The Sultan's Daughter (54 page)

Lifting his hand, she kissed it then gave him her most ravishing smile. The will of Allah has made you my dear lord, and I am happy that you should wish everyone to know it.'

Soon afterwards they set off at a walk and, although the strain of the past night was now telling heavily on them, they met with no difficulties. Everywhere they were greeted with cheers and, after many enquiries, learned the whereabouts of the General-in-Chief's headquarters. He had come up from Mount Carmel to direct the battle and had taken up his position on a slight rise about three miles from the city.

As they trudged up the slope, they saw that a marquee had been set up for him and that he was standing in front of it with his telescope to his eye, surrounded by his Staff, several of whom were mounted ready to gallop off with his orders to the different Divisions and Brigades. Not thinking it fitting to approach him while he was making his decisions, Roger halted some thirty yards from the edge of the group, then he and Zanthé turned to look back across the plain at the city from which they had escaped.

The whole field of battle lay spread before them. Full daylight had come and the sun glinted on the domes and minarets of the great fortress city. Parts of it were wreathed in smoke which was stabbed every moment by the flash of cannon. The still-standing towers stood out sharply against the blue sky and the whole was framed by the background of the bay, where lay the British frigates and gunboats. They too were partially obscured by smoke and rows of little white puffs kept on bursting from them as they fired broadside after broadside at the attackers. In three places where breaches
had been made in the walls solid columns of infantry were carrying out assaults. Dotted about the plain were batteries of guns and dozens of other regiments, awaiting orders to enter the battle. The French Army numbered close on ten thousand men and was supported by several thousand auxiliaries: Copts, Druses, Armenians and other Christian warriors whom Bonaparte had enlisted in his war against the Turks. Even at that distance the roar of the guns and the constant discharge of thousands of firearms came to them like the rolling of thunder. To witness such a vast assembly—white, brown and black—which, including the garrison and the British ships' crews, amounted to some fifty thousand men engaged in conflict, was an unforgettable spectacle.

Roger's gaze was still roving over the amazing panorama when Zanthé touched his arm. An officer was calling to them and Bonaparte was beckoning. Side by side, they walked quickly forward. When they arrived within ten feet of him Roger stood stiffly to attention and lowered the standard until its crescent top touched the ground.

‘
Mon brave
, I thank you,' Bonaparte said loudly. ‘Where did you capture this standard and when?'

‘Near the north-east tower,
mon Général
, shortly before dawn this morning,' replied Roger promptly.

Bonaparte gave him a closer look and said, ‘I know your face. Where have I spoken with you before?'

Roger gave a sudden laugh. ‘
Mon Général
, you should know it. I am your Colonel Breuc.'

The Corsican's big, dark eyes widened and he exclaimed, ‘Breuc! By all that's wonderful! Where in thunder have you sprung from?'

‘For the past seven weeks I have been a prisoner in Acre; but last night, with the aid of my companion, I succeeded in escaping.'

Bonaparte's glance turned to Zanthé's dirt-smeared face above the far-too-large uniform coat, the shoulders of which sagged halfway to her elbows, and he frowned. ‘If you were issued with that garment I'll crime your Quartermaster-Sergeant. No soldier could be expected to fight his best in so cumbersome a uniform.'

‘We took our uniforms off the dead,' Roger answered for
her, ‘and my companion is not a soldier of your Army. You will recall the reason for your sending me away from Cairo. Allow me to present the lady in the case—the widow of the Commander of the Turkish garrison.'

‘Breuc, your audacity astounds me! To have captured both her and a Turkish standard you must be the Devil in person. But does this mean that instead of obeying my instructions you followed her to Acre?'

‘No, mon
Général
, far from it. But, alas, I never reached France. I was taken first by Barbary Corsairs, escaped, was re-captured by the English and brought to Acre as a prisoner by Sir Sidney Smith. I am, though, happy to report that I succeeded in preventing that with which you entrusted me from falling into the hands of the enemy.'

‘God be praised for that!'

‘I was about to add,' Roger went on, ‘that this lady is not my captive. She left Acre of her free will, and has done me the honour to promise to become my wife.'

Turning back to Zanthé, Bonaparte smiled. ‘Then I congratulate you. For your husband you will have one of the bravest and most resourceful officers in my Army. What is your name, madame?'

She went down on one knee. ‘May it please you,
Monsieur le Général
, I am called Zanthé. Although I am a stranger to you, it is possible that you have heard of my mother. She was a Mademoiselle Dubucq de Rivery. She later became the Sultana of
Son Majesté Impérial le Sultan Abd-ul-Hamid.!

Again Bonaparte's eyes opened wide. He had not yet become used to Princesses kneeling to him. Stepping swiftly forward, he took both her hands and raised her to her feet exclaiming, ‘I have indeed heard of Your Highness's mother! When young, in Martinique, Her Majesty and my wife were cousins and close friends.' Then, with his invariable courtesy towards women, he added, ‘I am honoured to have Your Highness as a guest in my camp. We are but rough soldiers, and at the moment very badly found. But you shall lack for nothing with which it is possible for us to provide you.' Turning back to Roger, he said with a smile:

‘A moment ago I erred, it is not
Madame
I should have congratulated but you,
mon brave Breuc
. And to have you
back rejoices me. You are, of course, reinstated as one of my aides-de-camp and in my next Order to the Army I shall make mention of your return with this standard. It is the seventeenth that we have captured from the Turks.'

As Roger thanked him, he spoke to his step-son, who was standing just behind him, then lifted his telescope to make another survey of the battle.

Young Eugene de Beauharnais bowed to Zanthé, shook Roger warmly by the hand and led them round the side of the marquee. On the slope behind it thirty or forty tents had been erected. Showing Zanthé into one, he said he would send a servant with water for her to wash and a light meal, and suggested that she should then get some sleep while he sent to Main Headquarters for some more suitable clothes for her. Roger he took to a larger tent, shared by the aides-de-camp, and told a servant to look after him.

With water from a canvas bucket, Roger washed the blood from his face and hands then ate a little fruit, washed it down with two glasses of wine, stripped off his outer clothes and lay down on the camp cot. Although it was barely twelve hours since Zanthé had come weeping to his room with the news that Djezzar meant to force her to marry him, that now seemed days away and he was desperately tired. Her plight had prevented him taking her aboard a British ship and so securing his longed-for passage home. But he knew that they had both been incredibly lucky to have come through the night unscathed, and Bonaparte's reception of them could not have been kinder.

His thoughts turned to the future and he recalled the heartiness of Bonaparte's congratulations on his having become affianced to an Imperial Princess. When suggesting that he should present her as his fiancée he had intended no more than the adoption of a measure which would ensure that no other man attempted to force his attentions on her; but her reply had implied that she had expected nothing less of him. He realised that, now she had cut herself off entirely from her own people, he was responsible for her. Previously the idea of marrying her had never entered his head, but now he had to consider doing so. And why should he not? She was utterly devoted to him, intelligent, charming, passionate and one of
the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Still musing over this thought, he fell asleep.

It was evening when he awoke, and shortly afterwards Eugene entered the tent. He brought with him the uniforms of an officer of Chasseurs, who had been about Roger's build and had died of wounds a few hours earlier, and one of the scarfs, that distinguished aides-de-camp, for Roger to wear round his arm. He said that the man he had sent to Main Headquarters had rummaged through several chests there which contained loot from Jaffa and had found in them a number of rich, silk garments, jewelled girdles and sandals. These he had sent to Her Highness's tent; he had also raked up some spare shirts, a razor and other kit for Roger.

Roger thanked him and asked the result of the day's battle. Eugene shook his head and replied, ‘Since dawn there has been most desperate fighting and rumour has it that we have lost several of our best men. But the fighting continues and for the first time our troops have managed to force their way into the streets of Acre. My step-father is throwing everything in. His hope is to overcome all resistance before the reinforcements brought by the Turkish Fleet can be landed. But whether he will succeed in that still lies in the lap of the gods. You are to sup with him and he will probably give his views then on our prospects.'

When Roger had put on the uniform of the dead officer of Chasseurs he went along to Zanthé's tent. He found her again dressed as a woman and the silk garments that had been brought to her did not, owing to their flowing nature, appear unsuitable. There was a young Arab woman with her, who had been brought from a nearby village to be her servant. When he had kissed her she asked him if he could come to her that night, but he shook his head:

‘Alas no, my dearest, For the time being we must be most circumspect. Bonaparte has displayed a high regard for you. I could not spend the nights here undetected and discovery would lead to a scandal that would destroy your prestige in his eyes. We dare not risk that, I will seek your sweet company whenever possible, but until conditions are more favourable we must restrain as best we may our impatience to enjoy love's revels.'

After spending some time with her, talking over the excitements of the past night, he went to the marquee. There he was surrounded by a dozen of his old friends, all of whom slapped him on the back, congratulated him on his escape and wanted to hear what had happened to him. However, after the friendly welcome he soon realised that the general atmosphere was one of gloom and learned the reason. Generals Rambout and Langier had both been killed that day, Lannes had been so terribly wounded that his life was despaired of and Duroc had just been carried in with a wound in the thigh.

At supper Bonaparte placed Roger on his right and asked him for an account of his doings. Roger gave a fictitious description of his capture by Corsairs, his weeks of slavery in Tripoli, as a prisoner in a British ship and, more recently, in Acre. Contrary to custom, Bonaparte listened without interrupting and made only one comment, ‘I see you have had your hair cut'.

During the past seven weeks Roger's hair had grown a good inch. It now stood up stiffly all over his head and, where before his previous ordeals had caused it to become pre- maturely grey only at the temples, the new hair was mainly white as a result of the terror he had experienced during his first day and night in Djezzar's palace. But he did not mind that, as older men still used powder on their hair in England. With a laugh, he replied:

‘It was cut for me, but I do not resent that; it is much more sanitary.'

‘You are right,' Bonaparte nodded, then added with a frown, ‘You have no doubt been told that there is a serious outbreak of plague inflicting the Army?'

‘I had,
mon Général
, and was greatly distressed to hear it.'

‘It has already robbed me of six hundred men,' Bonaparte went on gloomily, ‘and as we have no hope of receiving reinforcements I can ill afford them.'

After the meal Bonaparte said nothing of the battle. Obviously much upset by the day's losses, and particularly about Lannes and Duroc having been wounded, he said that he was going to bed. But before leaving the mess for his
sleeping quarters he drew Roger aside and asked in a low voice:

‘My letters. What did you do with them?'

Producing the part of the hem of his travelling coat that he had cut off, Roger replied, ‘They are still stitched up in this,
mon Général
. I was loathe to destroy them as long as there was any hope of my getting through to France, but the Fates were against me.'

Bonaparte nodded and pulled his ear. ‘You have nothing with which to reproach yourself. No man could have done more. See Bourrienne in the morning, give him such intelligence as you can and he will inform you of our situation.'

Next morning, after a visit to Zanthé, Roger repaired to a tent that had been set apart as an office for Bourrienne, On the previous evening he had thought that the
Chef de Cabinet
looked far from well, and his friend told him something of the trials that had seriously undermined the health of the Army during the past three months.

The march from Suez across the desert of Sinai had been as bad as the original advance from Alexandria. The sufferings from thirst of everyone had been terrible and conditions had been little better while coming up the coast. The weary infantry had often openly cursed their own senior officers because, being mounted, the demands on the latter's endurance were not so great. Yet in spite of great reluctance to embark on the campaign, and terrible privations during it, the fighting spirit of the Army had remained unimpaired.

Apart from their capture of El Arish and Jaffa, and exposure to death or wounds for seven weeks under the walls of Acre, that spirit had been most gloriously displayed in a brief campaign against Abdullah, Pasha of Damascus, Early in April they had learned that the Pasha was assembling an Army, estimated at thirty thousand strong, for the relief of Acre. Bonaparte, with his usual aptitude for taking time by the forelock, at once despatched a force to attack the Turkish Army before it was fully organised. Junot led a reconnaissance in force with five hundred men, and Kléber's Division followed. On the road to Nazareth, Junot was surrounded by several thousand Nablousian warriors, but drove them off with terrible losses and captured fivestandards.