Bourrienne refrained from comment, and waited a moment before coughing lightly. ‘Do you wish me to take down a letter to him, sir?’

‘No . . . Wait.’ Napoleon’s head rose a little higher above the steam swirling off the surface of the water. ‘He’s reviewing a new cavalry formation near Montmartre, is he not?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then send for him. I will meet him here this evening, with Berthier and Talleyrand. See to it at once.’

Bourrienne stood up, collected his papers and bowed, greatly relieved to quit the stifling humidity of Napoleon’s bathroom. As he made for the door there was a splash of water from the overfilled bath as Napoleon raised an arm. ‘And send Roustam in. It’s time I was out of here and got dressed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Once he was alone again Napoleon raised his hands to his face and relished the sensation of moist warmth against his eyes. He was tired. More tired than he had ever been and more tired than he should permit himself to be, he reflected. In truth, the seemingly endless difficulties facing the government could only begin to be solved if there was peace with England and Austria. But that seemed more unlikely than ever, now that the two powers had curtly rebuffed his offers to talk peace. If only that wretched man William Pitt could put the interests of his people above his personal abhorrence of France there might be peace, Napoleon considered. However, there was little hope of that, and Napoleon resigned himself to the prospect of the English Prime Minister obstinately dragging out the war for years to come, defying France, and Napoleon, from the other side of the Channel. Meanwhile, Austria was the only enemy that France could close with and destroy. So it was against Austria that the full fury of France’s army would be launched.

‘Sir, your gown.’

Napoleon glanced up with a start. Once again his intense preoccupation with policy had driven out all awareness of his surroundings and Roustam had entered the room without his realising. He stared at his Mameluke servant and wondered if this blindness to minions was what happened when a man became a ruler of his nation. If so, it was a dangerous development, and Napoleon had no intention of ending up like Marat. He rose up, shedding water in a steaming cascade, and stepping out of the bath he took the gown that Roustam proffered to him, anxious to get dry and dressed in his uniform so that he would no longer feel naked and vulnerable.

‘Would you like breakfast, sir?’

‘Yes. No, wait. Is my wife still in bed?’

‘I believe so, sir.’

‘Then I’ll have breakfast later.You may go.’

Roustam bowed and backed out of the room. Napoleon rubbed the gown against his flesh as he made for the door that led to his sleeping quarters. First Consul he might be, but his needs were the same as any other young man’s.

Dinner, like all meals shared with Napoleon, was eaten in a hurry. The First Consul resented spending any more time than was necessary on consuming food, especially when there was important business at hand.The stewards cleared away the plates, dishes, cutlery and glasses and left the four men to themselves, quietly closing the door on the room.

‘Well,’ Talleyrand said as he dabbed at his lips with a napkin. ‘The food was good, what little of it I had the chance to taste. So what is the purpose of this meeting, Citizen First Consul? Since I assume we weren’t just invited to enjoy your hospitality.’

Napoleon made himself smile at the foreign minister’s manner. Talleyrand represented much of what Napoleon despised, and admired, of the ancient regime. His manners were refined to the point of being an art form, and his offhand manner left people in no doubt that he considered them to be beneath him. His dry wit chafed Napoleon’s nerves, and yet if ever there was a man who was destined to deal in the duplicity of diplomacy it was Talleyrand, and therefore Napoleon was grateful that he had accepted the appointment. But he still loathed the man.

‘No, indeed. And now that we have eaten it is time to talk.’ Napoleon gestured round the table. ‘It falls to the four of us to decide what direction France is to take in the coming months. What does France need?’

‘Peace,’ Talleyrand said at once. ‘Citizen Consul, if you are to cement your hold on France then we must have peace. The people are tired of war. Our navy is in a deplorable state, the army is not much better and the treasury is all but empty. We need to make peace in order to consolidate the gains of the revolution.’

‘I have tried to make peace,’ Napoleon said wearily. ‘You know what the English said in their reply to me? “Peace is impossible with a nation that is against all order, religion and morality.” ’ He shook his head. ‘While that is their attitude there can only be war between us, and we can be sure that England will continue to subsidise any nation that stands against us.’

Talleyrand smiled. ‘It seems that the English are preparing to fight to the last Austrian.’

‘Quite,’ Napoleon continued, irritated by the interruption. ‘And while their navy controls the seas then we have to turn our attention towards the Austrians. What realistic chance is there of peace with Austria?’

Talleyrand was still for a moment, as he considered the question. Then he shrugged. ‘Not much. They are keen to keep the territory they currently occupy in Italy and they wish France to give up the Low Countries. We would only have peace if we consented to both demands.’ He looked closely at Napoleon. ‘Of course, if you are serious about peace, then you could always meet their demands.’

‘No!’ Moreau slapped his hand down on the table. ‘That would be an insult to France, and our armies. I would not stand for it, and neither should you.’ He spoke directly to Napoleon. ‘If we conceded so much the people would be outraged. Given their present ill humour, a diplomatic reverse on that scale might trigger another coup.’

‘That is possible,’ Talleyrand conceded. ‘And we’d probably end up with yet another general in charge, and be back where we started.’ He paused. ‘I wonder who that general might be, in the unlikely event of a coup.’

‘Thank you,Talleyrand,’ Napoleon cut in.‘I think we are agreed. There can be no compromise with Austria, and the war must be ended as swiftly as possible. In which case, it is time to consider the means by which that can be achieved. Berthier, the map.’

Berthier rose from his chair and crossed to a chest of drawers. He retrieved a large map and returned to the table, where he spread it out between the four men. They gazed down at a detailed rendering of central Europe. Talleyrand’s quick eye immediately picked out the preliminary dispositions of the forces that Berthier had marked out.

‘I see now that this meeting was not to seek our advice, but to give us orders, Citizen Consul.’

A frown flickered across Napleon’s face. ‘While I value the opinions of my . . . colleagues the time for a decision has come. Now then,’ he tapped the map, ‘to business. Despite the recent setbacks in Italy and Germay we are in a good position to end the war decisively, thanks to our occupation of Switzerland.You are all aware that a new army has been gathering around Dijon - the Army of Reserve. In the next few days I will announce that Berthier is to be its commander.’

Berthier nodded slightly, since he was already aware of his appointment.

‘Who is to replace him as Minister of War?’ asked Moreau.

‘Carnot.’

‘Carnot? I thought he had been disgraced.’

Talleyrand smiled. ‘Of course. That’s what makes him so suitable for the job. He will be no threat to the new regime, especially if . . .’ Talleyrand turned to look searchingly at Napoleon. ‘I assume that means you will be taking the field against Austria.’

Moreau shook his head. ‘The new constitution forbids that. The First Consul is prohibited from holding an army command.’