‘Charge!’ he shouted out. ‘Charge! For France!’

The rough grass of the open ground gave way to the muddy ruts of the track leading up to the bridge and Napoleon ran to one side of the rail and paused, waving his men on.

‘Forward!’ he cried, thrusting his sword at the far end of the bridge. ‘Keep moving! Keep moving!’

The men ran past him, heads hunched into their shoulders. Grim faced, they clutched their muskets vertically to avoid skewering their comrades. As they ran down the length of the bridge the Austrian infantry opened fire and the air filled with the low whip of musket balls, mixed with the splintering crack of shots striking the woodwork, and the soft thuds as they cut down men in the dense mass surging along the narrow bridge. Napoleon felt the concussion as one of the guns on the far side fired at the attackers and he stood up, craning his neck to see how his men were progressing. As before, the fire was murderous in the middle of the bridge and body piled upon body as the French were slaughtered. The charge faltered.

‘No!’ Napoleon shouted. ‘Keep going! Keep going and victory is ours! Stop and we all die!’

He strode forward, pushing his way through the men until the mass thinned out and those ahead were going to ground, trying to find whatever cover they could from enemy fire. Napoleon stepped amongst them and held the standard high.

‘Keep going!’

But the men around him refused to meet his eye and began to creep back.

‘Bastards!’ Napoleon screamed. ‘Would you let your general die alone?’

He was about to step forward when someone grasped his arm and spun him round, shielding his body from the far bank. Muiron glared into his face.

‘General! You will get yourself killed!’ the major shouted above the din. ‘If you fall we are lost! This is not your place. Get back!’

He pushed Napoleon through the men stalled on the bridge, just as some herd spirit made them all turn back towards their own lines.

‘Make way for the general!’ Muiron called out, and then his grip on Napoleon’s arm spasmed. Napoleon turned and saw a shocked expression on the major’s face. He was looking down and Napoleon followed his gaze and saw the hole in his jacket, over the heart, the blood pumping from the wound.

‘Muiron?’

The major frowned, then his head slumped and his legs buckled as he fell on to the bridge. Napoleon paused and reached down to help his companion. As he did so one of his men thrust past, desperate to escape the slaughter. He was a large man and he sent his general reeling towards the edge of the bridge. The rail had been splintered by grapeshot and gave way with a crack the moment Napoleon fell against it. He flung his arms forward, dropping the standard as he desperately tried to keep his balance, but his momentum was too great and he tumbled backwards off the bridge. He landed on his back in the mud, the impact driving the breath from his body. For a second he was staring up at the clear sky, dazed.Then he rolled over and tried to push himself up, but the mud sucked his hands down. With great difficulty Napoleon scrambled upright and tried to take a step, but his boots just churned up the filthy mire and he sank up to his knees, far enough to hold him in place.

‘General!’ a voice cried from above and Napoleon looked up at the bridge.

‘Sir? Where are you?’ Marmont cried out.

‘Here! Down here!’

A moment later Marmont’s head appeared over the rail.

‘Get me out!’ Napoleon shouted.

Marmont nodded and his head disappeared from view. A moment later he leaped over the rail a short distance further along, closer to the bank, and landed in the reeds. Louis jumped after him and they thrust their way through the rasping stalks until they emerged at the edge of the mud. Napoleon leaned towards them, stretching out his arms.

‘Shit! I can’t reach.’

Marmont turned to Louis. ‘Hold my legs!’

Then he fell forward on to the mud and grabbed at his general’s hands. As soon as he had a good hold he grunted over his shoulder, ‘Pull us back.’

Louis wrapped his arms round one of Marmont’s boots, and, digging his heels into the soft ground at the base of the reeds, he pulled with all his might. At first Napoleon did not feel himself budging, and then with a glutinous sucking he lurched towards Marmont.

‘Keep pulling!’ Marmont called back to Louis. ‘He’s coming!’

Napoleon kept as flat as he could to spread his weight, and slowly they drew him out of the mud. Just then there was a shout from the Austrian bank and glancing back Napoleon saw a handful of men pointing at them from behind a wall. One of the men levelled his musket and fired.There was a dull plop close by Napoleon’s side and a plug of dark mud leaped into the air, leaving a furrow in the glistening brown surface. Marmont was back on solid ground now and wrenched Napoleon after him. He emerged from the mud, plastered in filth, as more shots slapped into the mud around them.

Napoleon clapped Marmont on the shoulder. ‘I’ll thank you properly later on. Let’s go!’

They thrust their way into the reeds, out of sight of the Austrians who continued to take shots in their direction, cutting through the tall stems. Once they reached the bank Napoleon and Marmont waited until they had caught their breath and scraped as much of the thick, heavy mud from their clothes and boots as possible.

‘Ready?’ Napoleon asked. ‘Then let’s go!’

They burst from the reeds and scrambled up the bank. As they reached the flat ground before the bridge more shots rippled out from the Austrian side of the river, but at that range Napoleon knew there was very little chance of scoring a hit. Nevertheless they ran all the way to the safety of the low rise before they stopped, bent double and gasped for breath. General Augereau came over.

‘Good God, sir! Are you all right?’

Napoleon nodded. Augereau’s nose wrinkled at the stench of the filth that caked his commander. ‘What the hell’s that smell?’

‘Mud,’ Napoleon replied sourly. ‘What do you think?’

He forced himself to stand upright, and stared back towards the bridge. ‘We cannot cross there. That much is clear.’

He turned to Augereau. ‘Send two brigades downriver to Albaredo at once.They are to cross and come up on the flank of Arcola. See to it.We may still have time to catch General Alvinzi in our trap.’

‘Yes, sir. At once.’ Augereau saluted and turned towards his small cluster of staff officers to communicate the new orders. Napoleon turned to his muddy companions and clasped their hands in turn.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. I owe you my life.’ He turned towards the bridge, now piled high with French bodies. ‘You, and Major Muiron.’

As the day wore on, Napoleon received word from Masséna that he had cleared the Austrians out of Porcile and he had a clear view of the road between Verona and Villanova from the church tower in Porcile.There were signs that the enemy had recognised the threat to their baggage train. Several cavalry units had already returned along the road. Napoleon crumpled up the note with an exasperated curse. More messages followed reporting the return of a large infantry column to Villanova and Napoleon realised that the original target of his surprise attack was no longer available. Yet the Austrians were now in full retreat from Verona. Clearly Alvinzi was terrified of being cut off from his supplies.

As dusk gathered there was a sudden exchange of musket fire on the far bank and through his telescope Napoleon saw Augereau’s detached brigades storm into Arcola, driving the Austrians from the village. The fighting ended as both sides ceased fire and the two armies camped for the night in and around the marshland that stretched between the Adige and Alpone rivers. Even though Napoleon knew that Alvinzi had rejoined his baggage train, there was still some advantage to be wrung from the situation. Only three narrow dykes crossed the marshland and the enemy would not be able to deploy superior numbers against Napoleon’s forces if they attacked. His plan had been bold, and now he decided that he had to take one last risk. He sent for three thousand of the men blockading Mantua. If the force left under cover of darkness then, with luck, the enemy garrison would not detect their absence.