Chapters (73)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Chapter 1 - Napoleon
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10 - Arthur
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15 - Napoleon
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21 - The Bridge at Arcola
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23 - Arthur
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27 - Napoleon
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33 - Arthur
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39 - Napoleon
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46 - Arthur
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48 - Seringapatam, April 1799
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50 - Napoleon
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55 - Arthur
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62 - Napoleon
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66 - Arthur
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Author’s note
If he expected a modest expression of gratitude at the remark, he was instantly disappointed. Napoleon simply nodded.
‘Yes, citizen . . . the very least. I have given good service to France, and I have been loyal to the revolution, and it is still my ambition to serve both as well as I can.’
‘France and the revolution are one and the same, Bonaparte.’
Napoleon gestured towards the window. ‘You might say that, citizen, but there are plenty of voices on the streets that do not. I must have passed a score of royalist notices plastered across the walls as I walked here. Not to mention a man selling royalist pamphlets, not a hundred paces from the entrance to the Tuileries. I doubt he would consider that France and the revolution are the same thing.’
‘Then he is a fool.’
Napoleon’s eyebrows rose. ‘I wonder how many more fools are out there, citizen?’
‘Enough to provide encouragement for the enemies of the republic,’ Carnot admitted. ‘Which is why they must be crushed without mercy. It is the duty of every officer in the French army to assist in the process, distasteful as that no doubt seems to you. Do you find such a duty distasteful, Bonaparte?’
‘I do. As you will know from my letter.’
‘Ah, yes, I recall. It seems that you do not wish to take up your post with the Army of the West.’
‘I am certain that my talents could be put to better use in other armies, citizen.There is no glory to be had in fighting one’s countrymen, no matter how misguided their politics. What chance have they got against professional soldiers? They will be slaughtered like innocents.Yes, I find that distasteful.’
Carnot leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘For a bunch of innocents they are raising merry hell in the Vendée.Attacking our patrols, burning supply depots and poisoning the hearts and minds of simple peasants and workers. And who do you think is backing them? England, that’s who. English ships land spies and troublemakers on our coasts almost every day, their pockets loaded with English gold. Do not delude yourself, Bonaparte. The war we fight inside France is every bit as vital as the war we wage against foreign enemies. Perhaps it is more important. Unless we win the battle for France it does not matter what happens on the plains of Italy, or along the banks of the Rhine. If we lose the battle for control of our country then all is lost.’ He leaned back in his chair and forced a smile. ‘So you can understand why the Committee wants to appoint its best officers to the army facing the most difficult task.’
Napoleon looked faintly amused. ‘I wonder how much this posting has to do with my ability, citizen.’
‘What do you mean?’