Quenza leaped on the last suggestion. 'Negotiate. That's what we'll do. Perhaps that's the best way out of the mess you've created.'

Napoleon felt the anger tighten his throat, but fought it back. 'Very well, sir. I'll send a man forward with a flag of truce.'

'See to it then.'

Both men suddenly felt the building shudder beneath their feet, and an instant later there was a loud crash and masonry tumbled past the window as a deep boom sounded across the town. Quenza leaped back from the window.

'What's that?'

'Artillery,' Napoleon replied evenly.'They must have brought a gun up on to one of the bastions. It seems that they already know the Jacobin Club was behind the attack.'

'They're firing on us?' Quenza stared at Napoleon, eyes wide with fright. 'On me? I have to get out of here. I have to find somewhere safe.'

Quenza s.n.a.t.c.hed up his hat and hurried towards the door, just as another shot smashed into the roof. He winced, and glanced back at Napoleon. 'You see to the negotiations. I'm setting up a new command post in the cathedral.They wouldn't dare fire on that!'

'No, sir. I imagine not.'

Napoleon followed the colonel out of the building and returned to the battalion.True to his orders they had not fired on the walls, and only the occasional shot from the citadel, punctuated by the deep boom of the artillery piece, echoed across the open ground. Unwinding the white scarf from his neck Napoleon tied the end of it around the tip of his sword. He took a deep breath, stepped out on to the boulevard and waved the sword aloft to attract attention. A voice shouted something from the citadel walls and at once several puffs of smoke appeared. Shots whipped overhead and two more struck the cobbles close to his feet.

Napoleon ducked back into cover as fast as he could.'So much for negotiation . . .'

After he sent report of the failed attempt to the colonel, Napoleon returned to the attic of the merchant's house where a sergeant was keeping watch on the citadel.

'Any developments?'

'Yes, sir. Shortly after you went to see the colonel a boat put out from the citadel.'

'What course?'

'North, sir. Towards Bastia, I'm thinking. They've gone for reinforcements.'

Napoleon nodded. It was what he had feared would happen. The garrison commander, forewarned of the attack, must have had the boat ready to send off at first light - just as the ill-fated a.s.sault party had rushed for the gates.With a good wind the boat could reach Bastia by nightfall. Allowing a day to organise a relief force and another for the return journey, Napoleon realised that there was no chance of starving the garrison out. Nor would the men of the volunteer battalion be in any mood to attempt a direct a.s.sault. The casualties would be horrific and Napoleon balked at the idea of so much bloodshed.This was supposed to have been a swift coup, but now he could see nothing in the situation but humiliation and failure.

Over the next three days Napoleon made several more attempts to negotiate, but the garrison fired on anyone who dared show his face in front of the citadel walls. The artillery piece mounted on the north bastion ceased fire once it had ruined the topmost floor of the Jacobin Club, and then an uneasy stillness and silence hung over the quarter of the town closest to the citadel. Elsewhere, the people of Ajaccio ventured warily on to the streets and bought only what was necessary before hurrying back to the shelter of their homes. It was soon clear to Napoleon that there was little support for the battalion's attempt to seize the citadel. Once the bombardment of the Jacobin Club had ceased a small crowd of townspeople had gathered to shout abuse at those still inside, and hurl stones at any face that appeared at one of the already shattered windows.

Then on the evening of the third day, several warships were sighted entering the Gulf of Ajaccio. On the final tack into the harbour the gunports opened and the ships anch.o.r.ed, with their muzzles trained on the town. Under the cover of the ships' batteries, boats began to ferry soldiers ash.o.r.e and as dusk closed in around Ajaccio the men of a regular line regiment marched into the boulevard and halted in front of the gates of the citadel.

Colonel Quenza had emerged from the cathedral as soon as he had word of the approach of the warships and had gone to find his subordinate. Now both officers warily advanced towards the officer in command of the relief force. He was a regular army major. He strode forward to confront the commanders of the volunteer battalion.

'Colonel Quenza?' He saluted, and turned towards Napoleon. 'And you must be Lieutenant Colonel Buona Parte?'

Napoleon nodded, and the major turned his attention back to Quenza. 'I have instructions to order your men to lay down their arms immediately and return to their homes. The battalion is dissolved by authority of the Governor of Corsica. Failure to comply with the order will be met with force. Sir, unless you are prepared to have the blood of hundreds of your countrymen on your hands I suggest you do exactly as I request.'

Quenza's shoulders sagged and he gave a pathetic nod.'I'll give the order.'

'Thank you, sir,' the major replied crisply.'Now I have business to attend to with the other officer.You may go, sir.'

Quenza darted a curious look at Napoleon and then turned and hurried away.

The major reached inside his coat and drew out an envelope. 'Since the volunteer battalion no longer officially exists, your rank of lieutenant colonel no longer applies. In which case I address you as Lieutenant Buona Parte of the Regiment de la Fere, and you will stand to attention before a superior officer.'

Napoleon stiffened his back and stood erect, boots together, arms straight at his sides. 'Yes, sir.'

'This message is for you, from the War Office. It arrived in Bastia last week. It contains a travel permit. You have exceeded your period of leave by five months.You are therefore required to present yourself to the Minister of War in Paris. One of those ships is leaving for Ma.r.s.eilles first thing tomorrow.You had better be on it, or I will have you arrested and charged with desertion. Do you understand, Lieutenant Buona Parte?'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon tried to keep his voice from trembling as he continued. 'Have you any idea what's in store for me?'

The major smiled. 'Certainly. Given that you are officially absent without permission, and now you are responsible for several deaths in what looks to me like an act of treason, I'd say the Minister for War will have little choice but to have you shot.'

Chapter 61.

Paris, 1792 From the moment he arrived in the capital at the end of May Napoleon was astonished by the changes a mere year and a half had wrought on the city at the heart of the revolution. Realising that other nations would not permit France to adopt full-blooded democracy, the National a.s.sembly had declared war on Austria in April. Before the month was out the army of General Dillon had been routed and the volunteer soldiers had murdered their general as they fled from the battlefield. As the coach had carried Napoleon by stages from Ma.r.s.eilles he had read news of further defeats, and the tense atmosphere in Paris was immediately apparent to him. As he headed towards the Pays Normande Napoleon stopped to read some of the posters that adorned every street corner. Most carried news of the latest regulations pa.s.sed by the local commune. Others gave reports of the debates in the National a.s.sembly. In every street men were hawking newspapers, and small crowds cl.u.s.tered round to read the latest news of the war. The last time Napoleon had been in Paris there had been only a handful of heavily censored newspapers, but now there were scores of publications, openly speaking for almost every political point of view - even for the rump of monarchists still struggling to persuade Parisians to return to the order of the old regime.

When he reached the hotel Napoleon discovered that the room rates had more than doubled since his last stay, and that no rooms were available. The owner explained that the deputies of the new National a.s.sembly and their families and supporters had taken over most of the hotels in the city and there was a chronic shortage of accommodation. He suggested that Napoleon might like to try Monsieur Perronet on Rue de Mail, who was a friend and occasionally let rooms in his house to people who came on recommendation.

The Perronet residence was just off the Rue Saint-Honore, close to the Palais-Royal and the Tuileries. Monsieur Perronet was an engineer and kept an ordered house. He glanced through the note of recommendation, looked the young artillery officer over and beckoned him inside. The room he let to Napoleon was in the attic. It was small and comfortable, and the window looked over the rooftops towards the complex of palaces that made up the Tuileries.

Perronet nodded towards the window. 'If you listen carefully you might just hear the baying of wolves from time to time.That, or the members of the a.s.sembly screaming for each other's blood.'

Napoleon smiled. 'Has it come to that?'

'Not yet, but it will.'The engineer shrugged wearily. 'The war is going badly, the price of bread is up and the mob is hungry to find someone - anyone - to blame for it all. So, citizen, you have chosen a fine time to visit Paris. Before I let the room to you, I have to ask something.' He looked embarra.s.sed for a moment, and Napoleon gestured for him to continue. Perronet pursed his lips. 'Are you here to defend the King, or to oppose him? It's just that if you get involved in any trouble, I don't want the mob coming to my house looking for you. I have a young family, you understand. I have to make sure they are safe.'

'I'm not here to defend the King. I'm here to defend myself, Citizen Perronet. I give you my word, there'll be no trouble on my account.'

'Very well, you can have the room. Five sous a day. Ten if you want to be fed.'

'I'll just have the room, citizen.' Napoleon took out his money pouch, counted out enough for the first month and handed it over. He would have to be careful with the limited funds he had brought with him from Corsica. He would eat only when it was necessary. Monsieur Perronet counted the coins quickly, nodded, and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

As the engineer's footsteps descended the steep creaking staircase Napoleon went over to the window. He stood leaning his elbows on the sill, and stared out across the grimy walls and roofs of the French capital. The spectacle of a great city spreading out on all sides towards a hazy horizon filled him with excitement for a moment before his mind turned once more to the anxiety and uncertainty over his fate.

The debacle in Ajaccio might well cost him his career in the army. It might even cost him his life, and Napoleon wondered if he should have run off and hidden in the Corsican maquis as his mother had advised. He could easily have survived for years living up in the mountains far beyond the reach of the law. But his every instinct revolted against the idea. Here in Paris, far from the scene of the crime, his word could be just as effective as that of those who sought his prosecution.

When he had arrived in Ma.r.s.eilles, Napoleon had received notification that it might be some months before his case was dealt with, thanks to the outbreak of war. That gave him a little time to try to exert some influence over the outcome. And the best place to start would be to pet.i.tion the foremost deputy from Corsica, Antoine Saliceti. According to the posters on the street corners, Saliceti was to speak in favour of a proposal to disband the King's household guards the next day.

Accordingly, the morning after his arrival, Napoleon woke early and polished his boots. He combed out his hair and tied it back neatly before putting on his uniform.

A short walk down the street brought Napoleon to the wide thoroughfare of the Rue Saint-Honore where he joined the crowd that was heading towards the Tuileries to watch the debates of the National a.s.sembly. Some of them had come to pet.i.tion the deputies, others simply wished to be part of the mob outside the palace where the King and his family were virtually being held prisoners. Still more were taking fruit, wine and newspapers to sell to the crowd. Among the last group were traders selling revolutionary c.o.c.kades, patriotic red bonnets and carved chunks of stone purporting to be from the remains of the Bastille. Although many of the people seemed high-spirited enough Napoleon sensed a tension running through them like an over-tightened violin string; waiting to snap the instant it was put under any strain. He walked with the crowd as far as the Palais-Royal and then turned off the boulevard and headed down towards the Place du Carousel. The opposite side of the square was filled with a crowd of people shouting abuse through the iron railings that ran along the front of the royal quarters of the Tuileries Palace. On the far side of the railings stood a thin line of red-coated Swiss Guards, their black bearskin hats making them seem tall and formidable as they watched the mob. Napoleon skirted round them and hurried to the riding school where the National a.s.sembly was housed. He was anxious to arrive in good time so that he could observe Saliceti and see what kind of man he was before approaching him for help.

As he turned the corner and strode down the Terra.s.se des Feuillants, Napoleon was confronted by a large crowd at the entrance to the National a.s.sembly. Scores of men from the National Guard formed a cordon and cleared a path for deputies and their officials as they made their way in for the morning session. A small side entrance provided access to the public galleries, and Napoleon shoved through the crowd towards the sergeant in charge of admission.

'Excuse me!' Napoleon pushed past a heavily made-up woman who was screeching at the top of her voice that she had been promised a seat by one of her clients amongst the deputies.

The sergeant shook his head. 'Sorry, lady, I don't care who you're s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g. All the free seats have gone. Now unless you have a pa.s.s there's nothing I can do.'

'Pa.s.s? I don't need a pa.s.s, you moron.' She prodded him in the chest with the tip of her parasol. 'Let me through!'

The sergeant batted the parasol aside and lunged at her with both hands.The woman fell back into the crowd with a shriek of panic and rage while everyone around her burst into laughter. Napoleon took advantage of the moment and thrust himself in front of the sergeant.

'Excuse me, I need to get by.'

'Not so fast, citizen!'The sergeant held up a hand and stared at Napoleon. 'Your pa.s.s?'

For a moment Napoleon frowned, and was sorely tempted to give the sergeant a stern dressing-down for his insubordinate manner. But there was something in the other man's eyes that indicated that he would take little notice of Napoleon's status as an officer so Napoleon swallowed his anger and made to explain himself. 'I don't have a pa.s.s.'

'You don't get in then, citizen.'

'I need to see Citizen Saliceti, Sergeant. I'm here to support him.'

'Saliceti, eh?'The sergeant lowered his voice.'Are you from the Jacobin Club?' Napoleon nodded.

'Then where's your c.o.c.kade? Where's your red bonnet? You don't look like a Jacobin to me.'

'Trust me, I'm Jacobin to the core.'

The sergeant narrowed his eyes fractionally and stared hard at Napoleon. Then he relented and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'All right, citizen.You can go in.'

Napoleon nodded his thanks and squeezed past. Once he was inside he made his way up to the banks of seating that overlooked the debating floor. Most of the benches were already filled, and supporters of the various factions cl.u.s.tered together, ready to cheer on their deputies when the time came. Napoleon eventually found a seat close to the balcony and he leaned forward to observe the deputies taking up their places below. Halfway along the length of the building the president and his officials were cl.u.s.tered around the Speaker's rostrum, preparing themselves for the day's business.

It was easy to identify most of the various factions as they sat on the ranks of seats lining the wide concourse running down the middle of the hall. The King's party were the most affluently dressed and elegantly mannered and sat to the right of the Speaker. Opposite the president the Girondists, the moderate republicans, took the lower benches and the more extreme deputies sat high up on the rearmost benches to indicate their disdain.To the left of the president sat the Jacobins, many sporting the red bonnets that proclaimed their militant patriotism. Somewhere amongst them would be Saliceti.

Once a few items of housekeeping had been dealt with the president announced the proposal to disband the royal household's bodyguard. At once the deputies and the people in the public galleries gave their full attention to proceedings. The president called on Saliceti to speak and a tall, pale-looking man quickly rose to his feet and strode across to the rostrum. At once he launched into a loud and, to Napoleon's mind, cheap and rhetorical attack on the King's failure to prosecute the war with vigour. Was the cause of this failure more sinister than it seemed, asked Saliceti. If the King's supporters harboured any ambitions to crush the a.s.sembly then the household troops were a ready tool with which to carry out the deed.Those seated around Napoleon grumbled ominously in response, while the public in the gallery at the far end cried out in protest at Saliceti's remarks.

'Royalists!' someone spat close by Napoleon. 'The sc.u.m should be wiped out!'

'Patience,' said another. 'Their time's coming.'

As soon as Saliceti had finished speaking Napoleon made his way to the deputies' entrance to the debating chamber. Scores of men and women were waiting for the chance to present pet.i.tions to their representatives and Napoleon forced his way to the front. More cries of protest and bursts of angry shouting came from the debating chamber, increasing in frequency until it sounded as if a riot was breaking out inside. Almost lost in the cacophony were the president's calls for order, silence and for members to return to their seats. Eventually, he had to suspend the session.The doors swung open and the deputies came streaming out. Napoleon nudged the man standing next to him.

'Does this happen often?'

'All the time,' the man grumbled. 'It's a wonder any decisions are made at all.'

Napoleon snorted with derision and then kept his eyes fixed on the doorway, watching intently until at last Saliceti came out, thronged by members from his party who were loudly congratulating him on his performance. All except one: a sour-faced man in powdered wig. Napoleon recognised the face at once and placed him in an instant: the man from the secret meeting above the bookshop, two years earlier. Citizen Schiller, he had named himself. Napoleon turned again to the man standing next to him.

'Do you know who that man is?' He pointed.

'That's Robespierre. Maximilien Robespierre himself.'

Napoleon's surprise quickly gave way to fear as the full details of that night flooded back into his memory. He had turned down Robespierre's offer to join them. At the time he had dismissed them as a lunatic fringe organisation. Now Robespierre and his followers ruled the capital. Robespierre kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and strode stiffly past Napoleon without even seeing him.

As the deputies swept through the pet.i.tioners Napoleon pushed forward until he stood directly in the path of his man. Saliceti had accepted several pet.i.tions since quitting the hall and held them in a bundle against his chest.

'Citizen Saliceti?'

Saliceti looked up sharply at the sound of the Corsican accent. He eyed Napoleon warily and nodded. 'Who are you, citizen?'

Napoleon bowed his head. 'Lieutenant Buona Parte at your service. I need to talk to you. I need your help.'

'Buona Parte?' Saliceti looked amused. 'I've heard all about you, my boy.And yes, you really do need my help. Come with me, and while you're at it you can make yourself useful. Carry these.' He thrust the pet.i.tions at Napoleon and strode on, leaving the artillery officer struggling to hold all the envelopes and sheaths of paper and keep up with the deputy.

A little later they were sitting in Saliceti's office, a small, dingy room in a building opposite the riding school. Saliceti sat slumped in a heavily upholstered chair and stared at Napoleon.

'You've made an appalling mess of things, Lieutenant. I read a copy of Paoli's report on that affair in Ajaccio.The original report is at the Ministry of War. They've taken a very dim view of your actions and have referred the matter to the Ministry of Justice.'

'Am I to be charged then?'

'Oh, yes! They want a full court martial. It seems they'll settle for nothing less than your head.Yours and that fat fool Quenza's. What the h.e.l.l did you expect? Your actions are nothing less than treasonous.'

Napoleon felt sick. Was this how all his dreams, all his ambitions, were to end? A quick trial and a quiet execution? He should have taken his mother's advice to go into hiding after all.

'I expect you want me to see what I can do to quash these charges,' Saliceti continued. 'Corsican to Corsican, eh? Even though you Buona Partes have always held me in contempt for wanting to bind us to France, eh?'

'That is true,' Napoleon admitted miserably.

'I see.' Saliceti was silent for a moment, then continued quietly, 'Of course, if I do help you, I shall want a favour in return.'

Napoleon found it difficult to see how a lowly artillery lieutenant could possibly be of service to one of the leading figures of the revolution, but he nodded his a.s.sent all the same.'I'll do what I can.'

'Good. Now tell me, since you have just come from Corsica, what the h.e.l.l is Paoli up to?'

'Paoli? What do you mean, citizen?'

'I'm hearing reports that the man is running the island like a virtual dictator. He's making all the key appointments. He controls most of the National Guard units - Ajaccio's being the honourable exception, thanks to your efforts. I've also heard that he's been talking to English agents. Seems that he might just as easily lead Corsica into the arms of the English as join the revolution.'

'No. He just wants what all true Coriscans want.'

'And what do we want, Buona Parte?'

Napoleon shrugged. 'Freedom.'

'Freedom. And what exactly does this freedom consist of ?'

'Independence. A chance to rule ourselves.'

'We're too small to be independent. Corsica is fated to be part of the inventory of one kingdom, or another. The only question worth asking is which kingdom you prefer. Either Corsica becomes part of the revolution and has its share of democracy, or it becomes the personal property of Paoli and his friends, until he hands it over to England.'

'There is another way,' Napoleon insisted. 'An independent Corsica, that embraces the values of the revolution.'