Inside the house the air was cool and musty. Letizia panted in quick sharp breaths and desperately stared round the dark interior.

'That chair.' She nodded to a low, worn couch in the corner. 'Help me down.'

As soon as she lay back against the arm of the couch Letizia reached for the hem of her skirts. Then she paused and looked at her husband. His expression was riddled with fear and anxiety, and she knew he would not cope with what was to come. He had been witness to only one of her deliveries, a stillborn child, and had been consumed by helpless anguish as he had stared down at the pale, lifeless bundle of bloodied flesh. She would have to do this without him. She would do it without any help. The house was empty; everyone was at mass.

'Go!' Letizia nodded towards the door. 'Fetch Dr Franzetti.'

After the briefest of hesitation Carlos turned for the door. He pulled it to behind him and Letizia heard his boots echoing down the street as he went for help.Then all thought of Carlos was gone as the muscles of her stomach turned hard as iron, gripping her in a crucible of agony. She hissed through clenched teeth, then opened her mouth in a silent scream as the pain seemed to endure for an age before it at last relented and slowly relaxed its grasp. She gasped for breath, and felt a terrible straining in her groin. Her hands wrenched the hems of her skirts up and bunched the folds over the stretched smooth skin of her stomach.

Then another contraction seized her and Letizia cried out loud, and as it reached its climax she strained her stomach muscles and with a superhuman effort forced the child from her womb. For a moment nothing happened, just waves and waves of pain, and with a last reserve of strength Letizia pressed down.

With a slick rush of sound the strain disappeared and she felt hollow.At once euphoria flushed through her body as she reached down between her thighs and gently closed her fingers round the sticky body of the infant that lay there. It flinched at her touch, and with tears of relief and joy Letizia raised the baby up towards her chest, trailing its pasty grey umbilical cord.

A boy.

He opened his mouth a fraction and a bubble of spittle grew on his lips before bursting. Tiny fingers twitched and clenched into small fists as Letizia hurriedly untied the straps that held the top of her dress together. Her breasts were swollen far beyond their normal size and, cupping her hand round her pallid flesh, she offered the nipple up to the boy. At once his lips puckered, began to make smacking noises and then closed round the nipple. She smiled.

'Clever boy.'

When Carlos and Dr Franzetti hurried into the room a short while later Letizia smiled up at them. 'He's fine. See Carlos, a fine healthy boy.'

Her husband nodded as the doctor hurried over and set his bag down beside the couch. He gave the baby a quick examination and nodded his satisfaction before turning back to his bag. From inside he brought out a steel clip and carefully attached it to the umbilical cord close to the child's stomach before he produced a pair of scissors and cut through the tough sinewy fibre of the cord. When all was done Dr Franzetti eased himself up and stared down at the child, its mother and the father. Carlos beamed proudly at his new son as he held his wife round the shoulders. The infant, even though it had drunk its fill of breast-milk wriggled restlessly in the crook of Letizia's arm.

'He's a lively one,' Dr Franzetti smiled. His smile faltered as he recalled Letizia's two previous babies who had not survived into this world. 'He's strong and healthy. He'll do well enough now and should cause you no problems. I will go.'

Carlos drew his arm away from his wife and rose to his feet. 'Thank you, Doctor!'

'Pah! I did little. It was Letizia there. She did all the hard work. A brave wife you have there, Carlos.'

Carlos glanced down at her and smiled. 'I know.'

Dr Franzetti picked up his bag and turned towards the door. He paused at the threshold and turned back, staring at the woman and her child on the couch.

'Have you decided on a name?'

'Yes.' Letizia looked up. 'He's to be named after my uncle.'

'Oh?'

'Naboleone.'

Dr Franzetti placed his cap on his head and nodded in farewell. 'I'll call in a few days from now to see how the child's faring. Until then, I bid you good day, Carlos, Letizia.' His gaze flickered down to the lively baby and he chuckled. 'And you too, of course, young Naboleone Buona Parte.'

In the years that followed Carlos Buona Parte had not been able to believe his good fortune. Not only had his amnesty been confirmed by the government in Paris, but he had secured a position as a court assistant in Ajaccio on a salary of nine hundred livres. No fortune by any stretch of the imagination but it allowed him to feed and clothe his family and maintain the large house he had inherited in the heart of the town.With another child on the way, Carlos needed the money.The new governor of Corsica, the Compte de Marbeuf, had taken to the charming young lawyer and was now acting as Carlos's patron, as part of his mission to cement relations between France and her newly acquired province. Not only had Marbeuf secured the court appointment for Carlos, but he had also promised to support Carlos's petition to the French Court to acknowledge his claim for the title of nobility held by his father. At present there were many such petitions as the Corsican aristocracy attempted to have their traditions included within the French system. But now his petition was being delayed, and each time that Carlos raised the matter with Marbeuf, the old man gently patted his hand and smiled thinly as he assured his young protege that it would be dealt with in good time.

Why the delay? Carlos asked himself. Only days before, the lawyer Emilio Bagnioli had had his petition approved, despite it being lodged a good six months after that of Carlos. With heavy heart he returned to his house one afternoon and made for the stairs to the first floor. Letizia's uncle, Luciano, the Archdeacon of Ajaccio, lived on the ground floor. He rarely left the house any more, claiming he was too infirm. But the real reason, the family knew, was that he did not dare part from the money chest he had hidden in his room. Carlos had little time for the dour man and merely nodded a greeting as he passed the archdeacon, leaning against the doorpost. Carlos hurried up the creaking steps to the first floor and entered his family's rooms, quickly closing the door behind him. From the kitchen, down the corridor, he heard the sounds of his children at the dinner table, together with the scrape and clatter of plates and cutlery as Letizia prepared the settings.

Letizia looked up with a warm smile, which faded as she saw his weary expression.

'Carlos? What's wrong?'

'There's still no news about my petition,' Carlos replied as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

'I'm sure it'll be dealt with soon enough.' She moved behind him and stroked his neck. 'Be patient.'

He did not answer her, but turned his attention to his children, who stared at him with their mother's intense eyes. Then, as Giuseppe continued to gaze at his father, the younger boy deftly removed a thick slice of sausage from Giuseppe's plate. As soon as Giuseppe noticed the theft, he snatched at the meat. Naboleone was too quick for him and smashed his fist down on Giuseppe's fingers before they reached his plate. His older brother yelped and jumped up in his chair, upsetting his cup of water so that the contents spilled across the table. Carlos felt his temper snap and he slammed his fists down on the table.

'Go to your room!' he ordered. 'Both of you.'

'But, Father,' the younger boy cried out indignantly,'it's dinner time. I'm hungry!'