Chapter 222 They Have Brought It Upon Themselves



In the dimly lit makeshift military tent, Marshall General Lafões stood alongside Godoy and Saint-Cyr, surrounded by maps and hushed conversations.

Suddenly, the tent flap rustled and an officer entered, his demeanor tense and urgent.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

Lafões turned to the officer, his voice low but commanding, "What is it?"

"General, we've received Her Majesty's response regarding the terms of surrender," the officer whispered, edging closer to Lafões as he discreetly handed over the letter.

Taking the letter, Lafões's brow furrowed with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. He unfolded the parchment, the soft crinkling sound filling the space as he read the words that bore the weight of his Queen's resolve.

[To General Lafões:

I acknowledge receipt of your communication detailing the terms presented by the Spanish and French forces. However, as the Queen of Portugal, I bear the responsibility of safeguarding our nation's sovereignty and the welfare of our people. In light of these paramount considerations, I hereby affirm my decision: we shall not surrender.

May Providence guide our path in these trying times.

Yours steadfastly,

Dona Maria I]

Upon reading the contents of the letter, a visible furrow formed between Lafões's brows, his countenance paling as he absorbed the weight of its message.

Saint-Cyr's gaze bore into Lafões, Well, what is your Queen's response?"

The question hung in the air, but Lafões found himself momentarily unable to voice the Queen's determined stance. Instead, a surge of memories swept through his mind—the thunderous echoes of cannons, the acrid scent of gunpowder, and the chaos of the battlefield as they weathered the onslaught of French artillery.

"Oi, the General of the French Army is inquiring, you know," Godoy interjected with a touch of derision. "What exactly did your Queen say about our terms?"

"I–It's...the Queen...she," Lafões began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words to convey the Queen's resolute decision.

Saint-Cyr's patience seemed to wear thin, his posture growing more rigid as he awaited an answer.

Saint-Cyr nodded, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene. "They're putting up a strong front on every major road. But unfortunately for them, we are not going for an all-out confrontation.

Lowering his spyglass, he turned around and faced the artillerymen manning the 155mm howitzer. They will be the key to unlocking Lisbon.

Between Lisbon and Barreiro is a river called Tagus. It's six kilometers wide so conventional cannons wouldn't be able to cross such a distance. But with a 155mm howitzer that can fire as far as fourteen kilometers, the French have secured themselves a great position.

Now, the Portuguese Generals in Lisbon must be wondering what they are doing in Barreiro. Well, General Saint-Cyr is going to show them why.

"Soldiers!" General Saint-Cyr began. "The capital of Lisbon is now within our reach. But before we can take the city, we must destroy her defenses."

Saint-Cyr's gaze swept over the rows of howitzer.

"Those artillery pieces you see before you are our key to victory. With their firepower, we will rain destruction upon the enemy's defenses and pave the way for our advance. So prepare yourselves now! Let's show the people of Lisbon and the Queen what the consequences of defying us are!"

The artillerymen cheered as they loaded the massive shells into the howitzers.

"Fire!" came the command, and with a deafening roar, the howitzers erupted simultaneously. The ground trembled beneath the force of the recoil as the shells soared through the sky, leaving trails of smoke and fire in their wake.

Seconds later, explosions rippled through the air, sending shockwaves through the city of Lisbon. Buildings crumbled, barricades were shattered, and the defenders' positions were torn apart by the devastating impact of the shells.

General Saint-Cyr peered through his spyglass to check the aftermath of the initial volley. People were running amok, the defenders were in rout, and chaos reigned supreme within the city walls. Smoke billowed into the sky, obscuring the view of the carnage that had been wrought upon the defenses.

"Again, continue doing it for one hour!" Saint-Cyr shouted.

The artillerymen swiftly went to work, reloading and firing the howitzers. For an hour, the thunderous blasts and plumes of smoke continued to fill the air as the city of Lisbon endured a relentless bombardment. Five hundred high explosive shells were fired and the French and the Spanish Army who stood behind the artillery watched in horror.

"This is not a battle...this is a massacre," one of the French soldiers mumbled.

"They have brought it upon themselves," the soldier next to him said. "They were given a chance and they threw it away."

As the hour of bombardment came to an end, a hushed silence settled over the battlefield. The smoke began to clear, revealing the true extent of the destruction. Buildings had crumbled into piles of debris and streets were littered with rubble and craters.

"No white flag huh?" Saint-Cyr smacked his lips. He turned around and faced his soldiers. "Their defenses are now obliterated, we will begin our march towards Lisbon!"