‘It is too late for that, brother.’ Napoleon moderated his tone as he continued. ‘I made you King. I cannot afford to be seen to have made a mistake. Even if you are right in your fears for the future, I cannot be seen to be less than invincible. The other nations of Europe are like a pack of jackals circling France. The moment they scent weakness they will pounce. If that happens, it will not just be you that falls, it will be all of us, every member of our family, every friend and worthy comrade whom we have rewarded with promotions and titles. France will be returned to the Bourbons and the world will be the exclusive province of aristocrats again. Is that what you would wish for?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Then surely you must see why you have to be King here? If you give way, it will be as the first brick in a dam.’ Napoleon’s eyes glittered as he seized on the metaphor. ‘That is what we are, brother. Bricks in a dam, shielding our people from the dark waters of reactionaries and religious fanatics. It is our duty not to give way. I know you are a good man. I know that you are an idealist, as I am. You will understand the role you must play here in good time.Your people will need you when the rebellion is crushed.You must lead Spain into the modern world. That is a task no Bourbon could undertake.’ Napoleon smiled and clasped his brother’s shoulder. ‘It is a fit task for a Bonaparte, is it not?’

Joseph stared at him for a while in silence and then his shoulders slumped wearily and he nodded.

‘Good! Then it is settled. Come, let us go and eat.’ Napoleon ushered his brother out of the room, and because he went ahead Joseph did not see the look of contempt that hardened the Emperor’s face.

On the fourth day of December the French guns opened fire. A barrage of heavy iron tore holes in the enemy’s flimsy barricades, smashing those sheltering behind. One by one the guns in the batteries covering the capital’s gateways were silenced as they were struck and dismounted in an explosion of splinters and slivers of iron that sliced through the gun crews. Once Madrid’s outer defences had been pulverised, a column of French troops forced their way on to the Heights of Retiro that dominated the city. Several batteries of guns were moved up to the Heights and trained on the heart of Madrid. But there was no need to open fire. Before sufficient ammunition had been brought forward to begin the bombardment, a deputation of Madrid’s councillors approached the French lines under a flag of truce to surrender. The junta had already fled, the moment they had seen the French guns being wheeled into position.