As the orderly did as he was ordered Napoleon held the paper to his back and began to write. By the authority of his imperial majesty, the Emperor Napoleon, Private Jean Geunet has been found guilty of pillaging. In accordance with standing orders he is sentenced to summary execution. By order of Napoleon.

He signed his name and handed the document to the lieutenant. ‘There. Have it entered into regimental records. Now take Private Geunet back to the shrine and shoot him.’

‘Sire?’The lieutenant stared back.

‘Did you not hear my order?’

‘Well, yes, sire.’

‘Then carry it out immediately or I will have you charged with insubordination.’

‘Yes, sire!’ The lieutenant saluted and turned at once to his men. ‘Take hold of him!’

Geunet’s expression was one of pure horror. A moment earlier he had been convinced that the Emperor had been about to pardon him, or at least order a lenient punishment. Now he collapsed to his knees and clasped the hem of Napoleon’s greatcoat.

‘Sire! I beg you. Show me mercy. I have a family, in Toulon. A wife, two children.’

Napoleon looked down at him coldly. ‘Get your hands off me.’

‘Sire.’ Geunet’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t have me shot. Put me in the front rank. At least give me a chance to die with a musket in my hand. For my country. For you, sire.’

Napoleon ignored him. ‘Take this man away, and carry out the sentence.’

Geunet’s two companions grabbed his elbows and hauled him roughly to his feet before pinning his arms behind his back and thrusting him away from the Emperor, back down the street in the direction they had come from. Geunet struggled to twist his head round and called out, ‘Sire! Don’t let them shoot me. Please, sire!’

Napoleon ignored his calls and walked to the horse being held by a groom. Once in the saddle he spurred the animal forward and rode down the street that led towards the pass.The escort followed him in a rumbling cascade of hooves, and as the party left Sepúlveda behind them the sound of two musket shots rang out.

A short distance from the village the gradient of the road began to increase noticeably and within minutes they had emerged from the dawn fog and could clearly see the way ahead of them. Already some of Ruffin’s skirmishers were advancing up the hill, on either side of the road, warily watching for any signs of their opposite numbers. But there was no movement below the summit and Napoleon was sure that the enemy had positioned all available men in the pass itself. He went forward with his escort along the narrow cart track that began to zigzag up the slope. When they neared the small hillock he had spotted from the church, he led them off the track and towards the crest.As Napoleon had hoped, the slightly elevated position gave a good view of the Spanish defences less than a mile ahead.

The Polish captain commanding the escort edged his mount closer to the Emperor and coughed. ‘Excuse me, sire. But aren’t we in range of the nearest battery?’

Napoleon glanced at the earthworks opposite and slightly higher than the hillock.‘It would be extreme range. I doubt they will waste the ammunition.’

‘Even so, I would rather you did not take the risk, sire.’

Napoleon turned towards him and glared.‘We are safe here, Captain. Besides, there is no other position from which to observe the fight. Now still your tongue.’

The captain opened his mouth, then nodded and saluted before walking his horse away to a respectful distance behind the Emperor.

Napoleon watched as Ruffin’s division marched out of the fog and began to climb the road up to the pass.As the men passed the Emperor’s position they cheered and Napoleon made himself raise his hat in acknowledgement, provoking fresh cheers from soldiers delighted by the simple gesture.As they neared the pass, the division halted and began to deploy in line. Ahead of them the skirmishers fired the first shots of the day at the enemy’s light infantry, who were sheltering behind rocks and folds in the ground just ahead of their main position. Soon tiny puffs of smoke were blossoming across the slope. Napoleon watched the deployment with a growing sense of impatience, tapping the top of his boot with his riding crop. At length the drums rolled and the division edged forward. As soon as they came in sight of the Spanish guns the latter opened fire and the first balls tore through the French ranks, scattering bodies in all directions. Ruffin’s men continued on towards the line of enemy infantry, the units on each flank taking the heaviest casualties as they approached the Spanish batteries. Inevitably, the line began to bow as the men being pounded by artillery slowed down, and finally stopped a short distance in front of the battery opposite Napoleon.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ Napoleon muttered irritably. ‘Get moving . . .’

The flanking battalion had suffered too many casualties and the men refused to advance any further. As the officers and sergeants tried to urge them on, the soldiers loosed off their muskets at the Spanish guns, which were shielded by their earthworks. It was a futile gesture that did not ease the storm of shot tearing the battalion to pieces.Then the first of the men fell back, away from the guns. More followed, and then the entire battalion was retiring, some of the men running, not stopping until the guns were out of sight. A lone officer remained on the bloodied ground, surrounded by bodies. He raised his sword and shouted, trying to shame his men into re-joining the attack. Then, as Napoleon watched, a round shot cut him in half. His legs stood still for an instant, before buckling and collapsing amid the carnage.

‘Shit.’ Napoleon clenched his fists as he glared at the scattered men of the battalion, then at the Spanish battery. Some of the gun crews had climbed on top of the earthworks and were jeering at the Frenchmen.

‘Damn them!’ Napoleon growled. He turned angrily in his saddle and pointed at the captain of his escort.‘Take that battery for me! At the gallop! Now.’

The captain looked up the narrow track to the pass, where it crossed the open ground in front of the enemy line.

‘What are you waiting for?’ Napoleon snapped.

The captain saluted and turned to shout orders to his squadron.The eighty men of his command formed up in column, four abreast. Drawing his sabre, the captain spurred his horse forward and galloped up the track.With cries to urge their mounts on and the jingling of bits the rest of the men pounded after him. Napoleon watched as the squadron charged up the road, past the men of the battalion that had broken earlier. As they reached the pass and came within range of the nearest Spanish infantry the enemy loosed off a volley, knocking several men from their horses. The horsemen slowed, veered away towards the shelter of a small outcrop of rocks and reined in. Napoleon rose up in his stirrups.

‘What the devil? What are those cowards doing? Attack, you fools! Attack! How dare you cower in front of that gang of Spanish peasants?’ He turned to one of his orderlies. ‘You! Ride up there and tell them to continue the charge. Tell them that they shame themselves and they shame their Emperor. Go!’