There had also been further confirmation of the conspiracy of Talleyrand and Fouché. Prince Eugène, the Emperor’s stepson, who was acting as his viceroy in Italy, had intercepted another letter to Prince Murat. The imperial crown was offered to Murat in far more explicit terms, together with an assurance that the people of France would be sure to back Murat’s claim, even if Napoleon was not killed in Spain. Napoleon had felt the rage rising in him like a fire as he read Eugène’s message. It was not that he felt surprised by their treachery. It was more to do with their ingratitude. Fouché and Talleyrand owed their high office, their titles and their wealth to Napoleon. It was he who had recognised their talents and raised them up to their current stations. Now they repaid him with treachery.

Looking out of his carriage window Napoleon studied the faces of the people he passed in the street. Most had stopped to watch the small procession of gaudily uniformed escorts and the gilded carriage pass by, and some had cheered when they saw the imperial crest on the door. But most had remained silent, their faces expressionless as they stared at their Emperor. It was a cold morning but even allowing for that Napoleon felt an icy tingle trace its way down his spine as he contemplated the mood of his people.

Once he reached the Tuileries he summoned his brother Lucien and strode anxiously up and down the length of his office until he arrived.

‘Your majesty.’ Lucien bowed his head. ‘It is good to see you again.’

‘The door is closed,’ said Napoleon. ‘You can dispense with the formalities, brother.’

Lucien cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, that is an interesting development. You must be more concerned about the situation than I thought.’

‘How concerned should I be?’

‘There is no immediate threat of open revolt. To be sure, Talleyrand carries the support of much of the nation. The people want peace, Napoleon, and we still don’t have it. Can you wonder that they might want a change? Particularly in view of events in Spain.’

‘The conquest of Spain is all but complete,’ Napoleon replied irritably. ‘We have beaten their armies.We have driven the British from the Peninsula. All that remains is for Joseph to mop up a handful of rebels in Seville and all is done.’

Lucien nodded faintly. ‘So you say. However, there are reports reaching Paris that the common people of Spain are anything but conquered. They harry our men from every point of concealment and the writ of the new King carries no further than the nearest French garrison.’

‘Those who say such things are liars. Worse than liars, traitors.’

‘If that’s the case, then perhaps there are rather more traitors in France than you might like.’ Lucien smiled slightly. ‘Sorry, Napoleon, but you have to know these things.’