A memory flashed into his mind and he recalled a time when he had led a team of students in a snowball fight at the school he had attended in Brienne. A smile flickered across his lips. That had been a fine day. One of the few pleasurable days he recalled from a childhood spent far from his family; a lone Corsican amongst a crowd of haughty and wealthy boys from the finest families in France. At times they had made his life a torment. And now he was their Emperor. Fate played peculiar games, Napoleon mused. Yet despite all his power and all that he had achieved, he fervently wished that he could be an anonymous young boy once more and run across the square and join those engaged in the snowball fight, heedless of the duties and burdens of his office. The thought filled his heart with an aching sense of loss as he looked at the children and he felt his throat tighten.

‘No,’ he muttered, angry with himself. He turned away from the window and returned to his desk, forcing his mind to fix on the high affairs of state. The Portuguese ruler and his government may have escaped Junot and taken their fleet with them, but their country was now in French hands and their ports would soon be closed to British ships. It was a different situation in Spain, however, where the corruption and incompetence of the government meant that British merchants openly flouted the embargo. The King, Charles IV, and his heir, Ferdinand, were both fools who loathed each other, and were in turn loathed by their people. Both the King and his Queen were under the spell of Manuel Godoy, a nobleman who had once been a mere soldier in the royal guard until he had become the lover of the Queen and been showered with honours and riches.

Napoleon smiled to himself. Godoy’s corruption knew no bounds, and for some years he had secretly been in the pay of the French. It was through Godoy’s influence that French troops had been permitted to march across Spain to reach Portugal, and to leave garrisons in their wake to protect the communications with France. Even now, three small army corps had crossed the border into Spain and were well placed to intervene in Spanish affairs the moment Napoleon gave them their orders. He turned his chair round and stared up at the large map of Europe that hung on the wall behind his desk. His eyes fixed on Spain and he pressed his lips together. Very well then, he decided. The time had come to act.