‘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?’

Chapter 29 - Schivardino, 6 September 1812

Chapter 29

Schivardino, 6 September 1812

‘It is a good likeness, is it not?’ Napoleon examined the portrait of his son, then pulled out his handkerchief and cleared his nose as he muttered, ‘Damned cold.’

Around him the headquarters staff and his marshals nodded approvingly as they looked at the painting they had been summoned to view. It had arrived with the latest government despatches and letters in an escorted carriage. Napoleon put his handkerchief away, sniffed, and stepped up to the painting, in its slim gilt frame. He stared at the infant’s face and for a moment the eyes seemed to come alive, gazing fondly at him. Napoleon felt a pang of longing, even though he knew it was a trick of artistic technique. He reached forward and brushed the cheek with his finger. The coarse surface of paint and canvas that met his touch broke the illusion and he stepped back.

‘Take it to my quarters. Hang it by the bed.’

The two servants holding the frame bowed their heads and carefully carried the painting out of the room. When they had gone, Napoleon turned to face his officers. ‘I’ve had bad news from Spain. Marshal Marmont was defeated by Wellington outside Salamanca six weeks ago. It is possible that Madrid has already fallen. Our position in Spain is dangerous. Which means that we must conclude our business in Russia as swiftly as possible, gentlemen.’

He crossed to the large open doors that led out on to a wide balcony. The view from the summer lodge on the edge of the village faced east. Just over a mile away lay the hills where the Russian army blocked the road to Moscow. ‘Out here, if you please.’The officers filed out into the afternoon sunshine. The sky was cloudless and the azure depths inspired a sense of serenity that was not in keeping with the preparations for battle on the earth below.