Staps laughed, then winced and coughed, spraying flecks of blood across Napoleon’s breeches. A minute passed before the pain subsided enough for him to speak again. ‘And you would make an example of me. Living proof of your magnanimity.’
‘Why not? That’s what it is,’ Napoleon replied tersely. ‘I offer you life.’
‘You offer me shame, sire. You offer me the coward’s way out. I would rather die.’
‘Then you are a fool indeed. Where is the logic in choosing death over life?’
‘I did not act from logic, sire, but principle. Where is the value of principle if a man refuses to place his faith in it, come what may?’
Napoleon raised his hands. ‘Enough!’ He paused and took a deep breath before he continued in as calm a tone as he could manage.‘Staps, I must tell you that you have impressed me. You have as much courage as the bravest of my soldiers. I do not want to put an end to a life with as much promise as yours. It would be a waste. All I require is an apology. Here and now. I will not even ask for you to make it in public. Then you can return to your home.’
‘Sire, I am honour bound to tell you that I cannot return home. Not while you live. I do not want your pardon. I only regret having failed in my attempt to kill you.’
‘Then you leave me no choice,’ Napoleon replied in frustration. ‘I must have you executed. But know this, it is by your will that you shall die. If you truly desire death, then death you shall have.’
Staps leaned forward with an earnest expression and a fierce light burned in his eyes. ‘Sire, you must believe that I want to live. I want to live, and find love, and marry and have children, and die in peaceful old age. As do other men. I can assure you I choose death as a last resort.’
‘Then choose life instead, you young fool! I offer it to you, here and now. What more would you have of me?’
Staps leaned back in his chair and was silent a moment before he continued in a flat tone. ‘I will choose life, if you promise to free the German states. If you swear, by all that is holy to you, to end your wars in Europe.’ Staps raised his chin. ‘If you agree to that, then I will accept your pardon.’
Napoleon’s jaw sagged for an instant before he recovered from the young man’s hubris. ‘You will accept my pardon? Well, that’s uncommonly generous of you, I must say.’ He turned to Rapp and asked rhetorically, ‘Did you hear that?’
‘I heard, sire. Obviously my lads have failed to beat the spirit out of him. Let me try to teach him some manners, sire.’
‘What is the point? He is mad. Quite mad.’
Staps shook his head. ‘Not mad, sire. What other reasonable course of action is left to a man when he is opposed by such might as you command? I have committed my life to ending yours. Nothing will change that.’
Napoleon sat back and stroked his cheek wearily. He could not help admiring the strength of the young man’s convictions, however much he disagreed with them. The youth was attractive and obviously thoughtful and intelligent. Not so intelligent, however, that he could be swayed by Napoleon’s offer to spare him. It was a tragedy that the qualities that most recommended him were the very ones that now condemned him. Napoleon sighed.
‘Very well, take him away. Have him put in a secure cell and kept under watch. Make sure that he is made comfortable and fed well.’
Rapp looked surprised for an instant before he shrugged and stepped forward to haul the youth to his feet. Grasping him by the arm, the French officer marched him to the door, opened it and thrust him into the hands of the waiting sergeants. When the orders had been given he shut the door and returned to his Emperor, who was staring at the blood-spattered paving slabs under the chair that Staps had been sitting on. At length he looked up at the general.
‘Do you believe him?’
‘Sire?’
‘That he was acting alone?’
‘I don’t know, sire. He says he was.’
Napoleon thought for a moment.‘I cannot believe it. There are other conspirators . . . there must be. Staps is the product of all those secret societies that I am told infest the German states. Men like him are under the influence of religious zealots and political schemers. They make young men into assassins and fill their heads with false ideologies. But how can we fight against false ideas? They cannot be destroyed by cannon balls.’
Rapp pursed his lips. ‘Force has its uses in keeping people under control, sire.’
‘I know that. But it is at best an expedient. We must rule their minds and their hearts if we are to rule without living on the whim of maniacs like Staps.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon stared at the empty chair. He had escaped the knife of an assassin this time, but how many more men like Staps were out there, waiting for their opportunity? If he died now, then that would be an end to any dream of a new dynasty of Bonapartes. The need for an heir was more pressing than ever and Napoleon steeled his heart to do what was necessary the moment he returned to Paris.
‘Sire?’
‘What is it?’
‘What are your orders concerning the prisoner? How long do you want him held?’
‘Held?’ Napoleon frowned. ‘I don’t want him held. Draw up the paperwork for a military court. Have him charged, and convicted, of attempted murder.’
Rapp nodded. ‘Yes, sire. I’ll select the necessary officers in the morning. We can try him straight away.’
‘There’s no need for that. We just need the appearance of a fair trial. Draft the paperwork as soon as you can.’ Napoleon rose from his stool and stretched. ‘Meanwhile, Staps is to be shot. At dawn. Find him an unmarked grave and have the body covered in quicklime. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘I will not permit Friedrich Staps to become a martyr, or his grave to become a shrine. He is to be obliterated. Erased from history.’
Chapter 12
‘Her imperial majesty is not happy with the new arrangements,’ Baron Bausset muttered as he escorted Napoleon up the steps to the chateau. A light rain fell from leaden skies and a keen breeze drove it into the faces of the soldiers and household staff who had formed up to greet the emperor. He had returned from Austria shortly before noon, tired and cold after several days in his carriage. He had sent word to Bausset a few weeks before that all the staircases and doors that linked his apartments with those of the Empress were to be sealed up. In view of the coming confrontation, Napoleon had no wish to provide Josephine with any more access to him than possible. He well knew the hold she had over him. Over the next few weeks he must be strong. He must resist her tears and her pleas. For the good of France, he reminded himself.
Bausset cleared his throat as they reached the top of the curved staircase that led to the entrance.‘Sire, the Empress has asked me repeatedly for an explanation for blocking the access between her apartments and yours.’
‘I can imagine,’ Napoleon replied. ‘What have you told her?’
‘I told her that I was only obeying your orders and had not been informed of the reasons behind your instructions.’
‘Good.’
As he entered the hall, Napoleon paused and undid the buttons of his coat and then eased his shoulders as a footman stepped forward and helped slip it from his back. Napoleon removed his hat and thrust it towards the man as he continued addressing Bausset.
‘Does she know I have returned?’
Bausset paused a moment before replying. ‘I received notice of your arrival some two hours ago, sire. As you instructed, the staff were told not to say anything to her imperial majesty.’
‘Some hope,’ Napoleon sniffed. ‘She’s bound to have a few of them in her pocket. Now then, I need some soup, and some coffee. Send them to my office. Has the fire been made up?’
