Napoleon nodded with satisfaction, then gave the order for the column to move forward. They marched past the fort and exchanged cheers with the men on the walls. Menou left a handful of men behind to guard the prisoners and then rejoined the tail of the column as it passed the fort and continued down the track towards Alexandria. By the time they had reached the town the sun had risen high enough to make the air stifling.The men were wearing the same uniforms that they had worn in Europe and were weighed down by five days’ issue of rations and sixty rounds for each musket. Most had already emptied their canteens and their dry throats were further irritated by the dust kicked up by the marching column.

Napoleon and Berthier climbed up on to a pile of ancient masonry to observe the town’s defences while the men deployed for the attack. Closer to the walls they could now see that the stonework was old and small sections around the main gates had fallen down. Napoleon pointed them out with his riding crop.

‘We’ll attack through those.’

Berthier unrolled the map of the town that he had obtained from a French merchant. ‘Ah, yes, the Pompey and Rosetta gates. According to our source, once we’re through those, there are no other defences in the town, sir.’

‘Good. Then let’s not waste any more time. Kléber can attack the Pompey gate, while Bon takes the Rosetta. Give the orders.’

As the French battalions tramped foward, kicking up yet more dust that billowed around and above them, at times obscuring Napoleon’s view of the assault, the enemy began to fire from the walls and bastions, tiny flickers of flame and puffs of smoke indicating their positions. The sunlight beat upon the parched landscape and after a while Napoleon sat down on a small pile of pottery fragments to watch the proceedings. As he squinted into the dusty haze about the gates he irritably swiped at the potsherds with his riding crop. Eventually he could stand it no longer and scrambled down and strode towards the nearest gate, his staff hurrying to catch up with him. Berthier trotted forward and fell into step alongside his general.

‘Excuse me, sir, but where are we going?’

‘Where the fighting is,’ Napoleon grumbled.‘Can’t see a thing from back there.’

‘Is that wise, sir? After what nearly happened at Arcola?’

Napoleon drew up abruptly. ‘Berthier, never question my actions again.’

‘Sir, with respect, you are the commander of an army sent to fight far away from France. If you die, unnecessarily, then you place all these men in danger.’