Young bloods

'Carlos Buona Parte, at your service.' He raised his eyebrows slightly. 'You must be the director, sir?'

The man slowly swivelled his gaze away from Napoleon towards his father. He made a thin smile and replied in his weak strained tone, 'Yes, I believe that's what the sign outside the door says, Signor Buona Parte.' His eyes flickered back to Napoleon. 'And this is the new boy.'

Carlos's expression was frigid at being addressed in the Italian fashion, but he bit back on his irritation and bowed his head.'Yes, sir. My son, Napoleon.'

'We were expecting you two days ago.'

'I was delayed in Bastia, by a storm. I made up some of the time before I could fetch my son from Autun. I apologise.'

The director nodded his head briefly, as if to indicate that he could barely tolerate the apology.'Very well, sir. I think it only fair to tell you that the boy's entry in the college is allowed under sufferance.'

'Sufferance, sir? What do you mean?'

'Only that it is our custom to extend places to the sons of French nobility. This is our first application from Corsica.'

'Which is now French, as you well know, sir.'

The director shrugged his bony shoulders. 'So it would seem. In any event, I would rather not dilute the quality of our student body by admitting someone from outside of France.' He paused and smiled. 'Mainland France, at any rate.'

'Dilute?' Carlos felt his chest tighten in rage. 'Did you say, "dilute"?'

'I did, sir. But I intend no slur on your island, nor your son, naturally. I am sure that in time the inhabitants of Corsica will acclimatise to their new nationality.To their new culture. Until such time, it is my opinion that the mixing of our respective cultures can only confuse the educational ethos of the college. It is as much a concern for the wellbeing of your son as it is for the rest of the students here. And were it not for the well-meaning but misplaced representations of the Comte de Marbeuf to the Royal Court, I would be able to prevent this unfortunate state of affairs.As it is…' He shrugged again and opened out his pale white hands.

Carlos placed a hand on Napoleon's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze as he responded to the director.'But as it is, you have been instructed to accept my son into this establishment.'

'Yes, sir. I am sure you understand the sensitivity of the situation.'

Carlos stared at the director a moment before he replied, 'I understand.'

The director smiled in relief. 'I am certain that the boy Napoleon will find that the continuation of his studies at Autun will be for the best.'

'The boy stays here,' Carlos said firmly. 'He has been awarded a royal scholarship.You will educate him, as arranged.'

'I see. Well, if you are adamant that you wish him to be educated here…'

'I am.'

A sudden look of inspiration flickered across the director's face. 'And how does he feel about the situation, I wonder.' He leaned forward, over the edge of the desk and fixed Napoleon with an intense stare. 'Well, boy? Do you wish to stay here? Or return to your friends back in Autun?'

'P-please, sir. I don't know.'

'Napoleon,' his father said sternly, pulling him round so that their eyes met. 'You will be educated here. It is your right. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Do you understand me?'

Napoleon felt his insides churn with a mixture of injured pride and a desire to quit this place and be back with his brother. But he would not let his father down. He would not back away from this arrogant Frenchman. Napoleon swallowed nervously and nodded his head. 'I understand, Father.'

'Good.' Carlos patted his shoulder, and turned back to the director. 'It is settled, then.'

'Very well.' The director said in a resigned tone. 'Now, I imagine you have a long journey to make back to your home in Corsica. Please don't let me detain you a moment longer. I'll see that your son' – he made a thin smile at the boy – 'I'll see that young Napoleon here is taken care of.'

Carlos stared at him for a moment, then nodded his head. 'Then I'll take my leave of you. With thanks for taking him into Brienne. I'm sure he will prove himself a worthy student.'

'He looks like a determined enough boy. I'm sure he will try to prove himself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to complete his enrolment records. If you'll be so kind as to take him to the quartermaster's stores at the end of the hall he can be fitted with his uniform. Good day to you, sir.'

Carlos steered his son towards the door and back into the corridor outside. As the heavy door closed behind them with a faint squeal from the hinges, father and son looked at each other in silence. Carlos still felt the anger surging through his veins, but the injured look in the eyes of his son pricked him with guilt.

'Father, do I have to stay here?'

'Yes. I know it will be difficult. But it is the best chance of a future you will ever get. Have courage, Napoleon.'

Courage, the boy thought. Yes, courage. That's all that would protect him now. For the first time he would be cut off from all his family. He would be alone. A Corsican amongst the haughty sons of French aristocrats. Only courage would save him.

'Come now,' his father smiled. 'Let's find the quartermaster. I can't wait to see you in that fine new uniform!'

'There!' Carlos straightened up and took two paces back. 'You're quite the young gentleman.'

Napoleon stiffened his back and smiled at his father. The uniform felt good on him. It made him feel older and wiser, and somehow a little braver. In this coat he was not so different from the other students who were passing in the hall outside the quartermaster's door now that morning lessons had finished. At least, he would not look so different. But that, Napoleon knew, was where the similarity would end. As soon as he opened his mouth his origins would be painfully apparent. What then?

His father was still examining him with a pleased expression. 'It suits you. I'm sure you will be a fine soldier some day. One I can be proud of.'

Napoleon felt his throat tighten and he could not trust himself to reply immediately, but nodded with a vague mumble that he would do his best.

'I'm sure you will.' The smile faded from Carlos's lips. 'Now, I must go.'

He stared down at his son, and for a moment saw only the smooth-featured child whose birth seemed only a little while ago. So short a time. Perhaps too short a time, he reflected guiltily, and for an instant he felt the urge to bundle the boy into his arms and bear him back home to his family. Then he tried to dismiss the feeling. He could not shield the boy from this world for ever. It was better that Napoleon became acquainted with its challenges as soon as possible. And what better opportunity than a scholarship in one of the most prestigious colleges in France? Carlos had done everything in his power to secure advancement for his sons. It was all for them, he told himself, and this parting was just one of the many sacrifices he had made. Carlos extended his hand formally.

'I'll give your love to your mother. Be good and work hard.'

Napoleon hesitated a moment before he reached out and pressed his hand into the palm of his father's, feeling the warmth that briefly passed between their connected flesh, before his father loosened his grip.

Napoleon swallowed. 'When will I see you again?'

Carlos frowned. He had not considered this, but he must reassure his son. 'Soon. I'll come and visit the moment the family affairs are in order.'

'When will that be?'

'Soon, Napoleon. Then I'll see you and Joseph again. Perhaps your mother will come with me.'

'I'd like that,' Napoleon said quietly, wanting to commit his father to a definite time, but knowing it was impossible. 'You will write to me?'

'Of course I will! As often as possible.' Carlos flashed one of his brilliant smiles.'And I expect you to respond in kind, young man.'

'I will. I promise.'

'Very well… Then I must go.'