Napoleon cursed. The moment a charge went to ground it was over. Lannes went from man to man, hauling them up and thrusting them towards the enemy. The next blast of grapeshot decided the issue as the men at the rear of the column started to step back, then move away across the open ground.Their officers and sergeants tried to stop them for a moment; then, as the mass of men hurried away from the storm of lead sweeping the bridge, they reluctantly gave way and joined the retreat. Lannes stood alone on the bridge for a moment, shouting after them; then he turned to shake his fist at the enemy before starting to follow his men. As he reached the end of the bridge he jerked forward, as a ball struck his shoulder. Lannes kept to his feet, hunched low and scrambled back across the open ground as the enemy musket fire died away. One last blast of grapeshot tore up a patch of earth and cut down another straggler before the Austrians ceased fire. The sound of jeering and whistles swelled from the far bank and Napoleon could see some of the enemy waving their hats in the air as the French soldiers retreated out of range.

Napoleon ran forward towards Lannes and took hold of the arm on his unwounded side, supporting it across his shoulder as he helped the much larger man make for the safety of the low rise on the fringe of the open ground. There he slumped down alongside Lannes. The Gascon officer was breathing hard and gritting his teeth against the pain. His uniform coat was stained with blood front and back where a musket ball had passed through the flesh under his arm.

‘Over here!’ Napoleon called out to two grenadiers passing by. The men paused for a moment, still numbed by the horror they had endured on the bridge, then hurried to their general’s side.

‘Get the colonel to the rear and find him a surgeon.’