There was no rain, ever, and rarely a cloud. At night we did not so much camp as sprawl, everyone collapsing in the sequence with which we’d marched, the lot of us immediately assaulted by fleas and midges. We ate cold food as often as hot because there was little wood for fuel. The night would cool toward dawn and we’d wake wet with dew, only half recovered. Then the cloudless sun would rise, remorseless as a clock, and soon we’d all be baking. Astiza, I noticed, lay steadily closer to me as the march went on, but we were both so swaddled, filthy, and exposed in this horde that there was nothing romantic in her decision. We simply sought each other’s warmth at night, and then bemoaned the sun and flies by noon.
At Wardan the army was finally allowed to rest for two days. The men washed, slept, foraged, and bartered for food. Once again Astiza proved her value in being able to converse with the villagers and trade for sustenance. So successful was she that I was able to supply some of the officers at Napoleon’s headquarters with bread and fruit.
‘You’re sustaining the invaders like the Hebrews were sustained by manna from heaven,’ I tried to joke with her.
‘I’m not going to starve ordinary soldiers because of the delusions of their commander,’ she retorted. ‘Besides, fed or starving, you’ll all be gone shortly.’
‘You don’t think the French can beat the Mamelukes?’
‘I don’t think they can beat the desert. Look at all of you, with your heavy uniforms and hot boots and pink skin. Is there anyone but your mad general who doesn’t regret coming here? These soldiers will leave on their own soon enough.’
Her predictions were beginning to annoy me. She was a captive, after all, spoilt by my kindness, and it was high time I reprimanded her. ‘Astiza, we could have killed you as an assassin in Alexandria. Instead, I saved you. Can’t we become not master and servant, or invader and Egyptian, but friends?’
‘A friend of whom? A man foreign to his own army? In alliance with a military opportunist? An American who seems neither true scientist nor soldier?’
‘You saw my medallion. It’s a key to something I’m to figure out.’
‘But you want this key without understanding. You want knowledge without study. Coins without work.’
‘I view this as damned hard work.’
‘You’re a parasite looting another culture. I want a friend who believes in something. Himself, first. And things greater than himself.’
Well, that was presumptuous! ‘I’m an American who believes in all kinds of things! You should read our Declaration of Independence! And I don’t control the world. I just try to make my way in it.’
‘No. What individuals do does control the world. War has put us together, Monsieur Ethan Gage, and you are not an entirely unlikable man. But companionship is not true friendship. First you have to decide why you are in Egypt, what you mean to do with this medallion of yours, what you really stand for, and then we will be friends.’
Well. Quite insolent for a merchant’s slave, I thought! ‘And we will be friends when you acknowledge me as master and accept your new fate!’
‘What task haven’t I done for you? Where haven’t I accompanied you?’
Women! I had no answer. This time we slept an arm’s length away and my mind kept me from sleep until well past midnight. Which was just as well, because I narrowly escaped having a wandering donkey step on my head.
One day after the Egyptian New Year, on July 20 ^ th at the village of Omm-Dinar, Napoleon finally received word of the Mameluke disposition for the defence of Cairo, now just eighteen miles ahead. The defenders had foolishly split their forces. Murad Bey led the bulk of the Mameluke army on our own western side of the river, but a jealous Ibrahim Bey had kept a sizable share on the east. It was the opportunity our general had been waiting for. The order to march came two hours after midnight, the shouts and kicks of officers and sergeants brooking no delay. Like a great beast rousing itself in its cave, the French expeditionary force stirred, rose, and marched south in the dark with a sudden anticipation that called to mind that prickly feeling I get from demonstrating Franklin’s electricity. This would be the great battle, and the coming day would see either the destruction of the main Mameluke army or the rout of our own. Despite Astiza’s lofty lecture about controlling the world, I felt no more in charge of my fate than a leaf on a current.
Dawn came red, with mist on the reeds of the Nile. Bonaparte urged us on, anxious to crush the Mamelukes before they joined forces or, worse, dispersed into the desert. I caught sight of him exhibiting a scowling intensity greater than any I’d yet observed, not just keen on a fight but obsessed with it. A captain made some mild objection and Napoleon snapped back with the bark of a cannon. His mood made the soldiers apprehensive. Was our commander worried about the coming battle? If so, all of us would worry too. None had got enough sleep. We could see another great pall of dust on the horizon where the Mamelukes and their foot soldiers were massing.
It was during a brief stop at a muddy village well that I learnt the reason for the general’s darkness. It was by chance that one of the general’s aides, a recklessly brave young soldier named Jean-Andoche Junot, got down from his horse to drink while I did.
‘The general seems awfully impatient for battle,’ I remarked. ‘I knew this fight must come, and that speed in war is paramount, but to rise in the middle of the night seems uncivilised, somehow.’
‘Stay away from him,’ the lieutenant warned quietly. ‘He’s dangerous after last night.’
‘You were drinking? Gambling? What?’
‘He’d asked me weeks before to make some discreet enquiries because of persistent rumours. Recently, I received some pilfered letters that prove Josephine is having an affair, a secret to none but our general. Last evening, shortly after word came of the Mameluke dispositions, he abruptly demanded what I’d learnt.’
‘She’s betrayed him?’
‘She’s in love with a fop named Hippolyte Charles, an aide to General Leclerc back in France. The woman has been cheating on Bonaparte since they were married, but he’s been blind to her infidelities since he loves her like a madman. His jealousy is unbelievable, and his fury last night was volcanic. I was afraid he was going to shoot me. He looked insane, striking his head with his fists. Do you know what it’s like to be betrayed by the one you love most hopelessly? He told me his emotions were spent, his idealism over, and that nothing remained for him but ambition.’
‘All that over an affair? A Frenchman?’
‘He loves her desperately, and hates himself for that love. He’s the most independent and friendless of men, meaning he’s captive to that trollop he married. He ordered this march immediately, and swore repeatedly that his own happiness was over and that before the sun sets, he would destroy the Egyptian armies to the last man. I tell you, Monsieur Gage, we’re being led into battle by a general who is insane with rage.’
This didn’t sound good at all. If there’s one thing a person hopes for in a commander, it’s a cool head. I swallowed. ‘Your timing wasn’t the best, Junot.’
The lieutenant swung up onto his horse. ‘I had no choice, and my report should have come as no surprise. I know his mind, and he’ll put the distraction aside when battle comes. You’ll see.’ He nodded, as if to reassure himself. ‘I’m just glad I’m not on the other side.’
CHAPTER NINE
It was 2 p.m., the hottest time of the day, when the French army began forming squares for the Battle of the Pyramids. It was more correctly the Battle of Imbaba, the closest town, but the pyramids on the horizon gave it a more romantic name in Talma’s dispatches. Imbaba’s melon fields were quickly overrun by soldiers seeking to quench their thirst before the coming combat. One of my memories is the bib of juice stain on their uniforms as the regiments and brigades formed ranks.