Napoleon shook his head. ‘Wellington is not strong enough to launch an invasion. He has no more than a fifth of the number of men available to you. Besides, I think you overrate his ability. He is the same as all the other British generals - too cautious to cause us much trouble. He cannot afford to lose any men. The longer the war goes on, the more certainly the English army will be frittered away. Besides, he lacks the experience of my marshals. Before he arrived in Portugal he commanded very modest forces out in India. I hardly think that a general of sepoys would be capable of besting the commanders of the finest army in Europe.’
‘Yet that is precisely what Wellington has done,’ Joseph countered. ‘He has beaten Junot, Jourdan, Soult and now Massйna. He is a man to be reckoned with.’
‘As I said, you overrate him. I have read the reports of those battles Wellington claims as his victories. He did not win them, he simply allowed our commanders to lose them through their recklessness. That is all. Hardly a firm basis upon which to build such a reputation as you would ascribe to him, Joseph. I tell you he can, and will, be beaten.’
‘Then why don’t you test yourself against him?’ Joseph stared at his brother intently. ‘The Army of Spain needs you, Napoleon. The men’s spirits are low. They have suffered too many reverses at the hands of that cursed English fox and their nerves are worn down by the bands of peasants that dog them wherever they march. The men are a long way from France, from home, and they can see no end to the war they wage in the Peninsula. They say that they have been forgotten by their Emperor.’
‘Forgotten?’ Napoleon exhaled irritably. ‘Who do they think sends the convoys of gold to keep them paid? Do I not make them plenty of awards for bravery and fine performances? Well?’
‘It is not enough. They need you to lead them. To fill their hearts with inspiration once again. Then we could be sure of crushing Wellington once and for all. After that the Spanish will give up the fight and we will have peace.’
Napoleon considered his brother’s words for a moment. He did not deny it was tempting to teach his marshals in Spain that the redcoats were not invincible, as some of them seemed inclined to believe. But then, defeating Wellington would hardly be an achievement worthy of him, he concluded.
‘Joseph, I cannot afford to leave Paris. There are matters here that demand my attention.’
‘More than settling the issue in Spain?’
‘Even more important than that.’ Napoleon turned and continued walking along the path between the flowerbeds, head down and hands clasped behind his back. He had grown heavy from taking too little exercise in the past year and after a moment the discomfort of his arms pressing round his portly body made him release his hands and fold them across his chest instead. Joseph took a few quick steps to resume his place at his brother’s side. They walked in silence for a moment, and the only sounds were the gravel that crunched under their boots, the occasional cry of a peacock, and the laughter and faint snatches of high-spirited conversation of the Empress and her coterie. High above, puffy clouds floated across the sky, serene and unblemished.
‘It is a fine day,’ Joseph said. ‘I had almost forgotten that a man could feel peace like this. It has been such a long time. I would give up the Spanish throne in an instant - if I was permitted to.’
‘You shall do no such thing,’ Napoleon responded without looking up. ‘I have already removed one brother from a throne. I dare not risk the same happening to another Bonaparte. You will remain in Spain, on the throne, and we will win the war there.’
‘And if we don’t win? If we can’t win? Then what? You would leave me there to be torn apart by the mob? Have you not read of what they do to the French officers they capture? Why, the bastards sawed one of our generals in half, and they boiled another alive. Can you imagine that?’ Joseph shook his head in horror. ‘We should cut our losses and abandon Spain completely. That’s my advice, brother.’
‘And that is why you are not Emperor,’ Napoleon replied curtly.‘You lack the necessary appreciation of the wider situation. Spain is but one theatre of war. However, what happens there influences the rest of Europe. If you fail me in Spain, then our enemies will be emboldened to defy us elsewhere.’
‘Then find another king. I am finished with Spain.’
‘Another king?’ Napoleon looked at his brother with a bitter expression. ‘Do you imagine that kings grow on trees that I might just pluck down another whenever I wish it?’
‘I find it hard to believe that you will struggle to find any man who would not wish to be a king.’
‘I will struggle to find one whom I can trust implicitly.’ Napoleon cast his arm wide. ‘I am surrounded by ambitious men who would be king, and most of them would betray me without a moment’s thought. Men like Bernadotte. For the moment he relishes the prospect of the crown of Sweden, but how long before he covets my throne?’ He turned and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. ‘That is why I depend on you, Joseph, as I always have. Will you abandon my cause now?’
Joseph did not reply, but stared mutely at his younger brother.
‘My brother.’ Napoleon softened his tone and there was a pleading edge to it when he spoke. ‘Please, I need you. Now as never before.’
Joseph tried to pull away, but Napoleon held his shoulders firmly and refused to let him move. ‘I need to know you are with me.’
‘I must think.’ Joseph glanced down at his brother’s hands. ‘Please, release me.’
Napoleon pursed his lips, then nodded, and his arms fell to his sides. Joseph walked a little further and then sat down on a bench. Napoleon joined him. For a while neither spoke, until Joseph broke the silence.
‘You made me King of Spain, yet the marshals of the Army of Spain refuse to obey my orders. When I have issued commands to them they refer to Paris for permission to carry the orders out. Some have openly said that they will only answer to you, Napoleon. Soult does not even reply to my letters.’
‘They are only carrying out their orders.’
‘Your orders. So you don’t trust me to rule my own kingdom, then?’
‘You are a fine administrator,’ Napoleon said patiently. ‘But you have had little chance to develop your military skills. I decided that it would be most effective to entrust the governance of Spain to you, and the command of my troops there to experienced soldiers. Besides, I have certain plans for the northern provinces of Spain.’
Joseph stared at him. ‘Plans? What plans?’
‘France needs secure frontiers,’ Napoleon explained. ‘It is my intention to annex the territory to the south of the Pyrenees. It will provide me with secure routes into Spain, and it will remove some of the burden from you.’
‘I see.’ Joseph shook his head sadly.‘And you did not think to consult me over this . . . small matter?’
Napoleon pressed his lips together briefly. He was pricked by guilt, and then a wave of self-justification swept the sentiment away. Had he not given his brother every privilege and opportunity that he now enjoyed? Had he not placed Joseph on the throne himself? Had he not given him ample military power to enforce his rule and bring peace to the turbulent Spaniards? What had Joseph given him in return? Incompetence and failure.
‘I am not obliged to refer my decisions to anyone. If I choose to seek advice then I will. In any case, I need to secure peace in Spain as swiftly as possible. So far you, and my marshals, have failed me. Which is all the more galling bearing in mind that I have provided you with such rich rewards.’
‘The Spanish throne is not a reward, it is a curse.’