Napoleon watched the column start down the street, and heard the loud, jovial cheers and laughter of men whose spirits had most likely been raised by a generous issue of vodka before they had advanced. Once the column was well down the street he turned to Dupuy and nodded. ‘Now.’
‘Open fire!’
At Dupuy’s shout the guardsmen pulled their triggers and the air around Napoleon filled with resounding cracks that were startling after the muffled sounds of the battle so far. At once the French soldiers grounded their muskets and began reloading. As soon as the smoke cleared from the top of the church tower Napoleon could see that two of the men at the front of the column had pitched forward and lay crumpled in the snow. A third had dropped his musket and was clutching at his shoulder.The head of the column had halted and there was instant confusion as the succeeding ranks pushed forward.
‘Well done, boys!’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Keep firing as fast as you can.’
The Russian column was on the move again, stepping over the bodies in the snow. The skirmishers, much closer to the church, had taken a moment to determine the direction of the enemy fire and now aimed up at the tower, the muzzles of their muskets foreshortening before disappearing behind a flash of flame and puff of smoke. Musket balls clattered off the stonework and one of the guardsmen cried out as a chip of masonry gashed his cheek. With a shamed glance at his Emperor the man quickly turned his attention back to his weapon as he rammed home the wad.
Napoleon nodded. ‘Carry on, Dupuy.’
The officer nodded as he finished reloading his weapon and Napoleon hurried to the staircase and ran down the ancient stone steps as fast as he dared. Down in the nave of the church there was turmoil as staff officers and the men of the Emperor’s bodyguard hurriedly piled most of the heavy wooden pews against the church doors. The remaining pews had been arranged along the walls to act as firing steps. The officers of the headquarters staff stood alongside the soldiers, armed with a mixture of muskets and pistols and even swords for those who did not possess a firearm. A loud detonation echoed round the nave as the first of the guardsmen fired through his window and a moment later there were more shots as the head of the enemy column entered the square that lay before the church. The remains of the stained glass windows splintered as Russian musket balls crashed through, showering the defenders momentarily before they continued firing and reloading.
Napoleon made his way towards the main door of the church where Berthier stood behind the piled pews, sword in hand. A mixed squad of grenadiers and staff officers stood by, ready to defend any attempt to break through the makeshift barricade. Berthier nodded towards the pile of pews and a stone font. ‘Best we could do, sire.’
‘It will do.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘Until the Imperial Guard arrives.’
Before Berthier could reply there was a thud on the timbers of the church door, then another, and then more, before the latch was lifted and the door pressed against the barricade.
‘With me!’ Berthier called out as he sheathed his sword and pressed against the nearest pew. His hastily assembled squad followed his lead and heaved against the barricade as the doors slowly began to shift under the pressure of the Russian soldiers massing outside.Already there was a crack of light between the heavy timber frames and Napoleon could see a bearded face contorted with effort as the man shoved against the door. As the gap widened the muzzle of a musket poked through the gap and there was a flash and a roar as it fired.The ball passed over the heads of Berthier and his men and slapped into a tapestry at the back of the church. Napoleon shouted at the nearest guardsman.
‘Shoot back!’
The man nodded and moved to one side so that he had a clear view through the slowly growing gap. He raised his musket, thumbed the cock back and shot into the tight mass of bodies on the far side.There was a sharp cry of pain, and then a roar of rage from the other Russians and renewed pressure as the gap continued to widen and the pews scraped back despite the efforts of Berthier and his men.The guardsman reloaded and fired again, and the moment he grounded his musket there was another shot through the door and this time it found its target as he was flung back and fell spreadeagled on the stone slabs of the floor. Napoleon glanced down and saw that a ball had struck him in the forehead, shattering his skull into a bloody ruin of bone and brains.
Now there was enough space for a man to pass through the gap between the doors and the first of the Russians thrust his way inside the church and raised his musket overhead to stab at one of the staff officers straining to hold the barricade in place. The tip of the bayonet caught the Frenchman in the neck and he fell away with a cry of agony. He clamped a hand to the wound, spurting gouts of blood across his uniform and spattering across Berthier’s cheek as he stood next to him.
‘Shoot him!’ Napoleon called out and one of the officers at the nearest window swung round at the shout, raised his pistol, took aim and fired.The ball slammed into the Russian’s chest, and he gasped at the impact, then looked down and roared with laughter when he saw that it had struck a buckle and not injured him.With another shove the door grated open even further and more enemy soldiers pushed their way into the church and stabbed their bayonets at Berthier’s men.
‘Leave the barricade!’ Napoleon ordered. ‘Defend yourselves!’
As Berthier and the others stepped back and raised their weapons Napoleon snatched up the musket from the dead guardsman and stepped forward to join the squad defending the doors. The barricade scraped backwards as more Russians pressed into the church, and those with loaded weapons attempted to aim as they fired them at the defenders. Berthier and his men fired back, killing and wounding a handful who fell beneath the boots of their comrades and were trampled as the Russians surged on. Then both sides were locked in a vicious melee over the jumbled pile of church pews, striking out with bayonet and musket butts as weapons fired around them.
Napoleon advanced his weapon, his heart pounding with the excitement and terror of battle. He saw the sash of an officer in front of him and thrust his weapon forward, over the barricade. The officer saw the danger at the last moment and ducked, leaving the point to thrust into the air beside his head.Then he snatched out a pistol and aimed it at Napoleon, his lips parting in a triumphant grin as he took aim. Napoleon could not help flinching, but he was caught between two burly guardsmen and there were more men behind him so that he could not move.The Russian cocked his weapon and slipped his finger inside the trigger guard. Before he could fire, a French bayonet stabbed through the sleeve, thrusting the extended arm to one side so that the pistol fired harmlessly into the wall as the officer cried out in pain.
‘Sire!’ Berthier cried out in alarm. ‘You must get back!’
Napoleon shook his head and turned on another enemy, gritting his teeth as he made to thrust with the bayonet. Then hands grabbed his arm and hauled him roughly back from the barricade. Napoleon turned round with a fierce expression and looked up to see one of his grenadiers looking at him with wide eyes.
‘What are you doing?’ the Emperor demanded.
