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 they already know the Jacobin Club was behind the attack.'
'They're firing on us?' Quenza stared at Napoleon, eyes wide with fright. 'On me? I have to get out of here. I have to find somewhere safe.'
Quenza snatched up his hat and hurried towards the door, just as another shot smashed into the roof. He winced, and glanced back at Napoleon. 'You see to the negotiations. I'm setting up a new command post in the cathedral.They wouldn't dare fire on that!'
'No, sir. I imagine not.'
Napoleon followed the colonel out of the building and returned to the battalion.True to his orders they had not fired on the walls, and only the occasional shot from the citadel, punctuated by the deep boom of the artillery piece, echoed across the open ground. Unwinding the white scarf from his neck Napoleon tied the end of it around the tip of his sword. He took a deep breath, stepped out on to the boulevard and waved the sword aloft to attract attention. A voice shouted something from the citadel walls and at once several puffs of smoke appeared. Shots whipped overhead and two more struck the cobbles close to his feet.
Napoleon ducked back into cover as fast as he could.'So much for negotiation…'
After he sent report of the failed attempt to the colonel, Napoleon returned to the attic of the merchant's house where a sergeant was keeping watch on the citadel.
'Any developments?'
'Yes, sir. Shortly after you went to see the colonel a boat put out from the citadel.'
'What course?'
'North, sir. Towards Bastia, I'm thinking. They've gone for reinforcements.'
Napoleon nodded. It was what he had feared would happen. The garrison commander, forewarned of the attack, must have had the boat ready to send off at first light – just as the ill-fated assault party had rushed for the gates.With a good wind the boat could reach Bastia by nightfall. Allowing a day to organise a relief force and another for the return journey, Napoleon realised that there was no chance of starving the garrison out. Nor would the men of the volunteer battalion be in any mood to attempt a direct assault. The casualties would be horrific and Napoleon balked at the idea of so much bloodshed.This was supposed to have been a swift coup, but now he could see nothing in the situation but humiliation and failure.
Over the next three days Napoleon made several more attempts to negotiate, but the garrison fired on anyone who dared show his face in front of the citadel walls. The artillery piece mounted on the north bastion ceased fire once it had ruined the topmost floor of the Jacobin Club, and then an uneasy stillness and silence hung over the quarter of the town closest to the citadel. Elsewhere, the people of Ajaccio ventured warily on to the streets and bought only what was necessary before hurrying back to the shelter of their homes. It was soon clear to Napoleon that there was little support for the battalion's attempt to seize the citadel. Once the bombardment of the Jacobin Club had ceased a small crowd of townspeople had gathered to shout abuse at those still inside, and hurl stones at any face that appeared at one of the already shattered windows.
Then on the evening of the third day, several warships were sighted entering the Gulf of Ajaccio. On the final tack into the harbour the gunports opened and the ships anchored, with their muzzles trained on the town. Under the cover of the ships' batteries, boats began to ferry soldiers ashore and as dusk closed in around Ajaccio the men of a regular line regiment marched into the boulevard and halted in front of the gates of the citadel.
Colonel Quenza had emerged from the cathedral as soon as he had word of the approach of the warships and had gone to find his subordinate. Now both officers warily advanced towards the officer in command of the relief force. He was a regular army major. He strode forward to confront the commanders of the volunteer battalion.
'Colonel Quenza?' He saluted, and turned towards Napoleon. 'And you must be Lieutenant Colonel Buona Parte?'
Napoleon nodded, and the major turned his attention back to Quenza. 'I have instructions to order your men to lay down their arms immediately and return to their homes. The battalion is dissolved by authority of the Governor of Corsica. Failure to comply with the order will be met with force. Sir, unless you are prepared to have the blood of hundreds of your countrymen on your hands I suggest you do exactly as I request.'
Quenza's shoulders sagged and he gave a pathetic nod.'I'll give the order.'
'Thank you, sir,' the major replied crisply.'Now I have business to attend to with the other officer.You may go, sir.'
Quenza darted a curious look at Napoleon and then turned and hurried away.
The major reached inside his coat and drew out an envelope. 'Since the volunteer battalion no longer officially exists, your rank of lieutenant colonel no longer applies. In which case I address you as Lieutenant Buona Parte of the Regiment de la Fere, and you will stand to attention before a superior officer.'
Napoleon stiffened his back and stood erect, boots together, arms straight at his sides. 'Yes, sir.'
'This message is for you, from the War Office. It arrived in Bastia last week. It contains a travel permit. You have exceeded your period of leave by five months.You are therefore required to present yourself to the Minister of War in Paris. One of those ships is leaving for Marseilles first thing tomorrow.You had better be on it, or I will have you arrested and charged with desertion. Do you understand, Lieutenant Buona Parte?'
'Yes, sir.' Napoleon tried to keep his voice from trembling as he continued. 'Have you any idea what's in store for me?'
The major smiled. 'Certainly. Given that you are officially absent without permission, and now you are responsible for several deaths in what looks to me like an act of treason, I'd say the Minister for War will have little choice but to have you shot.'