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 assault 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 passed 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 assault squad rushed on, passing 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 assault 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 space. 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 assault 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 hell is going on, Buona Parte? I'm hearing reports that my men have been massacred 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 assault. That's risky. We could try to starve them out, or we could try to negotiate a surrender.'
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
