They shared a chuckle over their younger brother’s hubris.

‘Have you seen Josephine recently?’ Napoleon asked.

‘Yes, she was at Mainz when we stopped there. She’s been there for some time, it seems. Waiting for permission to come and join you.’

‘I know. She writes to me regularly.’

‘So why not let her come?’

Napoleon shrugged. ‘The roads are difficult. The climate is uncomfortable and there are only my officers here for company. Hardly the cosmopolitan life she enjoys so much in Paris.’

‘It’s not so bad,’ Lucien countered. ‘From what I’ve seen so far Warsaw seems to offer enough diversions. I’m sure Josephine would be happy enough here.’

‘I’m sure she would.’ Napoleon’s thoughts turned to Marie Walewska and the uncomfortable prospect of having to juggle a wife and a mistress in the same small social circle. At present the physical charms of the young countess appealed more to him than the familiar comforts of the Empress. ‘However, as you helpfully pointed out, we are still at war and I am occupied by my duties. I would not have much time to spare for Josephine and it would be unfair to summon her to Warsaw only to neglect her.’

‘Yes, it would.’ Lucien looked at him closely. ‘I heard something of your, er, duties from the officers in the mess last night. The countess is a true beauty, apparently.’

‘She is. And I consider it a sacred obligation to create good relations with our hosts.’

‘Well, I’ve never heard it called that before!’ Lucien laughed. ‘But seriously, Napoleon.You cannot put Josephine off for long. She will get to hear of this and be hurt.’

‘So? She has hurt me in her time. Besides, there are other issues that divide us.’

‘Oh?’

‘She has yet to provide me with an heir, and the years are drawing on. I fear that she may no longer be capable of giving what is most needed. A son to succeed me and provide France with the stability she needs. Without an heir there is little chance that you will have your peace, Lucien. If Josephine fails me in this respect then I will need to find another wife to bear me children.’

‘That is a little cold-blooded,’ Lucien responded quietly. ‘I thought you loved her.’

‘I do. In my way. But the needs of France outweigh the needs of any one man, even the Emperor.’

Lucien raised his eyebrows briefly. ‘Perhaps. But she will be hurt.’

‘As will I. Sometimes pain cannot be avoided. When you and your companions return to Paris please tell her to travel with you from Mainz. There is no point in her waiting any longer. She might as well be where she is most comfortable.’

‘And when shall I say that you will return to her?’

‘When the war is over. When Prussia surrenders and I have beaten Russia.’

‘Do you seriously intend to invade Russia?’

‘If I need to. With luck, the Tsar will send his armies to face me. If not, then some day the Grand Army will need to find and defeat his armies. Even if that means chasing them to the very gates of Moscow.’

Lucien contemplated this for a moment and then asked, ‘Can you truly do that?’

‘I think so.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘We shall see. Let’s just hope that the Tsar obliges me by marching on Warsaw when spring comes.’

The door to the chamber suddenly burst open and they both turned to see Berthier hurrying across the tiled floor towards them, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. Napoleon saw the anxiety in his chief of staff ’s face.

‘What is it, Berthier?’

‘A message from Bernadotte, sire. He says that a Russian army has appeared in front of him and he is falling back towards Ney.’

Napoleon shut his eyes and pictured the disposition of his forces in his mind. It made sense that the enemy should march on Bernadotte. His corps was the most advanced and if the Russians moved quickly they might envelop it and destroy Bernadotte before the rest of the Grand Army could intervene. However, Napoleon calculated, if the Grand Army manoeuvred swiftly, the tables might be turned and the Russians could be trapped in turn. His eyes flicked open.

‘Send word to all corps commanders to concentrate their forces immediately.We will advance towards Bernadotte. Once we have joined with him, Ney is to close in from the north and Davout from the south.’ Napoleon paused as he mentally projected the coverging lines of march. ‘We will pursue the Russians in the direction of Eylau.’

‘Eylau?’

‘A town a hundred and fifty miles north of Warsaw. If we can close the trap there, we will destroy the enemy.’ He turned to his brother. ‘If that happens, let us pray that the Tsar gives you the peace that you and your companions want.’

Lucien nodded. ‘I will pray for your victory, Napoleon. And that peace will follow. After you face the enemy at Eylau.’

Chapter 25

Eylau, 8 February 1807

From the church bell tower Napoleon had a good view over the snow-covered roofs towards the distant lines of Russian soldiers waiting a mile and a half away to the east. According to the reports from the scouts the enemy had spent the entire night standing to, in case the French attacked under cover of darkness. Indeed, Murat and Soult had pressed the Emperor to launch an attack as night fell, but Napoleon had had no desire to take the risk. Instead the Grand Army would wait until Ney and Davout approached before initiating any attack. Staring at the stolid Russian lines Napoleon could only guess at the discomfort of the enemy soldiers who had stood in their lines through the freezing cold of the night and were still ready for battle. They must be as hardy and disciplined as they came to endure such conditions, Napoleon reflected. His own men had emerged from their winter quarters in a bitter, surly mood and only the promise of a generous pay bonus and a free issue of new clothing and equipment had persuaded them to follow their colours against the Russian army.

‘A hard fight last night, sire.’ Berthier nodded down into the streets where the blackened remains of several wagons of the imperial baggage train littered Eylau’s main square. Scores of bodies were still sprawled around them, half hidden by the flurries of snow that had swept across the white landscape since dawn. Napoleon frowned. The officer commanding the baggage train had blundered into the town, ahead of the main army, late the previous afternoon and had run into the rearguard of the Russian army. Both sides had thrown more men into the skirmish until a bitter battle raged through the streets as night fell over Eylau. Thousands of men had died on both sides before the Russians finally gave up the town and the last shots died away. A pointless waste of men on the eve of the main battle, Napoleon reflected.