Some heeded his call, and charged into the fight, throwing themselves on to the royalists. But some were struck down by the royalists’ clubs and brutally beaten to the ground. Edging round a crumpled body, Napoleon raised the crutch and looked for another opponent. But in the growing darkness, the civilians around him all looked the same, until he saw a face half hidden by a scarf, and at once smashed his crutch down on the man’s head. The blow never landed. Suddenly the dusk exploded in a blinding flash of light and Napoleon reeled back. He shook his head, trying to disperse the fading white flashes that obscured his sight.

‘Run for it!’ a voice shouted. ‘Royalists! On me!’

Several figures turned and bolted, running back for the dark shadows beneath the colonnade. The crowd pursued them for a moment and then gave up, jeering and shouting insults after the defeated enemy. Even though he was aware of a searing pain high on his forehead Napoleon felt awash with elation. Finding Marmont, he gave his friend a hearty slap on the back.

‘Auguste Marmont, I swear you are half man, half wild animal.’

‘Bastards had it coming to them,’ Marmont muttered.‘Call me a Girondin, would they?’Then he caught sight of the dark smear streaming down Napoleon’s temple. ‘Sir, you’re bleeding.’

Napoleon drew out his handkerchief and clasped it to his head with a wince.Then he looked down at the crutch still in his hands, and turned to find its owner. The old man was sitting up, nursing a tear in his scalp.

‘My thanks, citizen.’ Napoleon helped the man up and returned his crutch to him.

The man nodded his gratitude.‘Just wish I’d been able to help you out, sir.’

‘You made your contribution.’ Napoleon smiled and patted the crutch. ‘Which is more than can be said for most of the people here tonight.’

Junot emerged from the gloom, a thin-faced man at his side, whom Napoleon recognised as the speaker who had been addressing the meeting before it had been broken up. He approached the three officers, glanced over them and turned to Marmont.

‘I must thank you, and your friends, sir.’

Marmont looked embarrassed, and nodded towards Napoleon. ‘Don’t thank me. Our brigadier led us into the fight. I just followed.’

The speaker stared at Napoleon more closely with his hooded eyes and Napoleon sensed that he was not impressed by what he saw. ‘Brigadier?’ He recovered from his surprise and proffered his hand. ‘Joseph Fouché at your service.’

Napoleon took the hand and felt the man’s cold skin. He nodded. ‘Brigadier Napoleon Bonaparte, at yours.’

‘Well, it seems I must thank you for saving my skin. Though not without some cost to yourself.’

‘A scratch,’ Napoleon replied. ‘We were glad to help you. I’ll not let any royalists drive our people off the streets. Not whilst I live.’