By noon the last pockets of resistance had been mopped up and Napoleon surveyed the town from the tower of the mosque. He had tipped the body of the muezzin unceremoniously over the edge of the parapet and it had tumbled on to the roof below, lying on the whitewashed curve like a broken doll. Napoleon stepped over the pool of blood and gazed round the horizon. To the north, the sea sparkled like a sheet of tiny diamonds, cool and inviting. He could even see the masts of Admiral Brueys’s fleet lying peacefully at anchor ten miles away, and hoped that the last elements of the expeditionary force had finally reached shore.To the south and east sand and dunes stretched away into the shimmering distance. In that direction, he knew, lay Cairo, and the Turkish overlord of Egypt - Pasha Abu Bakr. Even now news must have reached him that a French army had landed, and the Pasha would be gathering a host to overwhelm the French general and his men. Napoleon smiled. At least he would not have to hunt too far to find his enemy. If the maps he had were accurate Cairo was only a hundred miles away. An easy five days’ march if his good fortune held.
Chapter 30
As dawn painted the sky pink two days later Napoleon and his staff departed Alexandria, leaving two thousand men behind to defend the city under the command of General Kléber, who was recovering from his wounds. The army was striking out towards the Nile, nearly fifty miles away, and then Napoleon would lead the advance along the banks of the great river to Cairo. Desaix and the main body of the army had set out two nights before - after joining their comrades at Alexandria - tramping into the moonlit desert to cover as many miles as possible before the sun rose and turned the arid landscape into a furnace.
The air was still cool and Napoleon felt comfortable as his staff and the guides followed in the tracks of the four divisions that had gone ahead. A wide swath of churned sand stretched out before them and Napoleon was keen to re-join his army even as he enjoyed the muffled sounds of their progress. He laughed and turned to Berthier.
‘I think the sun must have got to Desaix’s head.Those reports he sent to us yesterday about the harsh conditions can’t have been true.Why, at the rate we’re marching, we could reach the Nile by tomorrow night.’
Berthier shrugged.‘It’s early in the day, sir.You know what the heat is like at midday. Besides, the men are in the wrong kind of uniform for this climate, and with the loads they’re carrying, well, it’s going be a struggle.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘You worry too much. You saw what our men could achieve in Italy. My God, they marched for days at a time, and then fought a battle at the end of it. And that was against a proper army - not the barbaric rabble that the Pasha will throw against us. This campaign will be over in a matter of weeks, Berthier, mark my words. Egypt is as good as ours.’
‘If you say so, General.’
‘I do. Now cheer up and enjoy the ride. You won’t see landscape like this in Europe.’
‘No,’ Berthier muttered. ‘Thank God.’
But as the sun climbed into the sky the temperature rose with it and soon the very air that he breathed seemed to scald Napoleon’s lungs. By mid-morning the blazing intensity of the sunlight reflected off the sand began to hurt his eyes so that he had to squint as the small column trudged on. Shortly after midday they came across the first signs of the difficulties that Desaix and his men had encountered on the march across the desert. A knapsack lay abandoned beside the track. Napoleon was outraged.
‘Half a day from Alexandria! That’s as far as the owner of that has got before he weakened. Have one of our men pick that up. When we find who it belongs to I’ll have him court-martialled on the spot.’
They had not marched more than another mile before they came across more discarded equipment: knapsacks, cooking pots, spare clothing, blanket rolls, even bayonets. Napoleon’s gaze swept over the detritus and he felt the first pangs of anxiety for the fate of his men. The column stopped to rest late in the afternoon and the officers and men took off their jackets and rigged them over the ends of ramrods and swords to provide some shelter from the glare of the sun. Napoleon gave orders that they should drink sparingly of their water since the nearest town marked on his map was still several hours’ march away. As dusk fell upon the desert the men struggled wearily back on to their feet and the officers mounted their horses, and the column continued its advance.
There was no conversation amongst the men. Their lips were too dry and their throats too parched to bear the weight of any words as they shuffled across the sand into the twilight. A short distance further on, in the gathering gloom, Napoleon spotted a shape lying across the track and he ordered the column to halt while he went forward with Berthier and ten of the guides. A naked man lay sprawled on his back, his eyes staring blankly into the heavens. His jaw gaped open, and as Napoleon leaned over the corpse he could see that something bloody had been stuffed into the man’s mouth. As he glanced down the torso he saw a raw, dark gash where the man’s genitalia had been cut off, and a wave of revulsion and nausea swelled up from the pit of his stomach.
‘What kind of man would do that?’
‘It’s probably the work of the Bedouin,’ Berthier replied quietly. ‘According to the reports they’ve been shadowing our forces. Now they’ve started picking off our stragglers, like this poor fellow.’
‘Savages,’ Napoleon hissed through clenched teeth as he stared at the body.
‘It’s another world here in the east, sir.They fight by different standards, different values.’ Berthier gazed down at the corpse with a sad expression.‘Shall I have the men take the body to one side and bury it?’
Napoleon was silent for a moment before he replied in a harsh tone. ‘No. Let them see it. Let them know what happens to stragglers, and maybe it’ll put some fire into their bellies. God knows, they’ll need it over the next few days.’ He straightened up and walked back to his horse. ‘We’re wasting time here. We need to get moving.’
The column shuffled forward again, and rippled warily round the body as the men stared at their dead comrade in fear and anger. He was only the first that they encountered that night. By the time the sky began to lighten, with promise of yet another day of unbearable heat, they had passed several more corpses. Some had been beheaded and all of them showed signs of torture and mutilation. The way ahead was strewn with abandoned equipment and Napoleon and his men began to nurse dreadful fears about the fate of the men who had marched before them.
Again, the searing heat and dazzling glare pinned them to the wasteland as they followed the tracks of Desaix and his divisions. Late in the morning there was a shout from the company of guides, as Napoleon’s bodyguard had come to be called, who were screening their advance. Napoleon rose up in his saddle to squint in the direction indicated. A mile away, on the crest of a dune, a small party of dark-robed figures mounted on camels was shadowing the column.
‘Looks like some of those Bedouin you mentioned.’
Berthier nodded as he stared at the distant riders. ‘I’ll pass the word back down the column. I don’t imagine there’ll be many stragglers today, sir.’
‘No . . .’
Despite Napoleon’s orders the men could not resist the thirst that tormented them and nearly every canteen was empty long before they stopped under the midday sun and rested until it had inched down towards the western horizon. Then they rose up and continued again, their shadows stretching before them thin and gaunt and obscured by the dusty haze kicked up by their heavy boots. The men were exhausted and marched at a monotonous pace, dazed expressions on their faces. Here and there a man passed a dry, tacky tongue over cracked lips and winced at the pain it produced. Napoleon and the other officers had spare canteens hanging from their saddles and drank from them as discreetly as possible. Even so, the eyes of the nearest men flickered towards them with an intensity born of desperation as their parched throats burned in agony.