‘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?’