THE GENERALS by Simon Scarrow Read Free Book Online Page B

enemy. He was standing with the nearest cannon directing the crew to aim to the left, where a section of the mob, having managed to escape the earlier blasts of grapeshot, was edging towards the barricade.The sergeant in charge of the gun stepped back and fired the weapon. The concussion from the blast punched into Napoleon’s ears as the cone of deadly lead shot cut the leading ranks to bloody shreds. All the time the infantry on either side of Napoleon loaded and fired their muskets into the mob at point-blank range, cutting the rebels down. Slowly, the mob stopped moving forward. A few amongst them still had the presence of mind to fire back, and some of them just waved their weapons and screamed with fury or tried to sound defiant as they cried their royalist slogans. But already scores of them were falling back, wide-eyed with horror at the slaughter and terrified of sharing the fate of the dead and mangled littering the cobbles of the Carrousel. The panic spread through the crowd like a wind rippling across a field of wheat and then they were all in retreat, more falling all the time as Napoleon’s men continued to fire after them.
     
    He waited until only a handful of the rebels were left, huddled down behind the wagons in the square, before he gave the order to cease fire.The last patches of smoke cleared and revealed to the defenders the full scale of the destruction they had caused. The ground in front of the palace was covered with the still forms of the dead and the writhing bodies of the injured. Blood pooled around them, and lay splashed over clothes and flesh. Thin cries of agony and low moans rose from the carnage.
     
    ‘Good God, what have we done?’ muttered one of the gunners.
     
    ‘Our duty,’ Napoleon responded curtly.‘And when they come back for more we must do it all over again. And again, until we break their will to continue this treachery. Now then, reload the cannon and stand by.’
     
    The gunner nodded, still dazed by the awful scene stretching across the square, but carried out his orders as efficiently as if he were on an exercise. Napoleon rose up and called out to the rest of his command.
     
    ‘Reload!’
     
    The sound of ramrods rattling in the musket barrels briefly interrupted the cries of the injured and then all was still once more along the barricade in front of the palace. A quick glance either side showed that only five of his men were down, with a handful of wounded who were being helped inside the palace to the dressing station in the grand entrance hall. Napoleon quietly summoned Junot.
     
    ‘Go to Barras.Tell him that we’ve repulsed the first attack. My guess is they’ll try one of the other strongpoints next. Barras is to send runners to the other commanders to let them know we’ve beaten off the first attack. That should help to stiffen their resolve.’
     
    Junot ran across the courtyard and disappeared into the palace, and Napoleon settled down to wait for the enemy to make their next move. The royalists wasted little time, and half an hour later there was a sudden burst of musket fire from the direction of the Riding School, punctuated by the dull blasts of cannon. For a moment the soldiers around Napoleon turned to face the noise with anxious expressions. The sounds of the assault soon faded away with a last crash of cannon fire that told them the defenders still held their position.
     
    A few moments later Junot came hurrying back to Napoleon.
     
    ‘They’re coming back this way! Up the Rue Saint-Honoré.’
     
    Napoleon thought for a moment, pulling at his ear lobe. The royalists had been driven back twice already, and much of the fight must have been beaten out of them. Very well, this attack must be the last. This was the decisive moment, and when they broke they had to be pursued without mercy so that the rebellion would be utterly crushed.
     
    Napoleon snapped an order to Junot. ‘Find Major Murat. I want him and his men mounted and ready in