Napoleon had descended from the tower and stood in the nave warming himself at a fire that had been made from the pews. He had summoned his marshals to consider the next day’s action. His officers gathered round the fire, faces lit in the wavering glow of the flames.The exhaustion of the day’s fighting was etched into their faces as they attended their Emperor. Napoleon turned first to Ney.

‘Would you care to explain why it took you so long to join us today, Marshal?’

Ney frowned and there was no hiding the anger in his reply. ‘I did not receive your order to close up on the main army until after two in the afternoon, sire.’

‘Did you not hear the guns? You must have done.’

‘The wind and the snow prevented the sound from carrying to us, sire.’>

Even though it was true, it still sounded like an excuse and Ney shifted uneasily under the gaze of the other officers. Napoleon stared at him for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to the rest.

‘We have been hit hard, gentlemen, according to the first strength returns to reach headquarters. Only a quarter of Augereau’s corps are still fit to fight and there have been heavy casualties to all formations, except Ney’s.We can only hope that the enemy have also suffered badly.’

Soult sniffed. ‘They have, sire. Our bullets were not made of cotton.’

‘Thank you, Soult,’ Napoleon said testily. ‘The question is, will the Russians still have any fight left in them come the morning? If so, will our men be able to withstand an attack? Should we even consider a withdrawal? Your thoughts, gentlemen?’

‘We should attack,’ Ney said firmly. ‘Now. While the enemy are still shaken. Seize the initiative, sire.’

Napoleon shook his head. ‘The army is in no condition to attack. The men are exhausted and I dare say their only thought at the moment is finding somewhere warm enough to spend the night so that they don’t freeze to death.’

Augereau cleared his throat. ‘Sire, we cannot attack. Equally we cannot retreat.The men’s morale is low enough as it is. If we turn from the enemy now we risk a general breakdown in discipline. If the enemy pursue us, we’re finished. We must hold our position, for a day at least. While the men recover.’

Several of the other senior officers nodded and Napoleon considered the matter as he rubbed the bristles on his chin. There seemed to be little choice. ‘Very well, then. The army stands to for the night, in case the enemy mount an attack. When dawn comes, Ney’s corps will open an assault on the enemy’s flank.The entire Imperial Guard will move up to the centre of the line and attempt to break through the Russian position. That’s the best we can hope for, gentlemen. Return to your commands to await orders.You are dismissed.’

Before the sun rose over the battlefield, a pale orange disc against a grey sky, Napoleon’s fears for the losses incurred by the Grand Army were borne out as the last of the strength returns reached headquarters.There had been over twenty thousand casualties, nearly a third of the army. By the gathering light of the dawn the battlefield looked like an open-air slaughterhouse. A vast expanse of corpses, individual and heaped, men and horses, marked the passage of Augereau’s ill-fated advance, the Russian counter-attack, and Murat’s charge. The bodies had frozen in the night and the cold had claimed the lives of many of those who had lain wounded on the field.

At first light the French outposts had reported no sign of the Russians and now cavalry patrols reported that the enemy army had pulled back during the night and was retreating to the east.As Napoleon inspected the battlefield in the company of his marshals he could see that his men had reached the end of their endurance. As he approached, they rose sullenly to their feet, and when their officers called on them to cheer their Emperor there were few cries of‘Long live the Emperor!’ and many more calls of ‘Long live peace!’ instead.

Napoleon’s expression was fixed in a cold fury as he passed on and his staff eyed him anxiously as they approached the small hillock where the square of French infantrymen had perished the day before. As they stood on its crest, surrounded by thousands of stiffening bodies, Ney shook his head. ‘What a massacre. And without result.’

Napoleon rounded on him. ‘Enough! We have won a victory here. The enemy are in full retreat and left us in possession of the battlefield.’

‘Battlefield?’ Ney spoke wearily. ‘This is no battlefield, sire. It is the graveyard of the Grand Army.’

‘Silence, Ney! It is a victory, I tell you. Berthier, you will draft a despatch to send to Paris.You will tell them that I won a great victory at Eylau, after a gallant fight by our men.You will say that we suffered seven thousand casualties, and inflicted at least twice that on the enemy. The despatch is to be copied and distributed across Europe.’

‘And published in the army newspapers, sire?’ asked Berthier.

Napoleon was silent for a moment and then shook his head.‘Not for the present.The men are too tired to read even good news.’

He stared round at his officers, challenging anyone to defy him. No one dared speak. Napoleon clasped his hands behind his back and abruptly turned and began to pick his way through the bodies as he made his way back towards Eylau. After a moment’s hesitation his officers filed after him, in silence.

Despite what he had said Napoleon was under no illusion about the damage done to his men. The Grand Army could not continue the campaign. Cold, weary, hungry and badly shaken, they were in no condition to fight. There was nothing for it but to pull back, return to winter quarters and wait for spring to arrive.

Then the Russians must be beaten decisively and forced to make peace. Before the rest of Europe saw through the pretence that Eylau was any kind of victory and closed on Napoleon like wolves circling wounded prey.

Chapter 26

Arthur

London, February 1807

The cries from upstairs reached a new pitch and Arthur dropped the cards on the table and rose up from his chair to make for the door.

‘Easy there, Arthur,’ Richard said calmly from the other side of the table as he looked through his hand and made a quick calculation of the odds. ‘I’ll have another card, if you please.’

Arthur stared at him.‘Damn you and your cards! My wife is in pain. She needs me.’

‘She is in labour,Arthur,’ Richard replied with the casual indifference of a man.‘It is a natural part of the process of giving birth.The pain will pass and you will have a child. Kitty is in good hands. There is nothing you can do to help, so come and sit, and continue the game.’

A fresh cry of agony came from the room above and Arthur hesitated for an instant before he made himself resume his seat and pick up the deck of cards. However, his eyes fixed on the ceiling and his brother had to cough lightly to get his attention.