‘Anyway, is it so bad here? I’ve never been happier, living in a palace, with a famous general as a lover. All that would be lost if I returned home.’
‘Unless I return to France I will not be a famous general much longer,’ Napoleon replied quietly. ‘I must get back to France. I am needed there.’
‘You’re needed here. I need you. Your men need you. If you left, how long do you think they would last?’
‘France’s need is greater.’
‘Your need, you mean.’
Napoleon shrugged.‘It is the same thing at the end of the day. Or will be.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ Napoleon propped himself up and looked at her with a grin. ‘I need you again.’
‘What a romantic you are.’ Pauline narrowed her eyes. ‘You’ve spent far too much time in the company of that lot.’ She jerked her thumb towards the shutters.
Napoleon chuckled and eased himself on to his back, pulling her over on top of him. As Pauline felt his penis hardening, she ground herself down on him and whispered, ‘Promise me.When you leave Egypt, you’ll take me with you.’
‘Who said I was leaving?’
‘Just promise me.’
‘All right then, I promise.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Now, no more teasing. Make me forget everything that exists outside this room.’
Just three weeks after the celebrations of the army’s return to Cairo a Turkish fleet, escorted by Sir Sidney Smith’s squadron, anchored in Aboukir Bay and began to land troops. As soon as General Kleber’s messenger arrived he was ushered into Napoleon’s presence. Napoleon glanced through the dispatch and looked up at the dusty messenger.‘You are to return at once. Tell Kleber not to confront them. He is to wait in Alexandria until I join him with the rest of the forces we can spare. He is to avoid battle under any circumstances. Clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then go.’
As the messenger saluted, turned and strode away Napoleon rapped out a series of orders to Berthier to prepare the army to march immediately. They left Cairo the same day that the news had arrived, ten thousand infantry and a thousand cavalry under Murat. They took six days to march up the Nile as far as Rahmaniya and then cut across the desert towards Aboukir. At any moment Napoleon was expecting news that the enemy had marched on Alexandria, yet there was no message from Kleber and Napoleon could not help wondering if that was because Kleber was already under siege, or, worse, had already been overwhelmed. As they drew near to Alexandria, Napoleon rode ahead with his staff until they had Aboukir in view. The bay was filled with Turkish ships, and towering above them were the masts and spars of two warships of the Royal Navy. On the point overlooking the western approach to the bay stood a fortress.
Clearly visible on its ramparts, and teeming across the narrow strip of land that linked the fortress to the mainland, were the enemy forces.
‘It doesn’t look as if they’ve moved since stepping ashore,’ Berthier mused. ‘There must be ten . . . maybe fifteen thousand of them. They could have taken Alexandria with ease. What the hell are they still doing here?’
‘I can’t see any horses,’ Napoleon said as he gazed through his telescope. ‘There’s your answer. Their cavalry must still be at sea.’
‘No cavalry?’ Murat sounded disappointed and Napoleon smiled.
‘Never mind, Murat. You will have to content yourself with the enemy’s infantry. Berthier, go back to the army and order the men to march on Aboukir.We’ll attack as soon as they are in line.’
‘What about Kleber’s division, sir? Shall I send for him?’
‘No. We can’t afford to wait. If any of those ships in the bay are carrying horses, they’ll have a chance to land them if we wait for Kleber.’
Berthier turned his horse and galloped back towards the faint column of dust that marked the head of the French army approaching across the desert. As Napoleon continued to examine the Turkish positions it was clear that they had made extensive additions to the defences of the fortress, and dug three lines of trenches, supported by several bastions, across the neck of land, each of which was defended by thousands of soldiers. Janissaries, Napoleon surmised, if this army had been transported from Turkey.
He lowered his telescope and shook his head. ‘It’s hard to believe that they have just sat on their backsides and handed the initiative to us. What kind of general would be so foolish?’
‘One who is about to be kicked into the sea,’ Murat grinned.
As the French army deployed in front of the first trench the Turkish troops began to beat their drums and the harsh blare of trumpets sounded across the dusty open ground between the armies. Some of the enemy guns, mounted in the nearest bastions, opened fire but the range was long and the heavy iron balls merely kicked up plumes of sand and grit well ahead of the first French line. The moment the last unit was in position Napoleon gave the order to attack, starting with Lannes on the left flank. The guns of Lannes’s division advanced towards the enemy and unlimbered. Moments later the first cannon boomed out across the open ground as they pounded the embrasures of the nearest bastion. Once the enemy guns were knocked out General Lannes gave the order to advance, and with colours unfurled and drums beating the battalions of his division rolled forward.
As the French bombardment ceased the janissaries rose up in their trenches and raised their muskets. There was no attempt to hold fire until the French had approached to within lethally close range and the Turkish troops wasted their first shots in a ragged crackle of musketry that felled only a handful of men before Lannes’s division reached the first trench and halted to pour a single devastating volley into the dense ranks of the enemy massed before them. The effect was just as Napoleon had envisaged and as the gunpowder smoke cleared in the sea breeze, he saw that the enemy had broken and were streaming back towards the second trench. The panic spread along the first line, so that General Destaing’s brigade did not even have the chance to fire at the enemy opposite them before they too broke and ran to the shelter of the next line of defence.
From his horse Napoleon could see that the men of the second line were made of sterner stuff and withheld their first volley until the attacking columns were close. The shattering effect of their fire stalled Lannes’s men a short distance from the second trench, and they deployed into line and exchanged fire with the janissaries. As he watched, Napoleon noticed a peculiar aspect of the fight. Every so often, a janissary would leap out of his trench and race towards the nearest French body. Most were shot down before they reached the corpses, but one, faster than his comrades, raced forward, swung his curved blade down and cut off the head, which he tucked under his arm as he turned and sprinted back to his own lines. He didn’t make it. A shot caught him in the centre of the back and he pitched forward and twitched feebly on the ground.
Even though he did not doubt that the enemy’s second line would cave in before the disciplined fire of the French troops, Napoleon did not want to lose any more men than necessary and decided the time had come for Murat’s cavalry to deliver the blow that would shatter the enemy’s will to continue the fight. As soon as the order was received, Murat trotted his horse to the front of the cavalry formation and bellowed the command to advance. It was as brave a sight as Napoleon had ever seen, and he felt his heart swell with pride, and only a little anxiety, as the lines of horsemen walked forward, slowly gathering pace as they crossed the abandoned first line of defence, then breaking into a trot before finally charging the enemy.
Murat’s cavalry tore into and through the second line, scattering the Turkish forces before them. Sabres glittered in the midday sun as the horsemen hacked and slashed at the fleeing men. Fear preceded them and the Turks in the last trench turned and ran without even firing a shot. Clambering out of their positions, some made for the safety of the fortress above them; many more ran towards the beach and waded out into the surf, hoping to swim to safety. The cavalry rode after them until the sea was up to the flanks of their mounts, and all the time the riders were cutting down the men in the water around them, turning it red as the day wore on.
The killing stopped late in the afternoon and Napoleon rode forward with Berthier to inspect the battlefield. Thousands of enemy dead lay piled in the trenches and scattered across the open ground between. Mingled with them were the French dead and wounded and Napoleon hurriedly detailed the nearest soldiers to help their injured comrades down to the dressing stations Desgenettes had established just behind the army’s original battle line. Over a thousand of the enemy had managed to reach the fortress and even now General Menou was busy reversing
