Fire and Sword (66 page)
Authors: Simon Scarrow
There was a sharp intake of breath from some of the officials behind the Emperor. Napoleon paused and then spoke very deliberately. ‘I would find that difficult to accomplish, your highness. If it were not for Marshal Murat there would be chaos in Madrid and the streets would run with blood. Our soldiers are there out of concern for the well-being of your people. I could not begin to contemplate the horrors that would ensue if I gave the order for my men to withdraw from Spain during the present crisis. So there they must stay, for the present.’
‘Some might call them an army of occupation,’ Ferdinand countered. ‘That is what the British newspapers are saying.’
Napoleon felt his stomach clench in anger and he had to take a deep breath to steady his temper before he continued.‘The British lie in this, as in all things.You should pay no heed to their twisted words.They are as much your enemies as my own. My soldiers entered Spain with the full permission of your father. You have nothing to fear from their presence. After all, have not the French and Spanish shed their blood side by side in fighting Britain for many years now?’
‘That is true, but only because that vile worm Godoy was bought with French gold and used his silver tongue to mislead my mother and father into obeying his every whim. I have always doubted the wisdom of the alliances Godoy made with France. They have invariably been one-sided, and very costly to Spanish interests. I shudder to think how many warships have been lost, how many men have been lost, thanks to the treaties Godoy made with France. But now Godoy is gone, your majesty. He can no longer betray his country and serve your interests. Those days are over. I will lead Spain into a glorious new age,
without
your assistance.’
without
your assistance.’
‘I see.’ Napoleon nodded slowly. ‘It seems we understand one another’s positions well enough. I will need to confer with my ministers before we speak on these matters again. Meanwhile, your highness, you and your companions are free to enjoy the pleasures that Bayonne has to offer. We will meet again, soon, and discuss your claim to the throne in more detail.’
Napoleon rose from his chair and bowed briefly before he descended from the dais and left the room, his staff bowing their heads until he was out of sight, and then filing out as well, leaving the chamber to the Spaniards. Ferdinand turned round to face his retinue with a broad smile. ‘There! I told you the Emperor would not dare to defy me!’
The members of his retinue nodded their agreement with little conviction and darted nervous glances after the French.
Outside, Napoleon gestured to Fouché to follow him and marched to his private study, head down and hands clasped behind his back to hide his thunderous mood from those he passed by. Once the door was closed behind them Napoleon gave vent to his temper.
‘Just who does that fat bastard think he is?’
Fouché coolly raised his eyebrows. ‘I rather assumed he thinks himself to be the King of Spain, sire.’
‘That arrogant fool? You heard him, Fouché. He means to throw his lot in with the British the moment the last of our soldiers quits Spain.’
‘He did not say that precisely, sire.’
‘It was clear enough to me.We cannot afford to let him stay on the throne. There is no question of it. Ferdinand must be persuaded, or forced, to renounce the crown.’
‘Even if he is, sire, I do not see how Charles can remain in power without our protection, and then we will share the hatred of his people in full measure.’
‘No. Neither of them is fit to be King,’ Napoleon reflected. ‘And I dare say neither of them will be willing to abandon their claim to the crown.This is going to require some deft handling.’
Charles and Marie-Louise arrived two days later. Their carriage and retinue had been escorted from the border by a regiment of Napoleon’s finest cavalry. Entire villages and towns turned out to watch the cavalcade pass and wave to Charles and his wife as though they were still the King and Queen of Spain. Their arrival at Bayonne was greeted with a deep boom at regular intervals as the artillery of the Imperial Guard welcomed them with a sixty-gun salute. The carriage rumbled down streets lined with guardsmen standing at attention, before finally turning into the courtyard where Napoleon and his two regal brothers were waiting.
The carriage ground to a halt and steps were hastily set in place as a footman opened the door. Charles heaved himself awkwardly out on to the steps, with the support of the footman. He was a large man, and Napoleon could instantly see where the son had got his appetite from. Charles smiled at his host with a kindly expression and then turned as his wife descended from the carriage. She was every bit as ugly as Napoleon had feared and combined severely masculine features with a furrowed brow that betrayed a fiery temper.
Napoleon descended all but the last step of the château and bowed. ‘I trust the journey was comfortable.’
‘Oh?’ Charles raised his eyebrows and then thought a moment before nodding. ‘Comfortable, well, yes. I suppose it was.’
His wife snorted with derision.‘It was a long journey on rough roads and I’m heartily glad it’s over! Still, it is better than living under house arrest.’ She fixed her beady eyes on Napoleon. ‘We were living in a virtual prison. Can you imagine that? It seems we have raised a treacherous viper in the bosom of our family. Once this is over, we’ll banish him for life, at the very least,’ she added in an ominous tone.‘And then we will see to all his supporters.’
Napoleon bowed graciously before her. ‘You must be the radiant Marie-Louise.Your beauty does not do justice to the reports I have had of you, madam.’
Marie-Louise stared at him with narrowed eyes as she wondered if she was being mocked, but Napoleon kept his expression neutral, even as Charles looked at him in surprise. Napoleon bent low, took her hand and kissed it. On cue, there was a ripple of applause from his officers and Marie-Louise beamed delightedly.
‘It seems we are amongst friends, Charles, my dear.’
‘Friends? Oh, good.’ He smiled and beamed happily.‘I have so missed having friends.’
‘If you would come with me.’ Napoleon gestured up the steps.‘I have arranged a modest reception for you.’
Inside the château’s ballroom a table laden with delicacies and decanters of the finest wines stood at one end. A large crowd of dignitaries and officers in their finest uniforms parted to permit the Emperor and his guests to enter the centre of the room. The small retinue of the former King and Queen of Spain followed and assumed a haughty air in front of the curious gaze of their hosts. Napoleon clapped his hands together to attract attention.When every eye was on him, he quietly cleared his throat and addressed the crowd.
‘All France welcomes Charles and Marie-Louise of the house of Bourbon. It is our fervent wish that we may be able to help Spain overcome the division and dissent that has plagued her in recent months. But for now, we will celebrate your arrival and help you to forget the rigours of the journey that brought you to Bayonne.’
From a gallery, hidden by a great tapestry, a small orchestra struck up the Spanish national anthem and Napoleon began to introduce his senior officers and officials to Charles and his wife.
Later, when night had fallen outside and all the guests had long since departed from the ballroom, Napoleon met Charles and Fouché in a small private sitting room with doors and windows that overlooked the geometrically perfect flowerbeds of the château’s garden. His sister Caroline, together with the wives of some of the generals, had led Marie-Louise off to a picturesque orangery in the grounds to be entertained by an opera singer from Paris, while Napoleon dealt with Charles alone.
‘I must say, it is most good of you to step in to sort this ghastly business out,’ Charles began affably. ‘You’re not quite the tyrant that some of your enemies make you out to be.’
‘Really? That is good to know.’ Napoleon smiled warmly. ‘It is a shame that there are those who mistake my motives. But who can blame them, with all the lies that are spread by British agents?’
Charles frowned. ‘I have to confess that my own son was easily misled by such devils. Truly, the British will stop at nothing to undermine every royal house in Europe.’
‘Sadly, you are right,’ Napoleon said solemnly. ‘And the Spanish Bourbons are no exception.Why, when I spoke to your son, he was little more than a mouthpiece for Britain, and damned your alliance with France as the work of a fool and a madman.’
Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘He said that? Of me?’
Napoleon nodded with a pained expression. ‘I wish it was not true, but . . .’ He gestured helplessly, and watched as his words worked their way on the weak-minded Spanish ruler.
Charles’s lips trembled with rage as his jaws worked furiously. ‘That damned boy! Always was ambitious, and treacherous as a snake. To turn on his own father. And his King!’ Charles fixed his watery eyes on Napoleon. ‘He must not be allowed to be King. I will not permit it.’
‘Ah, you see, there’s the problem,’ Napoleon responded with feigned embarrassment.
Charles frowned. ‘Problem? What do you mean?’
‘Well, I don’t mean to sound defeatist. As far as France is concerned you are the King of Spain.Those others who forced you to abdicate are clearly traitors.The problem is that they have managed to persuade most of your people to believe their lies. I fear it may already be too late to undo such villainy.’
‘Too late?’ Charles looked pained. ‘But I must have my crown back. For the good of my people.’
‘Naturally. But the reality of the moment is that it would not be good for your people if you were to return to the throne. Later, perhaps, when Spain has had the opportunity to forget these troubled times.’
Charles leaned forward anxiously. ‘But who will rule Spain? We cannot let Ferdinand remain on the throne.’
‘Indeed not,’ Napoleon agreed firmly. ‘He must be deposed at once. After that, I suggest that Marshal Murat is permitted to oversee the government for a limited period before we prepare the way for your majesty to return.That would seem like the best way to proceed.’
‘Yes . . . yes, I suppose so,’ Charles muttered as he gently rubbed his forehead, and nudged his wig slightly off centre so that his head looked unbalanced. ‘You are right.’
‘I am glad that you think so, your majesty. In which case I have taken the liberty of having two despatches drawn up for you to consider.’ Napoleon nodded at Fouché and the latter lifted a folder from his lap and passed it to the Emperor. Flipping it open, Napoleon took out two sheets of neatly written prose and glanced through the first.
‘This is a statement condemning the actions of Ferdinand, and stating quite clearly that he and his followers threatened you with violence in order to force you to abdicate. It says that you condemn him utterly for this course of action and wish to expose before the whole of Europe that Ferdinand is a usurper. Here you are, your majesty.You can read it for yourself.’
Napoleon handed the statement to Charles and sat back as the old man held it at arm’s length. Squinting, Charles read through the document carefully.At length he set it down.‘It is a fair account of what took place. But what is the purpose of this document?’
‘Merely to let the other royal courts of Europe know the truth of what happened so that they are not fooled into recognising your son’s claim to the throne. It will have a limited circulation, your majesty. No point in risking the shame of your family in public.’
‘Quite so!’ Charles nodded emphatically. ‘And I must thank you for being so sensitive.’
‘Not at all. It is the very least I could do.’ Napoleon smiled warmly and then tapped the bottom of the document. ‘All it needs is your signature, your majesty. Fouché, a pen, if you please.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Fouché lifted a small case from beneath his chair and opened it out to reveal a writing pad with an inkwell and several pens in holders. He quickly laid the set down on a small table at Charles’s side and dipped a pen in the inkwell before offering it to the Spaniard. Charles hesitated, and for an instant Napoleon was not sure that he would sign. Then, with a bold flourish, Charles leaned over the letter and printed his signature. As soon as it was done, Fouché whisked the letter away.
‘There,’ Napoleon said encouragingly. ‘It’s done. Now, if we can move on to the second document. It is little more than a minor formality.’
He set it down on the table next to the writing set and sat patiently as Charles examined it painstakingly, at length looking up with a hurt and confused expression. ‘This confirms that I have abdicated.’
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