Arthur nodded. ‘On the return voyage from India, the best part of fifteen years ago. As I recall, the climate was pleasant and the uplands attractive. There are worse prisons.’ He paused and frowned. ‘It is a shame that Bonaparte did not perish on the field of battle and spare us all the burden of his incarceration. As it is, he has dealt us a tricky hand.’

‘How so, your grace?’

‘While he lives he must be guarded closely. The world cannot afford to let him escape again. At the same time, it will be politically inexpedient to hand him over to those in Europe who clamour for his blood. There are too many English Whigs and radicals amongst his admirers.’

‘ ’Tis true,’ Somerset agreed bitterly.

‘Still, while he is on St Helena, he can do no harm,’ Arthur concluded. ‘Now then, it is time to face General Müffling, I fear.’

Somerset smiled thinly. ‘Shall I send for him, your grace?’

Arthur nodded. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

While Somerset left the study to fetch the Prussian emissary, Arthur glanced round the room, reflecting with some wonder that this had been the room where Bonaparte had dreamed his plans for the fate of Europe less than two months before. Now the dreams had crumbled and other nations could begin to hope that a lasting peace had finally dawned.

The door clicked open and Arthur hurriedly composed his mind as he stood up and nodded a greeting to the Prussian officer. Müffling smiled back as Somerset closed the door and left them alone.

‘Your grace, it is good to see you again,’ Müffling began.

‘And you. Please take a seat.’ Arthur gestured to the chairs on the other side of his desk as he sat down himself.‘I imagine Marshal Blücher has sent you to demand that England hands Bonaparte over to suffer Prussian justice.’

‘Indeed, your grace.’ Müffling pulled out a copy of The Times from inside his jacket and laid it on the desk. ‘It seems that your government is considering offering shelter to the Coriscan tyrant. No doubt that would be a pleasing outcome for those of your countrymen who still admire the enemy of peace. My superiors wish me to convey to you their outrage at such a prospect.’

‘I would share that sentiment, if it were true that England had decided to shelter Bonaparte. The Prime Minister has decided, however, to send Bonaparte to the island of St Helena, some three thousand miles from Europe, where he will be kept under close guard.’

‘To what end?’ Müffling shook his head. ‘So that he may be used, by England, as a diplomatic bargaining counter?’

‘No,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘He is too dangerous a creature to be played with. Bonaparte will remain on the island, isolated from the world, and there he will live out the rest of his days.’