‘Yes, sire. I will give the orders at once.’
Napoleon nodded, then folded his arms as he turned to regard the Prussian army again. The autumn evening was drawing in and already the fine spirals of the first campfires were marking the clear, still sky. Apart from a handful of cavalry pickets patrolling across the plateau there was no sign of any activity that presaged any attack. Napoleon called for his horse.
‘I’m going back to the headquarters in Jena. Lannes, you can stand your men down. But be ready to form up at the first sign of any movement the Prussians make.’
Lannes bowed his head. ‘Yes, sire.’
‘Good. If the enemy are content to sit on their arses through the night and into the morning, then they’re in for the surprise of their lives.’
As night fell the staff officers of the imperial headquarters worked at a frantic pace to issue the orders to concentrate the separate columns of the Grand Army. The Emperor had decided on a battle the following day and marching schedules had to be drafted and issued to every division. Ammunition trains had to be brought forward ready to replenish the cannon and muskets of the army. Since foraging was not possible so close to the enemy the rations carried with the army had to be distributed along the approaches to Jena.
Napoleon and Berthier had taken over a large room and at once spread out maps of the surrounding lands across the floor. Napoleon took note of the scale of the main map and adjusted his dividers accordingly to measure half a day’s march. He knelt down on the map and leaned forward to inspect the details of each unit Berthier had marked in pencil. Every so often Napoleon walked the dividers across the map towards the area around Jena and then made appropriate allowances for night marches, and the reported conditions of the roads and tracks his men would have to march along. Any questions he asked about the strengths of the units sent Berthier scurrying to the small chest of notebooks, which were updated every day from the returns sent directly to headquarters from each brigade.
At length Napoleon was satisfied that he would be able to amass sufficient strength before noon the following day to mount a successful attack on the Prussians. The critical phase of the coming battle would occur well before midday. In order to provide room for the advancing French columns to cross the Saale and make their way through Jena, the bridgehead would have to be pushed forward. That meant that Lannes and his men were going to have to advance against the Prussians on their own at first light, and hold the enemy back long enough for the rest of the Grand Army to deploy. Napoleon stared at the map again. Not the whole of the Grand Army, he decided. There was an opportunity here for an outflanking movement by Davout and Bernadotte’s columns. If they could cross further along the Saale and move against the enemy’s left, then the Prussian army would be caught in the jaws of a vice and crushed.
Napoleon dictated the final details to Berthier, then stood up and announced his intention to return to the Landgrafenberg and spend the night there with the Imperial Guard. He took up his hat and buttoned his greatcoat and strode outside. After the warm fug of the crowded headquarters the air outside was cold and crisp and the clear heavens were scattered with the brilliant pinpoints of stars. Napoleon paused a moment, head tilted back, and admired the view. He had read that astronomers claimed that each star was like the sun and that vast distances separated them so that the earth, and all who dwelt there, were as insignificant as dust on the great scale of the universe. For the briefest instant Napoleon felt a tremor of despair in his heart, then quickly dismissed it with a snorted inhalation of the cold air, and strode towards his horse and let one of his escort help him up into the saddle.
Above the roofs of Jena loomed the dark mass of the Landgrafenberg, lit here and there by the dancing flickers of torches and campfires.There was a concentration of torches on the lower slope and by the dim loom of their light Napoleon could just make out the forms of some wagons and gun carriages. He frowned, dug his heels in and galloped down the street towards the road that led up to the heights. A short distance outside the town he came across the tail of the artillery train that had been ordered to the summit of the Landgrafenberg. On either side of the track, the battalions of the Imperial Guard were waiting to move up to the heights and some of the men stirred at the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Even in the dark the keener-sighted of the men recognised the distinctive shape of Napoleon’s hat and a voice cried out excitedly, ‘It’s the Emperor! On your feet for the Emperor!’
As word spread along the line of vehicles dark figures rose up and waved and cheered as Napoleon and his escort trotted past without acknowledging them. The road began to climb the slope and as the gradient steepened the road ended and a crude track began, snaking up the hill. Here Napoleon found the head of the artillery train, where a small crowd of gunners and their officers stood in the light of several torches and lanterns. Scores of men were labouring on traces to haul a twelve-pounder up the narrow track, and every pace gained came with painful slowness.
‘What is going on here?’ Napoleon called out sharply as he reined in. ‘Why the delay? These guns should be halfway up to the ridge by now.’
The brigadier in charge of the artillery train stepped forward with an apprehensive expression and gestured towards the track.‘Sire, you can see for yourself. It’s the track. Little more than a bridle path. It’s poor going for anything larger than a dog cart.’
Napoleon swung himself down from the saddle, took a lantern from one of the artillerymen and began to examine the ground just in front of the leading gun.The path was narrow, uneven and littered with small boulders, some wedged into the soil and loose gravel. More than enough of a challenge to the artillery train, he conceded. Nevertheless, the guns had to be in position on the ridge and ready to fire at first light. Napoleon strode back down the hill towards the brigadier.
‘Order the artillery train to halt.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Then give the order for every pick and shovel in the artillery train, and from the engineers back in Jena, to be brought here.’ Napoleon turned to one of his escort.‘I want each battalion of the Imperial Guard to work for an hour on improving the track before they move up to the ridge. Pass the word.’
While the two officers hurried off to carry out his orders Napoleon walked a short distance up the narrow path, inspecting the ground closely. In places the track was little more than a pace wide and that width would need to be tripled before the twelve-pounders and artillery caissons could pass along it. In addition, the boulders would have to be dug out to make the route as level as possible for the heavy wheels of the wagons and gun carriages. It would be back-breaking work and the men would curse him for it, but there was no other way to get the guns to the top of the Landgrafenberg by dawn.
As the first of the Imperial Guard battalions reached the head of the artillery train the gunners handed the small supply of ready tools to the men and the sergeants directed them to begin cutting into the embankment beside the track. As more tools came forward other companies moved further up the route to work by the light of lanterns set up on posts by the engineers who had hurried forward from Jena. The air was filled with the thud of picks, the soft scrape of shovels and the grunts of the men labouring in the chilly night air. Napoleon walked slowly up and down the track for the next half-hour, offering encouragement, cajoling, and swapping greetings with his veterans. Then, satisfied that the work was well in hand, he passed the lantern to an artilleryman, climbed back on to his horse and made his way up the track towards the ridge.