Young bloods

Chapter 69

When he reached the house, the absence of his family and the unaccustomed silence of its walls made him more determined than ever. He could not stay in Ajaccio. The rumour that the Paolists wanted to assassinate him was bad enough, but once the Jacobin Club turned on him Napoleon would be torn apart the moment he showed his face on the streets. He had arranged for a good horse to be saddled and ready to leave that night. It was tethered in the storage shed at the back of the house. All that remained was to pack essentials and go. Joseph had left a hundred gold louis from Uncle Luciano's chest and Napoleon shoved the leather purses in his saddlebag, on top of a few clothes, and his notebooks.

Just then he heard the front door crash open and footsteps thudded into the hall.

'Napoleon! Napoleon! Where are you!'

He recognised the voice with a wave of relief. 'Alessi! Just a moment!'

Napoleon quickly heaved the saddlebag onto his shoulder and hurried to the door. Alessi rushed to him and grabbed his arms. 'You have to go! Get out of Ajaccio tonight.'

'What happened?'

'They passed the proposal, then someone added a clause to condemn the Buona Parte family to perpetual execration and infamy – that was the phrase.You know what it means.They mean to kill you, and your family if they lay their hands on them.'

There were shouts in the street and the sound of footsteps echoing off the sides of buildings. Alessi started at the noise. 'They're already here!'

'Come! This way.' Napoleon grabbed Alessi and thrust him towards the cellar door. Napoleon closed it behind him and ran down the steep stairs. At the bottom he carefully took the candle and directed Alessi over to a small wooden door at the far end of the cellar. On the ground floor the front door burst open and several men entered the house, their footsteps pounding across the floorboards as they shouted for Napoleon in harsh, angry tones that left no doubt about their intentions. As Napoleon and Alessi hurried over the damp cellar floor, the candle flickered and went out.

'Keep going!' Napoleon whispered. 'It's straight ahead.'

Alessi stumbled on with Napoleon grasping his coat-tails to stay in touch. Just before he calculated they must be approaching the door Alessi suddenly pitched forward and something glass shattered on the floor.

'Hear that?' a muffled voice called out. 'Over here!'

The cellar door was wrenched open as Napoleon picked Alessi up and reached round him, fingers groping through the air until they made contact with the rough surface of the door. Footsteps thudded down on the creaking cellar stairs.

'It's pitch-black down here. Get some light!'

Napoleon's fingers slid down the wood to the latch and he lifted it.The metal was old and there was a protesting squeak from the hinges as the door swung inwards.

'There's someone in here!'

Beyond the door the ground rose steeply into the yard behind the house and Napoleon scrambled up after Alessi until they stood on the flagstones in the faint light of the stars. Napoleon pulled the other man across the yard to where an arch opened on to the street beyond. 'Go home.You've risked enough already.'

Alessi nodded and grasped Napoleon's hand. 'Good luck!'

Then he was gone, running off into the dark shadows of the street. Napoleon turned the other way, feeling his way along the wall. He smelled the horse and heard it champing before he found the bolt. Not wanting to give himself away again, he eased it aside and gently opened the door. The horse stirred uneasily in the darkness as Napoleon groped for the reins, undid them and led the horse out into the street. His first thought was to mount the animal and ride like the devil. But if the horse lost his footing on the street cobbles it could fall and injure itself, or, worse still, injure him.

The shouts and thuds from inside the house were punctuated by loud crashes as the men looking for him began to search for loot. But now there were more voices in the street, rushing to join the hunt for the man who had denounced Paoli. Leading the horse as quickly as they could go Napoleon headed into the tangled streets of the old town before heading east to find a quiet lane leading out of Ajaccio.

The sounds of his pursuers slowly faded behind him. Once, close to the edge of town he had to wait in the shadows as a party of men clattered past the end of the street, armed with muskets and swords, some in the uniform of the volunteer battalion. Only a few weeks before they had been fighting alongside him in the assault on the fort at Maddelena; now they were his enemies.

When they had passed by, and their footsteps had faded, Napoleon continued towards the fringe of town. There, a track curved up through the olive trees towards the main route heading north along the base of the mountains. Napoleon continued on foot until he was some distance from the last building and then mounted the horse. There was just enough light to see the track, and with a click of his tongue he urged the horse forward. The trees on either side blocked the view of the town and it was not until the track reached the crest of a hill that Napoleon was able to rein in, and gaze back at Ajaccio. The black bulk of the citadel loomed over the dense mass of town houses, illuminated here and there by lanterns and lights visible in windows. The delicate tracery of masts and rigging were just discernible in the harbour, beyond which the sea was a dark grey sheen stretching out towards the horizon. Above, the stars looked down on the scene in pinpoints of unblinking brilliance.

Napoleon felt a sudden, exhausting sadness overwhelm him. This had been his home. Even through all the years he had spent in France, he had carried Ajaccio, and Corsica, in his heart. He had been certain that he was destined to achieve something lasting here on this island. Now all that was gone. The house, whose every stone and nook and cranny were as familiar to him as his own body. The wharf where he had played as a child and listened to the tall stories of fishermen and sailors. The citadel where he had befriended the soldiers of the garrison, and later tried to seize it from them. All the places and people he had grown up with, all of that was lost to him.

'What now?' he asked softly and the horse's long ears twitched at the sound. Napoleon leaned forward to give his mount a gentle reassuring pat on the neck. 'Easy there.'

Now? Now there was nothing but making his escape from this place. A long, hard ride to Calvi to join the rest of his family, and then they would take the first ship to France. The Buona Partes would arrive refugees, in a strange land torn by revolution, war and insurrection. No matter what fate had in store for them, one thing was certain, Napoleon reflected. All his ambitions for Corsica were a thing of the past. From now on, whether he liked it or not, his destiny was irrevocably bound to that of France.