It was late in the evening before he had finished his tasks and told Junot to make sure that the messages were delivered immediately. As he left the study and made his way to the bedroom Napoleon was aware of a flickering glow through the windows at the front of the house, accompanied by the muted sounds of a gathered crowd. At once he feared that a mob had discovered his return and was bent on attacking his home. In the years of the revolution no man had been safe from the fickle attentions of the Parisians. He turned back to his study in alarm.
‘Junot! Come quickly.’
His friend hurried from the study, clutching the sealed letters under his arm. ‘What is it, sir?’
‘There, look.’ Napoleon pointed to the window and beckoned to Junot to follow him as he padded cautiously towards the front of the house. Keeping to the shadows they peered round the curtains, down into the street outside. Over a hundred people were gathered there, some carrying torches, and all talking in an excited babble.
‘What do they want?’ Junot said quietly.
‘Whatever it is, let’s keep out of sight. Find the groom and send him out there to see what’s going on. Better tell him to use the rear entrance. He can go along the alley to reach the end of the street. Got that?’
Junot nodded.
‘Send him straight to me the instant he returns.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As Junot retreated down the corridor Napoleon stayed at the window for a moment, taking care to keep hidden in the shadows. Then, realising that his presence there served no purpose, he returned to his study and waited. A short while later footsteps mounted the stairs and Junot entered the room, ushering in the groom.
‘Well?’ Napoleon said tersely.
The groom gave a nervous smile and gestured towards the front of the house. ‘They’ve come to see you, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ The groom could not hide his surprise. ‘Because you’re a hero, sir. Everyone’s talking about the treaty, and the war you won against Austria. The crowd started gathering as soon as they heard you had arrived in Paris.’
‘What do they want?’
‘To see you, sir. That’s all. They want to be the first to see the man who won all those battles. The man who led the attack on that bridge at Arcola.’
Napoleon could not help smiling faintly. The reports of the charge he had led into the hail of Austrian grapeshot had clearly reached far beyond the army newspapers, as he had hoped. Seeing the smile, Junot nodded towards the window.
‘Does the great general want to reveal himself to his adoring public?’
Napoleon frowned. ‘Don’t be a fool, Junot. Any one of them could be carrying a firearm. I’d make a fine target of myself the moment I stood at the window.’
‘Then what do we do, sir?’
‘Nothing. Let them stand there if they want to, but I’m not parading myself in front of them. Not yet, at least.’ He turned to the groom and nodded to the door.The man bowed and left the two officers to continue their conversation alone.
‘You deserve their acclaim, sir.’ Junot waved a hand towards the window.‘No other general has won as much glory for France in recent years. Besides, the more popular you are with the people the more popular you will become with the politicians. They can hardly afford to offend you if you enjoy the support of the populace.’
‘The support of the populace . . .’ Napoleon snorted. ‘What is that worth? I tell you, Junot, that mob would be baying for my blood if we had suffered a setback in Italy.’
‘But you gave them victories instead. They are grateful. Perhaps it would be wise to recognise their gratitude, sir. And make full use of it.’
‘It would hardly be wise.They might want to see me now, and their thanks will be genuine enough for a while at least. Then they will forget me and shift their acclaim to another general, or some actor or soprano.That is the way of fame.’ Napoleon paused and stroked his chin for a moment before he continued.‘So I will not give them what they want. I will not satisfy their desire to pay their respects. I will ration my public appearances. Maybe that will make this fame of mine last as long as possible. Long enough for me to use it to win my next command.’
Junot looked at him questioningly and Napoleon laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder. ‘You’ll see.’
‘See what, sir?’
‘All in good time, Junot. Now we should get some sleep.We’ll need it in the days to come.’
Napoleon glanced round the sitting room, richly decorated and flamboyant, like its owner, Charles Talleyrand, the recently appointed foreign minister. Napoleon had been here only once before, to attend a recital with Josephine over a year ago. Even then he had been struck by the proliferation of gold leaf and lacquer that glowed with a molten luminescence in the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. Some of the furniture was chipped and the upholstery faded, a reminder that many of the aristocrats who had emerged from the revolution no longer possessed the same fortunes that their forebears had enjoyed. Maybe so, Napoleon thought to himself, but at least they had kept their heads.
He wondered if the men gathered around him were destined for a similar fate. Any meeting of men with military and political influence in Paris was rightly regarded with suspicion by the government. If this meeting came to the attention of the Directory, then Napoleon and the others would be closely watched for any signs of treason. If such evidence came to light then all of them would face banishment, prison or the guillotine after the briefest of trials.
There were only a few guests and they sat on ornately scrolled chairs in one corner of the room, facing Napoleon: his brothers Joseph and Lucien; Junot; General Poucelle, the military commander of Paris; and Marcel Foudrier, a leading radical in the Chamber of Deputies. They were waiting impatiently for their host so that the meeting could begin.
Poucelle glanced towards the double doors on the far side of the sitting room. ‘What’s keeping him?’
Napoleon smiled. ‘Calm yourself, General. Talleyrand can be trusted.’
‘Really?’ Poucelle raised his eyebrows.‘What makes you think that? The man is a politician, after all.’
Poucelle had spoken without thinking, and glanced hurriedly at Lucien and Foudrier. ‘I meant no offence, gentlemen. It’s just that I trust some politicians less than others.’
‘No offence taken.’ Lucien shrugged. ‘I feel the same way about most soldiers.’
Poucelle glared back at him, lips compressed into a thin line. Napoleon could not help laughing, and wagged a finger at his brother.
‘Take care, Lucien. General Poucelle is more than a match for you, despite his years.’
The backhanded compliment made Poucelle add a frown to his expression as he grumbled,‘I did not come here to be insulted by a pair of young striplings. Be so good as to respect my rank and my experience, if not my person.’
Napoleon shot a warning look at his brother and Lucien nodded gently as he responded. ‘I apologise, General. It’s just that I don’t think that soldiers have an exclusive claim on morality and honour. They have as much predilection to corruption and personal ambition as the rest of us.’
‘Including your brother?’ Poucelle shot back.
Lucien looked quickly at Napoleon and nodded. ‘Including Napoleon. Otherwise we wouldn’t be meeting here.’
They were interrupted by the sound of the doors being wrenched open and turned to see Talleyrand entering the room. He shut the doors firmly and turned to limp across the room towards his guests. A birth defect had crippled his foot and he walked carefully and hid his pain behind a fixed smile.
‘Gentlemen, I apologise for keeping you waiting. I had a visitor who simply refused to leave my house until I had to be quite firm with her.’
‘I can imagine,’ Lucien muttered and Napoleon realised the implication in an instant, and looked more closely at Talleyrand. He was in his early forties, curly hair streaked with grey, yet he was the kind of fine-looking man Napoleon could imagine drawing admiring glances from the women of the salons Talleyrand frequented. He pulled up a chair and joined the others with polite nods of greeting.