Once the reinforcements arrived Napoleon attacked Alvinzi down each of the routes through the marshland for the next two days. Then, on the third morning, as the exhausted men of the Army of Italy readied themselves for a third onslaught, reports began to arrive at headquarters from the patrols that had been sent out at first light.

Marmont hurried into the study of a small villa that served as Napoleon’s field headquarters as the general was drafting his order of the day, exhorting his men to one last effort to send Alvinzi reeling back towards the Austrian border. They were bone tired, and had seen many of their comrades killed and wounded in the bitter skirmishes of the previous days. Napoleon doubted that they had much fight left in them. This day they must fight and win, or he would have to fall back and try to defend Verona with the forces that were left to him.

‘Sir, they’ve gone!’

Napoleon looked up at him, pen poised over the paper. ‘Gone?’

‘The Austrians!’ Marmont laughed and slapped his thigh in delight. ‘Our patrols did not come up against any enemy pickets and went forward.Their positions are empty.They’ve gone.We’ve beaten them, sir! Alvinzi’s running for it.’

Napoleon stared at him for a moment and then sat back in his chair with a deep sigh. It was over then, for now. No doubt the Austrians would fall back and ready themselves for yet another attempt, and the battered veterans of the Army of Italy would be called on to make yet another superhuman effort to defend the land they had won for France. Napoleon marvelled at what his men had achieved. But for now they had gained a desperately needed respite.

‘Give the order for the men to stand down.Then find Murat. I want the cavalry to snap at the enemy’s heels all the way to Bassano. They are not to give Alvinzi a moment’s rest. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Marmont saluted, and paused before he turned away to carry out his orders. ‘My congratulations, sir.’

‘Congratulations?’ Napoleon shook his head. ‘We’ve lost too many men, too many comrades for that, Marmont.’

Once Marmont had left the room and closed the door, Napoleon looked down at the order he had written, and then crumpled the piece of paper up and threw it aside. He pulled out a fresh sheet and began writing a new order of the day for his army.

Never has a field of battle been as disputed as that of Arcola. But nothing is lost as long as courage remains . . .

Chapter 22

February 1797

‘It seems that the Directory has finally decided to reward our good work, gentlemen.’ Napoleon could not help smiling as he addressed his staff and senior officers. ‘After nearly a year of victories, won by half-starved men with rags on their backs, our masters have finally decided to honour their pledge to send us the reinforcements we need.’

Masséna snorted. ‘Now that we’ve all but driven the Austrians from Italy!’

There was a murmur of bitter assent from the other officers, and Napoleon could well understand it. Only two weeks earlier the Army of Italy had turned back the last attempt by the Austrians to relieve Mantua. In five days of marching and fighting the French had defeated the enemy at Rivoli and La Favorita, destroying three quarters of the Austrian army.The final triumph of the swift campaign was General Wurmser’s surrender of Mantua. Most of the garrison was starving and sick and once he had received news of the spectacular defeat at Rivoli Wurmser had realised that Mantua was doomed. He was accorded the honours of war by Napoleon and allowed to leave the fortress with his sword as a free man.The fall of the Austrian fortress had also marked an end to the incessant plotting between Venice, Naples and the papal states, now that Napoleon was free to turn his attention to his southern flank. In quick succession the Pope and the King of Naples had pledged loyalty to France, and sealed the pledge with thirty million francs. It was no wonder that Masséna and the others treated the news from Paris with such cynicism.

‘Yes.’ Napoleon raised a hand to quiet his fiery subordinate. ‘Their timing is less than perfect, I grant you. But once Bernadotte and Delmas join us with their divisions the Army of Italy will have eighty thousand men on its strength. More than enough for the next, and I hope final, phase of the war against Austria . . .’

He paused, enjoying the keen concentration of his officers as they waited for him to continue. He clicked his fingers and Berthier crossed to the table and unrolled a map of the north of Italy, the Alps and Austria. Once the map was weighted down, Napoleon took up position at the head of the table and tapped his finger on the Austrian capital.

‘Vienna, gentlemen. That is the goal for the coming campaign.The Army of Italy and the Army of the Rhine will be the two prongs of an attack on Austria.The enemy will no longer be able to shuffle men between the two fronts and for the first time we shall outnumber them. I aim to be in Vienna by summer at the latest. And there I shall dictate terms to the Emperor of Austria, while my officers and soldiers take the spoils of war that they have earned.’

There were broad smiles from the assembled officers, and Napoleon turned to Masséna. ‘I imagine that meets with your approval, André?’

Masséna rubbed his hands together. ‘Indeed, sir! I shall loot the place until the Viennese are begging for mercy.’

‘Just as long as you leave a little something for the rest of us.’

The others laughed and Napoleon indulged them for a moment before he tapped the map again. ‘Now to business: the plan for the campaign.’

Once the briefing was over and the field officers had returned to their commands to prepare their men for the months ahead, Napoleon went to Josephine at the house he had commandeered at Montebello. It was a very grand affair, a palace truly fit for the man who ruled the whole expanse of northern Italy, from the border of France across the shores of the Adriatic Sea. Josephine’s entourage had been swelled by a large number of local aristocrats and others seeking the favour of the young French general.As Napoleon rode up the long tree-lined avenue he was struck by the thought that the original coterie of family and friends now had more the appearance of some regal court, with its finely dressed guests served by hundreds of uniformed staff amid the stately halls, corridors and immaculately landscaped gardens of Montebello.

Josephine had gone for a ride with Lieutenant Charles and did not return until dusk. Napoleon was waiting for her in the stables when they returned, two riders emerging from the thin blue light that bathed the withered winter landscape. As Napoleon walked out of the shadows of the stable Josephine was talking in a quiet undertone. The hussar lieutenant caught sight of Napoleon at once, and reining in he snapped a salute at his superior. Josephine slid from her saddle and ran into Napoleon’s arms and they exchanged a kiss. Napoleon released his wife and nodded to the hussar.

‘You may go now, Lieutenant. My wife is quite safe, but I thank you for acting as her protector this afternoon.’

‘My pleasure, sir.’ Lieutenant Charles wheeled his mount, took up the reins of Josephine’s horse, and led it away towards the waiting grooms. Napoleon stared at the man for a moment. He could see why the ladies might warm to the company of the tall, graceful cavalry officer with his finely sculpted features. Quite the Adonis, Napoleon reflected ruefully, suddenly conscious of his own slight frame and dark hair. Had he not been celebrated for his victory over the royalists in Paris he would still be an undistinguished officer of artillery languishing in the ranks of the Army of the Vendée. The kind of man that Josephine would never have married. The knowledge cut him like a knife and his wife sensed the sudden change.