Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

‘Then I will have to entrust the task to another man.’

The Emperor and his foreign minister stared at each other for a moment in silence, each waiting for the other to respond. At length Talleyrand shook his head in despair.

‘So be it.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. For a second there was silence around the table as the others regarded the foreign secretary with surprise. He drew a deep breath and composed himself before he spoke again. ‘Sire, I regret that I can no longer serve you as foreign minister.You ignored my warnings over a treaty with Russia and now this . . . I am compelled to tender my resignation.’

Napoleon forced a smile. ‘My dear Talleyrand! There is no need for such drastic action. If you have no wish to oversee this aspect of our foreign relations, then let another handle the matter for you. I can see you are tired, and no wonder after all the hard service you performed on behalf of your country at Tilsit.’

‘Enough!’ Talleyrand raised his hand to silence the Emperor. ‘Sire, you ignored my advice at Tilsit. I tell you again, no good will come of our treaty with Russia. Now you are intent on dragging France into another conflict. Sire, your wars are bleeding the nation dry.The Grand Army is like a great beast devouring gold and men and leaving nothing but a wasteland where it passes. War is the greatest evil to afflict men, yet it appears to me that you worship at its altar.Where will it end, sire?’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘I am no longer prepared to share the responsibility for your policies. I will not serve you as your foreign secretary.You will have my letter of resignation before the day is out.’

Before Napoleon could respond, Talleyrand turned and stumped across the room, leaving the others staring after him in shocked silence. As the door closed behind him, Napoleon collected himself and sneered. ‘It seems that Talleyrand lacks the stomach for a fight.’

Lucien leaned across the table and fixed his older brother with an intense stare. ‘You cannot let him leave your service.’

‘It is his choice whether he leaves or not.’

‘But Talleyrand has connections in every country in Europe. He is well known in every court. Brother - sire, we need him.’

Napoleon shook his head. ‘No. If he is fool enough to quit his position, then he is of no use to me, or to France. I can do without him. Besides, I doubt the man’s loyalty.’ He turned to Fouché. ‘Have him watched. Closely. If there is the least sign of disloyalty I want to know about it at once.’

Fouché smiled and bowed his head in assent. ‘Of course, sire. I will see to it.’

There were more processions and military reviews in the weeks that followed as the capital continued to celebrate France’s triumph over her enemies and give thanks for the prospect of a profitable and secure peace. Napoleon, and the imperial court, played host to elaborate musical and theatrical entertainments where the highest-ranking officers of the Grand Army wore their best uniforms and glittering decorations, and mixed with the elite of French society. For his part Napoleon was keen to demonstrate to the rest of Europe that the court of the Emperor would rival, and surpass, that of any other sovereign on the continent. All eyes would turn to Paris and marvel at the gorgeous spectacle that he would put on display. Over it all would loom the presence of Napoleon, the master of Europe. He had made it possible and he wanted to ensure that all France was reminded of the fact.

At the same time he quietly gave orders for the formation of a new army, based in Gironde. The first corps of the new force was formed early in August and soldiers began to march to the south of France to join the army as Napoleon instructed the Portuguese ambassador to tell his government that henceforth France would refuse to permit Portuguese shipping to enter any French port.

Meanwhile, as France basked in long days of sunshine, the imperial court left the humid confines of Paris to seek its pleasures in the countryside. Berthier, who had proved his competence in supervising every last detail of the Grand Army’s campaign, was now given the task of organising a series of shooting parties for the imperial court. Late in August, having enjoyed blasting pheasant and quail out of the skies, the Emperor gave orders for another shoot, this time aimed at land-based targets. Accordingly Berthier hurriedly made preparations for a rabbit shooting party.

On the appointed day a large convoy of carriages conveying Napoleon and his guests set off from Fontainebleau into the surrounding countryside. Earlier, at first light, a somewhat larger convoy of carts had set off carrying tents, tables, chairs, crockery, cutlery, silverware and glasses. More wagons groaned under the burden of the finest foods and wines the imperial court could provide for the luncheon. Still other vehicles carried the musicians who were to provide the entertainment while the members of the imperial court dined. At the tail of the convoy came the wagons carrying the hundreds of rabbits destined to be targets. Beside them walked the beaters and those assigned to load guns for the Emperor’s guests. Long before the first of the imperial retinue arrived at the chosen site, everything had been prepared for them.

Napoleon was riding in his carriage with General Junot and Berthier, and had spent most of the short journey swapping memories of the campaigns they had shared. At length there was a lull in the conversation, and then Napoleon suddenly leaned forward and tapped Junot’s knee.

‘You have not asked me why you are travelling in my carriage.’

Junot shrugged. ‘It is not my place to question your decisions, sire.’

‘Of course not.’ Napoleon grinned. ‘But you are curious, eh?’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon leaned back and crossed his arms, enjoying his friend’s suspense for a moment. ‘General Junot, I have the pleasure of offering you the command of the newly formed Army of the Gironde. Do you accept?’

Junot smiled broadly. ‘It would be an honour, sire. I thank you with all my heart.What are my orders?’

‘You will have them in good time. Suffice to say, you will in all probability be enjoying the sights of Lisbon before the year is out.’

‘Lisbon?’ Junot’s eyes widened. ‘You mean to attack Portugal, sire?’

Napoleon frowned. ‘Lower your voice! There are foreign diplomats ahead of and behind us, including, I might add, the Portuguese ambassador.’

‘I apologise, sire.’

Napoleon dismissed it with a quick wave of his hand. ‘We will talk more on this later, Junot. I just wished to let you know about your appointment. No doubt you are wondering why I picked you.’

‘It had crossed my mind, sire.’

‘You have proved to be a good soldier, Junot, and a loyal one. We have known each other since you were my sergeant at Toulon, and I was a mere captain of artillery.’ Napoleon glanced out of the carriage window. ‘It seems so long ago now.’

The Emperor fell silent and Junot glanced towards Berthier with a questioning look.The chief of staff shrugged faintly.

Napoleon’s gaze fixed on his hands. It was over twelve years since he and Junot had won their spurs in the siege of Toulon. Much had happened between then and now, and suddenly Napoleon felt older than his years. The strength of will and swiftness of mind that had singled him out from his peers as a young man were starting to fade. His once thin face and slender body had been replaced by rounded, overindulged features and a creeping portliness. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of disgust at the changes in his body.Very well, then. If he could stay young in body, he would stay agile in thought. His eyes flashed up towards Berthier.

‘Is everything in hand for the shoot?’