‘Be fair, my little Cleopatra.’

‘Don’t call me that! That’s what the common soldiers call me. I won’t have it, not here in my bedroom.’

‘Very well, then, Pauline it is.’ Napoleon eased himself closer to her and kissed her bare shoulder as his fingers traced their way down the gentle groove in the flesh above her spine and crept towards the upward curve of her buttocks. But she did not respond with her usual animal purr to his touch, and he withdrew his hand.

‘What’s the matter?’

Pauline opened her eyes and stared at him. ‘What do you think? You contrive to send my husband on an errand back to Paris so that we can be together without complications.Then the wretched Royal Navy capture him, hear his tale, and politely return him to Egypt. Bastards! So what are we going to do? He’ll be back in Cairo any day.’

Napoleon sighed. Another problem to deal with. The very least of his problems, he reflected. Despite his best efforts to convince the fellahin that the French were determined to improve their lot, the natives were still ambushing patrols and murdering any stragglers, or any soldier who dared to venture out of barracks on his own.The collection of taxes was bringing in a fraction of what it should, and even though the task had been subcontracted to local tax officials the natives were adept at concealing their wealth and making any excuse to avoid paying their dues. The difficulty of winning over the local people was exacerbated by the behaviour of his own men. Despite the declared ideals of the revolution, the French soldiers were inclined to pay mere lip service to the high moral values that France was supposed to be spreading through this corner of the world.As soon as they were out of sight of their officers they were liable to loot the nearest village, and were not above raping any women who caught their eye. Napoleon had issued orders that any men found responsible for such deeds must be tried and shot at once. Already he had been obliged to sign two death warrants, and hoped that this would deter any more crimes.

‘Well?’ Pauline nudged him with her hip. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘Do?’

‘About my husband!’

‘You must divorce him.There is no other way of dealing with it.’

‘Then I will have nothing. Can’t you send him away again? Somewhere dangerous . . .’

Napoleon propped himself up on an elbow and stared at her. ‘Lieutenant Fourès is a good officer. He doesn’t deserve such a fate. I will not send him to his death. Not even for you, Pauline.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about what’s happened? I don’t believe it.’