Fire and Sword r-3

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘Other men are fools,’ she replied flatly. ‘My husband is a good man and a sound ruler. But he is inclined to caution in dealing with a crisis. I merely acted as a spur to that course of action he knew he must take.’

  ‘You are too modest, madam.’ Napoleon stared at her. ‘I sense that you are a far more formidable woman than you choose to appear.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She smiled, showing a fine set of strong white teeth. ‘For my part I sense that you are a far more sensitive man than your reputation as an all-conquering general would imply. Sensual even.’

  ‘Sensual?’ Napoleon tipped his head slightly to one side. ‘It’s not a word I have often heard used to describe me.’

  ‘You surround yourself with soldiers, so that is hardly surprising.’

  They were interrupted by the arrival of the first course, a thin soup of duck and herbs, and sat in silence while the steward carefully poured a ladleful into each of their bowls and then retired. Napoleon watched as his guest delicately filled her spoon and raised it to her lips, sipping the hot liquid with caution. ‘Do you like it?’

  Louise looked at him. ‘A touch too much garlic, perhaps, but palatable.’

  ‘I am so pleased.’ Napoleon took a mouthful, and winced at the scalding sensation in his mouth. He glanced up to see her smiling at him, and mumbled an apology. ‘I am sorry, it was hot. Painful.’ He took a sip of wine to cool his tongue.

  ‘Yes.The trick is not to let anyone know that it hurts.’

  Napoleon lowered his spoon for a while, to let the soup cool. ‘Tell me, your majesty.Why are you here? Why did you request to see me in this intimate manner? Did your husband send you to try to charm me?’

  ‘He does not approve of the meeting,’ she replied. ‘I insisted. I hope to discuss the question of the terms you demand for peace with Prussia.’

  ‘The terms are already being discussed, by our diplomats.’

  ‘Diplomats . . .’ She uttered the word with contempt. ‘They talk and talk and resolve little in the longest possible time.’

  ‘You have Talleyrand precisely.’ Napoleon laughed.

  Louise’s expression remained serious. ‘I wished to negotiate more directly with you.’

  ‘Negotiate? What is there to negotiate? You already know my terms. I will not change them. Not even for you, your majesty.’

  ‘But you must realise that your demands go too far. You seek to reduce Prussia to the status of a minor power. You would shame us before the rest of the world.’

  ‘No more than you have shamed yourselves already.’

  She was silent for a moment, and then continued in a calm tone, ‘I accept that my husband vacillated before Austerlitz. If I had been king then Prussia would have fought alongside your enemies from the outset.’

  ‘And very likely you would have defeated me. I must make certain that Prussia is incapable of challenging France for many years to come. That is why I do not wish to have your husband removed from the throne. His presence there is as good a guarantee of peace as I could wish for. If he was weak before you decided to wage war against France, then he will be even more afraid now. I doubt that you, even with your undeniable charms and force of personality, will be able to persuade him to make war again.’

  ‘I see.’ Louise nodded, and sipped again from her spoon. ‘You must know that the terms you have demanded of Prussia are sure to win you nothing but the hatred of our people.’

  ‘What do I care?’ Napoleon shrugged. ‘Vae victis.’

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Louise looked up again. ‘Has it occurred to you that you might well need the friendship of Prussia one day?’

  ‘Yes. There may be a time when I need all the friends I can get. But as long as you sit by the side of your husband and drip your poison into his ear, then I suspect that I need not look to Prussia for any hope of salvation. So what have I to lose by making the terms as harsh as possible?’

  Queen Louise lowered her spoon, got up from her chair and walked slowly round the table until she was at his side. Napoleon instinctively lowered his spoon, as he felt his body tense at her closeness. She kneeled beside his chair and took his hand. She spoke softly. ‘Your imperial majesty. If I need to I will beg you not to destroy Prussia. On my hands and knees if you say so.’

  She grazed her lips over the back of his hand and Napoleon felt a bolt of fire streak up his arm. For an instant he closed his eyes, relishing the feeling, and the Prussian Queen continued to play her lips over the back of his hand before she turned it over slowly and kissed his palm with infinite tenderness.

  ‘There is nothing I would not do for my country,’ she whispered. ‘Just ask me, your majesty, and I will do anything for you.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Yes. Anything.’ She moved her head so that her lips closed softly round the end of his middle finger and he felt her teeth press gently into his skin. He felt his sex stirring and shifted in his chair as he indulged the sensation.Then cold reason reasserted itself and he firmly pulled his hand away from her and opened his eyes. She was looking up at him with fierce intensity blazing in her brown eyes. Napoleon chuckled.

  ‘Good God, but you are beautiful. Now I understand why Frederick William is your slave. However, I will not sacrifice the needs of France for the sake of a good fuck, your majesty.’

  She stood up and backed away, her eyes narrowing.‘You bastard,’ she muttered. ‘You cold, cruel, contemptible bastard.’

  Napoleon smiled faintly and raised an eyebrow. ‘As you say.’

  ‘Truly, you are a tyrant. I pray that I live to see the day when you are brought down and destroyed.’

  ‘Of course you do.You are my enemy. I am your conqueror. It is only natural for you to hate me. Just as long as you and your people fear me, I shall be content. Now then, may we continue our meal?’

  The Queen glanced at her soup and her lip curled. ‘I would rather eat the scraps refused by swine.’

  ‘Then I suggest you return to your husband and share his repast, before you share his bed. I have no need for you. No desire. Now you may leave me.’

  She glared at him, and then with a swirl of her skirts she turned and strode for the door. Wrenching it open, she rushed through and slammed it behind her. Napoleon stared after her for a moment, then picked up his spoon and finished his soup.

  The following day, Napoleon and Alexander signed the peace treaty in the negotiation chamber before an audience of dignitaries. Then Talleyrand read out the public version of the treaty, which expressed the great pleasure of both leaders that their countries were no longer at war. Both the Emperor and the Tsar looked forward to sharing the bounties of peace and prosperity. Napoleon seemed to listen indulgently and nodded his head at the applause that filled the chamber, but his mind was dwelling on the details of the secret articles that had been agreed and signed. Now, at last, he could turn all his attention towards crushing Britain. With Russia as his ally and all Europe under his sway, he could deny Britain access to her markets, and slowly but surely she would be starved into defeat.

  Two more days passed before Napoleon deigned to sign the peace agreement with Prussia, shortly before he departed for France.This time the Prussian witnesses to the signature stood in mute despair as their King picked up his pen, dipped it in the ink pot and then held it poised above the treaty as he chewed his lip. Talleyrand leaned forward and indicated the blank space at the foot of the document.

  ‘If your majesty would be kind enough to sign there?’

  Frederick William nodded, then lowered the pen to the paper and wrote his name slowly, as if each letter was agony to write. At the end he lowered the pen and sat back abruptly, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at the French Emperor sitting at his side. Talleyrand slid the treaty across the table towards Napoleon. Behind a mask of regal calm Napoleon felt consumed by the pleasure of his triumph. He took up his pen, dipped it in the ink and signed the treaty, ending with a flamboyant flourish.The French officers an
d diplomats at once burst into applause, with Ney stamping his foot as he roared out ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ at the top of his voice.

  There was a dull scrape as the Prussian King slid his chair back and abruptly rose from his seat and strode towards the door. As soon as he had left the room, his staff and courtiers filed out behind him, their ears deafened by the thunderous celebration of the French.

  Talleyrand leaned close to his ear and said, ‘Congratulations, sire.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I pray that you have won us a lasting peace.’

  Napoleon turned to look up at his foreign minister. ‘What is there to pray for? Prussia is humiliated, and I have the Tsar wrapped round my little finger. Trust me, my dear Talleyrand. Russia has been tamed, completely.’

  Chapter 33

  The streets of Paris echoed with the sound of the salute being fired from the heights of Montmartre.Tens of thousands of people lined the route of the procession and waved coloured ribbons and tricolour flags the instant they caught sight of the head of the imperial convoy. A cuirassier regiment led the way, breastplates sparkling in the bright sunshine as their glossy mounts clattered over the cobbles. Behind them came a battery of the Guard artillery, caissons and gun carriages freshly painted and every brass fitting polished to perfection.The crews sat erect in their best uniforms as the wheels rumbled beneath them. Then came a battalion of the Old Guard, their bearskins making every man look like a formidable giant. Two companies of light infantry followed, bearing captured enemy standards. A short distance behind came the imperial carriage bearing the Emperor and Empress, and immediately behind them rode the marshals who had fought in the long campaign to subdue Prussia and Russia.

  At the sight of Napoleon the cheering of the crowd increased in a deafening crescendo that drowned out even the sound of the salute being fired by the guns on Montmartre. Napoleon was sitting on a large cushion to elevate him above his wife and every now and again he waved to each side of the route, smiling as he acknowledged his people. At his side, Josephine sat still, as she knew that it was not her place to respond to acclaim that she had not won. As the procession turned down the rue St-Honoré and made for the Tuileries, she touched her husband’s leg.

  ‘Seems that you are the saviour of the nation, my love.’

  Napoleon leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, prompting a fresh roar of approval from the crowds. They both laughed and Napoleon lifted his hat and raised it high.

  ‘I promised them victory and now they have it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Josephine nodded. ‘But the taste of victory will fade soon enough.The people tire of war.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Napoleon flashed a frown at her.‘As long as war provides them with glory and spoils then I can lead the people anywhere.To the ends of the earth, if I should wish it.’

  Josephine noted his tone and thought better of continuing that line of conversation. Instead she turned to the side and bowed her head serenely towards a group of veterans sitting on a wagon on the corner of a street leading off the procession route. Some had patches over their eyes. Others had lost limbs or were horribly disfigured, and yet they cheered as lustily as the people around them.

  The procession passed across the Carrousel and through the wrought-iron gates that surrounded the entrance to the Tuileries palace. The Emperor’s carriage drew up in front of the steps that led up to the palace doors and footmen rushed to put in place a set of steps before opening the carriage door and bowing low. The emperor stepped out, and turned to offer his hand to his wife as she descended to join him. Then they steadily made their way up the steps, between the grenadiers forming a guard of honour on either side, and paused at the doors for one last wave to the crowds packing the Carrousel square before disappearing inside.

  The following morning, with Paris unusually quiet as its people slept off the celebrations that had lasted long into the night, Napoleon held a meeting in his private office in the Tuileries. He sat at the head of a small table and tapped his fingers impatiently. Talleyrand sat to his left and Fouché to his right, and the chair opposite Napoleon was empty.

  ‘How dare Lucien be late,’ he muttered.

  Talleyrand smiled. ‘Your brother is a man of the people, sire. I imagine he celebrated your achievements with the same spirit as the rest of Paris.’

  ‘Be that as it may, he should know better than to keep his Emperor waiting.’

  ‘Indeed, sire,’ said Fouché with a faint smile. ‘It is disrespectful.’

  The door to the office opened and a footman bowed his head as Lucien entered, looking flushed but happy. ‘My apologies, brother! My coachman is nowhere to be found and I had to come on foot.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Napoleon responded tersely. ‘Sit down.’

  Once Lucien was settled, Napoleon leaned back in his gilded chair and folded his hands together under his chin. ‘Gentlemen, you are my closest advisers. The reason I have summoned you here is to discuss what happens next. Despite our successes, we have work to do.’

  ‘Work?’ Lucien raised his eyebrows. ‘You have only just returned to the capital. The war is as good as over. Now that you have Russia as an ally, and Britain is denied access to any port on the continent, she cannot endure much longer. She must come to terms soon. Why, I have read reports of riots in the towns in the north of the country. The blockade is a success.Work is drying up in the mills and the people grow hungry and rebellious. Soon their King will be begging us for peace. Let us enjoy this moment. Surely you of all people need a rest after your exertions?’

  ‘I will rest when I decide to rest,’ Napoleon responded coolly. ‘And I will thank you not to interrupt me again.’

  Lucien lowered his gaze. ‘I apologise, brother.’

  Napoleon stared at him for a moment before he spoke. ‘The correct mode of address to your Emperor is your majesty, or in informal situations such as this you may call me sire.’

  ‘Yes . . . sire.’

  ‘Then let us proceed.’ Napoleon collected his thoughts and began. ‘The treaties signed at Tilsit have extended the influence of France from the Channel coast to the eastern frontier of Prussia, and from the Baltic to the toe of Italy. The Grand Army has proved that it has no equal on the continent and every enemy of France has been humbled, or is now an ally, save Britain alone. As Lucien has kindly pointed out, the Continental System is starting to undermine our last enemy. If we can ensure that the system is observed in all those ports directly under our control, it only remains to cut off the last remaining markets for British goods and then they will be compelled to sue for peace.’

  Napoleon paused a moment. ‘While I have been away from the capital I have kept abreast of events in Europe, and it is clear that our attention must now focus on the Iberian Peninsula. Thus far Portugal has refused all our entreaties to cease trading with Britain. I will not tolerate this situation any longer.’ Napoleon looked at Talleyrand. ‘It would appear that the usual diplomatic channels have proved worthless.’

  Tallyrand opened his hands. ‘As I have pointed out before, sire, diplomacy is a gradual process. In time I hope that I might be able to persuade the Portuguese to accept our position.’

  ‘In time you hope that you might . . .’ Napoleon shook his head impatiently. ‘You prevaricate and vacillate far too much, Talleyrand. I have no more time for such diplomacy. I must have a result. You will inform the Portuguese that unless they close their ports to British trade by the first day of September, I will be obliged to occupy their country and remove their royal family from the throne.’

  There was a stunned silence from Talleyrand before he swallowed and replied, ‘But sire, that is tantamount to a declaration of war.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘But we have only just achieved peace on the continent.’

  ‘I want peace across the whole of Europe, on my terms. Nothing less will guarantee France’s pre-eminence above all nations.’

  ‘Or your pre-eminence above all sovereigns,’ Lucien added.


  ‘Quite.’ Napoleon nodded.

  ‘This is impossible,’ Talleyrand said bitterly. ‘The people will not be happy about another war, sire. I can assure you of that.’

  Napoleon turned to Fouché. ‘What do you think?’

  Fouché leaned forward and stroked the back of his hand with a finger as he replied. ‘Sire, there is already some discontent over the existing conscription laws. If we introduce further measures it will only exacerbate the situation.’

  ‘That is obvious enough,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘The question is, can your police and your agents contain the malcontents?’

  ‘Of course, sire. It merely depends on a judicious use of force and rewards, and ensuring that the newspapers print what we want people to read. If you grant me the powers I require, I can guarantee that any such rebels will be dealt with.’