Bernadotte seared his throat.‘Do we have any information about the location of Kutusov or Bennigsen, sire?’

Napoleon shook his head. ‘Not yet. But Murat’s scouts have orders to advance along both banks of the Danube as far as possible to give us the earliest news of the appearance of Russian troops.’

‘And if they do appear before we have crushed General Mack?’

‘Then it will be the job of your corps to hold them back, Bernadotte. As soon as you cross the Danube at Ingolstadt your men will turn east and guard our flank.’

Bernadotte quickly searched for the crossing point on the map and nodded. ‘Very well, sire. But what if the Austrians attempt to bring up their forces from Tyrol, or Italy?’

‘Davout’s corps will block them,’ Napoleon replied with a quick glance at the other officer. ‘That leaves five corps to surround and destroy General Mack. Assuming he doesn’t guess our plans before we can get across the Danube.’

‘And if he does?’

‘Then he will be forced to turn his army round and attempt to march out of the trap before it closes. However, as some of us have discovered in the past, our Austrian friends are not renowned for the speed of their marching.’

Those who had served with Napoleon on his Italian campaigns smiled in amusement at the comment as the Emperor continued.

‘If Mack tries to retreat we should still have time to cut across his line of march, and destroy each of his columns in turn. Either way, we will compel him to fight on our terms, and most likely on ground of our choosing.With luck, the Russians will arrive just in time to witness the surrender of Austria.’

Soult raised his eyebrows and said mildly, ‘That assumes that the Russians won’t reach the Danube for at least another six weeks. Can we be sure of that, sire?’

‘As sure as we can be of anything,’ Napoleon responded dismissively. ‘Time and surprise are on our side, gentlemen. Even the weather seems to favour our cause, for now. I sense that the Grand Army is about to take its place in history.’

At dawn the following day, Napoleon sat with his staff on a hill above the Rhine watching the dense columns of Lannes’s infantry cross the river and climb up the slope on the eastern bank. The air was cool and overhead the sky was clear, promising fine conditions for the advance of the Grand Army. Away to the north, downriver, Napoleon knew that the other corps would also be on the move, tramping east behind a screen of Murat’s cavalry, who were tasked with preventing the Austrians from discovering the vast army sweeping across Bavaria.

Over two hundred thousand men and fifty thousand horses were involved in the vast strategic manoeuvre, and with them went several hundred cannon, engineer columns, pontoon detachments and medical staff, together with the vast supply trains carrying ammunition and food. The latter would only be distributed when the French columns closed on their enemy and foraging became too dangerous. It was a vast enterprise, and not without its risks should the enemy discover the ruse, yet Napoleon felt confident that every detail that mattered had been accounted for. Even so, he turned to Berthier and quietly asked, ‘Any news from Murat?’

‘No, sire. I would imagine that he has little enemy contact to report at this stage.’

That was true enough, Napoleon reflected. Murat’s light cavalry would only be sparring with the Austrian scouts for a few days yet. Not until the two armies approached each other would more substantial actions be fought and more definite intelligence gathered. Nevertheless, the whereabouts of the Russian armies marching to Austria’s aid concerned Napoleon greatly. Everything depended on dealing a mortal blow to General Mack before he could be reinforced.

‘Very well, but I want to know the moment we hear from Murat.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier nodded and hurriedly scribbled a line in his notebook.

Napoleon watched his chief of staff approvingly. Now that the campaign had begun he would have the critical facts about his army at his fingertips, thanks to the detailed notebooks that Berthier kept at the field headquarters. Each day every regiment’s strength returns and location would be updated so that the Emperor would be able to control his huge army and time its movements with precision.

Napoleon felt his heart swell with pride at his achievement. Truly there was no finer instrument of war than the Grand Army.

Marshal Lannes came riding up the slope towards him and saluted as he reined in.With a grin he swept off his hat and gestured towards the French host crawling across the landscape. ‘Quite a sight! Never seen anything so fine in my life, sire.’

‘Let’s hope the Austrians feel the same.’ Napoleon returned the grin. ‘What is the mood of your men?’

‘Never better, sire. For the most part.’ Lannes smiled wryly. ‘Of course there are the usual grumblers, but they’ll never be happy. You know what the veterans are like. They’ll moan about their boots, the rations and the weather, and blame it all on their officers. But the moment you march ’em on to the battlefield they can’t wait to carve a path through the enemy.’

Napoleon looked him in the eye and lowered his voice as he spoke. ‘And you, my old friend, how do you feel?’

‘Sire?’

‘Do you share the men’s confidence? Do you think we can defeat our enemies this time?’

Lannes returned his look with a faint expression of hurt and surprise. ‘Of course we can defeat them, sire. If you have planned this war, and you are there to lead us into battle, then how can we fail?’

Napoleon stared into his comrade’s face, searching for any sign of insincerity. Lannes had been with him since the very first campaign in Italy. His face still bore the faint scar from the wound he had received as they had charged the bridge at Arcola. Napoleon recalled the other battles they had fought, as well as the hardships shared during the terrible marches across the deserts of Egypt. Lannes had stood by his side when Napoleon had snatched power from the corrupt politicians of the Directory, and he was there again in the second Italian campaign and the desperately close battle at Marengo. Napoleon nodded to himself. Lannes was as much a friend as a follower, and when so many had fallen along the way, a friend was to be valued indeed. Especially one so brave and blunt as Lannes.

Napoleon suddenly leaned towards Lannes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.‘My dear, dear Marshal! You are right. How can we fail? We have the best soldiers and by far the best leaders of men in Europe. Leaders like the great Marshal Lannes himself.’

The Gascon beamed with pleasure at his Emperor’s praise and then nodded. ‘Yes, sire. I shall never let you down.’

‘I am counting on that, old friend. But please do me one favour.’