Young Bloods Part 35

'Get out of here!' Napoleon yelled. 'All of you! Or I swear I'll shoot the first man to come a step nearer my house!'

'Stand your ground!' a voice called out from further down the street. Napoleon recognised it instantly.

'Di Borgo! Tell your men to go, or I swear to G.o.d I'll shoot.'

There was a tense moment of silence, before Napoleon heard a chuckle from the darkness.

'So this is what it takes to make you a believer . . . There must be no more disrespect for the Church.You've had your warning, Buona Parte.There won't be another. Come on, men, leave them.'

The shadows drew off and Napoleon waited until they were some distance away from the door before he lowered the gun and closed the door to the street. He glanced round at his companions and saw that they were all with him. Besides the youth with the head wound, one was nursing his jaw and another was clutching a broken wrist to his chest.All were panting and looked wild-eyed with excitement and fear. Napoleon saw that his own hands were trembling as they clutched the gun.

'Hey,' one of his comrades muttered, 'would you really have shot at them?'

Napoleon smiled and raised the barrel towards the ceiling. 'I don't think anyone's loaded it in years.'

He pulled the trigger. At once there was a fizz and a deafening explosion as a chunk of plaster exploded from the ceiling. The others jumped back in alarm and then stared at Napoleon in shock.

Moments later a door was wrenched open, feet pattered across the landing and his mother screamed out,'What on earth is going on? Who's firing guns in my house at this time of night?'

Napoleon exchanged an anxious glance with his comrades, before they dissolved into laughter.

Napoleon took the warning seriously enough to make sure that he never entered the streets of Ajaccio alone. For the protection of himself and his family, he persuaded the members of the Jacobin Club to elect him lieutenant colonel of the town's volunteer battalion of the National Guard. It was easily arranged, since he was one of the few men in Ajaccio with professional military training, and as autumn arrived Napoleon took up the post. Since the commander of the unit, Colonel Quenza, was an ageing merchant, another member of the Jacobin Club who had never fired a weapon in anger, let alone taken part in any training exercises, this left Napoleon in effective command of the unit. With a force of five hundred men behind him he had no further trouble from di Borgo and his Paolist friends. Napoleon was free to continue developing his political base in Ajaccio. At the same time he trained the men of the National Guard as thoroughly as possible, under the amused eyes of the off-duty soldiers of the garrison, who were inclined to neglect their training drills in this generally quiet backwater.

The only excitement the following summer was the news of the royal family's attempt to escape from Paris and join up with an army of emigres and foreign mercenaries to seize power back from the National a.s.sembly. Napoleon joined the other members in the Jacobin Club as they crowded round the copies of the Moniteur Moniteur and the and the Mercure Mercure to read the first accounts of the King's arrest at Varennes. No one was in any doubt that he was little more than a prisoner of the new regime in Paris. The very last vestige of his authority had dissolved in his failed escape attempt. to read the first accounts of the King's arrest at Varennes. No one was in any doubt that he was little more than a prisoner of the new regime in Paris. The very last vestige of his authority had dissolved in his failed escape attempt.

'It's over then,' Napoleon decided as he finished reading the reports.

'What's over?' one of the younger members of the club asked.

'The monarchy. It's finished.' Napoleon tapped the newspaper with his finger. 'The King and that fool of a Queen have been caught out.They've been pretending to go along with the reforms ever since the Estates General first met. And all the time they have been plotting against the French people. Now they'll be seen for what they are - traitors.'

Several faces turned in Napoleon's direction and he was aware that he had said too much. Even now, even here in the Jacobin Club, there were some who clung to a tradition of respect for the Crown. France was not quite ready to dispense with the monarchy, at least not without causing bitter divisions. But given that there was no longer any way of hiding from the venality of King Louis, the National a.s.sembly would be forced to act, to save France as much as to save itself. Napoleon reflected a moment. If the King was deposed, and that led to a breakdown in order and maybe even civil war, then it was imperative that Corsica did not get embroiled.The island had suffered enough already in its thirst for freedom.

Chapter 59.

As the year came to an end, Napoleon received a letter from the War Office in Paris, ordering him to return to the artillery regiment in Auxonne. He still bitterly resented the conditions under which he had been sent on leave - been sent into exile it felt more like - so he simply ignored the letter and carried on drilling his men, and drawing up his plans. Christmas pa.s.sed with all the usual religious festivals, and Napoleon kept out of sight rather than risk any further trouble over his opinions about the Church. His reputation at the Jacobin Club had won him little affection amongst many of the people of Ajaccio and his family feared for his life.

Early in the new year Napoleon took the volunteer battalion into the country to train them in battle tactics. On a wet, windy February afternoon he put in place the first step of his scheme. He was standing on a hillside beside Colonel Quenza, both men hunched inside their greatcoats as the rain dripped from the brims of their hats. Below them, spread across the rocky floor of a narrow valley, the men of the battalion were manoeuvring into a line of battle to take on an imaginary fortification that had been marked out with stakes some distance ahead. Napoleon was giving a running commentary to his superior, and explaining the new formation he was experimenting with.

'You'll notice that the battalion is formed up with a column at each end of the line.'

'Yes,' Quenza said.'I had wondered about that.What's this new gimmick for, Buona Parte? What's wrong with using the old column of advance, eh?'

Napoleon pointed to the distant stakes. 'Let's a.s.sume that there are cannon in those fortifications, sir. If we sent the men forward in column they'd be cut to pieces. If we sent them forward in line formation, we'd lose far less men, but when we reached the defences we would lack the necessary concentration of force to break through. This mixed formation seems to offer the best chance, besides protecting both flanks against any surprise attacks.'

Quenza watched the battalion advance steadily over the broken ground, keeping its formation as it progressed. He nodded his satisfaction.'You've done wonders with the men, Buona Parte. I'm very pleased with you.'

'Thank you, sir.' Napoleon bowed his head modestly. Now was the time to speak, he decided. He cleared his throat. 'In my judgement, as a professional soldier, your battalion is as good as any in the French Army. Better than most perhaps. Certainly better than the garrison in Ajaccio.'

Quenza's chest swelled a little with pride. 'Yes. We could show them a thing or two.'

'We could, sir.' Napoleon smiled. 'So why don't we?'

Quenza turned towards him with a puzzled expression. 'What do you mean?'

'Just this. If your battalion can perform to the highest standards, then we really don't need to have the garrison there to protect us. Our battalion could take over the citadel and defend the town, if need be. I'm sure the government would be only too pleased to be relieved of the burden. G.o.d knows, they need more men in France at the moment.'

'Yes . . . yes, I imagine they do.'

'You might suggest that to General Paoli when you next write to him, sir.' Napoleon shrugged.'I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to have at least one Corsican town defended by Corsicans.'

'You're right!' Quenza's eyes gleamed. 'He'd be delighted by the idea! I know he would.'

When Paoli's response arrived, it was unequivocal. Quenza immediately sought out his subordinate in the Jacobin Club and thrust the letter in his hand.

'There! Read that!'

Napoleon took the letter and scanned the contents as Quenza stood impatiently bobbing up and down on his toes. 'Don't take all day, Buona Parte!'

Napoleon finished the letter and handed it back, forcing himself not to smile with satisfaction that Paoli had taken the bait. 'It seems the general doesn't think much of the idea.'

'Doesn't think much?' Quenza puffed with indignation, and he thrust a fat finger at the letter. 'Did you actually read it? He as good as accuses me of treason. And there! Look! He says that our men lack the competence to do the job properly . . . How dare he say that? The scoundrel. Selling us out to the French. My G.o.d, they're not even French, they're b.l.o.o.d.y Swiss! It's an outrage!'

Other members had gathered round to see what the shouting was about and now Quenza turned to them, brandis.h.i.+ng the letter. 'An outrage, I tell you!'

The members looked back at him in confusion and incomprehension.

Napoleon gently took his sleeve. 'Sir, perhaps you had better explain. Or let me.'

'What?' Quenza glared at Napoleon and for an instant Napoleon feared that Quenza would speak for himself. But the man was so choked with rage that he merely nodded, and thrust Napoleon towards the rostrum.'Tell 'em.You tell 'em everything.'

With a show of reluctance Napoleon did as he was bid. The room was quickly filling up with an audience eager to hear what the charismatic young officer had to announce and he waited until the area in front of him was packed.

'Colonel Quenza has just received a letter from Pasquale Paoli. It seems that Citizen Paoli has no faith in the volunteer battalion of Ajaccio. He would prefer to trust the lives of our women and children to a mob of Swiss mercenaries. He thinks we are not competent enough, not brave enough, to defend our families.' Napoleon paused to let this sink in. As he had antic.i.p.ated, the insult to the honour of Ajaccio's men produced expressions of outrage. He raised his arms to calm the audience. 'Will we let this man heap such shame upon us?'

The crowd roared out their defiance.

'Will we take this insult like cowards and curs?'

'NO! NEVER!'

'A true Corsican would die rather than suffer such an insult! We must protect our honour! We must avenge the great injustice done to Colonel Quenza and the fine men of the volunteer battalion!'

Quenza stiffened and tried to look like a hero as the members cheered him. Napoleon seized on the defiant mood and called for calm again.

'Only one action will suffice to save our honour.We must take the citadel into our own hands! We must take it now and prove that Corsicans can look after themselves! Officers of the battalion - summon your men! If Paoli is too afraid to liberate us from France, then we'll do the job ourselves!'

The room echoed with the cheers of the members of the Jacobin Club, and already the officers and men of the volunteer battalion were hurrying from the room to a.s.semble their men. A few members who had remained silent during the debate slipped away with anxious expressions. Napoleon felt someone tugging at his sleeve and turned to see Quenza looking up at him with an anxious expression.

'I-I didn't mean for this to happen.'

'But, sir, he insulted you. He insulted every man in Ajaccio.'

'Yes, but-'

'It's too late now, sir. We must see this through or be branded cowards before the eyes of the whole of Corsica.'

Quenza winced, then bit his lip and glanced round the room. He nodded to himself and turned back to Napoleon, drawing himself up in an effort to look brave and soldierly. 'Come on, then, Buona Parte. To battle!'

Chapter 60.

In the pale gloom of the last hour before sunrise the streets of Ajaccio were cold. As the men of the volunteer battalion marched towards the citadel in silence their wispy breaths plumed into the air amongst the hard metallic ripple of fixed bayonets. Napoleon was pleased to see that the discipline he had drilled into them for months was paying off. Not a man spoke as they trudged past, faces grim with intent to do their duty. Napoleon had made sure that every officer had impressed upon his men that the action was necessary to redeem their honour and free Corsica from foreign occupation. Colonel Quenza had been only too happy to entrust the a.s.sault to his subordinate. He was waiting for news of the victory back in the Jacobin Club, which he had commandeered for his headquarters.

The battlements of the citadel were visible above the rooftops of the buildings ahead.Above the citadel hung the white and blue flag of the Bourbons, gleaming in the first rays of the sun as they crested the mountains. Napoleon motioned to one of his sergeants.

'Bring the a.s.sault party forward.'

'Yes, sir.'

Forty men, the best of the volunteers, stripped down to the bare uniform with just cartridge belts across their shoulders, advanced beyond the head of the column. They would seize the entrance to the citadel, and the moment Napoleon gave the order the rest would follow. The men looked to their young lieutenant colonel with eager eyes and he waved them on.

'Let's go.'

The party moved forward, along the shadows on one side of the street. At the end, the street turned sharply to the left and led onto the wide boulevard that ran alongside the citadel walls. Directly opposite lay the fortified entrance to the citadel, covered by two projecting bastions. As they approached the bend in the street Napoleon motioned to his men to stop. He crept forward and peered around the corner. Forty paces away a pair of sentries stood in front of the open gateway.They were leaning against the wall of one of the bastions and appeared to be talking. Napoleon smiled. This was going to be easy. A quick glance along the walls either side of the gate satisfied him that they were not manned, or at least that the sentries on the wall were as lazy as their companions on the gate. Napoleon fell back to the a.s.sault squad.

'Remember, no noise. When we make for the gate run as fast as you can. Don't stop for anything. It all depends on speed. Understand?'

Several men nodded back, some grinned. The sergeant stood at the street corner, ready to convey Napoleon's signal for the rest of the battalion to charge forward.

'Very well. Let's go.'

Napoleon turned back to the citadel, easing his sword out of its scabbard. He took a deep breath and launched himself into a trot. The rest of the squad followed immediately behind him. They turned the corner and immediately burst into a flat run across the open ground.

The two sentries saw them almost at once, but failed to react for a few seconds, startled by the sight of the armed men racing towards them in silence. Then the spell was broken. The sentries unslung their muskets, thumbed back the hammers, took hurried aim and fired.

One ball pa.s.sed close by Napoleon with a sharp whup. The second hit a man to his left with a sound like a stick striking wet leather. The man spun round and pitched forward on to the boulevard with a groan. His comrades, true to their orders, ran past or jumped over him, and continued towards the gates. Ahead, the two sentries turned and fled for the safety of the citadel. The a.s.sault squad rushed on, pa.s.sing between the flanking bastions, and with a stab of joy Napoleon realised they were going to succeed.

There was no point in keeping silent any longer. He filled his lungs and cried out, 'Come on! The gates are ours!'

The men gave a roar of triumph and charged home. Just before they reached the gate, Napoleon hung back ready to give the signal for the rest of the battalion to follow them in. Suddenly there was a harsh shout of command from inside the gate and the men hurrying past Napoleon stopped in their tracks.

'Fire!' someone bellowed. The shattering crash of a volley of muskets rang out in a deafening roar that echoed off the walls of the flanking bastions. Several of Napoleon's men were flung to the ground, others flinched and then clutched at wounds.

'Advance!' came the order, and Napoleon heard the tramp of boots approaching. At once he knew it was a trap. Someone had warned the garrison - one of those cowards at the Jacobin Club who had slunk out of the meeting after Napoleon had roused the rest to arms.

'Back!' Napoleon called out to his men. 'Fall back!'

He ran a few paces from the gate before stopping to turn to look. His men were fleeing.Then the first of the red jackets of the Swiss soldiers was visible through the gunpowder smoke that billowed through the opening. More followed, and Napoleon ran for the cover of the street they had emerged from only moments before. The survivors of the a.s.sault party ran for their lives, and some threw down their weapons in blind panic as they made for the nearest shelter.

When Napoleon had reached the corner of the street, he flattened himself against the wall and gasped for breath for a moment, before risking a look back towards the gateway. Nearly a company of the Swiss soldiers had emerged from the citadel and as he watched he saw two of them bayonet one of the wounded volunteers.The latter raised his hand and screamed for mercy, but his cries were cut short as the spiked bayonets plunged into his throat and tore it open.

From the other end of the street came the tramp of the rest of the battalion. There was still a chance, Napoleon thought desperately. He straightened up and waited for the column to march up towards him.

'The battalion will form line!' he shouted out, indicating the boulevard opposite the citadel.

The officers acknowledged and relayed the order, and Napoleon felt a surge of pride as they marched out into the open and began to form up either side of the end of the street. The officer commanding the detachment of Swiss soldiers watched anxiously before he gave the order to recall his men. More of the garrison had appeared on the battlements, where they had clearly been waiting. Puffs of smoke blossomed along the wall, as the irregular crackle of musketry echoed across the open s.p.a.ce. Here and there, fragments of stone exploded from the cobbled street and a few more of the volunteers were struck down.

'Raise muskets!' Napoleon called out.

All along the line, the long barrels extended towards the enemy.The officer by the gate was still forming his men into line ready to return fire when Napoleon swept his arm down.

'Fire!'

For a second Napoleon was deafened by the volley that flashed out from the muskets of the blue-coated volunteers and a thick pall of gunpowder smoke blotted out all sight of the citadel and the men opposite. Slowly the cloud thinned as the volunteers hurriedly reloaded. By the gate four bodies in red jackets lay sprawled amongst the dead of the a.s.sault party. The rest had already withdrawn through the gate and, as Napoleon watched, the studded timbers thudded into position as the defenders sealed the entrance.

Now Napoleon saw that the defenders on the wall were taking a steady toll of the volunteers and he knew he must get them under cover as soon as possible.

'Battalion! Withdraw to cover! Withdraw!'

The men needed no encouragement, and forced their way into the houses opposite the walls of the citadel. Napoleon made his way inside a tall building belonging to one of the wealthier merchants of Ajaccio and, ignoring the screams of protest from the man's wife, he climbed the stairs up to the attic and cautiously peered out of the small window that jutted over the roof tiles. Glancing to both sides he saw that his men and the defenders were busy exchanging shots. Napoleon was content to let this continue for a while yet. It would do the men good to have the experience of being under fire, albeit under the secure cover of stone buildings. He let them have a quarter of an hour before he left orders for the men to cease fire and made for the Jacobin Club.

Colonel Quenza leaped up from his desk as Napoleon entered the room and thrust out his finger towards his subordinate. 'What the h.e.l.l is going on, Buona Parte? I'm hearing reports that my men have been ma.s.sacred out there!'

'There have been some casualties,' Napoleon admitted coolly. 'But we knew there would be.'

'Have we taken the citadel?'

'No, sir.' Napoleon inclined his head towards the window through which the spasmodic fire from the defenders sounded. 'As you can hear. Someone warned them that we were coming. The garrison has closed the gates and our men have the entrance to the citadel surrounded.'

'Surrounded?' Quenza blinked rapidly and folded his hands together. 'So what happens now, eh?'

'For the time being, nothing, sir.' Napoleon quickly thought through the options. 'We can wait until tonight and try another a.s.sault. That's risky. We could try to starve them out, or we could try to negotiate a surrender.'