Napoleon sniffed.‘It is neither.This is what victory looks like. The sooner our men get used to this the sooner our task in the east will be complete and they can go home.To which end, give the order for the pursuit of the enemy. Take command here, Berthier. Keep after them. Push the men as hard as you can, and there must be no mercy shown to the enemy. None, do you hear? I want the survivors to spread word of what happens to those who choose to oppose us. Then next time this can be avoided.’ He gestured towards the battlefield.‘Now I must return to Cairo. Send me word of your progress.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Berthier saluted.

Napoleon wheeled his horse round and rode back to headquarters. He ate quickly as his mounted escort was assembled, and then they set off along the route back to Cairo. They had only ridden for two hours when they saw a small dust cloud on the track ahead of them. Napoleon reined in as the guides fanned out around him, ready to draw their sabres. As the other group approached Napoleon realised it was merely a dispatch rider accompanied by a handful of dragoons, and the tension eased amongst his men as they resumed their formation at his back. As the horses galloped up, foaming at the mouths and flanks heaving from their hard ride, the messenger made straight for Napoleon. His expression left no doubt that something terrible had occurred.

‘Urgent message from General Kléber at Alexandria, sir.’

‘What’s happened?’ Napoleon snapped. The rider was breathing heavily and struggled to find the words to relate the news. Napoleon frowned. ‘Well? Speak up, man!’

‘The English fleet attacked our ships at Aboukir Bay ten days ago, sir . . .’

‘Go on.’

‘Our fleet was defeated. Admiral Brueys is dead. The flagship blew up.’

‘Who’s in command now?’

‘Admiral Villeneuve, sir.’

‘Where is the rest of the fleet?’

The messenger looked confused for a moment. ‘Sir, there is no fleet. The English sank or took all but two of our ships.’

Napoleon stared at him, as the full import of the man’s words struck home. There was no longer a lifeline to France. No way home for the Army of the Orient. ‘Dear God . . . We’re on our own now. Completely on our own.’

Chapter 33 - Arthur

Chapter 33

Arthur

Calcutta, May 1798

‘By God! It does my heart good to see you again!’ Henry clasped his brother’s hand and smiled broadly at Arthur. ‘It’s been what, nearly two years.’

‘It seems longer.’ Arthur grinned. ‘How does it feel to be the private secretary of the Governor of India?’

‘Tolerable.’

‘I trust the voyage from England went well?’