With a dull clop of hooves Ney trotted up and reined in. ‘Seems like the patrols missed an enemy column, sire. It’s only to be expected, given how little cavalry we can field.’

‘Don’t make excuses for your officers,’ Napoleon snapped.‘Someone will answer for this incompetence.’

Ney looked at him sourly. ‘Then let it be me, sire. The men are only as good as their commander.’

‘Do not dissemble with me, Ney. Why, if I took your line of argument to its absurd conclusion, then I should be the man ultimately responsible.’

Ney said nothing for a moment, then looked back towards the ridge and spoke quietly.‘Those responsible will always be held to account, one way or another.’

Before Napoleon could reply the sounds of bugles cut through the chilly air. As the last of the French vedettes and patrols trotted back towards the main column the first of the enemy appeared. They wore the plumed helmets of cuirassiers, and the heavy coats that covered their breastplates made them seem large and formidable. Squadron after squadron appeared along the crest, and reined in.

Marshal Ney immediately halted his column and turned them to face the threat as Sebastiani’s cavalry retired to the wings of the line of infantry. The artillery was still stuck in mud on the far side of the river and Napoleon cursed the lost opportunity to give the Austrian horsemen a savage pounding. His bad mood increased as a battery of horse artillery joined the enemy on the ridge, and soon the stubby barrels of howitzers were presented to the Frenchmen.

‘Now we’re in for it,’ Ney muttered, and glanced down the line. ‘I pray that the men hold firm.’

A moment later there was a brief series of flashes and puffs of smoke, and after a short delay the sound of the enemy’s howitzers carried down the slope, sharper than the bellow of cannon. There was a burst of orange and red just above the heads of a company of infantry a hundred paces to Napoleon’s left, and several men collapsed as if slapped down by a giant hand. More shells burst above the men, or slammed down into the muddy ground, fuses sputtering before they detonated, sending a spray of mud and fragments of iron slicing through the surrounding men. As the Austrian gunners reloaded and fired as quickly as they could, the casualties mounted along the French line, and Napoleon noticed that the men were slow to close up and fill the gaps as they stared fearfully at the howitzers.

‘They’ll not stand much more of this,’ said Ney as he watched the men of the nearest battalion waver, some already edging away.