‘Seems that you are the saviour of the nation, my love.’

Napoleon leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, prompting a fresh roar of approval from the crowds. They both laughed and Napoleon lifted his hat and raised it high.

‘I promised them victory and now they have it.’

‘Yes.’ Josephine nodded. ‘But the taste of victory will fade soon enough.The people tire of war.’

‘Nonsense!’ Napoleon flashed a frown at her.‘As long as war provides them with glory and spoils then I can lead the people anywhere.To the ends of the earth, if I should wish it.’

Josephine noted his tone and thought better of continuing that line of conversation. Instead she turned to the side and bowed her head serenely towards a group of veterans sitting on a wagon on the corner of a street leading off the procession route. Some had patches over their eyes. Others had lost limbs or were horribly disfigured, and yet they cheered as lustily as the people around them.

The procession passed across the Carrousel and through the wrought-iron gates that surrounded the entrance to the Tuileries palace. The Emperor’s carriage drew up in front of the steps that led up to the palace doors and footmen rushed to put in place a set of steps before opening the carriage door and bowing low. The emperor stepped out, and turned to offer his hand to his wife as she descended to join him. Then they steadily made their way up the steps, between the grenadiers forming a guard of honour on either side, and paused at the doors for one last wave to the crowds packing the Carrousel square before disappearing inside.

The following morning, with Paris unusually quiet as its people slept off the celebrations that had lasted long into the night, Napoleon held a meeting in his private office in the Tuileries. He sat at the head of a small table and tapped his fingers impatiently. Talleyrand sat to his left and Fouché to his right, and the chair opposite Napoleon was empty.

‘How dare Lucien be late,’ he muttered.

Talleyrand smiled. ‘Your brother is a man of the people, sire. I imagine he celebrated your achievements with the same spirit as the rest of Paris.’

‘Be that as it may, he should know better than to keep his Emperor waiting.’

‘Indeed, sire,’ said Fouché with a faint smile. ‘It is disrespectful.’

The door to the office opened and a footman bowed his head as Lucien entered, looking flushed but happy. ‘My apologies, brother! My coachman is nowhere to be found and I had to come on foot.’

‘Never mind,’ Napoleon responded tersely. ‘Sit down.’

Once Lucien was settled, Napoleon leaned back in his gilded chair and folded his hands together under his chin. ‘Gentlemen, you are my closest advisers. The reason I have summoned you here is to discuss what happens next. Despite our successes, we have work to do.’