‘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.’