Murat nodded. ‘Ney is right. We need to end this affair as soon as possible. Even if we did not retreat, and remained in Smolensk, the Russians would portray it as a defeat. Continue the advance, whatever the cost. As long as we chase down the Tsar and crush his army.’

Napoleon nodded as he considered their advice, and then turned to Davout. ‘How about you?’

Davout ran a hand over his thinning hair. ‘As you can see from the map, we are still nearly three hundred miles short of Moscow. The attrition of our men will only increase the further we march. Given our current rate of losses, we will be lucky if we reach Moscow with a third of the men we started out with.’

‘A third is all we need, if we take Moscow,’ Ney intervened. ‘And a third is sufficient to beat the Russian army, if they have the stomach to stand and fight us.’

A frown flitted across Davout’s features. ‘Why should they stand and fight? They haven’t so far. What if they let us take Moscow and refuse to sue for peace? They could continue to draw us on, biding their time while our strength diminishes, and then strike once the odds are on their side. There’s something else to consider, sire. If we suffer a reverse and we’re compelled to retreat, then given the distance involved we might well face a disaster. It is my view that our priority must be to keep the army in being as best we can. It might be prudent to winter here.’

‘Thank you for your honesty, Davout.’ Napoleon put a finger inside his collar to wipe the sweat from his neck. ‘Is there anything you wish to add, Berthier?’

The chief of staff pursed his lips briefly. ‘I fear that Davout is right, sire. Every step we take towards Moscow increases the risk of catastrophe, particularly with the onset of winter. I have spoken to some of our local guides. The Russian winter could kill us all.’

Napoleon considered the situation in silence for a moment. Besides his immediate difficulties there were other concerns. He was far from Paris, and the bad news from Spain concerned him greatly. Worse still, his enemies in France were becoming more outspoken in the absence of the Emperor. The sooner he could return to the capital the better. The fingers of his right hand drummed on the table as he weighed each factor up. In the end it was clear to him that he had more to lose by delaying action than by embracing it. He took another sip of the cooled wine and made his decision.

‘If we continue the advance, I cannot believe that the Tsar would abandon Moscow to us. I am convinced that he will make a stand somewhere on the road from Smolensk. If he refuses to fight then his own people will kill him and find themselves a new Tsar. So he will fight. I will stake the army on that. He will fight and we shall defeat him and take Moscow within a month. Then the Tsar will make peace. What else can he do?’