‘I see.’ Fouché’s lips flickered into a thin smile. ‘I like your spirit. The republic needs more men like you. Especially now. Paris seems to be infested by nests of royalist sympathisers. It is time that good men recognised the growing threat and stood up to them. Before it’s too late.’

Napoleon laughed. ‘Come now, they were no more than a gang of thugs. A rabble.’

‘You think so? Then look here.’ Fouché squatted down over one of the men who had attacked the crowd, now lying senseless on the cobblestones. Fouché pulled the scarf away from his face, and then flicked open the dark coat. Underneath it the man was wearing a smartly tailored jacket and waistcoat. Fouché stood up.

‘A common thug? I think not. He’s an aristo.’ Fouché swung his foot into the side of the man’s head. ‘An aristo and a traitor. And there are many more like him out there, scheming and plotting to place a Bourbon back on the throne. Mark my words, Brigadier Bonaparte, we have to watch our backs.The revolution is not quite as safe as our government would like us to think.’ He smiled. ‘Now I must go. I have another speech to make, in the Place Vendôme.’ Fouché suddenly looked tired and anxious. ‘The people have to be convinced to vote for the new constitution. If it fails to win their support then all is lost . . .Anyway, I hope we meet again, sir.’

Napoleon nodded faintly, not relishing the prospect.

As Fouché and his bodyguards strode away towards the Rue Saint-Honoré Napoleon glanced round at the people in the Palais-Royal. Now that the excitement was over, most were drifting back to their earlier entertainments. Only a small proportion of them had come to Fouché’s aid. As for the rest, Napoleon could not say where their loyalties lay. Perhaps Fouché was right, Napoleon conceded. Perhaps the situation in Paris was more dangerous than he had supposed.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Minister of War gestured to the chair that had been positioned on the opposite side of his desk. ‘Please, Brigadier Bonaparte, sit down.’

Napoleon complied, and Carnot leaned forward. ‘You’ve injured your head.’

For a moment Napoleon considered relating the events of the previous evening, and then realised it might be thought unseemly for a senior officer to be involved in a street brawl. He cleared his throat. ‘I had a dizzy spell, citizen. I tripped and fell down some stairs.’

‘But your head’s clear enough, I trust.’

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’

‘Just as well, since I have been asked by the Committee for Public Safety to pick your brains.’ Carnot smiled.‘It seems that you are regarded as something of an expert on military affairs in Italy.’