his office so he can explain in more detail.'
'Letter?' Napoleon felt an icy sensation of dread creep up his spine. 'What's happened?'
Alexander bit his lip for an instant before replying.'Your father has died.'
'Died?' Napoleon frowned. 'He's dead? How can he be dead? Was there an accident?'
'It was an illness.'
'That's not possible. He was going to see a specialist. He wrote to me afterwards to say the problem was being treated. He wrote to me… What happened? Tell me.'
'Napoleon, that's all I know.' Alexander gently took his arm. 'The captain-commandant will tell you more. Let's go.'
Napoleon stood still for a moment, then gave way and let his friend lead him away to the captain- commandant's office.
He was treated sympathetically enough and, as was the custom in the Military School, he was offered the services of a priest to commiserate the tragic loss. Napoleon shook his head. He was still too uncertain of his feelings to want to unburden them in front of a stranger. His father was dead. Carlos Buona Parte was dead. It did not seem possible. And yet, the last time he had seen his father there had been no doubt about his failing health. But now that death was here, Napoleon could not encompass the reality that his father had gone. Images of his father poured through his mind. All at once Napoleon felt guilty for not having expressed his gratitude to his father for all that he had given to Napoleon in his short life.
Thirty-eight years.That was the extent of his existence, and he would never see the fruition of all his plans for his family. He would not be there to welcome Napoleon home to Ajaccio, and look proudly upon his son's army uniform. To die with so much still to be fulfilled – how terrible a fate that must be, Napoleon reflected. Now all those plans and dreams had died with his father. They were already long dead and buried, weeks before.There was no point in grieving now, he told himself. He must not let this news unman him. He would use it as proof of his strength of character. Napoleon fought back his grief as he looked up at the captain-commandant.
'Sir, I thank you for the offer of a priest. But I do not need any consolation.'
The captain-commandant smiled kindly. 'There's no shame in grief, Buona Parte. Death is with us always and we need someone there to help and console us.'
'I don't,' Napoleon said firmly. 'May I return to my room now, sir?'
The captain-commandant stared at him with pity, then nodded.'As you wish. But the offer still stands. If you change your mind…'
'Thank you, sir, but I won't. Is there anything else?'
'No… No, you may go.'
Chapter 28
There was no pause for mourning. Napoleon threw himself into his studies with renewed effort and did not mention his father's death again. Those around him, even the students who had tormented him in the past, kept a respectful distance and left him alone. Even Alexander sensed that Napoleon had withdrawn into himself and their friendship cooled until the examination for officer aspirants was held that August of 1785. Even though he had been at the school for less than a year Napoleon insisted on being allowed to sit the examination. The captain- commandant reminded him that most boys took the exam after two, or even three, years of study at the Military School. None the less, Napoleon and Alexander took the exam along with nearly sixty other boys. When the results were read out to the students Napoleon had come in forty-second place and his friend fifty-sixth. Both were awarded the sword of graduates of the Military School and eagerly awaited news of their first postings.
'The Regiment de la Fere,' Napoleon read from the notice board outside the captain-commandant's office. His eyes glanced further down the list and he smiled. 'You too, Alexander. Do you know anything about the unit?'
'Of course!' Alexander's eyes twinkled. 'My brother, Gabriel, is a captain in the regiment.'
'Besides the family connection,' Napoleon said patiently.'What else do you know about the de la fere?'
'It's part of the Royal Corps of Artillery, stationed at Valence.' Alexander punched his arm. 'We're going to be gunners.'
'So it seems.' Napoleon nodded with satisfaction. Although the cavalry was a more glamorous arm than the artillery, the latter had a far greater reputation for professionalism, Napoleon reminded himself. And at least it wasn't a posting to the infantry, the preserve of the social and intellectual detritus of those men who sought an officer's career in the army. An ambitious man could make a name for himself in the artillery, Napoleon reflected, and he would have less need of social rank and an independent income in seeking advancement up the chain of command. He read the final details on the notice board and turned to his friend with a smile.
'We had better prepare. The regiment's expecting us to arrive on the tenth of September.That's less than two weeks from now.'
The Regiment de la Fere, as an artillery unit, had its own purpose-built barracks where the rankers lived and the guns, ammunition and other supplies and equipment were kept. Napoleon and Alexander presented their papers to the sentry at the main gate and were directed to the headquarters building overlooking the artillery park. Leaving their chests in the guardhouse, the new arrivals marched over to the headquarters entrance. Napoleon looked over the guns that they passed with a growing sense of excitement. Very soon he would be serving some of the four- and eight-pounder cannon that stretched out across the artillery park in neatly ordered lines.
The two new officers made their way up the steps, into the headquarters and asked for directions to the adjutant's office.
Napoleon knocked on the door and immediately a gruff voice shouted out to them, 'Don't just stand there! Open the damned door and come in.'
Inside, the room was small, barely big enough for the two cupboards, desk and chair that it contained. Behind the desk a man glanced up with a stern expression.
'Gabriel!' Alexander shouted. 'You rogue! What kind of a way is that to welcome your younger brother?'
'Lieutenant Des Mazis! That is no way to address a superior officer. Stand at attention, damn it! And your little friend too.'
They immediately responded and stood stiffly, eyes fixed straight ahead, until Captain Des Mazis could no longer keep a straight face and began to laugh. 'Enough! At ease, gentlemen.'
As they relaxed Napoleon and Alexander exchanged uncertain looks, not yet sure how to address Alexander's older brother. But Gabriel was already squeezing his large frame round the end of the desk and then he embraced his brother and kissed him on both cheeks.
'When did you get here? You're not expected for another two days.'
'We were keen to take up our duties as soon as possible. So here we are,' Alexander beamed. 'Now introduce us to our men and our guns and we'll take on anyone the King tells us to.'
'Not so fast, Alex.' His brother punched him lightly on the chest. 'This is the artillery; we're proper soldiers, not like that riffraff in the cavalry.You have to earn command here.'
'Earn command?' Napoleon raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean, sir?'
The captain turned to him with a warm smile of greeting. 'You must be Buona Parte, the touchy Corsican.'
'Yes, sir.' Napoleon tried to hide a frown.
'Don't worry. That's not from official channels. It's what my brother wrote in his letters.'
'I see.' Napoleon glared at his friend and Alexander shifted uncomfortably as his brother continued addressing them.
'Everyone gets a fresh start here. Well, nearly everyone.Young Alex here is going to be under close scrutiny since I recall only too well what a mischievous wretch he was as a child. Imagine what he might do if we entrust a cannon to him, eh?'
'Sir,' Napoleon said evenly, 'you were saying something about earning command.'
'All new officers must serve a probationary period. I expect you already know that, but the Regiment de la Fere goes a bit further. For the first three months you will serve as ordinary gunners, until you learn the ropes. Then, if you satisfy our commanding officer, he might let you take up your duties as lieutenants.'
'Oh, come on,' Alexander laughed. 'You're not serious?'
