‘We’re going to have to fight, gentlemen.’ Napoleon stabbed his finger at the snow-covered floor of the tower. ‘This is the centre of the French line. If we lose the church then all is lost. Berthier, get downstairs. I want every available man to defend the church, and the doors barricaded as best you can. We have five minutes at the most. Go!’

Once Berthier had rushed down the stairs Napoleon turned to the others. ‘Dupuy, get ten of our men up here with muskets. We need to slow the enemy down.’

‘Yes, sire!’ Dupuy hurried off as Napoleon turned to the remaining officers. ‘It seems we are all in the infantry now. Find a weapon and prepare to fight for your lives.’

His officers nodded gravely and then clattered down the tower steps. For a moment Napoleon was alone and he made his way back to the parapet and stared at the approaching Russians. Already the first of the enemy had entered the streets of Eylau.The rest of the column led back into the snowy wasteland and was swallowed up as the blizzard intensified again. Napoleon straightened up and folded his arms as he surveyed the enemy.

‘Is this how it all ends?’ he muttered. A brief skirmish around the church before the Russians broke in and slaughtered the defenders? He smiled bitterly as he imagined the joy of his enemies when they received news of his ignominious death. Then he balled his hands into fists and shook his head. He would not give them that satisfaction. Never, as long as he drew breath.

The sound of nailed boots clattering on the steps caused Napoleon to turn round and he saw Dupuy emerge from the staircase, musket in hand, at the head of a section of the Emperor’s personal escort.

‘Over there!’ Dupuy pointed to the parapet facing the enemy and Napoleon stepped aside as the burly soldiers took up position and held their muskets ready. The blizzard had begun to slacken again and fine flakes drifted down across the town. Overhead the sky was noticeably lighter and Napoleon sourly cursed the bad timing of the weather. If the skies had cleared earlier then Augereau would not have led his corps to its destruction. It was pointless to indulge in such regrets, he admonished himself. Then all thought stilled as his ears caught the sound of voices speaking an unfamiliar tongue and he realised that the enemy were close at hand. Sure enough, the first Russian skirmishers appeared at the end of the broad street leading to the church, cautiously picking their way forward from the shelter of one doorway to the next.

Napoleon touched Dupuy’s shoulder. ‘As soon as they are within a hundred paces, open fire.’

‘The lads won’t stand much chance of hitting anything at that range, sire.’>

‘They don’t have to. Just as long as they slow them down.’

‘Yes, sire.’