dinner and I had to hear his irascible opinions on half the politicians in the United States.
We had no weapons except my tomahawk, and no chance, so I put the rudder over and made for shore. Perhaps we could find a cliffside tomb to hide in. But no, now a squadron of red-and-blue-jacketed hussars was spilling down a hill to the bank to greet us. French cavalry! Had I even got twenty miles?
Well, better them than Bin Sadr. They’d take me to Bonaparte, while the Arab would do things to Astiza and me that I didn’t even want to think about. When we met Napoleon, Astiza could simply claim I’d kidnapped her, and I’d confirm it. I considered grabbing the medallion from her pretty neck and hurling it into the Nile, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d invested too much. Besides, I was as curious about what it might lead to as anyone. It was our only map to the Book of Thoth.
‘You’d best hide that,’ I told her.
She slipped it between her breasts.
We grounded on a sandbank and splashed ashore. Bin Sadr’s felucca was still working its way against the current toward our position, the Arabs shouting and firing into the air. The dozen French horsemen had spread into a semicircle to close with us, preventing any chance of escape, and I raised my hands in surrender. Soon we were ringed with dusty horses.
‘Ethan Gage?’
‘At your service, lieutenant.’
‘Why are you dressed like a heathen?’
‘It’s cooler.’
His eyes kept straying to Astiza, not daring to ask why she was dressed as a harlot. In 1798, there were still some manners left. ‘I am Lieutenant Henri d’Bonneville. You are under arrest for theft of state property and destruction of antiquities, for murder, trespass, and disorder in Cairo, and for escape, evasion, misrepresentation, spying, and treason.’
‘Not murder at Dendara? We did kill Silano, I hope.’
He stiffened. ‘The count is recovering from his injuries and is organising a party to join our pursuit.’
‘You did forget kidnapping.’ I nodded at Astiza.
‘I did not forget. The woman, having been rescued, will cooperate in the prosecution or be interrogated herself.’
‘It’s the charge of treason I take exception to,’ I said. ‘I’m American. Wouldn’t I have to be French to betray your country?’
‘Sergeant, bind them both.’
The pursuing felucca grounded and Bin Sadr and his remaining band of cutthroats stormed ashore, pushing past the French cavalry horses like traders at a camel bazaar. ‘This one is mine!’ the Arab snarled, shaking his snake-headed staff. I saw with some satisfaction that his left arm was in a sling. Well, if I couldn’t kill the rotten pair outright, then maybe I could peck away at them, like the French were doing to Nelson.
‘I see you’ve become a sailor, Achmed,’ I greeted. ‘Fall off your camel?’
‘He will come on my boat!’
‘I’m afraid I must disagree, monsieur,’ Lieutenant d’Bonneville said. ‘The fugitive Gage surrendered to my cavalry and is wanted for questioning by French authorities. He is under army jurisdiction now.’
‘The American killed some of my men!’
‘Which you can take up with him when we’re done, if there’s anything left to address.’
Well, there was a cheery thought.
Bin Sadr scowled. Now he had a boil on his other cheek, and I wondered if he simply had a bad complexion or if Astiza had been up to more mischief. Any chance she could give the devil leprosy, or maybe the plague?
‘Then we take the woman.’ His men nodded in wicked agreement.
‘I think not, monsieur.’ The lieutenant gave a quick glance to his sergeant, who in turn flashed a look to his men. The carbines that had been aimed at me swung in the direction of Bin Sadr’s gang. Their muskets in turn tilted toward the French cavalry. It was a considerable relief not to have everyone aiming at me, and I tried to think how I could take advantage of it.
‘Do not make me your enemy, Frenchman,’ Bin Sadr growled.
‘You are a paid mercenary with no authority,’ d’Bonneville crisply replied. ‘If you don’t get back in your boat this instant, I will arrest you for insubordination and consider whether to hang you as well.’ He glanced about imperiously. ‘That is, if I can find a tree.’
There was a long moment of awful silence, the sun so intense it seemed to make a background sizzle. Then one of the cavalrymen coughed, jerking, and as he sagged we heard the report of the distant shot that had killed him, echoing off the Nile hills. Then more gunshots sounded, and one of Bin Sadr’s men grunted and went down.
Now all the guns swung to the ridge above the river. A line of men had crested and spilt down it, robes billowing, lances sparkling. It was a company of Mamelukes! We’d been caught by a unit of the elusive Murad Bey, and it looked like they outnumbered the lot of us, five to one.
‘Dismount!’ d’Bonneville cried. ‘Form a skirmish line!’ He turned to the Arabs. ‘Form with us!’
But the Arabs were running for their felucca, clambering on board, and shoving off into the Nile.
‘Bin Sadr, you damned coward!’ d’Bonneville roared.
The Arab’s gesture was obscene.
So now the Frenchmen turned alone to the Mameluke assault. ‘Fire!’ The lieutenant’s cry brought a ragged volley of cavalry carbines, but this was no disciplined salvo from a French infantry square. A few Mamelukes tumbled and then they overran us. I waited for the thrust of a lance, wondering what the gambling odds were to encounter three enemies on one patch of riverbank at one time: the ill-fortuned opposite of a face-card triplet in a high-stakes game of brelan, I supposed. Then the Mameluke I expected would kill me leant from his saddle, arm outstretched, and plucked me off the ground like a grape. I yelped, but his arm was a vise round my chest. He hurtled on through the French ranks straight toward the Arab boat, warbling a war cry as I dangled, sword held high in his other hand while he steered his mount with his knees. ‘Now I avenge my brother! Stand and fight, viper!’
It was Ashraf!
We crashed into the shallows, water spraying, and Bin Sadr turned to meet us from the bow of his boat, one-armed as well. Ash swung and the snake-headed staff came up to meet him. There was a clang, like steel upon steel, and I realised the staff had some kind of metal core. The fury of the Mameluke’s charge shoved the Arab backward with a grunt, but as he fell among his fellows the others fired and Ash was forced to swerve. The boat drifted into deeper water. Then we were galloping away, even as shouts, cries, and shots sounded from the battle behind. I was slung over the saddle like a bag of wheat, the wind knocked out of me, and I could barely see back through our dust. The officer who’d saved us was already down, I glimpsed, a Mameluke crouched over him with a knife. Another hussar was crawling with a lance jutting from his back, trying to slice an enemy’s throat before dying himself. Capture was worse than death, and the soldiers were selling their lives as dearly as they could. Bin Sadr’s Arabs were drifting farther out into the river, not even bothering to shoot in support.
We galloped up a long dune and stopped at its crest, overlooking the Nile. Ash released his grip and I dropped to my feet. As I staggered for balance, his grin had an edge of pain to it.
‘Always I am having to rescue you, my friend. At some point my debt from the Battle of the Pyramids will be repaid.’
‘It has been more than paid already,’ I wheezed, watching as another horse galloped up and Astiza, slung like I was, her hair drooping down, was unceremoniously dropped by another warrior. I looked down at the river. The little skirmish had ended, the Frenchmen sprawled and still. Bin Sadr had raised sail and was making his way upriver toward Desaix and Dendara, probably to report my likely massacre. I had a hunch the bastard would claim my supposed killing for himself. Silano, however, would want to make sure.
‘So you have joined the bey,’ I said.
‘Murad is going to win, sooner or later.’
‘Those were good men just slain.’
‘As my good friends were slaughtered at the pyramids. War is where good men die.’
‘How did you find us?’
‘I joined my people and trailed you, figuring Bin Sadr would as well. You do have a knack for trouble, American.’
