The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 49

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Following the doctor to the window Napoleon stood to one side, out of sight of the crowd that had been swelling outside the palace all day. Rumours concerning the Empress’s labour had swept through the capital all afternoon and now tens of thousands waited expectantly for the signal that a birth had occurred. Already a battery stood ready on Montmartre waiting for the pre-arranged signal. The guns would fire a steady salute to announce the birth. If it was a girl there would be twenty-one rounds fired; if a boy, then one hundred. If there was a tragedy there would just be silence.

The doctor took a quick look across the room to the bed and then spoke in a low urgent tone.‘Sire, I have to tell you that there is a danger that you may lose both your wife and the child if the labour continues much longer. If it comes to the crisis we may still be able to save one or the other. But I must know now which it is to be: the mother or the child.’

Napoleon raised a hand and clasped it to his forehead as he considered the doctor’s words. He had risen early the day before to deal with state business, and shortly before noon a breathless servant had arrived in his office with the news that the Empress had gone into labour. Napoleon had rushed to her side at once and remained there through the rest of the day, and on through the long night into the next morning. He was exhausted, and it took some effort to marshal his thoughts. The main purpose of his marriage to Marie-Louise was to secure an heir. Now he was on the cusp of achieving that goal. If it came to a choice he knew that he should put the child before the mother, in the interests of France.

And yet, he hesitated. It was true that he had married her out of cold-blooded self-interest, but since they had met, and he had bedded her on that first occasion, a genuine affection for her had grown in his heart. She was not beautiful, but she had an innocent grace about her. The first night the sex had been strained and functional, but she had quickly surrendered herself to the pleasure of the act. For his part, Napoleon enjoyed the thrill of bedding a virgin. Not just any virgin, but the flower of one of the oldest royal families in Europe. Now, finally, he had taken a wife worthy of an emperor and with good fortune there would one day be a prince who would unite the interests of France and Austria. For that reason, as much as any, he loved her.

And if he chose the child and let the mother die, then the damage to relations with Austria would be incalculable. At present, Napoleon was cultivating an alliance with Austria against the day when he would finally be forced to confront the Russians on the battlefield. That thought settled his calculations and he looked up at the doctor.

‘If it comes to a choice, save the mother.’

The doctor bowed his head. ‘Yes, sire.’

They returned to the bed just as Marie-Louise had another agonising contraction and the doctor examined her again, this time nodding with satisfaction. ‘The dilation has increased. The child is coming, sire.’

Napoleon resumed his place beside his wife and took her hand, and gently stroked her head with his spare hand as he spoke gently.‘Did you hear? The child is coming. Be strong, my love; it will be over soon and the pain will pass.’

She gritted her teeth and nodded, then strained again.

‘The child is coming, sire,’ said the doctor. ‘I can see the crown emerging now.’

Marie-Louise suddenly screamed and arched her back and a sudden, glutinous rush of liquids soaked the sheet covering her knees.

The crowd outside the palace stirred as the signal flag was hoisted up the mast above the Tuileries. There was a brief roar of relief and delight that the Emperor’s child had been born, then the cheers subsided as they waited to discover if it was a boy or a girl. A distant thud sounded from the battery at Montmarte, then another, and the crowd counted each discharge as it rolled across Paris like thunder. As the twentieth gun sounded the crowd fell absolutely silent, and waited.

Another gun fired, and some muttered to themselves, ‘Twenty-one.’

The sound died away and then there was a pause. No more than the regulation interval between shots, but the moment seemed to stretch out intolerably.

The boom of the next gun was instantly swallowed up by a roar of joyous exultation as the crowd waved their arms, and some threw their hats into the air. In amongst them were members of the Paris militia, and they stuck their cocked hats on the ends of their muskets and raised them high, the red plumes dancing above the crowd. Bottles and jars of wine were uncorked and passed around as the mob celebrated the arrival of the Emperor’s heir.

In the palace, Napoleon waited as the doctor and the midwife carefully swaddled the cleaned child. On the bed, Marie-Louise sat propped up. Now that the delivery was over she looked exhausted but radiantly happy, and she smiled at her husband.

‘Show him to the people, but not for too long. It is cold outside.’

‘Yes, my dear.’ Spontaneously, Napoleon rushed across the room and held her gently as he kissed her on the lips. ‘You have made me the happiest man in all Europe.’

‘That pleases me.’

He looked down at her fondly. ‘This means everything to me. My son, our child, marks the true union of France and Austria, and our own.’

She touched his cheek. ‘I am glad. I am also tired, my dear husband. I must sleep. But you must show our son to your people. Go now.’

Napoleon kissed her again and crossed to the midwife who was holding his child. As he took the small bundle in his arms and gazed down at the tiny wrinkled face he felt a surge of tenderness and love that he had never experienced before in his life. Then the doctor opened the long glazed door on to the balcony, and Napoleon emerged with his child. The cheers of the crowd reached a deafening climax as they beheld the Emperor and his heir. Napoleon turned slowly so that all the people who had gathered in the Place du Carrousel, tens of thousands of his subjects, could see the child as the guns continued to thunder out across the capital. Already the signal stations that stretched across France would be carrying the news to every city, town and village. Soon the guns of every French army would be echoing the salute across the empire, from the cold expanse of Poland to the hills and plains of Spain and Portugal.

The celebrations for the birth of the emperor’s son, whom Napoleon named Franзois Charles Joseph, soon abated and Napoleon turned his mind back to the growing number of problems besetting his empire. When his advisory council met in the palace on a clear spring day there was little sense of any good cheer that the change of seasons had brought to the capital. Looking down the table Napoleon was struck by how few men of genuine talent remained for him to call on. Talleyrand remained in disgrace. Fouchй had been removed from office after rumours had reached Napoleon’s ear that the Minister of Police was plotting against his master yet again. Fouchй had been attempting to negotiate with the English to discover what terms they would consider, if anything happened to the Emperor. It had been tempting to have Fouchй imprisoned, but the minister had many supporters in the capital, as well as a network of agents across the country. Napoleon could not risk becoming a victim of his vengeance.

Talleyrand had been implicated in the same plot, and had been stripped of his office as the Emperor’s Grand Chamberlain. There was no question that Talleyrand could ever be trusted, but his intelligence and peerless diplomatic connections meant that Napoleon did not dare dispense with his services completely. For the moment Talleyrand must be shunned, to teach him a lesson. In time Napoleon would readmit him to his close circle of advisors, but only when Talleyrand had come to appreciate that his influence and power were at the whim of his Emperor.

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