As soon as he had dressed, Napoleon and his staff officers mounted up. He had given them no explanation and just wheeled his horse and trotted out of camp. The staff officers and a squadron of the guides followed him back down the road towards Jaffa before turning off into the hills a few miles from the camp. There on a small rise stood an old monastery with weathered walls. Outside stood several carts, tended by French soldiers. As Napoleon reined in outside the monastery the orderlies hurriedly rose to their feet and stood to attention.

‘Where is Dr Desgenettes?’

‘Inside, sir. With the patients.’

‘Well, send him my compliments and ask him to join me out here.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The orderly hurried inside and Napoleon turned back to his staff officers. ‘Junot, tell the guides to dismount and rest their horses. The rest of you are coming with me.’

‘Where, sir?’ Berthier asked nervously as he stared at the monastery. ‘Not in there, surely?’

‘You’re not afraid, are you, Berthier?’

‘Sir, I know what this place is. It would be madness to remain here another moment. We should leave. At once.’

‘Not until I’ve made my point.’ Napoleon turned at the sound of footsteps crossing the threshold of the monastery’s arched entrance, and saw Dr Desgenettes emerge from the dim interior. He looked exhausted and the surgeon’s apron he wore was soiled and stained with blood. He saluted. ‘I must say, I’m surprised to see you here, sir.’

‘Good. My staff and I have come to inspect your field hospital, doctor. Would you be kind enough to show us inside?’

‘Inside?’ Desgenettes’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Very well then, sir. If you’d follow me.’

Napoleon turned to his staff and was amused to note their horrified expressions as he beckoned to them. ‘Come, gentlemen.’

Inside the monastery it was cold, despite the small braziers burning at each end. On both sides of the main hall was a line of palliasses on which lay the sick. Most were still and quiet, but here and there men moaned in agony.

‘This end is where we keep the recently admitted cases,’ Desgenettes explained. ‘If the symptoms progress, as they almost invariably do, then we move them to the far end.When they die they are taken out of the monastery for burial.’

‘What can be done for them?’ asked Napoleon, glancing down at the nearest man, a youngster no more than twenty. He had fine features and a shock of light brown curly hair and would have cut a handsome figure in his uniform. Already there were blackened swellings about his neck.