Napoleon felt their arms slip beneath his shoulders and legs and a moment later he was carefully hoisted off the ground. He grimaced. ‘Does the Empress know?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then don’t tell her. No need to cause her any concern. Let her enjoy the day.’

Joseph nodded.

‘Besides, I don’t want her to see me like this. Weak. If word of this got back to the Austrian court . . .’

‘I understand.’

The little party skirted round some neatly clipped bushes to keep out of sight of the Empress and her guests and made their way through the long glazed doors into Napoleon’s private study. Once he had been placed on the couch he dismissed all the others except Joseph as they waited for his personal surgeon to arrive.

‘Where the hell is he?’ Napoleon groaned.

‘He went for a ride. I’ve sent one of your staff officers after him.’

‘Damn the man.’

Joseph pulled up a small chair and sat beside his brother, and hesitantly patted his shoulder. ‘You need to rest. You look exhausted.’

‘I am exhausted.’ Napoleon breathed deeply, fighting the pain as it began to recede, very slowly. ‘But there’s so much for me to do. All the time.’

‘Indeed.’ Joseph nodded. ‘But you cannot do it all. No man can.’

‘No ordinary man.’

‘Ordinary or extraordinary, you are still just a man,’ Joseph countered. ‘And you must look after yourself. You have a duty to your people, and your family. They need you, Napoleon. Now more than ever.’

Napoleon looked up at his brother with a calculating expression. ‘And I need you, more than ever. In Spain.’

The door to the study opened and the imperial surgeon came hurrying in, flushed from his ride. Joseph rose up and stood aside for him.

‘What happened to his majesty?’

‘I can speak for myself,’ Napoleon grumbled, easing himself up. ‘It’s my stomach.’

‘Again?’ The surgeon felt for his pulse, and while he counted he glanced over his Emperor. ‘Sire, you have not been heeding my advice. You need a rest. We have spoken of this. You must rest, before you work yourself into the grave.’

Napoleon frowned and glanced towards his brother and sniffed. ‘Doctors! Nothing but a pestilence.’

Joseph forced a smile, and Napoleon beckoned to him to come closer, suddenly taking his hand as Joseph reached the couch.

‘Swear to me that you’ll stay in Spain!’

‘What?’ Joseph tried to back away, but his brother’s grip was too tight.

‘Swear to me, now, that you will keep the crown. Swear to me!’ Napoleon stared intently at his brother. ‘I need your answer.’

Joseph lowered his head, and then nodded. ‘I will not give up the throne. There. You have my word.’