Young bloods - Scarrow Simon (читать книги полностью без сокращений txt) 📗

'You missed breakfast. You must be hungry. Here.' Joseph pulled a hunk of bread out of one pocket and a small lump of hard cheese from the other. He smiled. 'I saved these for you.'

Napoleon looked at the offerings for a moment before he reluctantly accepted them with a nod of thanks. He began to eat, and soon appetite got the better of him and he gnawed hungrily on the cheese. Joseph watched him for a moment, and then reached for another log from the woodpile and placed it over the glowing embers in the grate.

'Feeling better?'

'Yes. Thank you.'

'What are brothers for?' Joseph grinned. 'I'm supposed to look after you.'

'I can look after myself.'

'Yes. I noticed.You were doing a fine job…'

Napoleon glared at him, and his brother could not help laughing as he wagged a finger at him. 'Now don't you start that again! I was just joking.'

For a moment the familiar wild expression burned in Napoleon's eyes. Then he relented and turned his gaze towards the fire as Joseph continued, 'You really must stop reacting like a madman every time someone says something.You have to control that temper. I thought you wanted to be a soldier.'

'I do.'

'Well, you can't go mad in the middle of a battle.You have to have a cool head, especially if you want to be an officer.'

Napoleon considered this, and reluctantly nodded his agreement. 'I will learn to control my feelings one day.'

'You'd better learn sooner than that,' Joseph said quietly.

His brother looked at him curiously. 'Why do you say that?'

'Because you'll be leaving Autun next month.' Joseph forced himself to smile.

'What are you talking about?'

'Father has sent us a letter. I found it on my bed at the start of break. That's why I came to find you outside. Just in time, it seems.'

Napoleon stiffened his back and held out his hand.'Let me see the letter.'

Joseph's cold fingers fumbled inside his coat for a moment, before emerging with a folded sheet of paper bearing a broken wafer seal. He passed it to Napoleon and the young boy opened the letter out and began to read, his eyes eagerly scanning the spidery lines of his father's script.

'Brienne.' He looked round at Joseph and smiled. 'A military college.'

'Just what you wanted.'

'Yes…' Napoleon's smile faded as he glanced back at the letter and read it again, quickly. 'He doesn't mention you.'

'No.' Joseph's voice wavered. 'It seems I'm to stay here.'

'We're not going together? There must be some mistake.They can't separate us.' Napoleon gripped his brother's hand. 'I don't want to be alone.' The sudden thought of being so far from his home and his family, and even then denied the reassuring presence of his brother's company, filled Napoleon with dread. 'I don't want to be alone,' he repeated softly.

Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but no words came at first. What comfort was there to offer? He tried to make himself sound persuasive. 'I don't want you to leave me either. But this is for the best. Father wants to give you a chance to become a soldier. Brienne's the place for you. I… I'll stay here and study for the Church.'

Napoleon felt a lump in his throat as he refolded the letter and handed it back to his brother. He coughed and then tried to speak steadily. 'You will write to me?'

'Of course!' Joseph put his arm round his brother's shoulder again, and this time he felt Napoleon lean in towards him. Soon, Napoleon realised, there would be no human comfort for either of them to ease the pain of homesickness. Each would be forced to endure life as an outsider in an unfamiliar culture. He felt a surge of fondness for his older brother and reached for his hand.

'I want to go home.'

'I know. Me too.'

'Do you think, if we wrote to Father, that we could persuade him to take us home?'

Joseph was Corsican enough to wince at the prospect of being thought of as weak-spirited. 'No. He won't stand for it.'

Napoleon struggled to hold back the tears. He knew his brother spoke the truth and he felt torn by hatred for his father's cold determination and by the bitter contempt he felt for himself for being prey to such unworthy emotions. If only they had never left Ajaccio.

'Joseph? What is to become of us?'

'I have no idea,' the older boy replied miserably. 'I just don't know.'

Napoleon shut his eyes tightly and murmured, 'I'm afraid.'

Carlos Buona Parte came to visit his sons at the end of April. At first father and sons had been overjoyed to see each other again. Then, as it quickly became apparent how miserable Joseph and Napoleon were and how much they wanted to return home, Carlos's manner towards them cooled, and became dismissive and angry. They were ungrateful, he said. Ungrateful of all the sacrifices that he and Letizia had made in order to make sure that the two boys had futures the family could be proud of. Given all that had been done for them, the least that Joseph and Napoleon could do was make something of the opportunities that they had been given.

They stood before him, heads hung in shame and despair, and for a moment Carlos's resolve weakened and he placed his hands on their shoulders.

'Come now, it can't be as bad as that.' He forced himself to laugh. 'When I was your age I'd have thought this would be an exciting adventure. A chance to travel, see more of the world, learn from the best teachers that can be found. You particularly, Naboleone.'

'They call me Napoleon here,' the small boy said softly.

'Napoleon?' Carlos frowned for an instant before he gave a shrug. 'Well, why not? It sounds more French.'

'But I'm Corsican, Father.'

'Of course you are. And you should be proud of it.'

'I am!' the boy replied fiercely.

'That's fine. But don't let it become an excuse for others to tease you,' he added shrewdly. 'I spoke to Abbot Chardon before I came to find you. He says there have been some… incidents.'

'They started it! But I paid them back.'

Carlos could not suppress a laugh. 'I'm sure you did. As a Corsican, I applaud your spirit. But as a father, I worry for you. I don't want you to make life hard for yourself. So behave.' Carlos lifted his son's chin so that their eyes met. 'Promise me.'

Napoleon kept his silence and merely nodded.

'I'll take that as a promise, then.' Carlos ruffled the boy's lank dark hair. 'Anyway, I'm sure you'll appreciate the change of scene. Brienne's one of the royal military colleges. That place will make a man of you, and if you do well you might win a place at the Royal Military School in Paris. Then one day you'll be Colonel Buona Parte, with a regiment of fine soldiers to command. Wouldn't that be grand?'

The boy stared at him, mind racing. It was true, he wanted everything his father had mentioned, and for a moment a small selfish part of him wanted to embrace it all. But then there was the awful prospect of being alone at Brienne. The past three months at Autun had been bad enough, so how much worse would it be without Joseph for company?

He swallowed and looked at his father nervously. 'Can Joseph come too?'

Carlos shook his head. 'Brienne only had one scholarship available and I was lucky to secure that for you.'

The small boy turned back to him and met his gaze in silence for a moment, before nodding faintly. Carlos smiled and cupped his hand round Napoleon's cheek. 'There's a good boy. Now you must go and pack your trunk, while I talk with your brother.'

An hour later the hired cart rattled out of the school gate and on to the rutted track.While his father stared stiffly ahead Napoleon turned his head and looked back at the school, at once fixing his eyes on the solitary figure of Joseph standing to one side of the gatehouse. Joseph raised his hand and waved slowly. His younger brother returned the wave as Abbot Chardon stepped into view, laid a gentle hand on Joseph's shoulder and led him back through the gatehouse and out of sight.