recognize him in return, much less know his name.
“Dumouriez tells me you are young and unblooded, but have shown promise. We are lucky to have you among our number.”
André fought against the flush that threatened to betray his surprise and pleasure; that two generals had ever considered him, much less had a conversation about him, was a flattering thought. “Thank you, sir.”
“You served before…under the old…” Kellermann paused, his face just briefly losing its signature composure and confidence. “You are a graduate of the military college at Brienne, are you not?”
“I am, sir.” André stood up a little straighter, surprised at the general’s knowledge of his background. “I completed my training there four years ago.”