He jumped down from the pediment and joined his followers as they charged into the terrified crowd, swinging their clubs at victims without any regard for age or gender. Suddenly a dense mass of bodies surged against Napoleon, thrusting him back against his companions. Junot grabbed hold of his arm and held him up while Marmont stepped forward with a roar and brandished his fists, daring any of the panicked crowd to come any closer to them. As the bodies flowed past on either side and the evening air filled with cries of fear, pain and anger Napoleon growled, ‘Come on! We’ll teach those royalists a lesson.’

‘What?’ Junot turned to him in surprise. ‘Are you mad? They’ll cut us down in no time.’

‘He’s right.’ Marmont eased himself back towards his friends. ‘Three against twenty or more. What can we do?’

‘Three right now,’ Napoleon conceded, his voice betraying his nervous excitement. ‘But once we fight back, so will others. Come on!’

He thrust his way past Marmont and pushed through the people streaming away from their attackers.Then, over the heads of those at the back of the crowd, he saw the raised clubs and scarved faces of the men beating a path through to the original speaker and his guards. Napoleon paused, fists bunched and heart pounding, not for the first time uncertain about the wisdom of what he was doing.Then he saw on the ground the prone figure of an old man, sprawled on his face, blood gushing from his scalp on to the cobbles. Beside him lay a crutch. Napoleon snatched it up, instinctively grasping it as if it were a musket, armpad clutched to his side and the base held out like a muzzle. His confidence returned and he stepped forward again, swerving round a woman clutching a young boy to her breast, long skirts flowing as she fled. A short distance behind her was the first of the royalists. Above the scarf he wore to conceal his features, his wide excited eyes turned and fixed on Napoleon, widening still further with surprise. He hesistated for an instant before he began to raise his club, and Napoleon swept forward, throwing all the weight of his slight figure behind the crutch as he rammed the base into the man’s chest, and hissed ‘Bastard!’ through clenched teeth.

The blow drove the man back with an explosive grunt and his head struck the ground as he tumbled, knocking him cold.

‘Marmont! Take his club!’

Now that two of them were armed, they made for the next target, a short distance off in the gathering gloom. Napoleon feinted at him and as the man moved to block the blow Marmont charged forward and felled him with a vicious strike to the head. As Junot seized the man’s weapon Napoleon turned to shout over his shoulder.

‘Citizens! Citizens, hear me! Are you cowards or patriots?’