The other officers nodded their agreement and Napoleon clapped his hands. ‘Good. That’s settled. Come, Junot. We have work to do.’

As they strode out of the room, Junot leaned towards his friend and muttered, ‘Did you see their faces? You made them look like scared rabbits. Now they’re eating out of your hand.’

Napoleon shrugged.‘They just needed someone to give them an order. Now I just hope they’ll do their duty.’

The two of them made a thorough inspection of the defences of the Tuileries and Napoleon gave orders for the boarding up of the lowest windows and doors and the barricading of all but a few of the smaller entrances. Nearly all of the men looked nervous and he could understand their fear at the overwhelming odds they faced. But he did his best to inspire them, telling them again and again of the significance of the next few days, and that when it was over they would have stories to tell their grandchildren and make them proud to be the bearers of an honoured family name. He also saw to it that the stores of powder and musket balls in the magazine were distributed to each strong-point, together with food and water to last each several days. Every time he glanced out into the streets surrounding the palace, Napoleon could see more and more of the royalists around the Tuileries as they prepared for the coming attack. But, other than the cautious figures moving behind cover, the streets were empty and silent.

Napoleon returned to Barras’ office at noon and quickly assigned the officers to their positions. Even those senior to him in rank readily nodded their assent and hurried off to their posts. As the last of them left, Napoleon turned to Barras and saw that behind the earlier bluster of a politician the man was anxious, fearful even, and seemed resigned to defeat.

‘Don’t worry, citizen. We’re in a strong position and the men are prepared to fight. When Danican makes his move in the morning he’ll get far more than he bargained for. If we can cut down his men quickly enough, then they’ll break and run for it.’

‘And if they don’t?’

‘Then we will just have to defend the palace room by room.’

‘I see.’ Barras gave him a searching look.‘And are you prepared to die for the republic, Brigadier Bonaparte?’

‘I am,’ he replied firmly, then smiled. ‘In any case, it makes no difference if I am willing to die for the republic or not. Our lives are in the hands of fate now. But I have to admit, I am intrigued to know what the outcome will be, once this fight is settled.’

‘Intrigued?’ Barras laughed. ‘Good God, man! You’re a cool one. And if we’re both still alive at the end of it, then I will make sure that the nation knows your name.’

As the afternoon wore on, the royalists began to be more bold. Individual men crept closer to the Tuileries through the gardens, or climbed to the upper floors of neighbouring buildings, and took pot shots at any faces they saw at the palace windows.When the sun started to sink towards the distant rooflines Napoleon was squinting out across the gardens as Junot muttered, ‘Doesn’t look as if Murat managed to reach the guns. Danican’s men must have got there first.’

‘You’d better pray that they didn’t. Otherwise they’ll pound the Tuileries into rubble. In any case, you’re being unfair to Murat.’

‘Really, sir? I thought he looked like a typical cavalryman. Spoiling for a fight. All mouth and no mind.’

‘Right now, perhaps that makes Murat the best man for the job. He’s—’

Napoleon was interrupted by the crackle of gunfire from the far end of the Tuileries gardens. Through the trees lining the central avenue he glimpsed figures running to each side. Moments later a handful of mounted men charged down the avenue, brandishing the silvery curves of their sabres. Behind them came the guns, each limbered up and drawn by teams of horses. At the rear came the main body of Murat’s cavalry. They halted halfway down the avenue to discharge their pistols and carbines as the braver souls amongst the royalists rose up to take a shot.

Napoleon turned to Junot. ‘There, I was right about him. Come on!’

In the safety of the courtyard Murat had dismounted and was waiting by one of the guns he had snatched from under the noses of the rebels. As Napoleon and Junot approached he slapped the breech of the cannon with his leather gauntlets.

‘Here are the cannon you requested.’

Napoleon laughed and grasped Murat’s hand. ‘Well done! Now we have them!’

‘Was there any trouble?’ Junot asked.

‘Trouble? Oh, nothing much.’ Murat shrugged indifferently. ‘The other side almost beat us to it. There must have been three companies of militia. But they scattered at the first sign of a blade.’

Napoleon’s gaze fell to the bloody gash on Murat’s thigh, and he noticed that several of the other riders were injured as well. Clearly, there had been more to it than Murat had implied, but Napoleon had been in the army long enough to know that the best of the cavalry were inclined to such studied understatement. He turned to inspect the guns. Eight of them, all light pieces as he had ordered.

‘Major, have your men position two of the guns on the terrace to cover the gardens and have the others taken to the courtyard at the front of the palace. I’ll site each one personally.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Before Murat turned away, Napoleon grasped his shoulder. ‘That was a fine piece of work, Major.When this is over, you can be sure that everyone will know of Joachim Murat’s role in the defeat of the traitors.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’ Murat could not contain a boyish smile. Then he saluted and turned to stride off and carry out his orders.

Night had fallen as the last of the cannon was eased into position behind the barricades at the main gateway leading out on to the Carrousel. The sky was thick with clouds and the air was cold and clammy, and as the first chill flecks of rain began to fall Napoleon gave orders for the powder kegs to be covered with waxed canvas. It was vital that the guns have dry powder ready for the next morning. Without artillery support the thinly spread government forces would not stand a chance.

Light glowed round the edges of the shutters of the royal suite where Barras had settled in for the night with his closest political associates, but Napoleon did not begrudge the man his creature comforts. It was better that Barras kept away from the men protecting the palace, in case he felt tempted to give any 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.’