Prologue

 

 

Paris

 

17th June 1816

 

The sun was dazzling as at midday the guns began firing, and continued booming while every house and window shook and rattled with the reverberations.

The sightseers and visitors as well as the Parisians had crammed every roof-top and building to get the best glimpse of the Royal procession. The thirty-six coaches, each drawn by eight cream coloured horses, slowly made their way through the streets lined with troops in their colourful uniforms to the Church of Notre Dame. Draped in blue velvet embroidered with the golden fleur de lis; the porch and steps lined with the Swiss Guards in their mediaeval uniforms, the church had had never looked more magnificent.

Since dawn, its bells had been ringing continually to announce the marriage of the heir to the French throne Prince Charles Ferdinand d’Artois, Duc de Berri, and his bride, the vivacious Princess Caroline Ferdinande of the Two Sicilies.

The seventeen year-old bride, dressed in white satin embroidered with silver lamé, and a flowing veil, was seated in the gold coach beside her thirty-eight year old husband. They waved excitedly to the enormous crowds that cheered them on their way, the noise rising above the cacophony of sound from the bells, and gunfire.

Their marriage had taken place by proxy in April, while the bride was in Naples, and now the final solemnisation of the religious rites was to take place in Paris.

Some cynical Parisians had seen it all before, as it was only two years since Waterloo, and the Bonapartes had also known how to put on a show.

One man watched, and as the carriage passed by, spat vehemently on the ground and elbowed his way out of the cheering throng, his face contorted by hatred.

A true Bonapartist, one of many still loyal to the exiled Emperor now on St Helena, he determined on a plan to end the Bourbon dynasty’s hope for the future, no matter what the cost.