‘Joseph, you will recall the conversation we had about what might happen should the throne of Spain fall vacant.’

‘I recall it very well,’ Joseph replied flatly.

‘Well, what do you say to my offer now?’

‘It is very generous of you, but I am not sure that I am the right man to rule Spain. Besides, I am in the midst of reforming the government of Naples. It is a task I must complete if we are to win the people over.’

‘That work can be easily continued by another,’ Napoleon said dismissively. ‘And you would have the chance to improve a much more significant country. In time your reforms could make Spain a great power once again.You would be loved by the people and envied for their affection by many of the other rulers in Europe.What say you?’

Joseph was silent for a moment as he considered his reply. ‘I say that it is a generous offer. A tempting offer, but for the present the throne of Spain needs to be occupied by a better man than I. Someone like Murat, perhaps? He has been in Madrid long enough to make useful connections amongst the local people and officials. He has even intimated in letters to me that he would be pleased to take the crown if it was offered to him.’

‘He has said that to you, has he?’ Napoleon mused, instantly realising that Murat meant to use Joseph to support his claim to the throne, because he dared not broach the matter with the Emperor himself.With good reason, Napoleon decided. Murat was a fine soldier and an inspirational commander. He was also headstrong and easily corrupted, and could be breathtakingly tactless. Hardly the right choice of ruler for a country like Spain where the sensitivities of the people had to be handled with great care and a degree of compassion.That required the attributes that Joseph possessed and Murat did not.A lesser crown might be found for Murat one day, since he was a member of the Bonaparte family by marriage. Napoleon dismissed thoughts of his brother-in-law and continued.

‘There is no question of Murat’s being King of Spain. It is my judgement that you are the best man for the job. I am depending on you, Joseph. I need you to do this for me. I need a strong, wise man to take charge of France’s southern flank. Who else can I trust? You have always looked out for me, for as long as I can remember. I have always depended on you.Will you fail me now?’

Joseph picked up a small bread roll and bit a corner off it as he stared out across the flat ground. He was silent for a moment and Napoleon tried not to appear anxious as he waited for his brother to speak. At length Joseph nodded.

‘Very well. I will do as you ask.’

‘I thank you, brother.You will not find me ungrateful.’

‘On one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you will not summarily announce my accession to the throne. You will not impose me upon the Spanish. Rather, the junta in Madrid must offer the crown to me. Freely if possible. With the appearance of freedom if not.’

Napoleon considered this for a moment. He would rather the situation in Spain was resolved as speedily as possible, even if that meant openly choosing their new king for them.All the same, he could see the wisdom in Joseph’s suggestion. If the call for him to become king came from the junta in Madrid it would make Joseph’s candidacy more acceptable to the Spanish people, as well as to wider public opinion across the continent. Of course, it would take a little time to persuade the members of the junta that it was in their interest to make the offer. Murat would have to distribute the required bribes and threats to ensure their compliance. Now that would be a far better use of Murat’s abilities, Napoleon noted to himself with a smile. Still, it was a delay all the same and one that he knew would tax his patience. But what could he do? He wanted Joseph to take on the duty and therefore he would have to bow to his brother’s will.

He looked up and nodded. ‘Very well then, I accept your condition. I will send orders to Murat to prepare the ground.’ He cleared the last morsel of meat from his plate and set it down in the grass. ‘Now let’s begin the day’s entertainment.’

Seeing the Emperor rise to his feet the rest of the hunting party hurriedly put aside what was left of their luncheon and followed suit. The guns were brought forward as the guests were led to their posts along the slope of the hillock, where patches of gorse obscured some of the shooting stands from each other. Napoleon saw that Masséna was to his right, perhaps twenty paces off. To his left was Berthier. Across the flat marsh the distant figures of the beaters were visible on the far side, and once the signal was given they began to move towards the hillock, thrashing at the ground before them and using wooden clackers to scare the birds into flight. In case the targets should be too few, or too evasive, Berthier had taken the precaution of ensuring that a plentiful supply of pheasant and duck was held ready in small cages spread out amid the long reeds and grassy hummocks ranged before the hunting party.

The beaters edged across the marsh, scaring up the game, and as soon as he judged that the birds had come within range Napoleon reached for his gun. One of the servants behind him pressed it into his hand and he drew it up and settled the stock into his shoulder. He took aim into the air above the beaters. Movement flickered to either side of his vision as ducks rose up from the marshes, quacking in panic.With a sharp thud from his right, Masséna took a bird on the wing and there was a little explosion of feathers in mid-air before the duck plummeted to earth.

‘Hah!’ Masséna called out as he handed his weapon to one of his bearers and took a loaded replacement. ‘First strike to me!’

A moment later a bird erupted from the reeds directly ahead of Napoleon and flew straight into his line of sight. He tracked it for a second and then began to lead the target before he squeezed the trigger. Instantly a cloud of smoke obliterated his view and the butt kicked savagely into his shoulder. As the breeze swept the smoke away Napoleon saw that he had winged the duck and it flapped pathetically for a little distance, losing height before it dropped into the marsh.

‘One!’ he shouted to Masséna, and reached for another gun.

As the day wore on more and more birds were frightened into the sky and were shot down by the imperial hunting party. When the beaters had exhausted the supply of birds in the marsh, they began to release those in the cages. Napoleon had become locked into a fierce competition with Masséna as each strove to score the most kills, and late in the afternoon Masséna was two birds ahead. Napoleon’s arms were beginning to ache from holding his weapon as an uncaged pheasant flapped into the air slightly to his right, warbling in panic. Knowing that Masséna would be bound to claim the bird unless he shot first, Napoleon raised his gun and tracked the bird to his right. It flew low and fast and before he realised it Napoleon had turned almost ninety degrees to the side.

‘Careful, sire!’ one of the bearers cried out in alarm.