Napoleon could see that his sober tone had deflated Soult’s moment of triumph and he paused a moment before riding away. ‘You and your men were as gallant as any in the field today. Let them know that. And when I next have to call on them, I’ll be sure to grant them another triple issue of spirits.’

Soult laughed. ‘Thank you, sire. I will let them know.’

Napoleon spurred his horse into a gallop and crossed the Heights back to the village of Pratzen as darkness began to close in over the battlefield, hiding its horrors until the morning.The gloom was pricked with the fires being lit by the men of the Grand Army before they settled to sleep, exhausted by the day’s fighting and the fear and tension that had knotted their stomachs. There were a handful of the veterans of the Old Guard on duty around the army’s headquarters and they offered a cheer as the Emperor dismounted and entered the church. Inside, Napoleon found Berthier sitting at a trestle table making notes from the reports that had started to come in from all quarters of the battlefield.The chief of staff rose quickly to his feet and bowed.

‘Congratulations, sire.’

Napoleon waved aside any further words and cut in curtly, ‘What news from the left wing?’

‘Lannes and Murat have forced the Russians back. They are retreating towards Olmutz.’

‘Is Murat pursuing them?’

Berthier shook his head. ‘Marshal Murat reports that his cavalry are too weary to mount a pursuit, sire. Nearly all his force was committed today. His horses are blown.’

Napoleon was still for a moment as he thought. Crushing as his victory had been, the Russians might not have lost heavily enough to persuade them to consider peace. If they could only have been pursued and forced to abandon their artillery, if they had left behind a long tail of stragglers for Murat to deal with, then their spirit would have been utterly broken. Napoleon shrugged. ‘A pity. But then we are all tired.’

Thought of his men’s weariness served to remind the Emperor of his own exhaustion, and he could not help shivering for a moment. Berthier saw the tremor and his eyes widened in concern.

‘Sire, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I need some rest. Is there a bed in here?’

Berthier gestured to a small arched door opening on to a small cell. ‘In there, sire. A bunk belonging to the local priest.’

‘Good. I’ll sleep now. Wake me before the third hour. Have the reports ready to present to me then.’

‘Yes, sire.’