‘Ney said that?’ Napoleon was shocked. Had even his bravest and most aggressive marshal lost heart? ‘Ney?’

‘Yes, sire,’ the officer replied nervously. ‘And he begs you to send forward the Guard. He said to assure you that if they attack now, then what is left of the Russian line will break.’

‘No! No! No!’ Napoleon hammered his fist on the table.‘The Guard stays where it is! Tell Ney, Davout and Murat that they must go forward.’

It was late in the afternoon before the exhausted French soldiers had re-formed their columns. They were grimly resolved to obey the Emperor’s order. All around them lay tens of thousands of dead and wounded men and horses. Before them, on the next ridge, thousands of Russian cavalry stood waiting, screening the remains of the Tsar’s army as it too re-formed its ranks. Once more the French guns belched flame and smoke and heavy iron balls arced across the battlefield to plough through the lines of Russian horsemen. They stood their ground with stolid courage as the French came on. Then the sound of trumpets called out, and the enemy cavalry turned about and trotted away to catch up with their infantry and guns as they left the battlefield.

Ney gave the order to halt, and as the daylight began to fade his men wearily spread out along the crest of the ridge that had been drenched in the blood of so many French and enemy soldiers. Once he was certain there was no danger of any counter-attack, Ney rode back to headquarters to confront his Emperor.

‘The Guard would have made all the difference!’ Ney glared at the Emperor.

Napoleon looked back, pale and sweating from his sickness. Ney had a dressing around his head, darkly stained where his skull had been creased by a spent musket ball. He had also been hit in the thigh and twice in the arm by chips of stone when cannon balls had grounded close to his horse.

‘One final assault by fresh troops would have put the seal on a great victory.’ Ney shook his head. ‘Now they have escaped.’

‘You are wrong,’ Napoleon replied evenly. ‘We have won a great victory today. That is what I have told Berthier to report to Paris. We have met the enemy and swept them aside.’

‘What?’ Ney’s lips curled in contempt. ‘Only a fool would believe that. Some victory.’ He gestured towards the ruined enemy earthworks. ‘We have won a few piles of dirt and the ruins of two villages. The Tsar’s army is still intact and now we will have to fight it again. All because the Guard refused to muddy their uniforms.’

‘The order was mine,’ Napoleon replied coldly as he rubbed his brow. The headache had returned with a vengeance. ‘I take full responsibility for the consequences.’

‘That’s good of you, sire.’