‘Maybe not.’ Napoleon scratched his chin and glanced up at the sky as the rain cleared away. For a moment a single shaft of light angled across the Carrousel from a fleeting gap in the clouds, and then it was gone. He smiled. ‘Perhaps the rain has doused their spirits a little. After all, most of them are just part of the mob. Even the militia have little field experience. On a day like this, it’ll be as much as they can bear to stick their noses outside the door.’

The morning wore on, and the defenders waited for the royalist attack with increasing impatience.Then, just before noon, the sound of drums drifted across the Carrousel.The men around Napoleon raised their muskets and levelled the muzzles on the barricades as they waited for the first of the rebels to appear.The beating of the drums gradually increased in volume and now they could hear the sounds of cheering, rising and falling in waves. Before the noise was loud enough to drown out his orders Napoleon rose up and cupped his hands to his mouth.

‘No man will fire until the order is given! If blood is to be shed today, then let it be the fault of the royalists!’

There was a puff from behind the nearest wagon in the Carrousel and Napoleon ducked as a ball whined past his head.

‘Well.’ Junot grinned. ‘That’s the culpability issue settled. We can start killing the bastards as soon as we like.’

‘Only when I give the order!’ Napoleon snapped irritably, and was at once angry with himself for letting his nervous exhaustion reveal itself. He turned and called down the line. ‘Gun crews! Stand to! Load with canister!’

The canvas covers were whipped back immediately as the gunners opened ammunition cases and took out the charges. As soon as they had been rammed home the packs of lead balls secured in tin containers were thrust down the muzzles up against the charge and the crews stood by their weapons.

The sound of the drums and the cheers of the approaching royalists echoed round the buildings facing on to the Carrousel, and then one of the men close by Napoleon thrust out his arm.

‘Here they come!’

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The royalists spilled out of the avenue leading from the Rue Saint-Honoré and flowed into the Carrousel. At the head of the mob came a white-coated officer in a gaudy feathered hat. He was clutching a standard from which the sodden Bourbon colours hung limply. Behind him were a score of drummer boys, beating out a deafening rhythm. The men following them made no attempt at holding a formation as they strode boldly across the square towards the palace. The blue-coated militiamen were armed with muskets, as were many more of the royalist volunteers. The rest of the mob were armed with staves, axes, clubs and knives.Their cheering reached a climax now that their enemies were in sight.