Then they were gone, vanishing into the darkness of the night to become shadows illuminated only by the campfires, mingling amicably amongst the men that they were soon to turn on. Vadim and I walked briskly away, each of us secretly hoping to be out of earshot before the Oprichniki began their work.

Back in Goryachkino, we changed into our regular clothes. Vadim's horse was still tied up where he had left it. He mounted and set off ahead of me towards our own encampments to the east of Borodino. I continued on foot. The rain poured down on me, driven even harder by the gusting wind, and the road became muddy under my feet. I envied Vadim his quick journey on horseback, but I pressed on.

Dawn broke with no sound of birdsong. The sound of those birds that even dared to speak was smothered by the sound of twelve hundred guns opening fire as the battle began to the south. It was a beautiful sound, at least to a soldier, which was what I still liked to regard myself as. There is a simplicity to a battle that appeals to every soldier, be he the most cerebral officer or the basest ryadovoy. It is a suspension of morality that allows a man to act without conscience, safe in the knowledge that it is his duty to destroy the enemy. The politics, for that short duration, are the business of others. Between battles, some men suppress their doubts with unconditional love for the tsar, some with complex political reasoning, some with plain, brute stupidity.

I belonged to the middle group, and I had been a long time between battles. But I knew that I could make little difference as a soldier on my own, and so I walked on, trying to pass the battle, to meet up with Vadim, rejoin the Oprichniki and direct them to do some real damage.

To the north of Borodino, the Moskva flowed east to Moscow, but here it turned a little to the south, forcing me closer to the battlefield than my head – though not my heart – would have liked. I skirted the village of Loginovo, close enough to see that it was swarming with Bavarian cavalry, but not close enough for them to see me. My next problem was to cross the Kolocha. It wasn't a huge river, just a tributary of the Moskva, but I knew I would have to head south, towards the battle, to find a suitable point to ford it. Eventually, I found a shallow. Thinking of Maks, and musing as to whether I would simply be able to walk across the water, I stepped out into the river.

Almost as my foot touched it, the surface began to shake and ripple. It was already broken by rainfall, but this disturbance had a different pattern – one with which I was familiar. The air was still filled with the sound of cannon fire, but as I listened more carefully, I heard what I had been expecting: the sound of hooves.

Before I could turn to look, I was surrounded by horsemen; Cossacks – from the Astrakhan voisko, by the look of them. But they were in full retreat, almost a stampede. They crossed the river without troubling to pause, ignoring me and galloping by on either side. Amongst them were several horses that had thrown or lost their riders. They had been initially caught up in the frenzy of their stablemates, but now they were beginning to slow. I grabbed the harness of one of them and hauled myself on to it, spurring it on to catch up with the rest of the group. I glanced behind me and caught a glimpse of what they were fleeing from – a squad of Bavarian cavalry pursuing them at full gallop. I didn't pause to wait for them. Once across the river, it was easy for me to get ahead of the disorganized rabble and then turn my horse to face them.

'Pull yourselves together,' I shouted, but I suspect it was more the need to avoid collision with me than any order I gave which ultimately caused them to halt. Once a dozen or so had pulled up and gathered around me, some degree of order was returned, and most of the remainder turned to join us. A few galloped off into the distance, but I had no time to concern myself with them. There were almost fifty who stayed with me. I drew my sabre, and charged back towards the Bavarians with an incoherent roar.

For a moment, I did not know if the Cossacks would follow, but I soon found myself riding with horsemen at my side, behind me, and even a few stretching out in front. Within seconds, we were upon the Bavarians. Our two squadrons clashed and then intermingled without resistance, like two droplets of water forming into one. But within that new, single droplet a battle raged. I fought with my sabre, as did many of the Cossacks, but others fired pistols at close range. The enemy was similarly armed, and whilst the two sides might have been on a level in their use of pistols, a pistol can only be fired once. After that, the Cossacks showed far greater skill – and savagery – with the use of the blade.

Even in the heat of battle, I made a comparison with the Oprichniki, or rather how I had imagined our working with the Oprichniki would be; that they would require leadership, but once given that they would fight beside their Russian leaders like heroes. But that was not how it had turned out. The Oprichniki shunned us, and when they did fight, they fought like cowards, both in their ambush at the farmhouse and later when they infiltrated the French camp. It was, in contrast, an honour to fight alongside these Cossacks, even though their customs were as strange to me as were those of the Wallachians.

I didn't hear the Bavarians' call to retreat, but in an instant the two droplets had separated again and the enemy was in flight. I charged after them, elated by the heat of the battle.

'Come back and fight, God damn you!' I heard a voice shout, and realized it was my own. At the same time, I knew that pursuit was foolish. We were heading back towards Loginovo, where I had seen so many more Bavarians; more than we could ever defeat. I turned my horse around and the Cossacks followed. Once we had crossed the Kolocha for the third time in but a few minutes, we slowed down to a canter, and I asked the sergeant to lead us back to their camp.

He pointed us to the south-east, and then spoke to me.

'That was very impressive, sir. After we lost our lieutenant, I thought we were done for.'

'Thank you.' I was too out of breath to say much more. There were a few moments' silence before he spoke again.

'Just one thing, sir.'

'Yes?'

'Why all the swearing, sir? Fighting's a sacred business. Swearing in battle, well, it's like swearing in church.'

I looked at him in amazement, and yet I already knew that Cossacks took their fighting extremely seriously.

'I'll try to keep that in mind,' I said.

'God will punish you, sir,' he continued, not in the blood-and-guts tone of a priest, but just as if he were reminding me that it was a good idea to keep the lock of my musket clean. His reasoning was equally straightforward. 'You'll get killed… and so will we.'

I laughed, throwing my head back, more out of the euphoria of the battle than anything else, but I admired the practicality of his piety.

Once back behind our own lines, we were passed from officer to officer until I finally faced the Cossacks' commander, General Platov. The sergeant explained what had happened. Platov stroked his thin moustache and eyed me up and down.

'And who the devil are you?' he asked.

'Captain Danilov, sir; Hussar Life Guard Regiment.'

'And where's your uniform?'

'I've been on special duties, sir.'

Platov knew that if this was true, then he would get little response to any further questions. On the other hand, it was an easy enough claim for anyone to make. I was about to show him my papers, but before I could he spoke briefly to an adjutant, who then rode off.

'We'll soon see about that,' he said.

He didn't speak to me any further, but rode a little way away and began viewing the terrain through his spyglass. A few minutes later, his adjutant returned, accompanied by a figure that even from a distance I could recognize by his mop of thick, dark curly hair. It was Lieutenant-General Fyedor Pyetrovich Uvarov, officially my commanding officer. On seeing his arrival, Platov rode back over to join the two of us. He arrived just as Uvarov greeted me.