Berthier set the headquarters staff to work as they drafted the orders for the pursuit. Murat’s cavalry were the first to move off, trotting south towards the Heights. Behind them the infantry of Victor’s corps were forming up outside the city ready to march when a new message arrived at headquarters. The despatch was handed to Berthier by one of his aides and he read it quickly before he glanced up anxiously and hurried over to Napoleon.

‘Sire, Marshal Oudinot has retreated to Wittenberg.’

‘What?’ Napoleon turned swiftly. ‘What is he doing there? He promised me that he would be in Berlin four days ago. Why has he retreated?’

‘He reports that he was defeated by a superior force outside Berlin on the twenty-third.’

‘And he has run back to Wittenberg, rather than hold our northern flank.’ Napoleon gritted his teeth. ‘The fool has left the way open for the Prussians to march on Dresden. Damn him! Damn him!’

Everyone in the nave fell quiet as Napoleon shouted. They watched him nervously as he fought to control his temper, glaring at the map and balling his hands into fists. Berthier was silent for a while, then swallowed and cleared his throat.

‘Sire, what are your orders?’

‘Just a moment. I must think.’ Napoleon closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate. This news changed everything. The great advantage that had been won over the largest allied army would be worthless if the Grand Army was forced to abandon the pursuit in order to turn and face the new threat. Conversely, Napoleon could leave Dresden garrisoned and continue the pursuit, but if the city fell then he would lose his supply base and be cut off from France. He seethed with fury at Oudinot’s incompetence.

‘The army will continue the pursuit. There is still a chance of trapping the Army of Bohemia in the mountains. I will stay here with the Imperial Guard and wait for further news from Oudinot.’

Berthier nodded. As Napoleon looked round the nave he became aware of the silence and the stillness of his staff officers and aides. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Prepare the orders!’

At once the men bent their heads over their notebooks and despatches and carried on with their tasks, not daring to look up in case they caught the Emperor’s eye. He stood, arms crossed, glaring at them for a while before turning back to the map. Coloured wooden blocks denoted the three main enemy armies, north, east and south of Dresden. Napoleon knew that he could defeat any one of them. But he could not be in more than one place at a time, and that meant he was compelled to delegate his command of scattered formations to his subordinates. They had failed him in this campaign. Perhaps they too were losing their touch, he thought. Fellow victims of the strains of age and weariness.