THE GENERALS by Simon Scarrow Read Free Book Online

orders. A grenadier had found Napoleon a sword and another man lent Napoleon his greatcoat. At midnight, as the drizzle turned into steady, freezing rain, Napoleon settled with his back to the wheel of a gun carriage and pulled the thick woollen folds of the garment tightly about his shoulders. He willed himself not to sleep, in case the royalists attempted an attack under cover of the foul weather. But there was no sound other than the steady hiss as rain struck the cobbles in a shimmering film of tiny explosions.
     
    The rain continued through the night and into the dawn as the men on watch duty stared into the gloom, tense and alert for any sign of attack. As the thin milky light spread across the Carrousel and revealed a handful of the royalists still sheltering behind their wagons, Napoleon roused Junot, who had fallen asleep an hour or so earlier, and told him to pass the word along the line to stand to. Sodden, shivering forms of men rose up stiffly behind the barricades and reached for their muskets. Their ears strained to pick up any sound of the approach of the royalist assault columns. But the streets were still as dawn gave way to dull daylight hemmed in beneath a thick blanket of dark rain clouds.
     
    Junot returned from his errand and crouched down beside Napoleon.
     
    ‘There’s little sign of any movement around the palace, sir. Seems that Barras’s information wasn’t accurate.’
     
    ‘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
     
    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