The combined forces of the French and Spanish Army advanced in a well-organized column toward Lisbon. The absence of a direct bridge connecting the city to its surroundings necessitated a detour, leading them to march upriver and then circle back down to reach their destination.
The journey took nearly a full day, during which no significant resistance was encountered. The presence of civilians was noted, but their response to the invaders was predominantly one of evasion. Upon spotting the approaching foreign forces, most inhabitants sought refuge within the confines of their homes.
After approximately twenty-seven hours of marching, the invading army finally reached the outskirts of Lisbon. General Saint-Cyr and Godoy dismounted from their horses, immediately opting for their spyglasses to assess the situation.
"The city appears deserted," Godoy remarked, peering through the lens. "What are the odds that the Queen has managed to escape ahead of our arrival?"
"It's a distinct possibility," General Saint-Cyr responded, his gaze focused on the city's distant outline.
"Well, we will find out if the Queen escaped when we enter the capital city," Godoy said, lowering his spyglass.
"We need to exercise caution. There could potentially be pockets of resistance within the buildings," General Saint-Cyr cautioned. He was well aware that when smaller forces are pitted against larger ones, the former often adopt alternative tactics to avoid direct confrontation. They might resort to guerrilla warfare, making it challenging for the invading forces to maintain control.
Presently, the combined forces of the French and Spanish armies amount to forty-five thousand men. The remaining fifteen thousand are tasked with securing the captured cities along their route to Lisbon.
The artillery bombardment they carried out the previous day has undoubtedly left its mark, both physically and psychologically, on the city of Lisbon.
"Prepare the troops for entry," General Saint-Cyr ordered with a firm nod.
Godoy relayed the command, and soon the columns of soldiers began to move forward. The initial steps were tentative as if the very ground beneath them held uncertainty. The streets, once teeming with life, now lay eerily empty. Windows were shuttered, doors were closed, and the only sounds were the soft trudging of boots and the occasional murmur of orders.
The invading forces advanced through the city with deliberate steps. Every corner turned, every alleyway entered, bore the potential for resistance.
Hours passed, and still, no direct confrontation arose. It seemed that the initial artillery assault had indeed quelled any immediate urge for resistance. Yet, General Saint-Cyr knew better than to underestimate the resilience of those who called Lisbon home. Guerrilla tactics could turn these narrow streets into a labyrinth of danger.
As they moved deeper into the heart of the city, signs of life gradually reappeared. Windows cracked open, cautious faces peered out, and whispers spread like wildfire among the residents.
At a central plaza, the French and Spanish forces halted, forming an organized perimeter. General Saint-Cyr stood at its center, his gaze steady as he surveyed the surroundings. This would be their temporary base of operations, a point from which they could coordinate and establish control over the city.
"Set up camp here," General Saint-Cyr directed. "Maintain a vigilant watch. We've claimed the city, but our task is far from over."
Tents were erected, and soldiers assumed their positions.
"This is odd, we have been in the city for hours, and yet no signs of an envoy making contact with us?" Godoy said.
General Saint-Cyr clicked his tongue. "If they won't show up, then we'll come to them. The Queen's residence is at the Ribeira Palace. Get one thousand men, we will head there. Bring cannons as well."
"Okay," General Godoy acknowledged with a brisk nod. He swiftly dispatched a messenger to assemble the designated force of one thousand soldiers.
Amid the organized chaos of the newly established camp, preparations were made. The selected soldiers gathered their gear and formed ranks. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the plaza, General Saint-Cyr addressed the assembled troops.
"We are about to make our presence known to the heart of Lisbon. Our destination is the Ribeira Palace—the seat of the Queen's authority. There might be resistance, so be prepared for anything. Our objective is to establish contact and assert control."
With those words, the column of soldiers set out once again, this time toward their new destination—the heart of political power in Lisbon, Ribeira Palace.
ραndαsnοvεl.cοm When Saint-Cyr accepted the role of a commander to invade Portugal, he studied briefly about the country's history. One of them is the Ribeira Palace. It was destroyed in the earthquake of 1755 and was reconstructed by the order of King José I.
Thirty minutes later, the French and the Spanish troops arrived in front of the Ribeira Palace.
General Saint-Cyr craned his neck as he gazed at its beautiful facade, and then dismounted his horse.
"Still no people huh?" Godoy remarked. "Are the Portuguese officials going to hide forever? They must have probably been traumatized by the bombardment. So, General Saint-Cyr, what is your order?"
"We'll start by knocking," General Saint-Cyr replied coolly before raising his hand and signaling the artillerymen pulling the cannons to step forward.
The artillerymen skillfully maneuvered the cannons into position. These cannons weren't massive howitzers but conventional ones, their barrels pointed toward the sky. Soldiers nearby covered their ears as the cannons fired with a resounding boom, sending a burst of smoke and a flash of fire into the air. The cannonballs were blanks, creating noise and smoke without causing actual destruction.
The moment the smoke dissipated, General Saint-Cyr stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the palace.
"Her Majesty, Queen Dona Maria I, and the officials within," General Saint-Cyr's voice boomed. "We request your audience. Step forth for diplomatic discourse. Otherwise, we will be compelled to use deadly force. The choice is yours."
Inside the palace, looking discreetly out of the window was Queen Maria I.
"So the words of the General who fought the French were true huh?" Maria I muttered, biting her nails nervously.
"Mother, we have to make an appearance or they'll fire upon us," Prince Dom João, the Queen's son, pleaded urgently.
The Queen let out an exasperated sigh, regretting the decision of not accepting the terms of surrender to the French and the Spanish. Now, the demand is going to grow harsher.
"I will not show my face to the invaders, but you can handle them," Maria said.
"I will do my best, Mother, thank you."
With that, Prince Dom João exited her bedroom and quickly made his way out of the palace.
Outside, they saw rows of French and Spanish infantry and cannons, ready to fire if the person in front were to give orders.
He ran towards the gate, stopping it from happening. General Saint-Cyr caught sight of the man and immediately ordered his men to stand down.
Moments later, the two met.
"Who are you?" General Saint-Cyr demanded.
"I'm Prince Dom João, son of the Queen of the Kingdom of Portugal. I came here to negotiate peace."
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