Текст книги "Young bloods"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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Chapter 49

The Regiment de la Fere had been transferred to Auxonne, in the Burgundy region. When Napoleon arrived he was disappointed to find that Auxonne was a small provincial market town with few of the sights and distractions that had beguiled him in Paris. The barracks were a dilapidated sprawl of buildings on the edge of town, even though the regiment boasted its own artillery school where French officers, and a handful of foreigners, learned their trade and experimented with all manner of refinements to the charge, shot and the guns. Napoleon had been informed that the commandant of the school was General Baron du Tiel, something of a legend amongst the more professional of the artillery officers of the French Army. It was a fine opportunity to study under such a man and Napoleon looked forward to meeting the general as soon as possible.

It was late afternoon when he presented himself at the guardhouse. Once his documents had been checked he was directed to headquarters. Napoleon found the adjutant's office and knocked on the door.

'Come!'

Napoleon entered. Behind the desk Captain Des Mazis glanced up and his eyes widened as he recognised the arrival.

Napoleon saluted and then handed his documents over to the adjutant. 'Lieutenant Buona Parte returning from leave, sir.'

'Buona Parte! Good God, how long has it been?' Captain Des Mazis frowned as he tried to recall. 'A year? No, nearly a year and half, isn't it?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I'm surprised to see you back.We'd almost given up hope that you'd return. Any illness that causes a man to be away from his regiment for so long tends to be the kind you never recover from.' He smiled and stood up, offering his hand.

Napoleon took it. 'It's good to be back, sir.'

'Good?' Captain Des Mazis shook his head ruefully. 'There's not much good about this town, as I'm sure you've seen already. Quite a change from Valence.' He smiled faintly.'Still, there's a few places to drink and enough whores to go round. It'll do. At least you'll have a room in the officers' mess. Down the corridor and turn left at the end, into the hall. You can't miss it. It's the only cheerful spot for miles around.'

Napoleon saluted, left the adjutant's office and followed his directions to the mess. The sounds of laughter and high-spirited conversation carried up the hall. Napoleon left the porter with instructions to find the mess sergeant and arrange some quarters for him and then paid him off. Smoothing down his hair and twitching the creases out of his jacket, Napoleon entered the mess.

The accommodation provided for the regiment's officers was just as run down as the rest of the barracks. The floor was bare stone, and a few rickety chairs and tables were positioned along the damp walls. In the centre of the room a loose circle of young officers stood about two of their comrades who each had a bottle of wine perched on his head. Both men had drawn swords and were carefully keeping pace with each other as they tried to topple the other's bottle.The other officers cheered them on, and paid no attention to Napoleon as he approached the ring. Squeezing between the shoulders of two of the onlookers, Napoleon could at last see that one of the fencers was his friend Alexander Des Mazis. Alexander stood stiffly, legs braced, eyes fixed on the tip of his opponent's blade; the very picture of concentration and focus. Then he slid a foot forward, eased his weight behind it and quickly stretched out his arm. As the other man moved to parry, Alexander disengaged, raised the point and flicked the blade across the top of his opponent's head.The bottle tumbled over and struck the ground in an explosion of green glass and blood-red wine.

'Touche!' Alexander shouted in triumph, tilting his head and catching the other bottle in his spare hand.'That's a half-louis you owe me.'

The other officer nodded ruefully, reached into his fob, pulled out a gold coin and tossed it to Alexander as the crowd began to break up. Alexander glanced round at his companions with a beaming smile until his eyes fixed on the small figure staring back at him with a grin.

'Napoleon!' Alexander sheathed his blade and strode over to grasp his friend by the shoulder.'I thought I'd seen the last of you. Disappeared into that bolt hole of Corsica never to be heard from again. Now, here you are! What on earth kept you away for so long?'

'Illness… Family business.'

'And some woman, I'll wager.' Alexander nudged him.

'Are you so keen to lose that half-louis already?' Napoleon laughed. 'Besides, I have little time for women.'

'Of course.' Alexander made a serious face. 'When the choice is between curling up with a woman or a book, the book wins every time.'

'Depends on the book.'

'Then you haven't met the right woman yet. I'll have to set that right as soon as I can.' Alexander raised the bottle. 'Come on, let's have a drink.'

They sat down at one of the tables and Alexander called out to one of the mess stewards to bring some glasses. He bit into the end of the cork protruding from the bottle and pulled it out with a grunt, spitting the cork on to the floor.

'A local wine. Not the best, but it'll help us to forget its origins.'The steward hurried over with two glasses and Alexander filled them to the brim. He raised his glass. 'Good to see you again.'

'And you.'

They downed the wine in one and Napoleon tried not to flinch at its acid burn in his throat and stomach. 'Rough stuff.'

'And it's as good as we can get in Auxonne.' Alexander shook his head. 'Not the best of times, I think. Everything's in short supply and prices are rising all the time. I haven't tasted a really good wine in months. And thanks to the poor harvest there's barely enough flour in town to bake a decent loaf of bread. It's enough to make a grown man weep.'

'Yes…' Napoleon recalled the pinched faces of the townspeople he had passed in Auxonne.While Alexander might have to forgo his luxuries, they were struggling to keep themselves and their families from starvation. 'It's the same in nearly every town I passed through on the way here from Paris.There's been rioting too. I tell you, Alexander, I'm worried. It feels like the whole country is about to…'

'About to what?'

'I don't know exactly. But it won't be pretty.'

Alexander shrugged. 'That's what the parliament's for. The King will give them all a chance to let off some steam. Once the clergy, the nobles and the commoners have had a chance to air their grievances it'll all blow over.You'll see.'

Napoleon raised his eyebrows. 'You really think so?'

'Of course.'Alexander filled their glasses again.'Look here.The King needs taxes. He can't get the money from the nobles. They just won't stand for it. And since the clergy is stuffed with the sons of the nobility they're hardly likely to go against the nobles. So that leaves the third estate outnumbered two to one. They'll have to put up with an increase in taxes, whether they like it or not.'

'I can tell you now, they won't like it. And they won't stand for it any longer.'

Alexander snorted. 'Their stomachs might be empty, but the rest of their bodies are full of hot air.You were there at Lyons.You saw how quickly they gave in at the first sign of a bayonet.We've dealt with two more riots since then, with exactly the same result. A sharp reminder is what the rabble needs. That, or a decent harvest, or a few handouts of free bread, and they'll quieten down soon enough.You'll see.'

Napoleon stared down into his glass and swilled the red wine round just below the rim. He shrugged. 'Let's hope you are right.'

'Anyway, enough of politics. What on earth have you been up to since you left us in Valence?'

As Napoleon related his news, his mind was still filled with grave doubts about the future. If all the nobility were as oblivious as Alexander to the anger swelling up in the hungry streets of the cities and in the surrounding countryside, then they would never even see the approaching storm that might one day sweep them away. Napoleon had gauged the popular mood in Paris. He had read the pamphlets and heard the guarded speeches that raged against the injustices afflicting France. It was as clear as day to him. The ordinary people – the peasants, the town labourers, the merchants, lawyers and the rest of the bourgeois – every one of them had simply had more than they could bear, and their voices would demand to be heard on the day that the Estates General were convened. Glancing round the other officers in the mess, Napoleon found it hard to believe that they could be so blind to the condition of their compatriots.

Chapter 50

Within a few weeks Napoleon had fallen back into the routine of army life.The long months in Paris with little to do had frustrated him terribly, and it was a positive pleasure to immerse himself in the practical science of artillery matters. Shortly after his return to duty Napoleon was assigned to the artillery school, a small building set off to one side of the barracks where General du Tiel and his small staff made studies of the latest technologies and theorised about the best manner in which to develop the tactical use of artillery.

It was Napoleon's responsibility to make all the arrangements for the field experiments. This meant preparing the guns on the range and ensuring that the size of the charges and the shot used were as consistent as possible. He had the pick of the regiment's gun crews and personally selected the best weapons from the artillery park. As the months passed Napoleon developed a thorough understanding of the potential of the cannon at his disposal and knew exactly what damage they were capable of wreaking.

By autumn his growing expertise in artillery matters had impressed the general enough for him to permit the young lieutenant to write up the official reports of the artillery school's experiments. As the evenings drew in, Napoleon worked late into the night by candlelight, wholly absorbed by the subject matter. When he was not working on the reports Napoleon returned to his quarters with books and technical manuals borrowed from the artillery school's library. Sitting at his small desk he read through them, making notes as he went, steadily adding breadth to his knowledge. At the same time he was reading many of the political pamphlets that had found their way into the bookshops and libraries of Auxonne.There was a palpable sense of excitement in the local people as the date for the opening of parliament was set for the fifth of May the next year, and Napoleon even overheard some of the soldiers in the barracks discussing what might be achieved for the people of France, if only the King and the privileged orders paid heed to the complaints of the deputies representing the commoners. With so much at stake, how could the King ignore the suffering of the vast majority of his people? The soldiers, like the townspeople, were full of hope and Napoleon, like them, sensed that destiny was on the side of the downtrodden. Only a fool would not accede to the reasonable demands for a fairer constitution that flowed to Paris from every corner of the land. Somewhere amongst all the reforms that might be enacted Napoleon hoped that there would be justice for his family; some compensation for the contract that the government had failed to honour. This was what he told his mother in the letter he wrote to explain why he had not returned to Corsica.

If the people of Auxonne and many of the soldiers in the barracks were preoccupied with the coming parliament, the same could not be said of most of the officers. They continued with their drinking and whoring and joining the hunts and attending the balls organised by the region's nobility. Since Napoleon kept himself apart from most of the officers he received fewer and fewer invitations to attend such events. Even though this self-enforced solitude depressed him from time to time, there was little that Napoleon could do about it. He was already sending as much of his pay as he could afford home to his family in Corsica to help his mother feed them. What little was left meant that he could barely afford to eat, let alone join Alexander and the others for a night of drinking in the meagre taverns of Auxonne.

His prolonged absences from the officers' mess meant that he instantly attracted attention on the rare occasions when he did make a visit. Napoleon noted the sidelong glances, barely concealed laughter and low-key comments that he assumed were directed at him. He did his best to ignore them. Sometimes he encountered Alexander in the mess and was able to enjoy his friend's company until Alexander was joined by some of his cronies. Then the conversation inevitably turned towards Napoleon as the other officers indulged themselves in a favourite pastime, namely making fun of Napoleon and his Corsican origins. Napoleon curbed his temper and endured the teasing as far as he could.

As the new year of 1789 came, and winter gave way to spring, the charged political atmosphere that had gripped France began to divide the members of the officers' mess according to their class and their principles.

When the new parliament opened in May, the men of the regiment scoured every report that reached Auxonne from Paris. It took several days for all twelve hundred deputies to present their credentials, and then it turned out that the King's ministers had not yet decided whether the three estates should meet separately, or together. So the days stretched into weeks as the clergy of the first estate and the nobility of the second estate refused to share a debating chamber with the deputies representing the common people of France. The lack of a spirit of compromise fed the tensions both in the officers' mess at Auxonne and in the streets of the town.

Napoleon, who was by now well versed in the arguments that had been put forward for constitutional reform, was a natural supporter of the cause of the third estate.There were a few others like him, but most of the officers stood by their noble origins and loudly proclaimed their support for the traditional privileges of the nobility, and denounced the aspirations of the common people.

One evening, towards the end of June, as rain lashed down on Auxonne, Napoleon hurried across the parade ground between the artillery school and the officers' mess. Stepping out of the rain he removed his dripping greatcoat and hat and passed them to the waiting steward. A group of junior officers, including the Des Mazis brothers, was playing a noisy game of cards on tables to one side of the fireplace and Napoleon made his way past them and turned to warm his back at the hearth. He caught Alexander's eye and nodded a greeting.

'What, not reading a history book tonight, Napoleon?'

'You know, you could learn a thing or two from books,' he replied wearily.

Alexander shrugged. 'What is it to me what happened a thousand years ago? Anyway, have you heard the news?'

Napoleon shook his head.

'There's been an outbreak of rioting in Seurre,' said Alexander. 'Something to do with bread prices. The colonel's sending a detachment down there to calm things down.'

'Seurre?' Napoleon frowned. 'Where's that?'

'Small town, two days' march from here. My brother's leading the detachment. He'll soon put that rabble to flight.'

'I'm sure he will.'

Alexander stared at him a moment. 'What does that mean?'

'Just that those rioters will be weak with starvation and armed with sticks and knives.What chance have they got against trained soldiers armed with muskets? They'll run at the first volley.'

'Of course they will, the cowardly scum.'

'Cowardly scum?' Napoleon shook his head. 'No. They're just ordinary people. Hunger has driven them to act.'

'Napoleon,' Captain Des Mazis interrupted, 'be careful. You sound like you're on their side.'

'No. I'm not.We cannot afford to let these rioters defy the law. Even so, I understand their grievances. I sympathise with them.'

Captain Des Mazis frowned. 'You sympathise with them?'

'Of course, sir.' Napoleon looked down at the floor thoughtfully. 'They are subjected to all manner of taxes: the tithe, the hearth tax and capitation tax.When all those are paid, they are left with a pittance, and it means that they spend their lives struggling to survive. I can understand their despair. And I can understand their anger when they look at the nobility and the clergy and see them enjoying lives of luxury, unburdened by any tax. What astonishes me is that they have put up with it for so long. I can only begin to imagine the suffering that has driven those people in Seurre to take action.'

He looked up and saw that most of the other officers were looking at him with open hostility. Even Alexander looked annoyed by his explanation. There was an awkward silence, then Captain Des Mazis' chair scraped back and he stood up.

'Lieutenant Buona Parte, I find your sentiments offensive. There is no place for such views in this mess and I would be obliged if you did not raise the matter again. Do you understand?'

Napoleon felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. 'Sir, I meant no offence. I was merely trying to explain the motives of these rioters.'

'You're a soldier, Lieutenant, not a politician, nor a philosopher, thank God.You swore an oath of loyalty to the King, not to the common rabble. And this mess will not tolerate any attempt to justify the illegal actions of dangerous rioters. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, sir,' Napoleon replied quietly. 'Perfectly clear.'

'Good. Then I would ask you to leave the mess at once, to spare us any more of your ill-considered opinions. Now go.'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon saluted as his cheeks burned with shame. He turned away from the hearth and started towards the door.

'One final thing, Lieutenant,' Captain Des Mazis called after him.

Napoleon paused and turned back. 'Sir?'

'Seeing as you have such a keen understanding of these criminals, I'm assigning you to my detachment tomorrow. Let's see how sympathetic you are when you have to confront a screaming mob of these… animals.' He made a cold, thin smile. 'Perhaps you can try to reason with them.'

Napoleon felt his cheeks flush with anger. Then he turned away and strode stiffly out of the officers' mess.

Chapter 51

The expedition to Seurre brought back uncomfortable memories of the Lyons uprising to Napoleon. As the detachment marched through small villages he was aware of the inhabitants watching them with barely concealed resentment and hostility.The soldiers camped at the end of the first day's march on a neglected common in the middle of a wretched collection of hovels. Captain Des Mazis and his brother had ridden off to spend the night with a local landowner, leaving Napoleon in charge of the camp.

As the soldiers prepared the evening meal several small and pitifully thin children wandered up through the tent lines and stood and stared at the steam wisping up from the cooking pots. Napoleon watched as one of the corporals turned to the children with a warm smile.

'It's all right. Come, tell me your names.'

They stared back at him with sunken eyes until he squatted down and beckoned to them. Then one of the children, a slight boy with a shock of blond hair, stepped forward uncertainly.

'That's better!' the corporal grinned. 'Who are you then?'

The child's lips fluttered a moment before he replied softly. 'Please, sir, I'm Philippe.'

'Philippe… Are you hungry, Philippe?'

The child licked his lips and nodded.

'And how about the rest of your friends? Come on, all of you. Sit over here by the fire and you can have some stew.'

They crept out of the shadows like ghosts and sat on the grass staring at the cooking pot.

One of the soldiers crossed himself. 'Jesus, look at them. No more than skin and bones.'

'Well, don't just stand there,' the corporal said quietly. 'Give them something to eat.'

As the soldiers began to share their food with the children, more shapes appeared from the gloom, older children, adults and a handful of old men and women. All of them gaunt and pathetically silent as they held out their hands for the hunks of bread that the corporal was distributing from the back of the detachment's supply wagon.

As soon as he was aware of the corporal's actions Napoleon strode across to the wagon. 'What's going on here? Those are military supplies. Stop that at once.'

The corporal paused and around him the villagers turned to the young lieutenant with expressions of dread and despair. Napoleon heard a faint keening noise in someone's throat. He pushed through the crowd to the back of the wagon. 'Corporal, put that bread sack back in the wagon.'

The man stared back at him for a moment, before he climbed down and stood in front of the officer. 'Sir, these people are starving.'

'I gave you an order, Corporal.'

There was a pained look in the man's eyes as he struggled with his conscience, then he gestured to the side of the wagon. 'You should have a look at something, sir.'

'What? What do you mean?' Napoleon glared at the man. 'Obey my order.'

'Sir, please, come with me.'Without waiting for a response the corporal turned the corner of the wagon and Napoleon strode after him, anger coursing through his veins.

'What is the meaning of this, Corporal? I told you-'

'Sir, look.'The corporal pointed to the base of the front wheel. At first Napoleon thought that the man was pointing to a pile of rags.Then as his eyes adjusted to the faint light cast from a nearby fire he saw the face of a young woman, little more than a girl. She stared back at him, eyes bright with terror. She was dressed in a tattered dress that hung open to her waist. A small bundle was clutched to her breast, which hung down like an empty purse.

'He won't feed,' she whispered hoarsely. 'I can't get him to feed…'

The corporal squatted down beside the girl and gently pressed a lump of bread into her hand. 'There. Eat that. He can't feed until you've eaten something. Eat that and try again.'

She stared at the corporal, then her eyes flickered down to the bread in her hand and she slowly raised it to her mouth and began to chew on the corner, gently rocking her baby as her jaws worked on the crust in her mouth. The corporal eased himself back to his feet and, taking Napoleon's arm, he gently steered his officer back to the end of the wagon.

'I've got a daughter her age.'

Napoleon swallowed. 'The infant. Will it live?'

The corporal gave him a blank stare. 'He's already dead, sir.'

'Dead?' He felt sick. 'Does she know?'

The corporal shook his head. 'Poor girl's half mad with starvation. I doubt she'll last much longer herself.'

'I see.' Napoleon nodded. Inside he felt a vast black pit of despair opening up and threatening to overwhelm him. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and fought for control of his emotions. But all around him the skeletal shapes of the villagers huddled in the red hue of the campfires, silent in their suffering as they shared the soldiers' food. Napoleon swallowed and turned back to the corporal. 'Feed them. Feed them all. Make sure they all get a decent meal.'

'Yes, sir.'The corporal looked relieved.

'No one should have to live like this,' Napoleon said.

'No, sir. It ain't right.'

Napoleon shook his head slowly. 'No. It's not right. It's… intolerable.'

The detachment moved off at first light, while the villagers were still asleep. They crept out of the village like thieves making their escape from the scene of a crime and Napoleon willed his men on, anxious to leave the terrible place behind him and get as far away from the scene as possible.

They stopped at the pillared entrance to the drive that led up to the chateau where the captain and his brother had spent the night. After an hour and half's wait the two officers came riding down the drive.

Captain Des Mazis nodded a greeting to Napoleon. 'Well done, Lieutenant. That's saved us some time.'

'Yes, sir.'

The men stared at the mounted officers with sullen expressions and Alexander edged his horse closer to Napoleon and leaned down to speak so that his words would not be overheard.

'What's happened? They look like someone's taken a shit in their cooking pot.'

Napoleon stared back at Alexander. He wanted to tell him everything.To share the knowledge of the terrible suffering in the village they had left on the road behind them. Then he glanced past Alexander, up the drive to where the steeply pitched roof of the chateau gleamed above the tops of the trees, and he knew that the young man would not understand.

'It's nothing. They just want to get this over and return to barracks.'

They reached Seurre in the late afternoon to discover that the local militia had already quashed the riot. At first Napoleon felt disappointed that they had arrived too late to witness the excitement. As the column tramped down the nearly deserted streets of Seurre he glanced up at the tall facades of the houses of wealthy merchants. Here and there, in the windows, he saw people watching them. There was anxiety in some faces, relief in others and Napoleon sensed that the issues that had caused the rioting had not yet been resolved. This impression strengthened when the detachment passed through a working-class area of densely packed slums. Every door was closed, every window shuttered and there was no sign of life at all. Further on, the column marched past the blackened remains of a row of warehouses. The air was acrid with the stench of the ruins and thin trails of smoke still billowed into the air. There were some burned-out houses; other buildings had shattered doors and windows. Broken and discarded spoils littered the cobbled streets and every so often there were dark patches of dried blood.

The colonel in charge of the militia was waiting under an awning in one corner of the town square. He rose to greet the new arrivals with a salute. Captain Des Mazis gave orders for the men to fall out and prepare their tents for the night, before he led his officers over to the awning for a formal exchange of pleasantries.

'Fine timing, you fellows!' the colonel boomed at the new arrivals. 'We were just about to set the seal on this unfortunate affair.'

'What do you mean, sir?' Captain Des Mazis responded.

'Why, we have the scoundrels responsible for this uprising! My men found 'em skulking in a coal cellar this very afternoon. Hauled 'em out, had some sergeants beat a confession out of them. Just enough to stand up in a quick drumhead court. I passed sentence not an hour ago. They're to be hanged at dusk.' He nodded across the square to where three men were standing in chains under armed guard. 'Should make for an interesting entertainment after dinner!' He laughed good-humouredly. 'One of my boys is already taking bets on who lasts the longest.You'll get poor odds on that boney one.'

The colonel entertained the officers to a fine dinner at long tables arranged in the shade of the trees. The very best wines and meats of Seurre were set before his guests, but Napoleon had a clear view across the square towards the condemned men from where he sat, and could not enjoy his meal.As the final course was cleared away, some stewards set up several rows of chairs in front of an ancient oak tree in a small park in the centre of the square. A sergeant approached with three lengths of hemp, unravelled them and tossed them over a stout limb projecting out from the trunk of the oak.Then he set to work tying a noose at the end of each trailing rope.

The colonel rose from the table and called on the officers to join him, then strolled over towards the oak tree and took his seat in the centre of the row facing the three nooses. Around him the other officers took their places and when all was ready the colonel nodded to his adjutant, who shouted across the square, 'Bring the prisoners!'

The three men were thrust into motion and half walked, half stumbled across to their place of execution. As they approached, Napoleon could see that their faces were marked with bruises and cuts and one of them was nursing an arm in a makeshift sling. He felt a queasy sickness rising in his throat as he watched each man forced into position behind a noose, and then the sergeant drew the rope over their heads and adjusted the slip knot so that it lined up with the spine at the nape of each man's neck. A squad of soldiers marched up and four men were detailed to each rope. They took up the slack and then stood still, waiting for the order to proceed.The sergeant looked to the adjutant for permission to begin and received a nod.

'Does any man among the condemned wish to offer any final words?' the sergeant called out. Napoleon glanced from man to man. One was shaking uncontrollably and his whimpers were clearly audible. Next to him a tall, thin man stood, staring defiantly at the officers seated in front of him. Only the last man opened his mouth.

'This is not the end!' he cried. 'This is the first step towards liberty and equality! You can kill us, but you can't kill what we stand for.' He turned and looked at the soldiers holding the rope behind him. 'Brothers, why are you doing the dirty work of these aristocrats? We are on the same side. They are your enemy. They-'

'I've heard enough of this!' the colonel barked. 'Get on with it!'

'Execution party!' shouted the adjutant, raising his arm. 'Prepare!'

The soldiers tensed their arms and braced their feet. The ringleader took a deep breath and cried out. 'Liberty! Lib-'

The adjutant's arm swept down. 'Pull!'

The soldiers hauled on the ropes and the three men were jerked off their feet up into the air. There were gasps and a few nervous laughs from the seated officers as the men kicked and writhed frantically as the nooses snapped tight about their necks and strangled them. Their faces strained in agony as they tried to draw breath with rasping hisses.The ringleader went first, his eyes bulging as his tongue, dark and swollen, protruded from his lips. The tall man was last, giving up the fight some minutes after his comrades. All three bodies slowly stopped swaying until at last they were still.