wrong. Diplomacy was like war. It was largely a question of arranging the pieces correctly, with a certain amount of bluff and luck. Rising from his chair, Napoleon yawned. As he made his way back to his sleeping quarters he decided that he must write to Fouche and order him to have his agents watch Talleyrand closely. It would be an easy step from disagreeing with the Emperor to plotting against him.
July had arrived and the days were long and hot. Even though the tall windows of the chamber were left open, the atmosphere inside was uncomfortable and heavy. There were no concessions to the summer temperature, however, and all those in attendance wore their finest uniforms and coats. Sweat pricked out on every man’s brow and the hours dragged on as the terms of the treaty were put forward and debated. Some sessions were attended by representatives of all three nations, but most concerned only the Russians and the French, and the hapless Prussians were excluded.
As Talleyrand set out the harsh terms demanded by his Emperor as the price of peace with Prussia, Frederick William’s envoys were shocked by the scale of the humiliation being heaped upon their nation. Their protests were met with cold disdain by the French diplomats, and on the sixth day of July the Prussians decided to try a more personal appeal for mercy.
Napoleon was seated at his desk, reading through the latest correspondence to reach imperial headquarters, when a clerk entered and proffered a sealed letter.
‘What’s this?’ Napoleon looked up irritably. ‘Why has it not been opened?’
Then he saw the royal seal of Prussia neatly applied to the folded paper. He took it and waved the clerk away. It had been addressed to ‘his imperial majesty, Napoleon, for his personal attention’, in a neat, fine hand. He broke the seal and opened the letter.
‘Well, well,’ Napoleon smiled. ‘So it has come to this.’
He stood and strode across the room to the open door and clicked his fingers at his chief clerk. ‘Meneval, send for the Master of the Imperial Household.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Tell him we are entertaining tonight. The best dinner service and the finest wines and food will be required.’
There was no polite preamble to the dinner. Queen Louise was shown into a private dining room at imperial headquarters. A small table occupied the centre of the carpeted room, covered with a lace cloth and set with fine china, glasses and cutlery from the imperial household.The room was lit by a single chandelier hanging above the table, which bathed the room in a soft orange glow. The Queen was shown to her seat by a footman and then left alone to await the Emperor, who, she was told, was completing his orders for yet another military review to be held the following morning. He would not be long, she was assured.
And so she sat, quite still and expressionless, as the clock ticked on the mantelpiece. The windows of the dining room were open and the faintest of breezes wafted in, just enough to cause the candles to flicker fractionally from time to time. At length Louise rose from her seat and went to the window. Below lay a small courtyard and the scent of herbs drifted up to her. Beyond the wall of the courtyard lay open fields, now covered with tents and the crude bivouacs erected by the French soldiers. Their campfires spread across the landscape like a vast constellation of twinkling red stars.
‘An impressive sight, is it not?’
She gasped with surprise and whirled round, hand clutched to her throat. Napoleon had entered and trodden quietly across to the table, where he now stood behind her chair, hands resting on the seat back. He stared back at her, frankly appraising her looks. The Queen of Prussia was a slender woman with black hair and strong, almost masculine features. For all that there was a cold, ethereal beauty about her, Napoleon conceded. He smiled. ‘I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you.’
‘Really?’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I rather think that was precisely what you meant to do.’
‘Oh? And why would I do that?’
‘You employ the same strategy off the battlefield as you do on it.You move quickly, achieve surprise and disconcert your enemy.’
‘But you are not my enemy. I do not make war on women, your majesty.’ Napoleon laughed. ‘But I admit that you have a good grasp of my method of waging war.’
‘It has been a hard lesson,’ she replied coldly.‘One which has cost the lives of many of our subjects.’
‘Well, the war is over, and our meal is about to begin. Please?’ Napoleon nodded to the chair she had been sitting on. After a slight pause, the Prussian Queen glided back across the room and sat down, allowing Napoleon to edge her chair a little closer to the table.Then he took his place opposite, flicked his napkin loose and laid it across his thighs. ‘I took the liberty of sending my chef to your quarters to discover what food appeals to your palate. How is your accommodation, by the way?’
‘It is as good as most we have had to endure for several months.’
Napoleon shrugged. ‘If your husband had come to terms after Jena you would still have the comforts of your palace in Berlin. But then, I imagine that you would not let your husband come to terms. My ambassador to Berlin told me how much Frederick William depends upon your advice. Other men have even said that you are the true ruler of Prussia.’
‘Other men are fools,’ she replied flatly. ‘My husband is a good man and a sound ruler. But he is inclined to caution in dealing with a crisis. I merely acted as a spur to that course of action he knew he must take.’
‘You are too modest, madam.’ Napoleon stared at her. ‘I sense that you are a far more formidable woman than you choose to appear.’
‘Perhaps.’ She smiled, showing a fine set of strong white teeth. ‘For my part I sense that you are a far more sensitive man than your reputation as an all-conquering general would imply. Sensual even.’
