The sergeant smiled. 'Now you're getting the hang of it, sir. Continue.'

Napoleon sponged out the gun and stood to one side. 'Clear!'

The loader pretended to place a cartridge in the muzzle. 'Loaded!'

Napoleon reversed the rammer and thrust the imaginary charge down and returned to his place. 'Ready to fire!'

'BANG!' roared the sergeant. 'Nice try, sir. But let's give the sponge a nice twist this time.After all, we don't want to blow your arms off the moment we start live firing, do we?'

In addition to firing drills Napoleon was taught to harness and unharness the gun, how to clean and maintain the equipment, how to keep his uniform tidy and make sure that his boots gleamed. Then there was watch-keeping, guard duties, route marches and camp skills. The last proved to be an interesting experience after Napoleon's previous year of fine dining at the Military School. At the end of the day the sergeant major called for the cooking pots to be taken out of the supply wagon. The ingredients for the stew were purchased from local farmers out of the 'frog', a kitty to which all members of the gun crew, including probationary officers, had to contribute. Once the stew was ready, the gunners took their turns at the pot in order of seniority. Since Napoleon was the most recent recruit to the regiment he came last and had the dregs. At first he had considered protesting and pulling rank, but then he realised that he would be leading these men in a matter of months and that he could not afford to earn their ill will. The men soon came to respect him and, as time passed, someone coined an affectionate nickname for the young officer when he moved on to the second stage of his probation and was made an NCO – the 'little corporal'.

At first Napoleon had endured this part of the training, but as he got to know the men and worked alongside them, so he learned his trade in detail. By the end of the year he could have exchanged places with any man in the company and carried out his duties to the same standards of efficiency and effectiveness. Alexander, by contrast, was suffering the probationary period without concealing the distaste he felt for carrying out common duties and having to associate with the rankers. As soon as his duties were concluded for the day he rushed back into town to change clothes and go out drinking with the other officers. Napoleon tended to linger in the barracks, talking with the soldiers and making sure that he fully understood all that he had learned that day. Besides, he did not have enough money to waste on drink and women.

At last, as the new year of 1786 began, the colonel summoned Napoleon to headquarters. A light snow had fallen, dusting the barracks with a fine powdery layer and Napoleon pulled his coat firmly around his thin shoulders as he strode up the steps and exchanged a salute with the sentry, a man he recognised from the company he had served in.

'Cold morning, Gaston.'

'Yes, sir. If I'm not relieved soon they're going to freeze off.'

'Be a shame. Wipe the smile off that miller's girl.'

They both laughed before Napoleon stepped inside and made his way to the commanding officer's office. The door was open and Napoleon rapped on the doorframe. Inside, the colonel was sitting close to his fireplace, warming his hands over the glowing embers. He glanced round.

'Ah, Buona Parte, come in. Pull up a chair.'

When the young man had taken his place and was also enjoying the fire's warmth the colonel smiled at him. 'You've probably guessed by now. The probationary period is over – you have passed with flying colours. From now on you can assume all the duties of lieutenant.'

'Thank you, sir. I won't let you down.'

'Glad to hear it. Unfortunately, that tearaway Des Mazis is going to have to serve another month or so before I can justify ending his probation. He has a rather specialised understanding of the proper conduct of an officer. But we'll knock him into shape soon enough when he sees that you have completed your probation ahead of him.'

'Let's hope so, sir,' Napoleon smiled. 'Des Mazis is a good man at heart. I'm sure he'll be a fine officer.'

'I genuinely hope you're right, my boy. Now then, once your friend has passed his probation, I have a job for a few young officers.There's a live firing trial at the arsenal in Nantes in spring. Some new cannon designs are being tested out and the Minister for War has asked me to send along some observers. I've chosen Captain Des Mazis to lead the party. There are places for four more officers so I will include you and the younger Des Mazis. I haven't yet decided on the last two officers. Interested?'

Napoleon nodded. 'I'm honoured to be chosen, sir.'

'Do you good to see some wider aspects of the trade,' the colonel replied, then clicked his fingers as he recalled some detail. 'Almost forgot! There's an invitation from the director of some military academy in the Anjou region. They offer a little training to young gentlemen from across Europe.The director is keen that they should meet with French officers of their own age to foster a little friendship. He thinks that might go some way to avoiding wars in the future.' The colonel shook his head. 'Precious little hope of that… Still, there's the prospect of good food and wine. You might enjoy it, and you can certainly fit it in on the way down to Nantes.'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon nodded. 'Where exactly is this academy?'

'One moment…'The colonel twisted round and searched his desk for a moment before turning back with a letter. 'Here you are. The Royal Academy of Equitation at Angers.'

Napoleon frowned. He was finding it hard enough tolerating the sons of the French aristocracy. Now he would have to endure the company of foreign aristocrats and was already dreading this visit to Angers.

Eton, 1783

As the months passed Arthur settled uneasily into his new school. For the first time since the Wesleys had moved to London he was living away from home and he suspected that his mother was more than happy with the new arrangement. Indeed, the letters he received from home contained little sign of any genuine affection for him, merely an endless litany of complaints about the accommodation that Richard had arranged for her. How was she to cope with so few servants? Already, she said, many of her former society friends were cutting her out of their circles. All of which she blamed on her ungrateful sons and her irresponsible husband.The only hope for her now was that her daughter might marry well, or that her sons, if they studied hard, might one day rise to positions of significant influence and wealth that they could afford to make their mother comfortable in her old age, after a lifetime of toil, hardship and sacrifice. Only once she had run through her list of complaints did Lady Mornington ask after the wellbeing of Arthur and Gerald, how well their studies were progressing, and whether they needed anything. Each time that he read her letters Arthur laid them aside with a heavy heart, and a new resolve to defy her.

While he made every effort to improve his technique on the violin, he neglected his studies with cool deliberation. Even more, he refused to subscribe to the set of values that Eton demanded of its students. While other boys threw themselves into sports, Arthur gazed on with cool detachment and even shouted insults and criticism from off the field, until even the teachers got tired of his wearying presence and sent him away.

At the same time Bobus Smith, one of the older boys, contrived to take every opportunity to make the new boy's life a misery, deliberately excluding him from any game that took place in the dormitory, and making fun of his large nose and delicate-looking features. Even Arthur's prowess at the violin was mocked as the pursuit of an oversensitive and weedy boy. If Arthur had felt that he had a loving home to return to he might have been homesick and yearned for the holidays when he could enjoy the hearth and security of his family. As it was, Lady Mornington refused to permit him to stay with her during the holidays, saying that she did not have room enough for a 'colony' of children. Instead, at the end of term, when Gerald returned to his mother, Arthur's trunk was packed and he was sent to Wales to live in the crumbling isolation of his grandmother's house.