aberration, but the essence of human nature.’
Josephine straightened up and regarded him with a look of despair. ‘God save us,’ she muttered in a low tone that only the two of them could hear. ‘You are a monster.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I am Napoleon.’
As the first hint of dawn lightened the horizon, the men of the Grand Army formed into their battalions and tramped across the border. The night had been cold and the chilly dawn air about the marching columns was marked with the swirling puffs of exhaled breath as the soldiers hunched in their coats, waiting for the warmth of their exertions to spread through their bodies. The din of nailed boots crunching over the hard ground was accompanied by the jingle of harness and rumble of heavy wheels as the limbered guns and wagons of the Grand Army rolled forward between the columns of marching infantry.
Napoleon had taken his leave of Josephine in a soured atmosphere. She had kissed him dutifully, but there was no warmth in her embrace, no affection in her eyes, and he felt an ache in his heart at her cold expression. He hoped that it did not portend an ill outcome for the coming campaign. Fortune had blessed him in the past, and where many men had been killed or crippled on the field of battle Napoleon had come through unscathed. The odds against his survival must surely be growing with each new campaign, he mused, as he took her hands and squeezed them.
‘I will return, my love.’
‘Yes,’ she responded softly. ‘I know. Until the next war.’
Napoleon looked sadly into her eyes, then released her hands and turned away to mount the horse that was held ready for him by one of his staff officers. Once he had heaved himself into the saddle, Napoleon adjusted his stirrups and took up the reins, and at a click of his tongue and a nudge from his heels the horse walked forward.
‘Napoleon!’ Josephine suddenly called out. ‘Be careful, my love. Come back to me.’
Napoleon turned to her with a smile and waved his hand, then spurred his horse into a trot and rode away to lead the Grand Army to war.
Berthier and his staff proved their worth once more as the three columns of the French army followed their carefully planned marching orders. They passed swiftly through the Thuringer forest in an orderly manner and emerged into open countryside towards the end of the second day of the campaign. The reports from Murat’s scouts still provided no conclusive intelligence as to the location the Prussians had chosen to concentrate their forces.
Then, on the morning of the third day, a hurried despatch from Lannes informed the Emperor that he had encountered a Prussian corps blocking his advance through the town of Saalfeld. After a brief struggle the Prussians had been routed, leaving their commander, Prince Louis, dead on the battlefield. Napoleon read the report with a degree of satisfaction. Prince Louis had been one of Prussia’s finest generals and they could ill afford to lose him in such an insignificant battle.
Berthier had chosen an inn in a village ten miles from Saalfeld for the imperial headquarters.The rest of the houses and barns of the village had been occupied by the officers and orderlies attached to the staff. After a day visiting some of his marshals Napoleon returned to the inn and saw Berthier bent over a large table in the main room. Around him several other officers sat at smaller tables hunched over their paperwork. One of them looked up, and called out, ‘The Emperor is present!’
At once the room was filled with the sound of scraping chairs as the officers rose and stood at attention.
‘At ease!’ Napoleon waved them back to their desks as he crossed the room towards Berthier. He quickly related the details of Lannes’s victory at Saalfeld and then asked, ‘What are the latest reports on the main enemy force?’
Berthier reached to one side of the table and pulled a map over. He unrolled it and weighted the corners before leaning forward and tapping his pencil where the town of Plauen was marked.‘I’ve had word from Soult that he has beaten an enemy column here. They are now retreating towards Gera.’
‘Gera?’ Napoleon leaned over the map and traced a line from Plauen, through Gera and on towards Leipzig. ‘It’s as I thought.They are in this direction.’ He paused and frowned and thought aloud. ‘Then why send that column of Prince Louis’s so far to the west where it would be cut off and powerless to act on its own? It doesn’t make sense.What reports have we had from Murat?’
‘I’m still waiting for today’s reports, sire.’
‘Very well.’ Napoleon took a last look at the map before he straightened up. ‘I am going to rest. As soon as you hear anything about the enemy’s location wake me.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon took a seat by the inn’s fire and helping himself to a staff officer’s rolled-up coat to act as a pillow he eased himself down and closed his eyes. It seemed like only a moment before he was gently shaken by the shoulder.
‘Sire?’
Napoleon’s eyes snapped open and he saw Berthier looking down at him.
‘Sire, we have a report from Marshal Lannes, and news from Murat.’
Napoleon sat up, wincing at a stiffness in his neck. ‘What time is it?’
‘Five o’clock, sire.’
Little more than an hour and a half had passed, then. Napoleon stood up. ‘Well?’
‘Lannes’s prisoners say that the main Prussian army is situated towards Erfurt.That’s confirmed by Murat’s scouts.’
‘Let’s see.’ Napoleon yawned as he led the way back to Berthier’s table and examined the map. ‘Erfurt, eh? Seems that I was mistaken, Berthier.’
His chief of staff remained silent and Napoleon could not resist a small smile. ‘It happens, Berthier. So, our
