Outside, the courtyard was overgrown and the flowerbeds had all but vanished back into the wilderness.

It would take time, but the estate could be brought back into decent enough condition to let.The house was the place to start, he decided, and went back inside.

He began by breaking up some of the ruined pieces of furniture for firewood. By the end of the day he had swept most of the rooms clear of dirt, cut the ivy away from the windows and cleared the debris from the room in which the roof had collapsed. As darkness fell outside he lit the fire and took the sausage, bread and wineskin from his haversack. As he ate and drank by the wavering glare from the grate, the shrilling of the cicadas outside in the olive groves made him smile. As a boy he used to complain that they kept him awake. Now, they just seemed to be welcoming him home.

For the next week Napoleon worked steadily and methodically, clearing room after room, replacing the missing tiles, repairing damaged shutters and doors. On the third day, as he was eating his evening meal by a small fire as dusk closed in outside, there was a loud knock on the door. Napoleon flinched at the noise. There had been no sound of approaching footsteps on the stony path or up the steps to the door. Putting his bread and sausage down on the small table, he wiped his hands, walked softly to the front door and opened it.

Outside in the wan glow of the failing light stood a tall man in the greased wool cape of a sheepherder. Except that he wore soft leather boots and he carried a musket. It was no fowling piece, but a soldier's weapon. Napoleon took all this in before he concentrated on the man's face. He must have been in his mid-thirties, with dark curly hair and bright blue eyes.

Disconcertingly he greeted Napoleon with a broad smile as he inclined his head and asked, 'Signor Naboleone Buona Parte?'

'Yes, that's me. How can I be of service, Signor…?'

'People know me as Benito.' He emphasised the name as if to imply that Napoleon should be familiar with it. 'May I come in?'

'Why?' Napoleon felt his heart begin to beat faster. 'It is late.'

'Alas, it is not easy for me to move around in daylight.' Benito smiled again. 'Let us say that my existence is not appreciated by the French. Besides, I cannot allow my business with you to wait.'

Napoleon stared at him a moment, and realised that the man was far bigger than him, and armed.

'Very well, then. Please come in.'

In the kitchen he turned to face Benito and indicated the table.

'Sit down there. I'll get another chair. Help yourself to some food, if you wish.'

'Thank you, Signor. I am hungry. The nature of my duties means that I go without food for days sometimes.'

'I see.' Napoleon fetched a stool and sat down opposite the man. Benito carefully leaned the musket against the wall behind him and flicked the cape back across his broad shoulders. From his belt he drew a long straight dagger and, keeping his eyes on Napoleon, he cut himself a length of sausage and gnawed a chunk off the end.

Napoleon cleared his throat. 'You said you had some business with me.'

Benito nodded, chewing then swallowing the sausagemeat. 'I was told that there was a man working here.When they got your name down in the village I had some enquiries made about you in Ajaccio.'

'So?'

'So it seems that you are a French artillery officer, supposedly here on leave.'

'If your spy's information was any good, you'll also know that I am a son of Carlos Buona Parte, who fought with General Paoli at Ponte Nuovo.'

'I'm aware of that. I knew your father,' Benito smiled. 'That is why you are still alive. For the moment.'

Both men tensed up for a moment, and Napoleon's heart was beating fast as he tried to think of some way of overwhelming the man. Benito laughed suddenly and cut himself another piece of sausage.

'Relax, Lieutenant. I'm just interested in finding out more about the son of a Corsican patriot who has put on the uniform of our enemy.'

'I am no traitor, nor a spy, if that's what you are implying.' Napoleon responded angrily. 'I am a soldier on leave. I'm trying to help my family survive a crisis thrust on them by the French Government, as it happens. So I'll thank you not to question my motives, nor my patriotism. And you?' Napoleon stared back at him, as he recalled something his mother had said after his return. 'I assume you are one of Paoli's men.'

'Of course.'

'Then you will know that the general is being backed by a foreign power.'

Benito pursed his lips. 'That's true.'

'Do you know which foreign power?'

'No.'

'You claim to be a patriot, and yet you could be working for someone who might well turn out to be an enemy of Corsican independence. I can think of a few countries that might want to get the Corsican people to throw off French rule just so that they can have the island for themselves.' He nodded at Benito. 'I'd say that makes us about the same.'

'Not the same… but near enough. Very well, Naboleone, I accept that you're a patriot, but what would happen if you were called upon by the French to fight Corsicans?'

Napoleon was silent for a moment. 'I pray that day never comes.'

'It may well do, sooner than you think.'

'Maybe. But in the meantime I will continue to persuade every Frenchman I meet to support Corsican independence. If they only give us that, then we would be their staunchest ally.'

Benito laughed. 'We will just have to keep working on the French.You keep on trying to talk them round and I'll just keep on killing the ones who won't listen. Between us we should get what we want in the end.' Then the amusement faded from his face like a candle being snuffed out. 'But if I ever see you in uniform leading troops against us, I'll kill you and I'll kill your family. Do you understand?'

Napoleon nodded.

Benito picked up the wineskin.'A toast then, to Corsica, proud and free.' He removed the stopper and took a large mouthful, before holding the wineskin out to Napoleon.

'Corisca, proud and free,' Napoleon repeated and took a swig.

'There! Now I'm tired. I have to go.'

Napoleon showed him out of the kitchen and back to the front door. As he opened the door he was aware of movement in the shadows outside. A short distance from the house, bathed in moonlight, stood four men armed with muskets. Napoleon's eyebrows rose at the sight and Benito laughed heartily.'You didn't really expect me to put myself at your mercy? I just needed to put you to the test, that's all. No point in risking my life into the bargain. I'll see you again one day. Meanwhile, consider yourself warned. As long as you are here to see your family you are safe. But if you ever return to Corsica as a serving French officer, then I'll gut you without a single regret.'

'I understand.'

'Then farewell, Naboleone Buona Parte. Until we meet in a free Corsica.'

'Until then.' Napoleon held out his hand and they shook.Then Benito turned away, strode across to his men and led them off into the darkness of the olive trees.

Napoleon returned to Ajaccio at the end of the week and told his mother and Joseph of the progress he had made. After some reflection he had decided not to tell them about his encounter with Benito. It would only worry them needlessly. He picked up some tools from a local ironmonger and persuaded Joseph to return to Mellili with him to help with the repairs.

'But I need to study my law books,' Joseph complained.

'You can do that each evening, after the work's finished.'

'I suppose so.' Joseph considered the prospect for a moment and then nodded his agreement. 'And it'll give us more time together.'

'True, but this isn't a holiday, Joseph. We must get the house repaired as soon as we can if it is to generate some income for Mother.'