Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

‘Then who will rule Spain?’

Napoleon smiled. ‘That is a matter for contemplation at a later date, my dear.’ He took her other hand and raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers softly, one by one.They kissed again, and Napoleon’s hand glided down her neck and across her cleavage before slipping inside her nightdress and caressing her breast. He felt her shudder as her nipple swiftly hardened. Napoleon withdrew his hand.

‘We will be more comfortable by the fire.’

Josephine glanced round at the rug lying on the floorboards before the hearth. ‘Can’t we go up to bed, my love?’

‘Why? It is warm enough in here, and the fire will give us light.’

Josephine sighed.‘I am tired. I want to be in a nice comfortable bed. Besides, I am getting too old to make love on a hard floor. Come, husband.To bed.’

She rose from his lap and took his hand, pulling him gently after her, but Napoleon did not move and after a moment she released her grip and looked anxiously at him. ‘What is it?’

‘I want to make love to you. In here. Now.’

‘Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable? It’s a cold night.’

‘It’s warm enough in here,’ he responded flatly.

‘I know. But I would still prefer to go to bed, my love.’

They stared at each other for a moment, and as they did so Napoleon felt the passion for her die in him. The feeling had passed, and he felt a wave of weariness wash through him. ‘You go on first. I’ll join you. There’s something I need to finish first.’

‘You don’t love me any more . . .’ she whispered.

‘What?’

‘I said that you don’t love me.’

‘Don’t be a fool.’

‘I’m no fool, Napoleon. I have known you for twelve years. Well enough to know what you are thinking.’ Her voice caught and she had to bite her lip to stop it trembling. ‘You don’t love me. Why? Is it because of that young Polish whore?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Marie Walewska. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’

Napoleon took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. ‘I had hoped you would not find out, but since you have I won’t deny it.Why should I? After all the lovers that you have entertained in the years of our marriage? I am entitled to whatever solace I can find when I am away on campaign.’

‘As long as it does not harm your feelings for me.’

‘I still love you,’ Napoleon said firmly.

‘But you are not in love with me. Not in the same way. Not any more. Isn’t that what you mean?’ Josephine smiled sadly and the tone of her voice cut into his heart like a knife. He could not reply, and she moved a step away from him, towards the door.

‘I knew this would happen, my love,’ she continued.‘One day.When I had grown old enough for my looks to fade. I suppose she is far younger, fresher. The kind of girl who would make love in front of a fire on a cold winter’s night. Am I right, husband?’

His silence was answer enough and she laughed mirthlessly.‘I knew it.’

Napoleon swallowed nervously. ‘I am a man, Josephine, with a man’s appetites. If you cannot satisfy them, then I must look elsewhere. Besides—’

He shut his mouth abruptly and looked away.

‘Besides?’ She narrowed her eyes and continued sharply. ‘Besides what?’

When he did not reply, she raised her voice, fists clenched by her sides. ‘Besides what? Speak up.’

‘Very well, then.’ Napoleon raised his chin. ‘Since you insist.You are right. Marie excites me more than you do. Besides which, you have never given me any children. At least Marie could. She was carrying my child before it was lost.That proves my seed is fertile. And it is clear to me that your womb is barren. If we cannot have a child together, then what is the point of lying with you? But that does not mean that I don’t still love you, in a way.’

‘In a way,’ she mimicked mercilessly. ‘What way? Like a young man’s affection for an aged aunt, or an old pet? Is that it?’

Napoleon looked away wearily.‘Leave me. Go to bed. I will not have this discussion with you. Not now.’

‘Well, what if I want to discuss it now?’

‘Go, Josephine. I will not argue with you. Not tonight. Now go.’

‘Bastard,’ she muttered through clenched teeth.‘You faithless bastard.’

Napoleon jumped to his feet and thrust his arm towards the door. ‘Get out! Go! Now!’

Josephine was startled by the instant transformation and backed away nervously. She started to speak but he took two paces towards her, eyes blazing, and she feared that he might strike her. Turning, she hurried out of his study and quickly closed the door behind her.

For a minute or so, Napoleon stared at the door, then slumped down in a chair by the fire and stared into the glowing embers. At first he was inclined to angrily refute everything she had said, everything that she had accused him of. As his temper began to calm, and his heartbeat slowed to a more regular rhythm, he realised that she was right, and had only put into words those thoughts and feelings that he had refused to acknowledge within himself. Now that he had been forced to confront them the sense of failure was deadening. Worse, he knew more certainly than ever that the order he had brought to France could not endure while there was no heir to the imperial crown. The time must come when Napoleon would be forced to find a woman who could provide him with a son. There must be a divorce, he accepted. But not until he had found himself a princess, of Austrian or Russian stock, in order to cement his ties with another powerful dynasty. Once he had chosen, only then would he break the news to Josephine.

Two days later Napoleon was back at his office in the Tuileries. No more snow had fallen and that which still lay across the roofs was stained by soot and ash so that Paris had taken on the appearance of a grimy, mottled wasteland.The cheerful mood that had filled the city had soon faded as its citizens huddled round their fires, or hurried through the cold, damp streets, hunched down in their coats. Napoleon turned away from the window towards the two men sitting at the table waiting for him. Berthier sat ready with a notebook opened in front of him, pen in hand and poised close to a small pot of ink. Beside him, Fouché glanced at the chief of staff with a faintly amused expression of contempt. Napoleon found himself earnestly wishing that Talleyrand still served as foreign minister. His advice and wisdom was sorely needed at present and his replacement, Champagny, had proved to be of little worth. The Emperor sighed with frustration as he took his seat.

‘Gentlemen, I have decided that the time is ripe for us to bring Spain within our sphere of control. Since our enemies have removed the fleets of Portugal and Denmark from our grasp, the last navy of any significant size that we might gain possession of lies in Spanish ports. I mean to have those ships.We can no longer count on Spain as a loyal ally. Godoy is a man whose only loyalty is to himself and he will sell his influence to whoever pays him enough gold. Charles is an indolent fool, a trait he seems to have passed on to his heir. I cannot afford to permit the Bourbons to remain on the throne in Madrid any longer.’

Berthier looked up from his notebook.‘Do you propose an invasion of Spain, sire? If so, we will need to shift the balance of the Grand Army to the Pyrenees as swiftly as possible.That’s no small task.’

Napoleon shook his head.‘That won’t be necessary.There will be no need for an invasion, as such.’ He smiled. ‘What I had in mind was an armed intervention to assist our Spanish allies in restoring order. To which end we must set them at each other’s throats.That is where you come in, Fouché.’