The snowflakes began to fall more heavily and within minutes the last of the bodies lying in the street had disappeared under a white mantle to become little more than vague lumps beneath the snow. Occasional breezes swirled the thick white flakes and obscured the view of the Russian lines as the sun continued to rise unseen and unwarming in the gloom.

As the bells in the church chimed eight there was a muffled thud from the direction of the enemy line. Looking up, Napoleon saw a brief flickering glow in the blizzard and then heard a dull rumble as the Russian guns opened fire.With thick snow on the ground there would be no ricochet as the balls struck home and the men would be spared the worst of the preliminary bombardment. Even so, the tower shuddered momentarily as a lucky shot hit it halfway down. A moment later bright stabs flared out along the French line as the Grand Army’s guns returned fire, trusting to the accuracy with which they had been laid before the blizzard closed in over the battlefield.

Napoleon’s plan depended on Davout’s corps arriving on the enemy’s left flank once the battle was under way.With good timing he should be able to roll the enemy line up and fall on their rear.Then the Russians must surely break and be crushed under the hooves of Murat’s cavalry as they were chased down. Meanwhile the artillery duel continued as both sides fired blindly into the swirling snow. As Napoleon gave up trying to penetrate the gloom and lowered his telescope with a curse there was a faint whistling noise.

‘Mortar shell!’ Berthier yelled. ‘Down!’

Before Napoleon could duck there was a bright orange flash to one side as the shell burst in the air. Fragments of iron rattled off the masonry of the tower and the slates of the church’s roof as the concussion from the blast struck the Emperor and his staff. For a moment Napoleon was deaf, and he shook his head to try to clear his ears. His hearing began to return as voices and the continuing cannonade cut through the ringing sensation in his head. He glanced round.

‘Anyone injured? Berthier?’

His chief of staff shook his head and the other officers in the tower seemed dazed but otherwise unharmed.

‘Lucky shot,’ someone said loudly as he rubbed his ears.

‘Lucky for who?’ replied Napoleon, wincing from a stabbing pain in his own ears.‘Still, ten paces closer and it would have killed us all. Given a choice, I’ll take being deafened every time.’

Some of the officers laughed and smiled, then all of them flinched as another mortar shell detonated down in the streets. As the morning continued some of the shells landed in the wooden buildings in the town and set fire to them. Smoke billowed into the leaden skies, adding a grim pall to the clouds that hid the sun.