Young bloods

'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.'