His secretary, a thin man with glasses, entered the office. ‘General, there’s a boy outside wishing to see you.’
‘A boy? What’s his name?’
‘Eugene Beauharnais, he says.’
‘Beauharnais?’ Napoleon frowned. ‘I don’t know the name. Did he say what he wants to see me about?’
‘A personal request, with regard to his late father’s sword.’
Napoleon’s curiosity was piqued by this information. He had been on the verge of sending the boy away, but he decided to spare this Eugene Beauharnais a moment of his time. ‘Very well, I’ll see him now.’
‘Yes, General.’
The secretary disappeared and a minute later the door opened again to reveal a tall, handsome boy in his early teens. He had wide clear eyes, and a high forehead capped with curly brown hair. He bowed gracefully. ‘Good morning to you, General Bonaparte.’
Napoleon nodded without rising from his chair. ‘And to you, Citizen Beauharnais. How can I be of service? I’m told it’s some matter relating to your father’s sword?’
‘Yes, sir. My mother has sent me with the request that the family might be able to retain the sword.’
‘I’m sorry, but you must know the terms of the Assembly’s disarmament decree?’
‘Indeed I do, sir.’The boy looked pained. ‘But the sword is one of the few keepsakes that my family has to remember my father by.’
‘What happened to your father?’
‘He was guillotined last year, sir.’
‘For what reason?’
‘He was in command of the garrison of Metz when it fell. The Committee of Public Safety charged him with treason. And, well, you know how it was under Robespierre, sir.’
Indeed Napoleon did. Any military reverse was treated with suspicion and the representatives of the Committee were merciless in their punishment of failure in order to inspire other commanders to achieve success. And here was the human cost of such a strategy - the grief of a blameless family. Napoleon felt some compassion for the boy and his mother. They had already sacrificed enough for France without having to give up a precious memento of what they had lost.
‘Very well, young Beauharnais.You shall keep the sword. It has already been surrendered, I presume.’
‘It was taken from our house yesterday.’
‘Then it will be at the nearest praefecture. Leave your address with my secretary and I will see that the sword is returned to you as soon as possible.’
The boy bowed his head. ‘My sincerest gratitude, General. And my mother’s as well.’
Napoleon smiled. ‘Your mother must be proud of you, Beauharnais. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be a fine soldier, and wear your father’s sword at your side.’
‘That is my ambition, sir.’ Eugene smiled back before he turned to the door and made his way out of the office.
The next day, at noon, Napoleon received another visitor. Madame Josephine Beauharnais was shown into the general’s office, and he automatically rose to his feet and bowed as gracefully as he could. His keen eyes examined her thoroughly the moment he straightened up. She had a tall, long-limbed body and a finely boned face with a small nose, slightly turned up. Her eyes were lively and scrutinised him in return.
‘Madame, what can I do for you?’
She smiled.‘You have done enough for my family, General, by permitting us to keep my late husband’s sword.’
Her voice was low and warm and Napoleon immediately felt himself intrigued by her tone and measured way of speaking. He waved a hand dismissively.
‘It was the least I could do for the family of a fellow soldier. Just make sure that fine boy of yours follows in his father’s footsteps.’
Josephine smiled faintly. ‘Not as far as the guillotine, I would hope.’
Napoleon was taken aback by her morbid jest and laughed nervously. ‘No. Of course not. Your family has already suffered enough for France,’ he added grandly and mentally winced at his pompous tone.
‘Well, yes, I suppose it has.’ Josephine nodded. ‘But times are hard when the nation is at war and death sweeps up everyone in its embrace, regardless of age, gender and innocence. And if the death of Robespierre had come much later, then I would surely have gone the way of my dear Alexandre, leaving my children helpless orphans.’
The woman had an artful turn of phrase, Napoleon decided. There was a very nicely worked huskiness to her last words. Unless it was genuine. He felt a flush of shame at his ungallant thoughts, and tried to cover his feelings by hurrying round the desk to pull out a chair for his guest. ‘Please, madame, take a seat.’
‘Thank you, General,’ she replied, with a small catch in her voice. ‘I’m sorry to appear before you like this. I assure you that I am not in the habit of being so . . . emotional.’ She lowered her head, and Napoleon saw her shoulders trembling. As she leaned forward his eyes fell upon the smooth white flesh of her cleavage and as her chest heaved slightly with a sob he forced his embarrassed gaze away and stared fixedly at the top of her neatly pinned hair.
‘Madame, please. There is no need to apologise. Not after all that you must have been through.’
‘No, no! I must apologise. I only came here to thank you for your kindness, and I’m taking up your valuable time with my nonsense.’With a delicate flick of her hand she pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I must go. I have no right to impose upon a man with such grave responsibilities. I’m sorry.’
Abruptly she rose from the chair, and Napoleon found himself suddenly looking directly into her eyes.There was intelligence in her expression, and a sensuality in the smooth curve of her lips. Scent filled his nostrils with a musky sweetness that stirred his loins. He took a step back and bowed his head.
‘As you wish, madame. Do you wish me to have your carriage called for you?’
‘Carriage?’ She looked up and he saw the faint look of distress in her expression. ‘I have no carriage, General. I walked here.’
‘Ah . . .Then, please, allow me to call for mine. It will take you home.’
The corners of her lips lifted into a grateful smile. ‘You are a most gallant man, my general. Once again, I am in your debt. Perhaps I might repay you by asking that you call on me?’
‘Yes, I should like that. If it’s not imposing?’
‘It will be I who imposes, on the valuable time of France’s hero.’
Napoleon opened his mouth to speak, but for once no words emerged and he strove for a reply before he blurted out, ‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’
Josephine smiled faintly. ‘I’ll look forward to it. I’ll make sure your driver makes a note of my address.’
Then she turned and left, and as the door closed behind her Napoleon received one last waft of her scent. He breathed it in deeply before it had faded away, leaving only a memory of her that made his blood warm and his heart beat fast as he recalled the creamy whiteness of her breast.
Chapter 8
The following week Napoleon made sure that the malcontents of Paris realised that their uprising was over. Soldiers were posted at all the main road junctions and public buildings, and artillery pieces were openly positioned so that the main boulevards lay under their muzzles. At the same time he summoned regular troops from the Army of the Vendee and some of the depots to supplement the National Guard units in Paris.
But he did not forget his promise to the Beauharnais boy, and as soon as the sword was located Napoleon had it delivered to his office. Early the next day he set off in his carriage to the address on the Rue de la Chaussee-d’ Antin. As the carriage pulled up outside a generously proportioned building Napoleon felt his pulse racing. He descended from the carriage carrying the sword, and hurriedly smoothed down his coat jacket and breeches, glancing at his boots to ensure that the glassy polish he had demanded from one of his servants was still unbesmirched. Then, taking a breath, he strode up to the door and rapped the large iron knocker.There was a short delay in which he had time to imagine that Josephine Beauharnais might not be at home, even this early in the
