The Emperor’s chief of staff looked round the battlefield. ‘Sire, we have few enough reserves of our own. Would an attack be prudent?’

‘Prudent?’ Napoleon shook his head in pity. ‘Have you no faith in me, Berthier?’

Berthier lowered his gaze.

Napoleon continued. ‘Send orders for the army to attack along the entire line. The main blow will be delivered there.’ He raised his hand and pointed to the ground west of Aderklaa.

‘Yes, sire. And who is to have that task?’

Napoleon thought a moment.‘General MacDonald. His men are the freshest troops we have on the field.’

‘They are also some of the most inexperienced,’ Berthier countered.

‘Even so, they will win the battle for me. What greater glory could a new soldier ask for? Tell MacDonald to form his men up to attack.’

Hundreds of cannon rumbled along a battle line that stretched from the Danube to Wagram, and then down the line of the Russbach river, a distance of nearly eight miles. Opposite the Austrian centre, General MacDonald led his men forward. Eight thousand of them, their battalions arranged in a huge square formation. As soon as the drums beat the advance, the formation marched forward. The men were sweating freely in their stifling uniforms. The ground before them was a patchwork of trampled fields, strewn with bodies and abandoned equipment from two days of fighting. The dead had begun to corrupt in the midsummer heat and the air was thick with the stench of decaying flesh, blood and shit. Clouds of flies and other insects created a steady drone as they gorged themselves.

Ahead, the leading ranks could see the enemy artillery crews hurriedly repositioning their guns as they spied the new threat through the thinning clouds of gunpowder smoke.

‘MacDonald’s men will make a fine target, sire,’ said Berthier. ‘That square of his will be impossible to miss.’

Napoleon did not respond, but just continued to watch intently as the first of the Austrian batteries opened fire. The range was long, and they had loaded the guns with roundshot. The heavy iron balls grounded with a puff of dry soil a short distance in front of the leading battalion before ricocheting through the ranks, mowing down every soldier in their path. More guns opened up and MacDonald’s division began to lose scores of men with each minute that passed. Their progress across the plain was marked by a bloody trail of dead and wounded. As they came within range of case shot the nearest guns unleashed a devastating hail that wreaked even more slaughter on the diminishing French ranks.

Berthier shook his head in wonder. ‘My God, they can’t take much more of this.’

Napoleon sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘Pray that they do.’