'Suspend?' Napoleon looked astonished. 'How do they expect to do that?'

'By a rope ideally.' Saliceti laughed. 'If only! No, I mean they refuse to depose him. They still can't see that it's him or us at the end of the day. In any case, it's out of their hands now.'

'What do you mean?'

'The Paris Commune has taken charge of the King. The a.s.sembly can say what it likes, but Louis is a prisoner of the Commune and they're not going to hand him over until they get what they want.'

Napoleon stirred uneasily. 'What's going to happen to the King?'

'He, and the rest of the royal family, are being held in one of the towers at the Temple. Until their fate is decided. If the Jacobins win the day, he'll be dethroned, tried as a traitor and then ...' Saliceti waved his hands. 'And then, he'll be disposed of.'

Napoleon bit his lip. Despite the angry cries of denunciation he had heard in the streets since the ma.s.sacre, there had been few demands for the King's death, just his removal from the throne. But that was wishful thinking. As long as he lived, Louis would pose a danger to the new order in France.

'Anyway,' Saliceti broke into his thoughts,'I didn't send for you to discuss the fate of kings. That'll be my job. It's time for you to repay my favour. I have a tricky mission for you.You won't like it, and it is dangerous. Both for you and your family. You must understand that before I explain anything else to you.' Saliceti's dark eyes bored into Napoleon. 'Despite our desperate need for professional officers in the army I'm not sending you back to your regiment.'

Napoleon opened his mouth to protest. He had been kept idle in Paris while his regiment had no doubt been called forward to fight in the defence of France, and he longed to join them. To prove himself as a soldier and - if he was honest with himself - to win himself some glory.

Saliceti raised a hand to forestall Napoleon's complaint. 'I've made up my mind. It has to be you. One artillery officer more or less is going to have little effect on the outcome on the war. But one Buona Parte in the right place is going to be invaluable to me, and to France.'

Napoleon looked at him warily. 'What exactly is it that you want me to do?'

'Your promotion to captain will be effective immediately. Then I want you to return to Corsica. I want you to find out what Paoli is up to. If you can, I want you to destabilise him by any means that come to hand.'

'You want me to be a spy?' Napoleon replied quietly.

'Is that so terrible?' Saliceti smiled faintly. 'Please put aside that look of distaste, young man. Whatever you may think of me, I have one attribute that is unquestionable: I am an excellent judge of character. After I read the report on your activities at Ajaccio, I sent for your records at the War Office.They make for interesting reading. Clearly you are an outstanding officer. But one other thing was very evident to me when I pieced together all the information about you.You are the kind of man who possesses a personal ambition that overrules his patriotism.That's the kind of man I need right now. What? Do you think I have misjudged you?'

Napoleon stared back at him. At first he felt insulted. Then he realised that Saliceti had seen through him and that the deputy was right. Napoleon had felt the touch of destiny on his shoulder and when a man had had that experience, the rules and values that tied the hands of normal men no longer applied.

'Very well. I'll return to Corsica. I'll be your spy.'

Saliceti slowly smiled. 'Of course you will.'

Chapter 66.

'Sir,' Napoleon spoke patiently, 'we have to prepare the island's defences. France is already at war with most of Europe. If Britain should join our enemies then we will be facing the most powerful navy in the world.'

'The defence of Corsica is a French concern,' General Paoli said. 'Why should the people of this island be burdened with the task of turning their home into a fortress? Particularly against a nation such as Britain, which has been our ally in the struggles for liberation.' He smiled. 'Do not forget, my dear Napoleon, that it was Britain who offered me shelter when your father and I were defeated at Ponte Nuovo.'

'I know that, sir. But times change. If France and Britain go to war then Corsica will become a vital strategic a.s.set for whichever side holds the island.'

Paoli stared hard at him. 'Not so long ago, you were set on freeing Corsica from the French.'

Napoleon shrugged.'At present it is in our best interest to side with France.'

'But only for the present?'

'As I said, the situation has changed. It is more than likely it will change again.'

'So I see,' Paoli smiled. 'It's only been a few months since you left Corisca in disgrace. Now you are a regular army captain and, since Ajaccio's volunteers have been reinstated, a colonel of volunteers once again.You're quite an opportunist, my boy.'

Napoleon stared back at him. 'If you say so, sir. Do you wish to discuss my report on the island's defences?'

Napoleon did not wait for a response but spread the map out across the table in Paoli's ostentatious office in the Palais National. Whilst Napoleon pulled out his notes from his saddlebag, Paoli wandered over to the doorway that led on to the balcony. Despite it being early in January, the doors were open and the room was cool. The general professed to like the clean, fresh mountain air. Below the balcony the hill town of Corte spread out in a labyrinth of streets. To one side loomed the ancient fortress that had protected the town for centuries, perched atop a rocky crag. Barren mountains surrounded Corte and the peaks were shrouded in dazzling white snow. General Paoli took a deep breath and turned back to Napoleon with another smile.

'Much as I appreciated the hospitality of my British hosts, there was not a day that pa.s.sed when I did not dream of being back here in the mountains of Corte.'

'I understand, sir. I felt the same when I was being educated in France. It's in our blood. Wherever you transplant a Corsican, and however long you keep him there, at the end of the day he's still a Corsican.'

Paoli looked at him. 'Well said, young man. There are times when you remind me of your father.'

Napoleon was touched. 'Thank you, sir. I hope I do some honour to his memory.'

'You do. I'm sure Carlos would be proud of how you've turned out. And now you have been entrusted with surveying the island's defences for the French Government. The War Office must have a great deal of faith in you.'

Napoleon stirred uncomfortably. The survey was a cover concocted by Saliceti for the real purpose behind Napoleon's return to Corsica. The War Office, fearing that Britain would inevitably be drawn into a war against revolutionary France, had long been concerned about the fate of Corsica. If the island was seized from France it could be used as a base from which to attack the southern coast, or to intervene in Italy. So orders for a thorough survey of the defences had been given, and Saliceti had intervened and placed the survey in the hands of Captain Buona Parte.

Napoleon had been diligent enough in carrying out the task. After arriving in Ajaccio, and presenting Saliceti's confirmation of his position in the Ajaccio volunteer battalion, he spent until Christmas travelling round the island, taking soundings in the main harbours, carefully marking potential positions for coastal batteries and talking guardedly with people wherever he went. Even though Paoli was behaving like a dictator, the majority of Corsicans were loyal to him. However, this loyalty was tempered by sympathy for the revolution and all the main towns on the island maintained political clubs that were dominated by the Jacobins.There was no certainty over what might happen if Paoli tried to sever Corsica's links with France.

Napoleon cleared his mind and turned his attention back to the report.There was a detailed map of Corsica, heavily annotated in Napoleon's scruffy hand.

'I hope you don't expect me to try and read any of that,' Paoli said.

Napoleon shook his head. 'It won't be necessary, sir. I a.s.sume you have read the copy of the report I sent to you.'

'Ah, yes. I had one of my officers look over it and present me with a summary. A thorough piece of work, and I agree with your conclusions. The defence of the main ports must be the priority. I will put your report in front of the next meeting of the governing council. That will be in March.'

'March?' Napoleon looked at the general sharply.'We could be at war with Britain by then.'

Paoli shrugged.'It's the best I can do.The council will consider your report, and if they decide to proceed with your recommendations we'll need to work out the costings and then submit those to the treasury committee for approval. Then the work can begin.'

'I see,' Napoleon said quietly. 'And when, precisely, might that be, sir? I need to know so that I can inform the War Office.'

Paoli pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before replying.'Realistically . . . the end of the year.At the earliest.'

'I don't think Paris will be very happy with that, sir.'

'That's as maybe. But there's nothing I can do about it.'

'Very well, sir.' Napoleon bowed his head. 'I'll put your estimate of the time needed to the War Office at once.'

'You do that,' Paoli replied tonelessly. 'Now, if you put your reports away we can proceed to other business.'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon wondered what the other business might be. When he had been summoned from Ajaccio three days ago, General Paoli had merely asked to discuss the results of the survey of Corsica's defences.

'You might as well leave the map out. We'll need it.' Paoli crossed to the door, opened it and said to one of his clerks, 'Tell Colonel Colonna we're ready for him now.'

As Paoli returned to the table Napoleon looked at him enquiringly. He had met Colonna recently. Colonna was the commander of the garrison at Bastia and Napoleon had approached him to ask for some engineers to be seconded to his small survey team, but Colonna had refused the request. Paoli noticed the expression on Napoleon's face.'All will be made clear to you in a moment. While we're waiting for my nephew I want to ask you something, Colonel.'

This was the first time that Paoli had condescended to call him by this rank, and not his regular army rank of captain and Napoleon was immediately back on his guard. 'What is it, sir?'

'This war that the Convention is waging against Austria and now Prussia - what are France's chances of winning?'

Napoleon's mind raced to organise his thoughts. 'It depends. So far the National Guard units have made a poor showing, but there are plans to merge them with the regulars in coming months. Once that happens our armies will fight far more effectively. At the moment we're also short of good officers. Many of the aristocrats have resigned their commissions and emigrated. But there are good men emerging from the ranks, and many others in training. It's all a question of time. If we can hold the enemy back for five, maybe six months, then we have every chance of winning.'

'Against Austria and Prussia, yes. But what if Britain and other nations enter the war against France? As they surely will if any harm comes to King Louis.'

Napoleon nodded. There was no point in avoiding the issue. The latest news from Paris was that the Convention, the revolutionary executive, had decided to charge the King with treason. The best Louis could hope for was exile, but imprisonment was the most likely outcome, although a number of leading Jacobins were calling for his head. But if Louis was disposed of, then France's enemies would multiply overnight, and how could one nation hope to prevail against so many? Napoleon decided to answer General Paoli's question honestly. 'In that case, we cannot win. Not unless the whole nation is put at the service of the army. Even then our armies would need to be led by the most outstanding generals of our time.'

'Alas, I am too old for such duties,' Paoli smiled, then laughed. 'I'm joking, of course.' He frowned as he saw the look of relief that flitted across Napoleon's face. 'I'm sure that your generation will produce some useful commanders. Maybe you will be one of them.'

For a moment Napoleon was tempted to answer modestly, but he already felt irritated by Paoli's cavalier response to his report on the state of Corsica's defences.'I'm sure that every good officer shares that ambition, sir.'

'I'm glad to hear it. But you must admit, the chances of France prosecuting a successful war are slim indeed. In which case, some might argue that it is in the best interest of Corsica not to be on the losing side.'

'Some might argue that.'

'And you? What do you think? I ask you as one Corsican to another.'

Napoleon felt a chill trickle down his spine. What was Paoli after? Was this some kind of loyalty test? If so, what would be the safest answer? He had to be careful. If Paoli was thinking of declaring Corsican independence then Napoleon must be seen to support him, until his family could be moved to safety. If, on the other hand, he was testing Napoleon's loyalty with a view to reporting back to Paris then Napoleon would have to hope that any pro-independence line that he supported would be seen as an expedient by Saliceti. Napoleon cleared his throat. 'I think that Corsica needs France, for now. We are like a goat surrounded by wolves. Our only salvation lies in siding with the strongest wolf. Besides, no other power would tolerate the social reforms that our people are starting to enjoy.'

Paoli stared at Napoleon with renewed intensity. 'And what happens when the beasts have fought it out, and the strongest one is left? What hope is there for your goat then?'

Napoleon managed to smile at such a predicament. 'Then, I hope that the wolf has already eaten enough to overlook a scrawny morsel.'

Paoli laughed and leaned forward to clap the young man on the shoulder.'Truly, you are in the wrong profession.What a lawyer or politician was lost when you decided to become a soldier.'

The tramp of heavy boots ended the exchange as both men glanced towards the door. A tall man in thigh-length riding boots entered the room and saluted Paoli, but ignored Napoleon. He had a shock of dark hair tied back by a blue ribbon. He was powerfully built and projected a confidence that bordered on arrogance, and Napoleon was instantly reminded just how much he had disliked the man when they had last met in Bastia.

Paoli made the reintroductions. 'Colonel Colonna, you have met Lieutenant Colonel Buona Parte of the Ajaccio battalion of volunteers.'

'Yes, sir.' He turned to Napoleon. 'Or would you prefer me to address you as captain of artillery?'

Napoleon bit back on a surge of anger. 'As I am currently in Corsica, serving in a Corsican battalion and working in the interests of Corsica, it would be suitable to refer to me by my local rank, wouldn't you agree, sir?'

Colonna shrugged. 'Please yourself.'

'Excuse my nephew,' Paoli interrupted with a hard glance towards Colonna. 'He has been busy planning for the operation.'

'Operation?'

Paoli smiled. 'You were so busy with your survey that I didn't think it right to distract you.We have been instructed by the War Office in Paris to co-operate in the campaign against the Kingdom of Piedmont. France needs to protect its southern flank so she intends to send an army into Piedmont. The main force will strike from Nice and Savoy. Our contribution will be to seize Sardinia.'

Napoleon's mind reeled. 'When were you told of this?'

'Before Christmas. We have been busy with organising the men and supplies needed since then. Now we need to consider the plan.'

Before Christmas. Napoleon was furious.Why had Saliceti not warned him? He would write to the deputy at the first opportunity and find out. Meanwhile Paoli had beckoned to Colonna to join them at the map, then he placed some inkwells on the bottom corners so that Sardinia was clearly visible.

'Just to put you in the picture, Buona Parte, Admiral Truguet's fleet at Toulon will provide the transport for our troops. We have been instructed to provide six thousand men. Needless to say, that will strip most of the garrisons of Corsica of their protection, but Paris does not seem to have considered that. The question is, where should we strike first? I'd value your opinion.'

Napoleon bent over the map. He already knew what he would say. He had mentioned it in the appendix to his report. Two prominent islands were marked off the northern tip of Sardinia.

'Maddalena and Caprera.' He tapped the names with his finger. 'We must take them before we make a landing on Sardinia. As soon as the enemy are aware that France is going to launch an attack they are sure to fortify these islands and place heavy guns on them. Once that is done they will control the Strait of Bonifacio, and be able to prevent any landing in the north of Sardinia. But if we move fast, we can snap up these islands before the enemy realise the danger. Then we mount our own batteries there, and the Strait is under our control.'

He looked up in time to see Paoli and his nephew exchange a look of satisfaction, then Paoli's eyes flickered towards Napoleon and he nodded. 'That is just what we were thinking, Napoleon. I'm delighted that we are in agreement. A small force should suffice for the attack. Say, one battalion.'

Napoleon felt a burst of excitement. This was his chance. 'Sir, may I request that the Ajaccio battalion has the honour of making the attack?'

Paoli smiled. 'I was hoping you'd say that. I suggest that you return to Ajaccio and prepare your men, the moment we have completed the plans.'

'When did it happen?' Napoleon asked.

'On the twenty-first of January,' Joseph replied, thrusting the newspaper across the table to his brother. Napoleon had been aware that something momentous had happened the moment he entered Ajaccio. The streets were almost deserted and he hurried up to the salon the moment he had tethered his mount in the small courtyard behind the house. His mother and his other brothers and sisters were at church, like much of the population, praying that the Almighty would spare Corsica from the consequences of the execution of King Louis. Joseph had remained in the house to read through the first reports to reach Ajaccio.

Napoleon glanced at the newspaper, skimming his eyes over the front page. 'Good G.o.d . . . they actually went ahead and did it,' he marvelled. 'I don't believe it.'

Joseph nodded. His gaze flickered towards his younger brother. 'What will happen now?'

'Now?' Napoleon bit his lip. With King Louis dead the monarchs of Europe would be terrified of sharing his fate. Terrified, and filled with a spirit of vengeance. It could mean only one thing. 'There'll be a conflict on a scale no one can yet imagine.'

Joseph stared back at him anxiously, and Napoleon continued, 'They'll be lining up to declare war against France now. Those fools in Paris have no idea what they have unleashed.'

'G.o.d help us.'

Napoleon smiled bitterly. 'There'll be no help from that quarter. Not after everything that Robespierre and his friends have done. We're on our own, and the world is against us.'

Chapter 67.

The icy water felt like a thousand knives stabbing at his flesh and Napoleon gasped as it closed round his chest. He held his pistols above his head and started wading towards the sh.o.r.e. Around him, the men from the other boats were also struggling to reach the shingle, muskets held aloft and muttering low curses at the coldness of the water. Ahead, at the base of the cliff, gleamed the lantern that had guided the boats to the landing point. A dark figure stood in the faint glow of the lamp, beckoning them on. Napoleon felt the angle of the seabed increase and moments later he surged from the small waves breaking on the sh.o.r.e and stood on the shingle, shivering like a new-born lamb. Around him the other men were stamping their boots and muttering through clenched teeth.The sound was terrifying and Napoleon was sure that the sentries on the walls of the small fort a short march from the beach would hear the noise. He grabbed the arm of the nearest sergeant.

'Tell the men to keep quiet, and then get them formed up!'