Napoleon dismissed it with a quick wave of his hand. ‘We will talk more on this later, Junot. I just wished to let you know about your appointment. No doubt you are wondering why I picked you.’

‘It had crossed my mind, sire.’

‘You have proved to be a good soldier, Junot, and a loyal one. We have known each other since you were my sergeant at Toulon, and I was a mere captain of artillery.’ Napoleon glanced out of the carriage window. ‘It seems so long ago now.’

The Emperor fell silent and Junot glanced towards Berthier with a questioning look.The chief of staff shrugged faintly.

Napoleon’s gaze fixed on his hands. It was over twelve years since he and Junot had won their spurs in the siege of Toulon. Much had happened between then and now, and suddenly Napoleon felt older than his years. The strength of will and swiftness of mind that had singled him out from his peers as a young man were starting to fade. His once thin face and slender body had been replaced by rounded, overindulged features and a creeping portliness. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of disgust at the changes in his body.Very well, then. If he could stay young in body, he would stay agile in thought. His eyes flashed up towards Berthier.

‘Is everything in hand for the shoot?’

‘Yes, sire. It has all been taken care of. Even the weather.’ Berthier nodded towards the cerulean sky and laughed.

But Napoleon just nodded, absent-mindedly, and muttered, ‘Good. That’s good.’

Once the guests had arrived, and been served with wine and snacks by the imperial footmen, they began to congregate in groups, filling the air with good-humoured conversation, punctuated by laughter. Napoleon, with a small entourage, moved amongst them, greeting his guests, sharing jokes with old comrades and making flirtatious exchanges with the most beautiful of the women. Then he paused as he saw the Portuguese ambassador in earnest conversation with a small group of foreign dignitaries on the periphery of the party.

‘Excuse me,’ Napoleon said tersely to his followers. ‘Wait here.’

He strode across the trampled grass and the Portuguese ambassador fell silent as the Austrian diplomat, Prince Metternich, nudged his arm.

‘A word with you,’ Napoleon called out as he strode up to them and the other men at once stepped back to make space for the French Emperor. Napoleon rounded on the Portuguese ambassador. ‘I am still waiting for your King to respond to my demands. Well? Heard anything?’

The ambassador bowed his head and replied in a subdued tone,‘Alas, no, your majesty.’

‘I see.’ Napoleon frowned. ‘This discourtesy has gone on long enough. I will not endure it, do you hear? If your King does not do what I want, then he and the house of Braganza will no longer rule Portugal a few months from now.You tell him that. And tell him that with Russia as my ally there is nothing that can stand in the way of France now. Nothing!’ Napoleon glared round at the other diplomats and continued in a menacing tone, ‘And if there is any other nation in Europe that chooses to defy me by receiving any British envoys, I will declare war on them too. I will not be defied, gentlemen.’ He stood there a moment, to make sure they could see that he was serious, then wagged a finger at them and turned to stride back towards his entourage.

All the guests had fallen silent at the sound of his raised voice, and now there was a pause before conversation resumed, a low, nervous muttering which only gradually built up to the former light-hearted hubbub.

After lunch, the male guests strolled down to the shooting line on a raised bank and took up their weapons. Before them lay a vast cropped meadow, and beyond that a small forest.The cages containing the rabbits had been set up a short distance in front of the shooters with the beaters standing ready to drive them forward, in front of the guns of the imperial party. When all the guests had loaded guns held ready and stood in tense expectation, Bethier gave the signal to the senior huntsman, who cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed,‘Loose the rabbits!’

The pegs were pulled free and the doors swung open as the beaters whacked the rear of the cages with their sticks. At once scores of rabbits bounded free, their tails bobbing up and down like balls of cotton.They hopped a short distance and then began to stop and turn, glancing round curiously.

Napoleon hissed impatiently, waiting for the rabbits to move beyond the beaters so that he could get a clear shot. But the rabbits, as if of one will, had turned round and were already hopping back, darting between the cages and the legs of the beaters as they made for the bank where the shooters stood watching in growing astonishment.

‘What the hell?’ Napoleon growled. He glanced towards Berthier. ‘What is going on? Why don’t they run away?’

Berthier shook his head in bewilderment as the rabbits surged up the bank. He called out to the senior huntsman. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

The huntsman ran over and bowed his head. ‘Sir?’

‘What are the rabbits doing?’ asked Berthier anxiously as he watched Napoleon lower his gun and kick out at a small crowd of rabbits clustered at his feet.

The huntsman bit his lip. ‘These rabbits, sir. Can I ask if you bought ’em wild, or tame?’

‘They’re from a breeder.Why?’

‘So they’re tame.’ The huntsman nodded. ‘That’s it then. They must think the shooters have come to feed them.’

The blood drained from Berthier’s face. ‘Oh, no . . .’

He looked round and saw the line of shooters besieged by the wave of hungry rabbits. Already some of the Emperor’s guests were in a retreat, some angered and some amused as the little beasts followed them. Then, as a fluke waft of breeze brought the scent of the banquet down the slope, the rabbits rose on their haunches, tiny noses quivering, and then surged up the slope. Berthier’s heart sank at the sight.

‘Berthier!’ Napoleon called out furiously. ‘You fool! You dunderhead! ’

Throwing down his weapon in disgust, the Emperor stalked back up the hill towards his carriage. The first of the rabbits had reached the tables and the more hysterical of the female guests were rushing for the shelter of the carriages, some screaming. Berthier looked round, mouth agape, as picnic tables were upset and men and rabbits ran hither and thither in the chaos.

Reaching his carriage, Napoleon climbed the steps and threw himself down on the seat, slamming the door behind him. And then froze. Sitting on the opposite seat was a small rabbit, watching him warily.

‘Bastard,’ Napoleon muttered, launching himself across the gap and grasping a handful of writhing fur and kicking feet. Holding it at arm’s length, he thrust the rabbit towards the carriage window and dropped it on the ground. ‘Driver!’

‘Sir?’