‘I am warm enough.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘It pleases me to be at your side.’
‘Really?’ Napoleon shook his head. ‘I suspect you are being kind to me. I should think only soldiers, and those who want to be soldiers, enjoy such parades.’ He leaned closer to her and nodded in the direction of Kurakin and Talleyrand. ‘Others, however, evidently find such occasions a bore.’ Napoleon suddenly released her hand and straightened up. ‘Is that not right, Talleyrand?’
Talleyrand turned quickly, his face wearing its usual neutral expression. ‘Pardon, sire?’
Napoleon rose from his seat and gestured to Marie-Louise. ‘I was explaining to the Empress that not all men feel comfortable in the presence of soldiers. Men like yourself, and Ambassador Kurakin there.’
‘I am not uncomfortable, sire.’ Talleyrand gave the faintest of shrugs. ‘It is just that I find that my tastes, and manner of conversation, have little in common with the sentiments of those in the military.’
‘Is that so?’ Napoleon enquired frostily, then pointed towards Talleyrand’s deformed foot. ‘But for that I am sure you could have served your country in a more useful capacity than you have endured.’
‘I think the word is enjoyed rather than endured, sire.’ Talleyrand bowed his head. ‘In either case, I am sure that soldiers and statesmen alike would prefer to repair to the palace than remain here in the cold.’
‘Soldiers are hardened to such temperatures,’ Napoleon responded with contempt. ‘As are Russians, eh, Kurakin?’
The ambassador nodded. ‘Indeed, sire. The winters are so harsh in Russia that only those born and bred to it will ever survive there.’
Napoleon stared at him. ‘You think so?’
‘I am sure of it, sire. A man would be a fool to fight a campaign in the depths of a Russian winter.’
He held the Emperor’s gaze and both men were silent for a moment before Napoleon suddenly smiled and turned back to Talleyrand. ‘The mere mention of Russia is making me feel cold. Come, let’s go inside.’
With the Empress on his arm, Napoleon led his guests from the reviewing platform across the courtyard to the doors leading into one of the reception chambers. A long dining table had been laid for the guests and polished cutlery, crystal and porcelain gleamed from end to end. Napoleon took his place at the head of the table, the Empress at the foot, and once they were seated the rest moved towards their assigned places. Footmen stood behind each chair, smoothly pulling them out and easing them back under the guests as they sat down. Talleyrand, Metternich and Kurakin had been placed close to the top of the table and as several imperial servants entered carrying steaming tureens Napoleon lifted his nose and sniffed.
‘Onion soup! Now there’s a hearty dish to warm a man through.’
‘That, or a rare brandy,’ commented Talleyrand.
Napoleon wagged his finger. ‘Your fondness for fine things is a weakness, my friend.’
Talleyrand smiled, and no more was said until the soup had been served and a good-natured hubbub of conversation gradually rose around the table. Napoleon waited until he could be sure that his words would not easily be overheard by any but the intended recipients, and then turned to Kurakin.
‘Tell me, Ambassador, does the Tsar really think that I do not know that he has all but abandoned the trade blockade against England?’
Kurakin slowly lowered his spoon as he composed a reply. ‘Sire, you can rest assured that the Tsar is aware of his obligations. However, he wonders how you can insist on Russia’s keeping faith with an agreement when you yourself break it when it suits the needs of France. There is something of a double standard being applied here, is there not?’
Napoleon felt his veins burn with irritation at the man’s bold exposition of the tensions between the two rulers. Yet it would be hard to defend the trade deals in boots and uniform cloth that had been conducted between France and England, two nations implacably at war.
‘It was a question of expediency. France benefited more from the arrangement than England. And if it was to the benefit of France, then it is also to the benefit of her allies.’
‘That is an argument that applies equally to Russia, sire. Or, indeed, any of the other nations that count themselves amongst your allies. On that basis, one might ask what is the purpose of maintaining the blockade? Since it is an open secret that the blockade is flouted by every nation in Europe.’
‘You are wrong, Kurakin. I have tens of thousands of customs officials enforcing the blockade in every port in France. Elsewhere, my soldiers enforce it. If only my cousin, the Tsar, would enforce the blockade as diligently, we could force England to sue for peace within the year. Once there is peace, there will be no further need for the blockade and we can all reap the rewards of unrestricted trade again.’ Napoleon leaned forward and emphasised his next words. ‘But we must bring England down first. That is all that matters. All that stands between us and an age of prosperity for both our nations. You tell him that.’
‘I will tell him, sire.’
‘See that you do. And remind him that when we first met, at Tilsit, it was I who offered the hand of friendship. I could have chosen to continue the war and crush the Tsar’s armies, but I was merciful. I chose peace and offered to share the spoils of Europe. For that,Alexander owes me a debt of gratitude.’ Napoleon’s tone hardened. ‘Instead, he insults me. He lies to my face, while all the time conspiring to steal away my lands piece by piece. Like a common thief.’
Talleyrand cleared his throat. ‘Sire, I hardly think this is the place to broach such matters. Later, in private, would be better.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘No. I want the matter settled as soon as possible. I’ve spoken my mind; now let the ambassador carry the message back to his master.’
‘Sire,’Talleyrand turned in his chair so that he could face his Emperor more directly, ‘it would be wiser to confer with your advisors before agreeing on the form of any message to be sent to the Tsar. That would reduce the impact of any . . . inflammatory language, before it does any harm.’
‘Damn your diplomatic niceties!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘This has gone on long enough. Either the Tsar is a friend and ally, or he isn’t. I demand to know which path Alexander chooses.’
‘I am sure the Tsar wants peace,’ Talleyrand continued calmly. ‘Isn’t that so, Kurakin?’
The ambassador nodded, keeping a wary eye on Napoleon’s darkening expression as he did so. ‘Sire, with your permission, may I try to explain the Russian view of the situation?’
Napoleon took a calming breath and folded his arms. ‘By all means.’
‘Very well. When Russia looks towards Europe she sees an unbroken line of nations under the sway of France. She sees French troops in towns and fortresses along much of the frontier. We are not blind to the aspirations of the Poles towards becoming a fully fledged nation, with French encouragement. The antipathy between the Poles and Russia is as old as history and you would place a bitter enemy on our doorstep, sire.’
Kurakin paused and gently pushed his unfinished soup away from him. A servant nimbly reached round to remove the bowl as he continued, ‘Then there is the matter of the damage the Continental Blockade is causing to our economy. Every day the Tsar is deluged with petitions from merchants who are suffering because of France’s efforts to strangle trade with England. Even if the Tsar turns a blind eye to those who flout the blockade, our trade still suffers as French officials intervene further down the chain. Sire, it seems that you would beggar the whole of Europe to defeat the English. While I am confident that your imperial majesty will succeed in humbling England, we in Russia are looking to the future. With England reduced, what then will France aspire to? There are Bonapartes and Bonapartists on thrones across Europe. Your majesty is a man of ambition. We ask ourselves if such a man can ever be satisfied with what he already holds.’ Kurakin leaned back in his chair, his explanation concluded.
Talleyrand and Metternich glanced from the Russian to Napoleon, nervously trying to read his reaction.
Napoleon felt the blood drain from his face, and a cold rage seized his body, making his hands tremble. How dare the Russian accuse him so boldly? How could the Tsar betray the amity that Napoleon had so carefully contrived between the two of them? It was clear that every concession made to Russia had been taken as a matter of right. This was no alliance of mutual interest. It was the Tsar whose ambition was unbridled. He took everything and gave nothing. Why, when France had last faced Austria the campaign was over and peace declared long before the Tsar’s army had marched to assist his ally. Even then, the Tsar had taken the opportunity to snap up some of the Austrian lands bordering Russia. The fruits of a victory paid for by French blood, Napoleon concluded bitterly. He glared at Kurakin, tempted almost beyond endurance to explode and expose the duplicity of the Tsar, and those who lied on his behalf . . .
With a great effort, Napoleon held back his anger. This was not the time. His tirades were a weapon to be deployed with care. More often than not they were calculated to have a specific effect. Uncontained rage could be
