Текст книги "Fire and Sword"
Автор книги: Simon Scarrow
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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 44 страниц)
Chapter 40
‘His majesty insists on being referred to as King Ferdinand VII of Spain,’ the chamberlain informed Napoleon anxiously.
‘Does he now?’ Napoleon muttered as he smiled politely at the uninspiring figure seated opposite him. The claimant to the Spanish throne was a corpulent young man in his mid-twenties. His eyes were large and dark and his hair was thick and wiry. He wore a fine silk coat, encrusted with bejewelled stars and ribbons of several noble orders. His lips were thick and coarse-looking. He was the very image of his mother, Napoleon had been told, and he repressed a shudder at the thought of ever encountering her.
Ferdinand and Napoleon were meeting in the largest hall in the Emperor’s château, as befitted their status. In accordance with the instructions of the Spanish protocol official, a dais had been set up for Ferdinand, large enough to accommodate a gold-leafed chair for the man who would be king. Napoleon’s courtiers had arranged for another dais to be positioned opposite with an even more ornate chair, and steps slightly higher than those of the Spanish dais so that Napoleon might look down on his guest. Behind each of them stood the ornately dressed courtiers of their respective retinues.
Napoleon waved the chamberlain aside and bowed his head. ‘Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, I bid you welcome to Bayonne.’
Ferdinand’s lips compressed into a tight grimace for a moment before he relaxed and spoke in accented French.‘I am Prince no longer, but King, proclaimed by my people, following the abdication of my father, and the consent of the Madrid junta.’
‘Of course, your highness,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘Under normal circumstances that would be sufficient authority for the title you lay claim to. But the circumstances are far from normal, which is why we are meeting here today. I am sure that the details will be resolved satisfactorily in the days to come. Meanwhile, it will be more agreeable to all if you restrict yourself to the rank of prince.’
Ferdinand did not reply immediately and glared stupidly at his host, as if waiting for him to retract the comment. At length he cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘As you please, your majesty. For now I will revert to my previous title. But I am King, and I will be until almighty God deigns otherwise. Only out of respect for you do I make this temporary concession.’
‘I thank you.’ Napoleon nodded graciously. ‘Now then, we are told that there is some dispute between you and your father over who is the legitimate King of Spain.’
‘There is no dispute,’ Ferdinand interrupted. ‘My father abdicated in my favour. In front of these witnesses.’ He waved a hand at the Spanish noblemen behind him on the dais.‘Every one of them will attest to that. Therefore, I am King, regardless of how you, or anyone else, might choose to address me.’
‘Alas, there are those in Spain, and elsewhere, who deny that you have any right to the title. Your father claims that he was forced to abdicate under duress. If that is proved then the abdication is not legal.’
‘He lies,’ Ferdinand replied bitterly. ‘As I said, there were witnesses.’
‘Who are hardly impartial,’ Napoleon countered. ‘We shall investigate the matter thoroughly, my dear Prince. I am deeply concerned to resolve the divisions that beset our Spanish neighbours.’
‘No doubt that is why so many French soldiers have descended on Spanish soil.To help us.’ Ferdinand could not help sneering a little as he continued. ‘I trust they will be removed the moment the crisis is over and I am duly crowned King of Spain.’
‘I give you my word that my soldiers will be withdrawn at the earliest opportunity.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘When my military operations in Portugal, and against Gibraltar, are concluded.’
‘And what if I ordered you to withdraw your men at once?’
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, withoutyour 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.’
‘Yes, your majesty. As we agreed, in the interests of Spain it would be best to delay your return to the throne for a while, at least until the situation is resolved.’
‘Really?’ Charles frowned.
Fouché dipped the pen into the ink again and held it out to Charles. ‘Sire?’
‘I’m not sure that I should abdicate. I don’t think it is the right thing to do.’
‘It is the only thing you can do for the moment,’ Napoleon said soothingly. ‘And it’s only a temporary arrangement. Please sign. Just here.’ He tapped the blank space awaiting a signature. ‘At least you will have given the crown up without duress. It will help to smooth Murat’s way to re-establishing order.’
Once again Charles took the pen. He signed quickly and eased himself away from the table.
‘It is done.’
‘Thank you, sire.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘You won’t live to regret this, I assure you.’ He handed the signed documents to Fouché, who placed them back in his case and began to fasten the straps. ‘Now, I think it is time that we re-joined the womenfolk and stopped speaking of politics.’ He rose from his chair and took Charles’s arm, helping him up and guiding him towards the door. ‘I will join you shortly.’
‘Good, good,’ Charles mumbled. ‘About time we sat down and talked, over a glass of brandy.’
‘Yes, of course, sire.’ Napoleon eased the old man out of the room and closed the door behind him. At once he turned to Fouché. ‘Keep that document safe.’
‘Yes, sire. I will.’
‘Now then,’ Napoleon smiled. ‘We need to get to work on Ferdinand.’
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed a quarter past two. All was quiet within the house and the only noise from outside was the occasional crunch of gravel as a sentry passed by. Napoleon sat alone in the room with Ferdinand.There was a small table between them with an inkwell and a pen. The Spanish Prince had been summoned at midnight and Napoleon had waited impatiently for him to arrive, and then handed him the document Charles had signed attacking his actions. When Ferdinand had finished reading he lowered the statement with a quick raise of his eyebrows.
‘The old man does not hold any of his anger back.’
‘No,’ Napoleon responded coldly.‘Nor would I if I had received such treatment from you. This document is going to be copied to every capital in Europe. Soon all will know how you came to steal his crown.’
‘It would have been mine in the long run,’ Ferdinand countered. ‘Besides, if I had waited much longer the people would have risen up and taken the crown from him, and then we would have had a full-blown revolution on our hands.And we know where that leads. I would spare my people such terror, and tyranny.’
Napoleon ignored the gibe. ‘It is true that you might have acted for the good of the people. It is equally true that you might have acted out of naked ambition and a hunger for power.That is for people to decide for themselves. Either way, you cannot command the respect of other nations while your assumption of the crown is shrouded in confusion and suspicion over its legality.’
Ferdinand shrugged helplessly. ‘So what am I to do?’
‘You must return the crown to your father and apologise, in writing, for what you have done.’
‘No.That is not possible.’
Napoleon smiled. ‘You have little choice, your highness. If you are permitted to seize power in the manner that you have, you will have set a precedent. What if every royal prince thought to emulate you? No ruler would be able to sleep. Nations would be paralysed by fear, Spain most of all. I tell you, Ferdinand, you would forever be jumping at shadows, until the day when the conspirators came for you. And on that day there will be no Marshal Murat and his soldiers to save you from the wrath of the mob.’
Ferdinand pondered for a moment and then opened his hands. ‘So what am I to do?’
‘You must return the crown to the King and then wait your proper time to inherit the throne. It will come soon enough. Charles is old and weak. When he is no more, then you will have your crown, legally and without recrimination from any royal court in Europe.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘There is one other thing,’ Napoleon said evenly.‘You must apologise for your treatment of the King.’
‘Apologise?’ Ferdinand’s eyes widened. ‘Never.’
‘You must. Your recent actions will not be forgotten. Would you want people to still regard you with suspicion and misgiving when the time comes for you to assume the crown? There must be some act of contrition first.You must issue a public apology and return the crown.’
‘What if I refuse to do either?’
Napoleon stared at him a moment before continuing in a low, menacing voice. ‘You cannot refuse. I will not permit it. I could easily place you under arrest and keep you here until you renounce the throne. I might even try you for treason, on your father’s behalf, and have you shot.’
Ferdinand’s jaw dropped in astonishment for a moment before he recovered and shook his head. ‘You cannot threaten me.’
‘No? Why not? You threatened your father into signing a document. Why should I not do the same to you?’
‘But you would not cause harm to me.You would not dare.’
‘What makes you so certain?’ Napoleon asked curiously. ‘I have sent far better men than you to their deaths and slept well for it.’
There was a long pause. At last, Napoleon produced a statement Fouché had copied earlier in a fair hand. ‘Sign this.’
‘What is it?’ Ferdinand asked suspiciously.
‘Your announcement that you are returning the crown to your father with immediate effect, and your apology for having wrongfully usurped the throne.’
Ferdinand laughed. ‘You are not serious! I cannot sign that. I will not.’
‘You must.’
‘No.’
‘Sign it!’ Napoleon snapped.‘Sign it now, or suffer the consequences.’
He flipped the lid of the inkwell open, dipped the pen in and thrust it towards Ferdinand. ‘Sign it! Or I swear you will suffer.’
Ferdinand sat quite still for a moment, his face fixed in an agonised expression as he stared at the pen, and then at Napoleon as if beseeching him to change his mind. But Napoleon held firm and said nothing, and returned his look with cold, hard eyes. At length Ferdinand hesitantly reached out and took the pen. Leaning forward, over the statement, he began to sign in a slow, trembling hand.As soon as he had raised the pen from the paper, Napoleon took the document away and laid it on the floor next to his chair to allow the ink to dry.
‘It is done. Now you may go.’
Ferdinand bit his lip. ‘You guarantee that there will be no revenge taken by my father?’
‘I can guarantee it.’
‘I have your word on that?’
‘You have my word.Your father will not cause you, or any of your supporters, any harm.’
Ferdinand nodded, and rose from his seat.‘Very well, then. I bid your majesty good night.’
He turned away and paced wearily across the room, and closed the door quietly behind him. Napoleon’s lips slowly curled into a smile, then he reached down and picked up the signed statement. Turning towards a partion doorway, he called out, ‘Fouché!’
The door opened at once and Fouché entered the room.
‘You heard?’
‘Every word, sire.’
‘He crumbled more quickly than I had anticipated. A disappointing young man, in almost every respect. Still, we have all we need now.Take this confession and have it published along with Charles’s attack on his son, and his abdication, in every newspaper in Paris and Madrid.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Fouché took the proffered document. ‘Will that be all?’
‘Yes. It is done. So falls the Spanish house of Bourbon,’ Napoleon said with quiet satisfaction.
