Chapters (61)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Chapter 1 - Napoleon
- Chapter 2 - April 1805
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4 - Arthur
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6 - Napoleon
- Chapter 7 - Paris, September 1805
- Chapter 8 - Strasbourg, 24 September 1805
- Chapter 9 - Ulm, 16 October 1805
- Chapter 10 - Arthur
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13 - Napoleon
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15 - Austerlitz, 2 December 1805
- Chapter 16 - Arthur
- Chapter 17 - Hastings, February 1806
- Chapter 18 - Dublin, April 1806
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20 - Napoleon
- Chapter 21 - Bamberg, 7 October 1806
- Chapter 22 - Jena, 13 October 1806
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24 - Warsaw, January 1807
- Chapter 25 - Eylau, 8 February 1807
- Chapter 26 - Arthur
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28 - Dublin, April 1807
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31 - Napoleon
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34 - Arthur
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38 - Napoleon
- Chapter 39 - Pamplona, February 1808
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42 - Arthur
- Chapter 43 - Mondego Bay, Portugal, 30 July 1808
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47 - Napoleon
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50 - Arthur
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52 - Napoleon
- Chapter 53 - Arthur
- Chapter 54 - Napoleon
- Chapter 55 - Arthur
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Author’s Note
‘Does he now?’ Napoleon muttered as he smiled politely at the uninspiring figure seated opposite him. The claimant to the Spanish throne was a corpulent young man in his mid-twenties. His eyes were large and dark and his hair was thick and wiry. He wore a fine silk coat, encrusted with bejewelled stars and ribbons of several noble orders. His lips were thick and coarse-looking. He was the very image of his mother, Napoleon had been told, and he repressed a shudder at the thought of ever encountering her.
Ferdinand and Napoleon were meeting in the largest hall in the Emperor’s château, as befitted their status. In accordance with the instructions of the Spanish protocol official, a dais had been set up for Ferdinand, large enough to accommodate a gold-leafed chair for the man who would be king. Napoleon’s courtiers had arranged for another dais to be positioned opposite with an even more ornate chair, and steps slightly higher than those of the Spanish dais so that Napoleon might look down on his guest. Behind each of them stood the ornately dressed courtiers of their respective retinues.
Napoleon waved the chamberlain aside and bowed his head. ‘Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, I bid you welcome to Bayonne.’
Ferdinand’s lips compressed into a tight grimace for a moment before he relaxed and spoke in accented French.‘I am Prince no longer, but King, proclaimed by my people, following the abdication of my father, and the consent of the Madrid junta.’
‘Of course, your highness,’ Napoleon conceded. ‘Under normal circumstances that would be sufficient authority for the title you lay claim to. But the circumstances are far from normal, which is why we are meeting here today. I am sure that the details will be resolved satisfactorily in the days to come. Meanwhile, it will be more agreeable to all if you restrict yourself to the rank of prince.’
Ferdinand did not reply immediately and glared stupidly at his host, as if waiting for him to retract the comment. At length he cleared his throat and shrugged. ‘As you please, your majesty. For now I will revert to my previous title. But I am King, and I will be until almighty God deigns otherwise. Only out of respect for you do I make this temporary concession.’
‘I thank you.’ Napoleon nodded graciously. ‘Now then, we are told that there is some dispute between you and your father over who is the legitimate King of Spain.’
‘There is no dispute,’ Ferdinand interrupted. ‘My father abdicated in my favour. In front of these witnesses.’ He waved a hand at the Spanish noblemen behind him on the dais.‘Every one of them will attest to that. Therefore, I am King, regardless of how you, or anyone else, might choose to address me.’