Joseph laughed, and after glancing round at the shocked expressions on the faces of the women, Napoleon joined in.
Even Lucien smiled at the remark. ‘You have the measure of that man, brother.’
They raised their glasses to each other and took another draught of wine.
Letizia cleared her throat. ‘Of course, it is very fine that you provide such rewards for talented men, but how can you ensure that they will remain loyal to the new order? Can you trust men who would be so easily dazzled by the baubles you offer them?’
‘Of course, Mother. What greater spur to loyalty is there than the prospect of reward for good service?’
‘Family,’ she replied at once.‘There is no greater bond of loyalty than blood.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘And that is why I must elevate my family and friends to high positions in France, and in time place them amongst the ruling houses of the European powers, and perhaps on thrones of their own.’
‘You cannot be serious.’ Joseph chuckled. ‘You would make me a king?’
‘One day perhaps, and sooner than you might think.’
‘Preposterous!’ Joseph shook his head. ‘I was not born to be a king, any more than Lucien here, or Louis or Jérôme.’
‘I disagree,’ Napoleon replied. ‘Any one of my brothers is worth ten tsars, or any ruler placed on a throne by right of birth. Why, one only needs to look to Britain to see the proof of that. King George is insane, and his heir is an irresponsible libertine. Are there not a hundred, a thousand, better men in Britain with the ability to rule? So, when the time comes, I will make kings of you all.’
‘Whether we wish it or not?’ asked Lucien.
‘I need allies I can trust. As Mother says, what better bond is there than blood? Are you with me?’
Lucien thought for a moment, and shrugged. ‘You are my brother. Of course I am with you. As long as you are no tyrant.’
‘And you, Joseph?’
His older brother grinned and raised his glass. ‘To the bitter end.’
‘The only end I recognise is everlasting glory.’
‘Everlasting?’ Letizia pursed her lips and darted a glance at Josephine. ‘That will only happen if you produce a successor.Without an heir the whole thing falls apart.’
‘There will be an heir,’ Napoleon said firmly. ‘It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Time is very much the issue,’ his mother said. ‘You have been married for over ten years now. Josephine, remind me. How old are you?’
The Empress winced but did not reply as Letizia leaned towards her and tapped her finger on the table. ‘Forty-two, I seem to recall. Am I right?’
Josephine nodded.
‘Well, forgive me, my dear, but isn’t that a little late for child-bearing? ’
Napoleon rushed to his wife’s defence. ‘Older women have given birth to healthy children, Mother. There’s still time.’
Josephine stared at him across the table and said flatly,‘Older women? Thank you.’
‘You must have an heir,’ Letizia insisted.
‘And I will. Josephine has borne two healthy children—’
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘And she will produce more.’
‘When?’ Letizia asked sharply.
‘When the time is right, Mother.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘She will,’ Napoleon countered fiercely, although he knew in his heart that there was little chance of it.
‘She has to, if she is to justify being the wife of the Emperor of France.’
‘That is enough!’ Josephine banged her hand down on the table, startling the others into silence. ‘I will not be spoken of in this manner. Do you understand? I will not. Tell her, Napoleon.’
Napoleon stared back at her, then glanced towards his mother.
Josephine’s lips quivered. ‘I will not take this! What right does she have to speak to me in this manner?’
‘What right?’ Letizia drew her thin frame up in her chair. ‘The right conferred on me by bringing thirteen children into this world, eight of whom have survived. Not just two.’
Josephine glared at her bitterly, then stood up abruptly. ‘Damn you! Damn all you Corsicans!’
She turned and strode towards the door as tears choked her chest. She flung the door open and slammed it behind her. There was a shocked silence, broken by the sound of her footsteps retreating up the corridor.
Caroline glanced round the table and muttered, ‘I always said she wasn’t good enough for Napoleon.’
‘Silence!’ Napoleon snapped at her. ‘You don’t know what you are talking about, you little fool. Is your memory so short? When we arrived in France we were fugitives with no home, no money, no influence. Josephine was the wife of a count, the confidante of the most powerful politicians in the capital, and men lost their hearts to her.Yet she chose me for her husband.When I could barely afford the uniform on my back and I was living in a run-down slum. Do you have any idea what that means to me? I adored her. I still do,’ he added quickly. ‘With Josephine I can be myself. When I am surrounded by lesser men and lickspittles, only Josephine offers me honesty and understanding. I owe her my loyalty. And my love. So don’t you dare try to come between us.’
Caroline shrugged. ‘That’s all very well, but in return she owes you an heir, Napoleon. Where is your child?’
Napoleon’s expression darkened, but before he could respond his mother cut in.
‘Does it matter? That woman is clearly too old for child-bearing. There is only one solution to the problem and the sooner you face up to that the better, my son.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘I will not do it. I will not.’
‘Not now, perhaps. But regardless of your feelings for her, you have an obligation to your people. There must be an imperial successor.’ Letizia wagged a finger at him. ‘Sooner or later, you must provide France with an heir to the throne. Especially if you go off to war again and place yourself in danger.’
‘Danger?’ Napoleon laughed. ‘Mother, have you not heard? I lead a charmed life.’
‘Your luck will not last for ever.’
‘Why not?’
Letizia shrugged.‘No man’s luck ever does. I’ve lived long enough to know that. And so you must have an heir.’
‘There will be time enough for that.’ Napoleon emptied his glass and pushed his chair away from the table, signifying that the meal was at an end.‘But first there is the small matter of crushing Britain, once and for all.’
Chapter 4
Arthur
London, September 1805
For Sir Arthur Wellesley the sight of London was welcome and familiar after six months at sea on the voyage from India. It had been almost nine years since he had last set foot in the capital and he could not help rising from his seat and leaning out of the window as the coach clattered to the top of a gentle hill from where there was a fine view of London’s sprawling houses, and glimpses of the gleaming Thames and a forest of masts from the shipping that brought raw materials and luxuries to Britain and carried her manufactured goods across the world.