Fire and Sword

Chapter 22

Jena, 13 October 1806

‘I would say that there are perhaps forty, maybe fifty thousand Prussians to the west of us,’ said Marshal Lannes as he slowly scanned the enemy positions through his telescope.

Beside him Napoleon considered the estimate for a moment and nodded. ‘In which case, that should be the main body of the enemy. There will be other formations nearby, guarding their flanks, but that must be the main body.Very well then, we must concentrate the Grand Army at once. I want every available man here within twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, you and the Imperial Guard must hold this position.’ Napoleon gestured to the surrounding heights that rose up between the town of Jena to the east and the plateau to the west where the Prussian army was making camp for the night.‘What do the locals call this place, Berthier?’

‘The Landgrafenberg, sire.’

Napoleon shook his head. ‘These Germans come up with some incomprehensible place names.When the campaign is over, I will make it a priority to cut them down to size.’

His staff officers laughed, and Napoleon was grateful for their good humour.There were risks involved in choosing this ground for what he hoped would be the decisive action of the campaign. Given a full day he could summon nearly a hundred and fifty thousand men to the area around Jena. Until then, Lannes and the veterans of the Guard must hold the heights. If the Prussians decided to attack in the remaining hours of daylight, or even early the next morning, the French troops who had crossed the river Saale to occupy the Landgrafenberg would be hopelessly outnumbered. If they were forced down the heights into Jena there would be a bottleneck at the bridge and the Prussians would inflict heavy losses. Everything depended on holding the hill, Napoleon decided, looking up to the highest point half a mile away.

He turned to Berthier and indicated to the ridge.‘We have to fortify that position. I want as many guns up there as possible.Twelve-pounders would be best, so that we can command the approaches to the slopes.’

Berthier stared at the steep rise that led up to the ridge, then sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Twelve-pounders? That won’t be easy to do, sire.’

‘I didn’t say that it would be easy,’ Napoleon replied quietly. ‘I said that it will be done.’

‘Yes, sire. I will give the orders at once.’

Napoleon nodded, then folded his arms as he turned to regard the Prussian army again. The autumn evening was drawing in and already the fine spirals of the first campfires were marking the clear, still sky. Apart from a handful of cavalry pickets patrolling across the plateau there was no sign of any activity that presaged any attack. Napoleon called for his horse.

‘I’m going back to the headquarters in Jena. Lannes, you can stand your men down. But be ready to form up at the first sign of any movement the Prussians make.’

Lannes bowed his head. ‘Yes, sire.’

‘Good. If the enemy are content to sit on their arses through the night and into the morning, then they’re in for the surprise of their lives.’

As night fell the staff officers of the imperial headquarters worked at a frantic pace to issue the orders to concentrate the separate columns of the Grand Army. The Emperor had decided on a battle the following day and marching schedules had to be drafted and issued to every division. Ammunition trains had to be brought forward ready to replenish the cannon and muskets of the army. Since foraging was not possible so close to the enemy the rations carried with the army had to be distributed along the approaches to Jena.

Napoleon and Berthier had taken over a large room and at once spread out maps of the surrounding lands across the floor. Napoleon took note of the scale of the main map and adjusted his dividers accordingly to measure half a day’s march. He knelt down on the map and leaned forward to inspect the details of each unit Berthier had marked in pencil. Every so often Napoleon walked the dividers across the map towards the area around Jena and then made appropriate allowances for night marches, and the reported conditions of the roads and tracks his men would have to march along. Any questions he asked about the strengths of the units sent Berthier scurrying to the small chest of notebooks, which were updated every day from the returns sent directly to headquarters from each brigade.

At length Napoleon was satisfied that he would be able to amass sufficient strength before noon the following day to mount a successful attack on the Prussians. The critical phase of the coming battle would occur well before midday. In order to provide room for the advancing French columns to cross the Saale and make their way through Jena, the bridgehead would have to be pushed forward. That meant that Lannes and his men were going to have to advance against the Prussians on their own at first light, and hold the enemy back long enough for the rest of the Grand Army to deploy. Napoleon stared at the map again. Not the whole of the Grand Army, he decided. There was an opportunity here for an outflanking movement by Davout and Bernadotte’s columns. If they could cross further along the Saale and move against the enemy’s left, then the Prussian army would be caught in the jaws of a vice and crushed.

Napoleon dictated the final details to Berthier, then stood up and announced his intention to return to the Landgrafenberg and spend the night there with the Imperial Guard. He took up his hat and buttoned his greatcoat and strode outside. After the warm fug of the crowded headquarters the air outside was cold and crisp and the clear heavens were scattered with the brilliant pinpoints of stars. Napoleon paused a moment, head tilted back, and admired the view. He had read that astronomers claimed that each star was like the sun and that vast distances separated them so that the earth, and all who dwelt there, were as insignificant as dust on the great scale of the universe. For the briefest instant Napoleon felt a tremor of despair in his heart, then quickly dismissed it with a snorted inhalation of the cold air, and strode towards his horse and let one of his escort help him up into the saddle.

Above the roofs of Jena loomed the dark mass of the Landgrafenberg, lit here and there by the dancing flickers of torches and campfires.There was a concentration of torches on the lower slope and by the dim loom of their light Napoleon could just make out the forms of some wagons and gun carriages. He frowned, dug his heels in and galloped down the street towards the road that led up to the heights. A short distance outside the town he came across the tail of the artillery train that had been ordered to the summit of the Landgrafenberg. On either side of the track, the battalions of the Imperial Guard were waiting to move up to the heights and some of the men stirred at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Even in the dark the keener-sighted of the men recognised the distinctive shape of Napoleon’s hat and a voice cried out excitedly, ‘It’s the Emperor! On your feet for the Emperor!’

As word spread along the line of vehicles dark figures rose up and waved and cheered as Napoleon and his escort trotted past without acknowledging them. The road began to climb the slope and as the gradient steepened the road ended and a crude track began, snaking up the hill. Here Napoleon found the head of the artillery train, where a small crowd of gunners and their officers stood in the light of several torches and lanterns. Scores of men were labouring on traces to haul a twelve-pounder up the narrow track, and every pace gained came with painful slowness.

‘What is going on here?’ Napoleon called out sharply as he reined in. ‘Why the delay? These guns should be halfway up to the ridge by now.’

The brigadier in charge of the artillery train stepped forward with an apprehensive expression and gestured towards the track.‘Sire, you can see for yourself. It’s the track. Little more than a bridle path. It’s poor going for anything larger than a dog cart.’

Napoleon swung himself down from the saddle, took a lantern from one of the artillerymen and began to examine the ground just in front of the leading gun.The path was narrow, uneven and littered with small boulders, some wedged into the soil and loose gravel. More than enough of a challenge to the artillery train, he conceded. Nevertheless, the guns had to be in position on the ridge and ready to fire at first light. Napoleon strode back down the hill towards the brigadier.

‘Order the artillery train to halt.’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Then give the order for every pick and shovel in the artillery train, and from the engineers back in Jena, to be brought here.’ Napoleon turned to one of his escort.‘I want each battalion of the Imperial Guard to work for an hour on improving the track before they move up to the ridge. Pass the word.’

While the two officers hurried off to carry out his orders Napoleon walked a short distance up the narrow path, inspecting the ground closely. In places the track was little more than a pace wide and that width would need to be tripled before the twelve-pounders and artillery caissons could pass along it. In addition, the boulders would have to be dug out to make the route as level as possible for the heavy wheels of the wagons and gun carriages. It would be back-breaking work and the men would curse him for it, but there was no other way to get the guns to the top of the Landgrafenberg by dawn.

As the first of the Imperial Guard battalions reached the head of the artillery train the gunners handed the small supply of ready tools to the men and the sergeants directed them to begin cutting into the embankment beside the track. As more tools came forward other companies moved further up the route to work by the light of lanterns set up on posts by the engineers who had hurried forward from Jena. The air was filled with the thud of picks, the soft scrape of shovels and the grunts of the men labouring in the chilly night air. Napoleon walked slowly up and down the track for the next half-hour, offering encouragement, cajoling, and swapping greetings with his veterans. Then, satisfied that the work was well in hand, he passed the lantern to an artilleryman, climbed back on to his horse and made his way up the track towards the ridge.

He found Marshal Lannes and a handful of his officers on the knoll on the crest of the heights.They were staring out across the plateau to where the campfires of the Prussian army sprawled across the darkened landscape.

‘Any signs of movement?’ Napoleon asked as he slid down from his saddle.

‘No, sire.’

‘Any reinforcements?’

‘None that we have detected.’

‘That’s strange,’ Napoleon mused. ‘They know we’re here. They will want to concentrate their forces to make or meet any attack. Are you certain there’s been no sign of activity, no fresh columns arriving in the enemy camp?’

‘As certain as we can be, sire.’

Napoleon was still for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Very well, then. That has to be the main Prussian force. And we have the enemy where we want him. The first thrust of the Grand Army will fix the Prussians on the plateau, while Davout and Bernadotte cross the Saale and march on to their flank and rear. If all goes well, they will crumble under assault from two directions and the day is ours.’

Lannes was silent for a moment before he responded.‘Assuming that is the entire Prussian army out there. What if the enemy has split his force, sire? What if there is another column we have not accounted for?’

‘Another column?’ Napoleon snorted dismissively.‘Why would there be another column? Why would the enemy divide his strength on the eve of battle? Not even the Prussians are that foolish, my dear Lannes.’

He turned away from the enemy and indicated an even stretch of ground a short distance from the crest of the ridge. ‘I’ll spend the rest of the night there. Have a fire made up, and then I want the first units of the Imperial Guard to take up position around the crest.’ Napoleon turned to the nearest of his staff officers. ‘See to it.’

‘At once, sire.’

As the night passed the first of the guns arrived at the top of the Landgrafenberg and was eased into position on the forward slope. A steady stream of cannon and caissons rumbled past Napoleon’s makeshift command post, while the columns of infantry from Lannes’s corps and the Imperial Guard took a direct route to the summit and filed past in the darkness as they were directed into line for the dawn advance on to the plateau. By the light of his campfire Napoleon issued the last of his orders, and read through the most recent reports from his corps commanders. There was only one that concerned him slightly. Davout claimed to have detected a large enemy force ahead of him and suggested that it might be the main Prussian army. Napoleon considered the possibility for an instant and then dismissed it as he glanced towards the enemy campfires once more. There was no doubt about it, he decided, that had to be the main Prussian army. So, wrapping his coat about his shoulders, he settled on a camp chair and warmed himself at the fire as he waited for dawn and the coming battle.

The cold night brought up a dense fog from the plateau as the first glimmer of day thickened along the horizon.The ground in front of the Landgrafenberg was wreathed in a pallid gloom that hid much of the detail of the landscape. During the night, the corps of Soult and Augereau had arrived and taken up positions alongside Lannes’s. Over forty thousand French troops were ready to advance and open the way for the bulk of the Grand Army crossing the river Saale behind them. The men were standing still and silent as ghosts as they waited for the attack to begin and Napoleon was pleased with their good discipline, since they were well within cannon range of the enemy position. If the Prussians were to detect any sign of the coming onslaught they would be ready in time to inflict fearful casualties amongst the leading French units.

As he stood behind the batteries on the heights Napoleon flipped his pocket watch open and glanced down now and again as the hands slowly crawled towards six o’clock.Then there was a distant shout as the order was given, and the signal gun boomed, announcing the start of the attack. An instant later the batteries on the Landgrafenberg thundered out and Napoleon’s gaze was caught by the thin dark smear of a ball as it arced towards the Prussian lines, until it dropped into the fog. Then the drums rolled as they beat the advance and Lannes’s divisions began to tramp down the slope until they too were lost in the fog.

Moments later Napoleon saw a bloom of orange in the murk and then heard the dull thud as a Prussian battery fired in the direction of the approaching French divisions. More enemy guns opened up and the rattle of musket fire accompanied the din as the skirmishers of both sides came into contact. On the Landgrafenberg the French gunners shifted their aim to target the dim flashes that revealed the positions of the enemy cannon. The firing from both sides grew more intense, but the fog prevented Napoleon from seeing how the attack was progressing. Then the first of the casualties came limping up the slope, nursing their injured limbs as they found what cover they could to wait out the battle and then find medical help.

‘I have to know what is going on,’ Napoleon snapped to one of the hussars of his personal guard. ‘Ride down there. Find Marshal Lannes and tell him to report his progress back to me at once.’

‘Yes, sire.’

The firing continued with growing intensity, as if a storm were raging below the smooth surface of the fog, and even though the rising sun began to burn off the mist thick banks of powder smoke still obscured much of the detail as the first hours of the battle raged. The first reports arrived from the leading divisions and Napoleon scanned the hurriedly written notes to learn that the nearest villages on the plateau had been taken, with heavy losses inflicted by enemy cannon firing at close range on the densely packed French assault columns. But the enemy had been driven back and Lannes had won sufficient space for the other corps of the Grand Army to join the attack.

By ten o’clock Soult’s men had reached their position on the right flank and launched an immediate attack on the Prussians, pushing them back.To the left, Augereau’s columns were striding out to take up their positions, and in the centre Ney’s fresh troops were marching up the road from Jena to reinforce Lannes. Only the last wreaths of fog lay in dips in the ground and now Napoleon had a clear view of the battlefield. The bodies of men from the assault columns littered the plateau, piled in small heaps where Prussian grapeshot had blasted into the French line. Beyond the villages of Closwitz and Lutzeroda the men of Lannes’s corps had paused to re-form in the face of fresh troops the Prussians had brought forward to meet the attack. There was a gap of nearly a mile between the reduced ranks of the men of Lannes’s corps and that of Augereau, and, as Napoleon watched, Ney’s column made for the gap and then continued forward alone towards the waiting Prussian artillery that had already done so much damage to Lannes’s men.

‘What is Ney doing?’ Napoleon fumed.‘What is that fool up to? He has no orders to advance yet. He can’t attack by himself.’

Behind the Emperor the staff officers and messengers stood silently and watched helplessly as Ney’s men closed on the enemy and began to deploy as the first of the Prussian guns ahead of them opened fire, orange flames stabbing through puffs of smoke that looked like tiny flowers at a distance. Through Napoleon’s telescope the effect on the delicate-looking lines of French soldiers was all too real, however, as round shot swept away whole files of men at a time. With painstaking steadiness Ney’s men completed the manoeuvre and advanced towards the enemy line. The bright colours of each battalion’s standard led the way and the waving swords of the officers glittered like far-off stars as they caught the morning sun. The enemy cannon continued to cut scores of men down as the French advanced and then, as they closed up on the Prussian line, they halted and made ready to fire.

There was a pause, then a final volley flashed out from the Prussian guns.An instant later, Ney’s men replied. Scores of men fell on each side, and then Ney’s infantry charged through the musket smoke and made for the enemy artillery positions.There was no time for the Prussians to reload and they fled from their guns, abandoning them to the French.

Berthier clapped his hands. ‘They’ve done it! They have the guns!’

‘Yes.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘And at what cost? The fool has advanced too far, and has no support. Look there, now Ney will really have his battle.’

Napoleon pointed out the dense mass of enemy cavalry already edging forward from the rear of the Prussian lines. They had been moving forward to counter Lannes’s attack, but the Prussian general had seen his chance to crush Ney’s isolated formation and the long lines of mounted men closed in on the French infantry. Ney did the only thing that he could under the circumstances, and Napoleon watched the distant infantry hurriedly form squares and prepare to receive the charge of the enemy cavalry.The Emperor had little doubt that Ney and his men would hold off the Prussian horsemen, but they were not the real danger.While Ney’s corps held off the cavalry the Prussians would bring forward more guns and infantry to blast the static French formations to pieces.They could not possibly endure such punishment for long, and the squares would break down. At that point they would be entirely at the mercy of the Prussians.

Napoleon frowned bitterly.‘Ney has forced my hand.We have to save that Gascon fool and his men.’ Napoleon turned away from the scene, his mind swiftly conceiving the necessary orders. ‘We need cavalry. Where is Murat?’

‘Still on the road to Jena, sire,’ Berthier replied.‘His advance elements have just begun to cross the Saale.We only have two cavalry regiments in the reserve.’

‘Then we must use them. Send them forward to support Ney.’

Berthier’s eyes widened. ‘Two regiments against that host, sire? They won’t stand a chance.’

‘Neither will Ney if we don’t act at once. I will not lose Ney’s corps,’ Napoleon stated firmly. ‘Send those two regiments forward immediately. And order Lannes and Augereau to advance and take position on either flank of Ney’s corps.’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon turned back towards Ney’s embattled corps and saw that the enemy cavalry had now engulfed the squares. Each pocket of blue was surrounded by thick smoke amid which the dashing shadows of Prussian cavalry galloped past, their riders firing pistols at point blank range, and threatening to charge any weak points in the French lines. Napoleon’s heart was heavy with a mixture of dread for the fate of his men, cut off from the rest of the army and threatened with annihilation, and rage at Ney for his hot-headedness. Bravery was one thing, and Ney was as brave as they came, Napoleon conceded, but rashness was irresponsible at best and a positive peril at worst. If Ney survived the battle, there would be words spoken about his cavalier approach to orders.

Napoleon dismissed his anger towards his subordinate and concentrated his attention on the battlefield once again. For the moment, the initiative had passed to the Prussians and they had the opportunity to crush Ney, and force the entire French line back to the foot of the Landgrafenberg, if they acted quickly. Already Napoleon could see a dense mass of enemy infantry moving towards Lannes and as the two sides came together in a fury of musket flashes and plumes of smoke the overwhelming numbers of the enemy began to tell. Lannes’s men were forced back on to a small hamlet halfway across the plateau. Napoleon could see at once that there was no chance that the Prussians could be halted there, and he cursed the speed at which his other corps were marching towards the battle. If only there was one more corps here to throw into the fight, to stabilise the line long enough for more men to arrive and swing the balance in favour of the French. He cursed Ney once more, and then Murat for failing to have his cavalry on hand, and then the enemy general for having the temerity to be a good enough soldier to seize the advantage.

‘Who would have thought that a Prussian general would take the initiative?’ he muttered to himself.

It was Berthier who noticed it first. He stared over the battlefield for a moment, and then frowned as he spoke. ‘Sire, the enemy have halted.’

‘What?’

Napoleon strained his eyes to make out the details of the battlefield to Lannes’s front. There was still a good deal of smoke obscuring both sides. But then he could see that Berthier was right.The enemy line had indeed halted, and even as Napoleon raised his telescope to look more closely he could make out the sergeants dressing the Prussian formations as if they were on a parade ground. As French fire plucked men out of the line, so they dressed ranks again and stood to attention, waiting.

‘What on earth are they playing at?’ asked Berthier. ‘Why don’t they continue to advance?’

‘God knows,’ Napoleon replied, and then swung his telescope across the battlefield. Ney was barely holding his own against the enemy cavalry but the Prussian artillery and infantry that had been advancing to trap his corps had also halted and were standing still, almost within musket range of the nearest French square. At first Napoleon could not understand it. Why would the Prussians throw away such a splendid opportunity to send the French line reeling back? Why delay? What were they waiting for?

Napoleon swept his telescope across the landscape, and then steadied it on a fresh mass of Prussian soldiers approaching the battlefield from the west. He estimated their strength to be at least ten thousand, and smiled as he realised what was happening. The enemy general was waiting for reinforcements before he launched what he hoped would be the decisive attack on the battered French line. So, the Prussians were performing true to form, Napoleon mused. Still the same cautious, plodding foe. Well, they would pay for their foolishness. Indeed, they already were. Lannes’s men sheltering in the buildings of the hamlet were pouring a withering fire on the smartly dressed Prussian lines. As soon as Lannes became aware that the enemy had halted he had given the order for his artillery to unlimber in range of the Prussians and open fire. Now, blast after blast of case shot smashed into the enemy lines, leaving ten or more men dead and wounded with each discharge. Napoleon watched with a grudging sense of admiration as the enemy stood their ground in the face of such fire. All the time they were being steadily cut down by French fire, each battalion contracting amid the carnage dealt by the cones of heavy iron balls blasted at them from the muzzles of the French guns.

The Prussians continued to take the punishment for the next two hours. Once Lannes’s skirmishers realised that the enemy were not going to move, they crept forward and added their fire from the houses of the village, and from behind the low walls that surrounded the villagers’ vegetable gardens. In return the Prussians fired volleys by company, reloading and firing again with little hope of causing any harm to the sheltered Frenchmen. The worst casualties suffered by Napoleon’s men came from a handful of lucky shots from Prussian howitzers that landed amongst the artillery caissons of the French batteries and blew up one of the powder wagons, scattering fragments of the vehicle, its horses and their handlers across the surrounding ground.

While the duel on the right flank continued, more French troops were arriving on the battlefield and taking position as they waited for the order to attack. As the last of Murat’s cavalry formed up behind the centre of the French line Napoleon glanced down at his watch and saw that it was half an hour after noon. He glanced round at Berthier.

‘Send an order to all divisions. The army is to execute a general attack at one o’clock.’

‘Yes, sire. All divisions,’ Berthier repeated, and then gestured to the neat ranks of the Imperial Guard standing ready behind the Emperor’s command post. The men in the front rank had eager and excited expressions and there was no mistaking their desire to take part in the attack. ‘Does that include the Guard, sire?’

‘No.’ Napoleon shook his head emphatically. He had nearly suffered a defeat at Marengo for want of adequate reserves. In any case, he reasoned with himself, this battle was as good as won and there was no need to commit the veterans of the Guard to the fight. He glanced over at the heavily moustached faces of the nearest men of his elite corps and could see their disappointment at his decision.‘The campaign is not yet over,’ he added loudly enough for them to hear. ‘The grumblers will have the chance to win their share of glory another day.’

On the hour the entire French line began to advance and once more the plateau was engulfed in acrid powder smoke, and the air resounded with the ear-splitting roar of artillery and the crackle of musket fire. For a while the Prussian line held and the men of the Imperial Guard began to mutter bitterly about their inactivity. Napoleon kept his back to the men and resolutely refused to acknowledge their discontent, until a voice cried out, ‘The Guard must advance! For pity’s sake, sire, do not shame us!’

Napoleon turned abruptly and stabbed a finger towards the nearest men. ‘Who said that?’

There was a sullen silence, and then one of the younger soldiers stepped a pace forward and presented his musket. ‘Sire!’

Napoleon strode over towards the man and stood in front of him, crossing his arms as he glared at the soldier. ‘Your name?’

‘Guardsman Bercourt, sire!’

‘So then, Bercourt, you want to charge at your enemy?’

‘Yes, sire. As does every man in the Guard.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes, sire.We are the best men in the army. In any army. It is our right to prove our worth in battle.’

‘Your right?’ Napoleon frowned. ‘You are a soldier, you have no rights. Just orders, and you will obey them. Look here, Bercourt.’ Napoleon gestured to the stripes on the man’s sleeve. ‘You have served the minimum number of campaigns to qualify for the Guard.Yet you presume to know how to command the army better than your Emperor?’

The guardsman’s gaze flickered guiltily towards Napoleon’s face before snapping back to his front and staring over his Emperor’s shoulder. ‘No, sire.’

‘No, sire,’ Napoleon mimicked. ‘Of course not. Let me tell you, Bercourt, only when you have commanded in as many battles as I have should you even dare to offer me advice on how to run the army. Understand?’

Bercourt swallowed nervously. ‘Yes, sire.’

‘Very well, return to the ranks.’

‘Yes, sire,’ Bercourt replied in a humbled tone.

Once the man had resumed his position Napoleon glared at the massed ranks of his finest soldiers and called out,‘Is there any other man amongst you who would presume to command his Emperor?’

The words were met by silence and Napoleon nodded as he addressed them again. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a battle to fight.’

He turned away and strode back to join Berthier and the other staff officers. They had been watching the confrontation, but now turned to follow the progress of the French line as it gradually pushed the Prussians back. Napoleon shook his head as he approached Berthier.

‘Damned glory-hunters! There are a sight too many of them in the army for my taste. It’s young men like that who end up like Marshal Ney.’

Berthier shrugged. ‘Is that such a bad thing? It is only a measure of the men’s élan, sire.’

‘Élan?’ Napoleon frowned. ‘I command an army, Berthier, not a duelling society. What use is élan if it leads to recklessness? The Grand Army is an instrument of my will, and the men must understand that first and foremost. Otherwise they threaten us all with disaster.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier conceded. ‘I will have that soldier and the rest of them reprimanded.’

‘No. That’s not necessary.’ Napoleon thought for a moment before he continued. ‘Promote him to sergeant. I need men who are keen to fight. But tell him that if I ever hear him, or any man in his company, challenge my orders like that again, I’ll have the lot of them sent to rot in the navy.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier grinned.‘That’ll put the fear of God in them, sure enough.’

‘They can fear God if they like, just as long as they obey their Emperor.’

Napoleon concentrated his mind on the battle spread out before him across the plateau. Except for a few isolated positions where the Prussians were putting up a spirited resistance, the enemy was falling back. Behind the front line the Prussians were forming up into columns and preparing to march away from the battlefield. Napoleon felt the tension in his body. If there was to be a decisive result it was vital that the enemy did not have the chance to retire in good order and fight another day. He clasped his hands together behind his back and began to pace up and down in front of his staff as he continued to watch the battle. It was swiftly apparent that he need not have worried that his subordinates were up to the task.They had fought enough battles at his side to be fully aware of the need to press the enemy to breaking point.

As the Prussians fell back and attempted to disengage from the struggle, Lannes sent his artillery forward to continue blasting grapeshot into the enemy ranks.Already demoralised by having to retreat, and still under withering fire from the advancing French, the Prussian regiments quickly became disorganised as they fell back and disorder spread through their ranks.There was no need for Napoleon to issue any order to Murat, as the cavalry commander instantly grasped that the time had come to begin his charge.The shrill call of trumpets sounded across the plateau, and as Napoleon and his staff looked on the French cavalry, eight thousand strong, edged forward, building up to a trot as they passed beyond their comrades in the infantry and then finally surging forward into a gallop as they approached the Prussians.

Napoleon could well imagine the terror of the enemy, already shaken by defeat, as they faced a glittering wave of horsemen, swords and lances readied to strike as the pounding hooves of their charging mounts shook the earth beneath them.Then they were in amongst the Prussian formations, shattering all but the most brave and professional of the Prussian regiments who had been able to form squares. A tide of fugitives fled from the battlefield, and even the column of reinforcements that Napoleon had sighted earlier fell prey to the panic that now gripped the Prussian army as it broke and streamed back across the landscape in the direction of Weimar.

Berthier consulted his watch and made a note in his logbook before he addressed his Emperor. ‘My congratulations, sire. Your victory is complete, and there are still at least three hours of daylight left for Murat to continue his pursuit.The enemy has lost the campaign.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ Napoleon replied.‘But the day is not over, and I have yet to hear from Davout and Bernadotte. They should have reached Apolda by now, and cut off the retreat of some of the men we have defeated here.’ He glanced to the north, where faint smudges of powder smoke were visible towards the horizon. ‘I trust that they have dealt with the Prussian detachment at Auerstadt. Any reports from them yet?’

‘Only that Davout had encountered a large enemy force.’

‘Nothing more?’

‘Not so far, sire.’

Napoleon pursed his lips for a moment and then started towards his horse. ‘I am sure that Davout will have defeated them as readily as we defeated the main army. I’m surprised we won as easily as we did. Anyway, I’m riding down on to the plateau to speak to the men. If there is any news from Davout or Bernadotte, send word to me at once. I shall be returning to the headquarters at Jena for the evening.’

‘Yes, sire.’

The gently rolling landscape was covered with the dead and wounded from the battle. Napoleon rode from regiment to regiment to offer his congratulations and rewards to those who had distinguished themselves. His men knew that they had won an important victory and cheered him as he approached, clustering round his horse as he acknowledged their greetings with a broad smile, and a wave of his hat. As he passed amongst them Napoleon gave orders for the wounded to be carried down to Jena where they could be sheltered from the cold of the coming night. He also instructed that any captured enemy colours were to be taken to headquarters at once, together with the count of casualties suffered by both sides.

Dusk was gathering over the town as Napoleon entered Jena with his escort and clattered through the cobbled streets. On either side wearied men, many wearing bloodied dressings, rose up and cheered as the Emperor passed by. When he reached headquarters an excited staff officer showed him the stack of enemy colours that had been brought in from the battlefield.

‘Over twenty so far, sire! Quite a haul.’

‘Yes.’ Napoleon smiled, and then yawned. He rubbed his jaw as he looked at the trophies. ‘Make sure that the men who captured these are awarded promotions.’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon had turned away, and was about to go to his quarters and order a meal, when the staff officer addressed him again.

‘Sire! There’s a messenger waiting to see you. He has come straight from Marshal Davout at Auerstadt.’

‘Auerstadt?’ Napoleon turned back quickly. ‘Where is he?’

‘Waiting outside your quarters, sire.’

Napoleon strode away through the main hall of the hotel that had been commandeered for the temporary headquarters of the Grand Army. The place buzzed with the excitement of victory as the officers toasted each other with wine taken from the hotel’s cellar. Napoleon ignored them all as he climbed the stairs to the hotel’s best suite of rooms, which was serving as his personal quarters. An officer rose from a bench outside the door leading into the private dining room as Napoleon approached. He was spattered with mud and a bandage had been crudely tied about his head. Nevertheless, there was no hiding the triumphant gleam in his eye as he greeted his Emperor.

‘Sire, I have come from Marshal Davout.’

‘I know that.’ Napoleon waved a hand dismissively. ‘Make your report. Wait, who are you?’

‘Captain Tobriant, of Marshal Davout’s staff, sire.’

‘Very well, Tobriant. What news from Davout? Did he manage to contain the enemy’s flank guard?’

‘Flank guard?’ Captain Tobriant looked surprised. ‘Sire, I don’t think you understand. Marshal Davout begs to inform you that he met with the main body of the Prussian army on the Auerstadt road and defeated it today.’