Young bloods - Scarrow Simon - Страница 34

As the 1784 autumn assessment drew closer, Napoleon spent long hours in the stuffy heat of the library, reading and memorising as much as he could. He was always mindful of Father Dupuy's advice that for those outside of the aristocracy, the only route to achievement was through the Military School of Paris. The sooner he received his passing-out certificate, and a commission in the service of the French Crown, the sooner he could build a meaningful career for himself.

On the day of the assessment the boys who had been selected for testing waited in the library to be called in turn. Napoleon had never doubted that he would be put forward for this moment and while some of the others fretted and talked nervously, he sat quite still with his arms folded, until at last his name was called.

The visiting Inspector of Military Schools was a veteran officer, Monsieur Keralio. Slender and stiff, he wore a powdered wig and gave Napoleon a long, searching look with sharp blue eyes before he indicated the chair opposite the director's desk. He had a folder open on the desk in front of him containing a sheaf of notes.

'Cadet Buona Parte, isn't it?'

'Yes, sir.'

The inspector tapped the notes in front of him. 'You have an interesting background. A Corsican Frenchman must be something of a rare breed in a place like this.'

Napoleon smiled. 'Yes, sir.'

The inspector looked at him keenly. 'So which are you? Corsican or French?'

'Both, sir.' Napoleon replied directly. 'Just as another man might be a Norman, or French Burgundian.'

'But those regions have long been part of France, unlike Corsica. They have no Paoli to agitate for their independence. Your father fought with Paoli, did he not?'

'Yes, sir.That was many years ago.Today he is in the service of the Comte de Marbeuf in Ajaccio, and a loyal Frenchman. As am I, sir.'

'Good. I am satisfied with that,' the inspector said quietly.'Now then, young man, why do you want to serve in His Majesty's forces?'

The inevitable question Napoleon had been expecting, and like every other aspirant he had worked hard at preparing his answer. 'It's a man's life, sir. A chance for adventure, perhaps some glory, and I love my country well enough to want to protect her with my life.'

'And which country would that be, Cadet Buona Parte? You seem to avoid being specific.'

'Why, France, sir.'

The inspector looked at him a moment before he chuckled. 'Fair enough. A careful answer, Cadet Buona Parte.You have the guile to go far in this world.'

'Guile?' Napoleon coloured.

'Guile, perhaps. But, it seems, not patience nor complete self-control. '

Napoleon bowed his head, ashamed that he had fallen into the trap so easily.

The inspector leaned back and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. 'You may go.'

'Go, sir? Is that all?'

'Yes.'

Napoleon swallowed nervously. Most of the other cadets had had far longer interviews than this. How dare the inspector dismiss him after such a short and superficial interrogation?

'Did I pass the assessment, sir?'

'That is for me to know and for you to find out in due course, Cadet Buona Parte. Please send for the next candidate, Cadet Poilieaux.'

Napoleon returned to the library and, having passed on the summons, he took his seat again and waited for the assessment procedure to be concluded.The last interviewee came back to the library just as the beams of the late afternoon sun angled through the window.

Footsteps approached down the corridor and the door opened as Father Dupuy entered the library.

'Gentlemen, the director will see the following cadets. Boureillon, Pardedieu, Buona Parte, Salicere and Bresson.The rest of you are dismissed.'

While the other cadets filed out of the room Napoleon felt a surge of joy course through his veins. He had been accepted. He must have been. Unless it was those who were quitting the room who had passed and now the director was about to break the bad news to the rejects. Once the five named boys remained, Father Dupuy held the door open and waved the boys out into the corridor.

As he passed by Napoleon whispered, 'Did I pass?'

'All in good time,' Father Dupuy replied flatly. 'The director will inform you of the result.'

They made their way to the director's office in a silence that belied their nervousness. As they approached the door, it swung open and the inspector stepped out into the hall.

'Thank you, once again, sir,' he bowed. 'It is always a pleasure to visit Brienne.'

'The pleasure is ours, Monsieur Keralio,' the director replied from within.

The inspector turned at the sound of footsteps and nodded to them as the cadets took their places on a bench outside the room and Father Dupuy disappeared into the director's study. 'Gentlemen, I look forward to meeting you again some day.'

'Thank you, sir,' Napoleon replied.

The inspector smiled, then turned away and marched down the corridor towards the main entrance. Father Dupuy emerged through the door and looked down at Napoleon. 'You first.'

Napoleon rose quickly, took a deep breath and marched inside. The director looked up as the cadet stood to attention in front of his desk.

'It seems you have made something of an impression upon my friend the inspector.' He lifted a sheet of paper from the desk and began to read. '"Cadet Buona Parte's constitution and health are excellent; his character is obedient, amenable, honest, grateful; his conduct is perfectly regular. He is good academically but his fencing and dancing are very poor."'The director smiled. 'Not all good news then.'

Napoleon shrugged. He'd just have to avoid sword-fighting and social foreplay if he was to have a successful career.

'Of course, the inspector was basing most of his assessment on the reports of your teachers and could not know your, ah, quality as well as I do. So, he has passed you. You have been awarded a place at the Military School of Paris commencing next autumn. That is, assuming you wish to accept the place?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Very well, Cadet Buona Parte. That will be all. You are dismissed.'

Outside the office, as the next cadet entered for his debriefing, Napoleon shook hands with Father Dupuy, a huge smile splitting his thin face.

'I take it you were successful, then?' Father Dupuy teased him. 'I'm proud of you, Buona Parte.You've come a long way. Further than you think.'

Chapter 26

There was further congratulation from Ajaccio and Autun as the news of Napoleon's success reached the rest of the family. Joseph replied first, overwhelmed with joy and pride in his brother's achievement. So much so that he now had his heart set on a military life too. From home, his father wrote to say that he expected great things of his son. Carlos added that he would be paying a visit to a specialist doctor in Montpellier concerning a persistent pain in his stomach. He would visit his sons at the same time.

When he read his father's letter, Napoleon felt a welter of feelings swell up in his breast. It was over five years since he had last seen his father – longer since he had seen the rest of the family in Ajaccio – and all the ties to home and blood that had been suppressed for so long at last overwhelmed him. That night he cried long and hard into his pillow, his bony chest racked with muffled sobs.

The knowledge that his father was visiting Brienne in spring filled Napoleon's mind in the months that followed.Time seemed to pass more slowly than ever.

At long last, spring came. One afternoon, early in May, Napoleon was called from his maths lesson and summoned to the director's study.There, seated opposite the director, was his father.

Carlos rose slowly from his chair and Napoleon was shocked to see how thin and old he looked, but his eyes twinkled in lively disavowal of his frail state and he smiled as he opened his arms. 'My son… Come here.'