'Fire!' someone bellowed. The shattering crash of a volley of muskets rang out in a deafening roar that echoed off the walls of the flanking bastions. Several of Napoleon's men were flung to the ground, others flinched and then clutched at wounds.

'Advance!' came the order, and Napoleon heard the tramp of boots approaching. At once he knew it was a trap. Someone had warned the garrison – one of those cowards at the Jacobin Club who had slunk out of the meeting after Napoleon had roused the rest to arms.

'Back!' Napoleon called out to his men. 'Fall back!'

He ran a few paces from the gate before stopping to turn to look. His men were fleeing.Then the first of the red jackets of the Swiss soldiers was visible through the gunpowder smoke that billowed through the opening. More followed, and Napoleon ran for the cover of the street they had emerged from only moments before. The survivors of the assault party ran for their lives, and some threw down their weapons in blind panic as they made for the nearest shelter.

When Napoleon had reached the corner of the street, he flattened himself against the wall and gasped for breath for a moment, before risking a look back towards the gateway. Nearly a company of the Swiss soldiers had emerged from the citadel and as he watched he saw two of them bayonet one of the wounded volunteers.The latter raised his hand and screamed for mercy, but his cries were cut short as the spiked bayonets plunged into his throat and tore it open.

From the other end of the street came the tramp of the rest of the battalion. There was still a chance, Napoleon thought desperately. He straightened up and waited for the column to march up towards him.

'The battalion will form line!' he shouted out, indicating the boulevard opposite the citadel.

The officers acknowledged and relayed the order, and Napoleon felt a surge of pride as they marched out into the open and began to form up either side of the end of the street. The officer commanding the detachment of Swiss soldiers watched anxiously before he gave the order to recall his men. More of the garrison had appeared on the battlements, where they had clearly been waiting. Puffs of smoke blossomed along the wall, as the irregular crackle of musketry echoed across the open space. Here and there, fragments of stone exploded from the cobbled street and a few more of the volunteers were struck down.

'Raise muskets!' Napoleon called out.

All along the line, the long barrels extended towards the enemy.The officer by the gate was still forming his men into line ready to return fire when Napoleon swept his arm down.

'Fire!'

For a second Napoleon was deafened by the volley that flashed out from the muskets of the blue-coated volunteers and a thick pall of gunpowder smoke blotted out all sight of the citadel and the men opposite. Slowly the cloud thinned as the volunteers hurriedly reloaded. By the gate four bodies in red jackets lay sprawled amongst the dead of the assault party. The rest had already withdrawn through the gate and, as Napoleon watched, the studded timbers thudded into position as the defenders sealed the entrance.

Now Napoleon saw that the defenders on the wall were taking a steady toll of the volunteers and he knew he must get them under cover as soon as possible.

'Battalion! Withdraw to cover! Withdraw!'

The men needed no encouragement, and forced their way into the houses opposite the walls of the citadel. Napoleon made his way inside a tall building belonging to one of the wealthier merchants of Ajaccio and, ignoring the screams of protest from the man's wife, he climbed the stairs up to the attic and cautiously peered out of the small window that jutted over the roof tiles. Glancing to both sides he saw that his men and the defenders were busy exchanging shots. Napoleon was content to let this continue for a while yet. It would do the men good to have the experience of being under fire, albeit under the secure cover of stone buildings. He let them have a quarter of an hour before he left orders for the men to cease fire and made for the Jacobin Club.

Colonel Quenza leaped up from his desk as Napoleon entered the room and thrust out his finger towards his subordinate. 'What the hell is going on, Buona Parte? I'm hearing reports that my men have been massacred out there!'

'There have been some casualties,' Napoleon admitted coolly. 'But we knew there would be.'

'Have we taken the citadel?'

'No, sir.' Napoleon inclined his head towards the window through which the spasmodic fire from the defenders sounded. 'As you can hear. Someone warned them that we were coming. The garrison has closed the gates and our men have the entrance to the citadel surrounded.'

'Surrounded?' Quenza blinked rapidly and folded his hands together. 'So what happens now, eh?'

'For the time being, nothing, sir.' Napoleon quickly thought through the options. 'We can wait until tonight and try another assault. That's risky. We could try to starve them out, or we could try to negotiate a surrender.'

Quenza leaped on the last suggestion. 'Negotiate. That's what we'll do. Perhaps that's the best way out of the mess you've created.'

Napoleon felt the anger tighten his throat, but fought it back. 'Very well, sir. I'll send a man forward with a flag of truce.'

'See to it then.'

Both men suddenly felt the building shudder beneath their feet, and an instant later there was a loud crash and masonry tumbled past the window as a deep boom sounded across the town. Quenza leaped back from the window.

'What's that?'

'Artillery,' Napoleon replied evenly.'They must have brought a gun up on to one of the bastions. It seems that they already know the Jacobin Club was behind the attack.'

'They're firing on us?' Quenza stared at Napoleon, eyes wide with fright. 'On me? I have to get out of here. I have to find somewhere safe.'

Quenza snatched up his hat and hurried towards the door, just as another shot smashed into the roof. He winced, and glanced back at Napoleon. 'You see to the negotiations. I'm setting up a new command post in the cathedral.They wouldn't dare fire on that!'

'No, sir. I imagine not.'

Napoleon followed the colonel out of the building and returned to the battalion.True to his orders they had not fired on the walls, and only the occasional shot from the citadel, punctuated by the deep boom of the artillery piece, echoed across the open ground. Unwinding the white scarf from his neck Napoleon tied the end of it around the tip of his sword. He took a deep breath, stepped out on to the boulevard and waved the sword aloft to attract attention. A voice shouted something from the citadel walls and at once several puffs of smoke appeared. Shots whipped overhead and two more struck the cobbles close to his feet.

Napoleon ducked back into cover as fast as he could.'So much for negotiation…'

After he sent report of the failed attempt to the colonel, Napoleon returned to the attic of the merchant's house where a sergeant was keeping watch on the citadel.

'Any developments?'

'Yes, sir. Shortly after you went to see the colonel a boat put out from the citadel.'

'What course?'

'North, sir. Towards Bastia, I'm thinking. They've gone for reinforcements.'

Napoleon nodded. It was what he had feared would happen. The garrison commander, forewarned of the attack, must have had the boat ready to send off at first light – just as the ill-fated assault party had rushed for the gates.With a good wind the boat could reach Bastia by nightfall. Allowing a day to organise a relief force and another for the return journey, Napoleon realised that there was no chance of starving the garrison out. Nor would the men of the volunteer battalion be in any mood to attempt a direct assault. The casualties would be horrific and Napoleon balked at the idea of so much bloodshed.This was supposed to have been a swift coup, but now he could see nothing in the situation but humiliation and failure.