The fine weather lasted to the end of September before dark clouds closed in from the north-east and an icy wind swept across Bavaria, bringing with it rain that quickly turned to sleet and brief flurries of snow. Now the men of the Grand Army marched forward in sullen silence, collars pulled high and mufflers tied over their shakos as they trudged into the wind with bent heads. As October began, in the freezing cold and wet, Napoleon realised that the new conditions would hamper the march east and might give his enemies time to recognise the threat and turn to meet the Grand Army. So he gave the order for the army to swing south and march as quickly as possible for the Danube.

Five days later, French troops began to appear along the northern bank of the great river and they seized every bridge and ferry that could be found before pouring across. Napoleon, riding with the leading divisions of Lannes’s corps, made for Augsburg, the town he had chosen for his field headquarters. He had spent much of the previous days in the saddle as he had moved from corps to corps to ensure that his marching orders were being rigorously applied. When night fell the Emperor and his staff were still some ten miles from Augsburg, so Napoleon decided to stop at the camp of one of Ney’s divisions.

At the sound of the approaching horsemen the pickets emerged from the shadows on either side of muddy track and advanced their muskets warily.

‘Halt!’ a deep voice bellowed out. ‘Who goes there?’

Napoleon was riding with a handful of staff and six cavalrymen from the guard, one of whom now bristled angrily at the challenge and stood erect in his stirrups to shout a reply.

‘The Emperor!’

There was a brief silence before the voice called back. ‘Bollocks! What’s the password?’

The guardsman swore under his breath and then bellowed, ‘Move aside, you fools, before we ride you down!’

‘That’s enough!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘They’re only doing their duty.’

The guardsman stiffened. ‘Sorry, sire. But they shouldn’t address the imperial party like that.’

‘Really?’ Napoleon smiled wearily.‘Do you know what the password is?’

The guardsman breathed in sharply and hissed, ‘No, sire.’

‘Why not?’

The Emperor did not wait for a reply from his shamed escort, but spurred his horse on and trotted towards the line of dark figures barring his path, warily watching the dull gleam of their raised bayonets. His escort hurried after Napoleon as he reined in a short distance from the picket.

‘And who are you?’ asked Napoleon.

‘Fuck me,’ the voice muttered. ‘It is him!’ A moment later a burly sergeant stepped forward and saluted.

‘Sorry, sir. But we had to chase off some Austrian dragoons earlier today. Can’t be too careful.’