Napoleon stood up and drew his sword, raising it high above his head. ‘Prepare to fire!’

On either side the muskets came up, thumbed back to full cock, and the defenders squinted down the long length of their barrels towards the dense mass of rebels advancing towards them. The royalists made no attempt to stand in line and fire a volley. All along the front of the crowd there was a constant stabbing of flames and puffs of smoke as they fired freely. There was no chance to reload as those behind pressed the first rank on.

‘Hold your fire!’ Napoleon bellowed, keeping his arm erect. On either side musket balls whipped through the air, or splintered the wooden material in the barricade with sudden loud crashes. Close by, a young grenadier’s head snapped back in a welter of blood that spattered across Napoleon’s cheek as the body tumbled back on to the cobbles.

‘Hold steady!’ Junot shouted from nearby.

The crowd surged forward, the white-coated officer waving the banner from side to side to try to loosen its waterlogged folds and inspire his men.They were now close enough for Napoleon to see that he was an older man with a powdered wig beneath his bicorn hat.

When they were a scant fifty paces from the palace gate, Napoleon swept his sword arm down and roared out the command. ‘OPEN FIRE!’

As the muskets spurted flame and smoke in a rolling volley the gun crews lowered their portfires on to the firing tubes and the cannon roared out, belching fire and great plumes of acrid smoke as they discharged a torrent of grapeshot into the mob. At once the infantry and the gun crews hurried to reload their weapons.

For a moment all sight of the rebels was lost in a thick bank of rolling gunpowder smoke. Then as the breeze dispersed it Napoleon could see the terrible impact of that first volley. The four cannon had cleared great lanes into the mob and left scores of dead and injured sprawled on the ground, and all along the front of the crowd many more of the rebels had been struck down by musket fire. Only one of the drummers was still beating his instrument. The others, like most of the crowd, stood aghast at the devastation around them. The cheering had died in their throats and they stopped dead. As the cries and screams of the wounded filled the air the spell was broken and the white-coated officer thrust his banner above his head.

‘Charge! For France and the monarchy!’

He broke into a run, and the braver souls in the crowd surged forward after him, heading straight towards the barricaded gate, and Napoleon beyond. The two officers’ eyes met for an instant and then Napoleon turned to give a fresh order to his men. ‘Fire at will!’