Napoleon raised his telescope and through the magnifying lens he saw a dozen men chest deep in the muddy river. Some of them lurched forward, trying to swim to safety. A few strokes out and one began to sink, his arms flailing before the weight of his flowing robes and his equipment pulled him under. There was a brief swirl in the water and then no further trace of the man. Another got a little further before he too sank and drowned. Only one of the Mamelukes, more lightly burdened than the others, kept going. The rest, unable to swim, or not daring to, turned and raised their hands. But there was no mercy in the hearts of Marmont’s men.They had seen, or heard of, the terrible fate of those Frenchmen taken by the enemy and were out for revenge. So they lined the bank and shot down the Mamelukes in the river, calmly taking aim, firing and reloading, until finally, as the sound of musket fire petered out, the edge of the Nile was dotted with the glistening hummocks of dead men floating in muddy water streaked with vivid red.

‘May God forgive us,’ muttered Berthier.

Napoleon shrugged. ‘And may Allah forgive them. Do you really imagine they would have treated us any differently had they won?’

Berthier was silent for a moment and then shook his head.

‘Quite.’ Napoleon gazed to the right flank. ‘Besides, it isn’t over yet.’

Murad Bey was attempting one more attack on the French right, and the afternoon sun glittered on the curved blades of his horsemen as they thundered across the desert towards the French formations. As before, they were met with a shattering volley of musket and cannon fire, cutting down the foremost ranks and littering the ground with the bodies of men and horses, so that the impetus of the charge was broken. But still the Mamelukes came on, closing on the squares and then galloping at full speed along the sides of the formations as they brandished their swords and fired their pistols. All the time their numbers were thinned out by the solid ranks of French infantry firing from behind their impenetrable hedges of bayonets.

‘How much longer can they take such punishment?’ Berthier wondered. ‘Surely they must know they cannot win?’

Napoleon was silent for a moment before he responded. ‘They are as brave as any soldiers I have ever seen, but bravery is not enough to win a battle. As Murad Bey is in the process of discovering.’ He suddenly felt very weary. ‘Let’s hope that he has learned his lesson, before he squanders too many more of those fine men of his. Perhaps he is brave enough to accept defeat.’

‘I don’t think that’s possible, sir.’

‘Why not, Berthier?’