The head of the column lurched forward and Lannes turned to Napoleon with an excited grin. ‘I’ll see you on the far side, sir!’

‘Good luck, Colonel.You’ll need it.’

Napoleon walked with them a short distance, until he reached the small rise that gave out on to the open ground. Then he stopped to watch the attack, all the while conscious of the column held up on the track behind him. Even now, a messenger would be riding towards the Austrian commander to alert him to the force that had appeared behind the rearguard. When the column was halfway across the open ground Lannes ordered them to break into a run and with the grenadier company in the lead the men streamed towards the narrow span crossing the river.There was a blasting thud from the far side of the river as a plume of fire and smoke erupted from the muzzle of one of the enemy cannon. An instant later the grapeshot tore through the men at the head of the charge, cutting several down. Lannes was untouched and waved his sword above his head, calling out to his men to follow him as he covered the remaining distance to the bridge. There was no semblance of formation now as his men sprinted forward, heads instinctively lowered. As soon as they pounded on to the first stretch of the bridge the far bank erupted in a cloud of smoke as the infantry fired. More men fell, one tumbling over the low timber rail and out of sight into the reeds below. As Napoleon watched a ball plucked off Lannes’s hat, yet the colonel did not flinch as he turned briefly to beckon his men on, then charged forward again. They reached the centre of the bridge before the second cannon fired, the grapeshot carving a bloody lane through the blue ranks pressing on. The grenadiers edged forward, the front ranks crouching low, holding up those behind them, and all the time musket fire whittled down their numbers. The charge ground to a halt as those at the front fired back and then made to reload.

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.’

The men nodded and led Lannes away. Napoleon turned back towards the bridge. Already the sun had risen above the horizon and with the coming of day there would be no hiding the movements of the French army. If the Austrians reacted swiftly they could deal a lethal blow to each of Napoleon’s columns in turn. Napoleon smacked his fist against his thigh.They must cross the river as quickly as possible, whatever the cost. The plan depended on it. He cursed the enemy for having positioned a force to cover the bridge. Then, more bitterly still, he cursed himself for assuming that the Austrians would leave it undefended. It was his mistake, he admitted, as he looked across the open ground, scattered with dead and dying, and on to the carpet of bodies on the bridge. His miscalculation had cost these men their lives, and Lannes his wound. Their attack had been brave and he owed them a display of courage in return.

Turning round, he approached General Augereau and the colour party of the next battalion in the column. Napoleon gestured towards the sergeant holding the tricolour standard.

‘Give me that!’

Augereau cleared his throat anxiously. ‘Sir, what are you doing?’

‘What every general should do,’ Napoleon replied quietly, trying not to show the excitement and fear that gripped his body. ‘I’m going to lead from the front. Have this battalion ready to advance. Packs down and bayonets fixed. Do it now!’

‘But, sir.’ Augereau looked horrified. ‘What if you are killed?’

‘Then, if this attack fails, you will need to lead the next charge. And you will stick to the plan.We have to cross the river. Understand?’

Augereau nodded reluctantly and turned away to issue the commands. The sergeant handed Napoleon the standard.

‘Sir?’

Napoleon turned round and saw that Major Muiron had stepped forward. At his shoulder stood Marmont and Louis.

‘What is it, Muiron?’

‘We request permission to go with you.’

‘No,’ Napoleon replied in a harsh tone, and at once relented. It was hardly fair to men who had offered to risk their lives alongside his. He forced himself to smile and he clasped Muiron’s shoulder with his spare hand. ‘I would not want to be the cause of your deaths, my friends. Stay here, and then join me on the far bank when it’s all over.’

Muiron shook his head. ‘Sir, with respect, we know the dangers, and we know our duty is to be at your side. If we stay here while our general goes forward we shall be shamed for ever.’

‘Nevertheless it is my order.’

‘Sir, your order would dishonour us. What have we done to deserve that?’

‘Nothing.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘But you have served me well enough not to deserve death on that bridge.’

Muiron shrugged. ‘Death comes for us all, sir. I would sooner face it today at your side than die an old man, made infamous by remaining behind whilst his commander went into battle.’

Napoleon felt a flush of irritation.There was no time for this. He had given an order and the man should obey it. But then, there was truth in what Muiron said, and he knew he would make the same request for the same reasons if their positions had been reversed. So he nodded. ‘Very well then. If this is the day, then there are no men I would be more proud to have at my side. Let’s go.’

Raising the standard aloft where all the men of the battalion - and the Austrians - could see it, Napoleon walked steadily forward. Behind him the sergeants of the following battalion bellowed out the order to advance and the second attack headed towards the bridge. Major Muiron stepped into position to Napoleon’s left and Louis and Marmont fell in on his right as the four officers reached the open ground and unconsciously quickened their pace. Then they passed the first of the bodies, a young lieutenant sprawled on his front with half his head blown off by grapeshot. They were in range of the Austrian cannon, Napoleon realised, and steeled himself for the first blast from the enemy guns. He took a deep breath and called over his shoulder.

‘Advance . . . at the double!’

The French broke into a trot, buckles chinking as boots pounded across the open ground. As before, the Austrians held their fire until the attackers had passed well within killing range to maximise the effect of the first blast.Time seemed to slow and Napoleon found that he was seeing every detail in its full intensity of colour and form as he rushed on. He saw the Austrian artillery officer raise his arm, readying his gun crews for the first discharge, and his racing mind tried to calculate the chances of being hit by the cone of fire blasting from the muzzle of a cannon. The odds of coming out of this alive were not impressive and he laughed. Muiron shot him a questioning look. There was no time to explain as the flat detonation of the cannon echoed across the river. He was aware of a low hissing in the air around him and the sound of a soft, wet thud, and an explosive groan from a man behind him.