‘I doubt that he will brook any such delay.’
‘Nevertheless, return to the Emperor and ask him.’
Count Diebnitz frowned for a moment, then replied, ‘As you wish, sir. I doubt the Emperor will be in the mood to talk. But I will carry your words to him all the same.’
‘Thank you,’ Napoleon replied with an expression of relief. He maintained the expression as the Austrian remounted, wheeled his horse and rode back through the lines towards the enemy outposts around the small town of Austerlitz. Once Diebnitz was a safe distance away Napoleon relaxed and muttered to Berthier, ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘I think that the theatre lost a great actor when you decided to become a military man, sire.’ Berthier could not help chuckling. ‘I just hope that every Austrian over there is as easy to fool.’
‘We shall see soon enough.’ Napoleon straightened his jacket and refastened the buttons. He nodded to the nearest men of the regiment that Diebnitz had ridden through.‘Find some wine and spirits for those men.They deserve it after such a fine performance.’
The soldiers overheard and one instantly rose to his feet and raised his cap to cheer the Emperor, but froze as Napoleon glared at him.
‘Sit down, you fool! If the enemy see everyone jump up and shout their heads off they’ll see through the ruse in an instant!’
The soldier slumped down and was immediately nudged by the men around him as they teased him about his over-reaction. Napoleon turned away, nimbly remounted his horse and trotted back towards headquarters, cheerfully acknowledging the greetings from soldiers as he passed by. Back in his tent Napoleon and Berthier examined the map of the surrounding area.
‘Assuming they take the bait,’ Napoleon said quietly, ‘they will think we are far weaker than they are. I doubt they will be able to resist the chance to defeat the Grand Army, and humble Emperor Napoleon.’ He smiled grimly as he tapped the map. ‘The moment they make their move we fall back, behind the Goldbach stream, and send for Davout and Bernadotte. We’ll keep the main bulk of the army hidden behind the Zurlan hill there, and then leave Soult to hold the centre. If he spreads his men thinly and keeps them in open view, then even Kutusov won’t be able to resist the opportunity to throw his columns against us, weak as we shall appear.’
‘It’s a fine plan, sire. A clever trap,’ Berthier said approvingly. ‘I just hope the enemy fall for it.’
Napoleon drummed his fingers on the map as he examined the ground he had chosen for his battle. ‘We shall know soon enough.’
General Kutusov waited two days before he gave the order to advance. As the Austrian columns advanced on the Pratzen Heights Napoleon gave the order to retreat. The men had been ordered to give the impression of being in a panic and they hurried from the enemy in a disordered mass. Several damaged guns and supply wagons were left behind to enhance the impression of a hasty retreat and the leading elements of the Russian and Austrian army jeered after the French as they took the abandoned positions on the Heights.
As the first day of December wore on, fine and bright, the French formed a line behind the Goldbach stream, facing the slopes now dominated by enemy troops. Napoleon was satisfied that he had played his hand as well as he could. From the vantage point of the Prazen Heights the French position would look weak and poorly defended. The looming mass of the Zurlan hill on the French left would easily conceal the corps of Lannes and Bernadotte, together with the Imperial Guard. From the enemy’s position it would seem that the enfeebled Grand Army was ripe for destruction.
All through the day Napoleon kept watch on the Heights, until at last, as the late afternoon sun began to sink towards the horizon, he started to pick out the dense columns of infantry moving opposite the centre and right of the French line.
‘There!’ He pointed the enemy out to Berthier. ‘I told you it would work. Send word for Davout and Bernadotte to join us at once. And issue a general order to the army. Let them know that there will be a battle tomorrow. Tell them that we shall win a great victory.’
‘Yes, sire.’
As night fell over the winter landscape Napoleon entertained his senior officers with a simple dinner at the inn in Bellowitz, a small village at the foot of the Zurlan hill. The main course, a steaming bowl of fried potatoes and onions, was consumed with relish and accompanied by some of the wine looted in Vienna. As they ate, reports continued to come in of the loom of campfires on the Heights, directly opposite the French centre, so there could be no doubt over the enemy’s intentions for the next day.Then, at midnight, Napoleon and his officers heard the beating of drums and wild cheering close at hand.
‘What’s that?’ Napoleon asked. ‘Berthier, find out what is going on.’
Berthier smiled. ‘Sire, have you forgotten?’
‘Forgotten?’
‘The date.’ Berthier pulled out his pocket watch. ‘It is past midnight, sire.’
‘So?’
‘It is the second of December. The first anniversary of your coronation.The men are celebrating.’
‘Of course,’ Napoleon replied quickly, angry with himself for letting such an important detail slip his mind. ‘Then I must let the men see their Emperor.’
He left the table and went outside, followed by the others. It was a cold night and his breath plumed in the light cast by the brilliant stars scattered across the heavens. All around the village, and up on the Zurlan, bright campfires flickered in the night, and the cheers of the soldiers carried clearly to the Emperor. As he emerged from the inn, there was a burst of applause and greetings from the men of the Imperial Guard who stood in the street. Some carried torches made from twisted straw and Napoleon could see the warm grins and smiles of his veterans, men who had served with him in previous campaigns. One of the grenadiers took off his bearskin hat and placed it over the muzzle of his musket before hoisting it high into the air as he cheered. Others followed suit and as Napoleon descended the small flight of steps into the street an avenue of cheering soldiers opened before him. He walked slowly down the street, smiling back at his men with genuine warmth.
‘Long live the Emperor! Long live Napoleon!’ The cries echoed down the street and were quickly taken up by the troops outside the village until the night resounded with the chant. Napoleon felt his heart swell with affection and gratitude to these men who had followed him through the years, and now trusted him with their lives. He turned to Berthier and muttered, ‘Did you put them up to this?’
‘No, sire. They do it because they love you.’
‘Love me?’ Napoleon smiled, and for a moment he was tempted to think Berthier must be flattering him. But there was no guile in the faces around him and he in turn realised that Berthier spoke the truth. He patted Berthier on the arm.‘I think this has been the finest evening of my life. And with the dawn will come my finest day.’