‘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.