The Sultan's Daughter (32 page)

In the stern of the boat Berry was sitting on the landward side of the coxswain and Roger on the seaward side. Praying that Nelson had given his instructions clearly, and that they would be obeyed to the letter, Roger pointed to a mound at no great distance from the beach, and said:

‘Regardez, Monsieur le Capitaine, la premiere redoute
…' Then, jumping up, as Berry turned to look shoreward, he gave him a sharp push sideways and leapt over the gunwhale into the water.

As his head came up he heard shouts and oaths. Ducking swiftly, he swam a dozen yards under water. When he came up a second time he heard shots and several pistol bullets sang over his head. Swimming strongly he got halfway to the
shore, then looked back. The coxswain was yelling at the crew of the boat and turning her to come after him. Berry was standing up in the stern, reloading his pistol. The shelving shore was shallow. Next moment Roger's feet and knees struck sand. Half wading, half swimming, he floundered on, looked back again and saw that the boat had run aground.

Two more pistols cracked. Fearful that he might yet be hit by a bullet, he stood up and splashed his way ashore. By the time his boots were squelching on dry sand the firing had ceased and two of the boat's crew, having poled their oars, were endeavouring to push the boat off into deeper water. He covered another hundred yards at a lurching run, then flopped down behind the nearest of a group of palm trees.

The only rest he had had since setting out from Damanhûr, nearly forty hours earlier, had been his sleep of exhaustion on the hard tier deck of
Audacious
. He would have given a great deal to scoop out a hole for his hip in the warm sand and spend the night where he was. But he dare not, in case marauding Arabs came upon and killed him. After twenty minutes to recover from his exertions, he got to his feet and set out on the two-mile trudge to Alexandria.

By the time he reached the most advanced French picket it was fully dark and, when challenged, as he did not know the password, he could only shout that he was a French officer who had escaped from the English. Giving him the benefit of the doubt the sentry called his Sergeant and, as soon as the N.C.O. was satisfied, he could not have been more helpful. From somewhere he produced an Arab with a donkey cart and Roger was driven in it to Kléber's headquarters.

There he told his story to the General, who had already heard of the disaster to the French Fleet but was anxious to have a full account of it. Roger did his best to oblige him for some twenty minutes, then declared that he was so exhausted that he must go to bed. Kléber, loudly commending him for the wit and courage he had displayed in fooling ‘those pigs of English' and making his escape, took him up to a bedroom, and a quarter of an hour later he was fast asleep.

In the morning he woke with his bruised arm and side still very sore and, anxious though he now was to get back to Cairo, he decided that it would be foolish to set out on the
long journey without having taken at least twenty-four hours to become in better shape. He took his time in getting up, washing and cleaning himself, while one of the Guides he had brought as escort sponged and pressed his now faded and tattered uniform.

Shortly before midday he went to Sarodopulous's office and asked the banker if he might spend the rest of the day and a night at his villa. The bearded Greek was delighted and told his handsome nephew, Achilles, to accompany Roger out to the villa and see that he had every comfort.

Roger spent a lazy afternoon on the terrace overlooking the bay. Shortly before dusk his host joined him and gave him the bits of news that he had received from correspondents in several countries, or had picked up from merchant captains who put in at Alexandria. Most of the news was months old, but it often took many weeks for happenings in Western Europe to become known in Egypt.

In May, Count Cobenzl had replaced the less urbane Baron Thugut as Austrian Foreign Minister, and a defensive Treaty had been signed between Austria and Naples.

Towards the end of May there had been a rebellion in Ireland. Disappointed of French support, but encouraged by the London Corresponding Society, some thirty thousand United Irishmen had taken up arms in Kildare and West-meath. But the plot had been leaked, a number of the leaders had been arrested in Dublin just before the signal for the rising had been given and, after a limited amount of fighting, the revolt had been suppressed.

The most astounding news to Roger was that his real master had fought a duel. Apparently an Irish Member of Parliament, named Tierney, had so consistently sought to thwart him on questions of defence that in the House Mr. Pitt had publicly denounced him as a traitor and had refused to withdraw his words. Tierney had thereupon challenged him and, although frail ‘Billy' Pitt had never fired a shot in anger, he had at once accepted. On Whit Sunday, May 27th, they fought with pistols on Wimbledon Common. In the first discharge neither was hit. In the second Pitt fired into the air, and Tierney then refrained from firing, declaring himself satisfied. But that the brilliant, high-minded Prime Minister—the
very soul of all that was best in Britain and the keystone of her resistance—should have felt in honour bound to expose himself to possible death at the hands of a cantankerous, unpatriotic bully had profoundly shocked all decent people.

One other piece of news gave Roger pleasure. The personally charming but utterly irresponsible Charles Fox, wedded with the years ever more closely to the principles of the French revolutionaries, had, at a birthday dinner given in his honour, argued that two thousand good men might do as much in Britain as Washington had done in America, and later proposed the toast, ‘To our Sovereign, His Majesty the People'. For that the King had struck Fox's name from the members of the Privy Council.

Sarodopulous then asked Roger how he was placed for funds. Roger thanked him and replied that he had sufficient for his immediate needs and could obtain more from the Paymaster-General in Cairo.

Sarodopulous smiled at him. ‘Perhaps that may not be as easy as you think now that
L'Orient
has gone down with the treasure that was to pay the French Army. Do not look surprised at my knowing about that, or of your capture and courageous escape, although you made no mention to me of it. As a banker it is my business to be well informed on such matters. All I wish to say is that owing to your introduction I have made a great deal of money, even though charging only the normal rate of exchange. Therefore should you at any time find yourself short, you have only to draw upon me and I shall be happy to honour your draft.'

Roger thanked him heartily and said that, while he hoped it would not be necessary, he would avail himself of the banker's generous offer should he find himself embarrassed for funds.

The Greek then drew from his pocket a little sack made of soft leather. Opening it, he tipped into his hand a finely worked gold neck-chain which had a single medium-sized but very fine blue diamond hanging from it. Handing it to Roger, he said:

‘This at least I insist that you accept as an immediate token of my gratitude. In France a man like yourself must
know some lady whom it would not be unfitting to adorn.'

When arranging for Sarodopulous to become financial agent to the French Army in Alexandria, Roger's only thought had been to make a return for the banker's past kindness. However he was well aware that not only in France, where there was now no limit to corruption, but also in England it was still general practice to receive a suitable present for such a service. In consequence, having expressed his delight at this beautiful jewel, he willingly accepted it, thinking meanwhile how well it would look between the breasts of his beautiful Zanthé.

Roger enjoyed an excellent meal with the banker, his sister-in-law and Achilles, then went early to bed, for he had ordered his escort of Guides to report at the villa at four o'clock the following morning; so that by an early start he might cover the thirty miles back to Damanhûr before the great heat of the day.

It was on August 4th that he set out for Cairo. Having resigned himself to accept Nelson's arguments, he did so without reluctance. However uncertain and dubious the future to which he was again committed, for the moment he was more than consoled by the thought of the immediate joys that lay ahead of him. Fate had decreed that he would not, after all, have to sacrifice the delight of having the beautiful Zanthé for his mistress.

He felt no regrets for the way in which he had taken her. Any young woman in a country that had been invaded, who fell into the hands of its conquerors, would have been amazed had she been treated in any other way. The best she could hope for was that an officer would find her attractive and become her protector. To his mind, Zanthé had been exceptionally fortunate. Not only had she been saved from most brutal usage, by being bought by a man who was in a position to keep her in safety and comfort, but this man was one whom Roger—never having been given to false modesty—considered with some justification to be as fine a fellow as any she could have found in Cairo.

Her resistance, as it had transpired, had not been on account of any personal repugnance to him, or because he was one of the invaders of her country, or because she was in
love with someone else; for, clearly, there had been no love between her and her husband, and Eastern women of good standing were given no opportunity to carry on love-affairs outside their homes. It had been due simply to the normal fears of any girl lacking all experience and about to be taken by a man whom she had known for little more than an hour. Had he realised that, he would have refrained from pressing her and given several days to wooing her into willing submission.

Yet, on consideration, he felt that it was just as well that things had happened as they had. After all she was not a young girl in the accepted sense, nor frigid from some inhibition, but a fully grown woman, capable of intense passion, as he had soon discovered. Moreover in addition to her devastating physical attractions, she was obviously a cultured woman and spoke French fluently. That promised many hours of delightful conversation in which he would not have the labour of translating his thoughts into Arabic. Knowing the fatalism that was such a strong feature of all Eastern minds, he was in good hopes that when he got back to her she would receive him without rancour, having decided to accept her new situation. If she did still harbour resentment, when he presented her with the beautiful jewel that Sarodopulous had given him she could hardly fail to be pleased with such a splendid peace offering. But the more he thought about it the more confident he became that, having had close on a fortnight to ponder on what would have been her fate had he not rescued her, she would have realised how fortunate she was and now be anxious to show her gratitude.

Eager as he was to behold her again, his bruised arm still pained him and he did not make any better speed than he had on his outward journey; but during the five days that it took him to get back to Cairo visions of Zanthé filled his mind to the exclusion of all else. He had to tell himself repeatedly that he must not let her make a slave of him, yet he knew that he was more passionately in love than he had been for a very long time.

Late in the afternoon of the 8th he entered Cairo and, in duty bound, rode straight to Bonaparte's headquarters to report his arrival. News of the annihilation of the French
Fleet had reached the capital from Kléber by fast courier three days earlier, so the first shock and sense of despair felt by Bonaparte's Staff on learning that there could be no return to France had worn off. But when Roger entered the General-in-Chief's ante-room he was surprised to find that his own escape had been reported by another courier the previous day.

His fellow aides-de-camp and his old friend Junot, now a General, who happened to be there, all hailed him with delight, crowding round to embrace and congratulate him. He was even more surprised when he heard the account they had received of his escape. It was believed that when being taken from one ship to another in a boat he had fallen upon the officer-in-charge, snatched both his pistols, shot him with one and the coxswain with the other, then dived overboard and swum through a hail of musket balls to the shore.

It was not uncommon for acts of bravery to be magnified in this way by inaccurate information and, as no one could prove to the contrary, Roger decided not to disillusion his admiring companions. It tickled his sense of humour that he should be acclaimed a hero for an exploit he had planned himself and carried out at little risk, and it was also pleasing to know that it would add considerably to the already high regard that Bonaparte had for him.

A few minutes later the General-in-Chief received him with great cordiality, patted him on his bruised arm, tweaked the lobe of his ear painfully—a favourite, if peculiar, way he had of showing his approval of those who had performed brave deeds—then made Roger sit down and give him a description of the battle, as he had so far had reports of it only from people who had not been present.

Bonaparte was still furious with Brueys for having failed to obey his instructions to seek safety under the guns of either Malta or Corfu, and thus losing his Fleet; but he did not seem at all dismayed at his Army now being cut off in Egypt, and he was intensely interested in the tactics used by the British Fleet. Anxious as Roger was to get to Zanthé, it was over an hour before his master, giving Roger's ear another sharp tweak, allowed him to depart.

As he reached the door Bonaparte called after him, ‘You
have returned just in time to accompany me on an expedition. That crafty old rogue, Ibrahim Bey, is still lurking, with several thousand Mamelukes, two or three days' march east of Cairo. Reynier, whose Division I sent in pursuit, does not appear able to overcome him, so I must go myself to drive him out of Egypt. We leave at four o'clock tomorrow morning.'

Roger's breath caught in his throat. Turning, he stared at Bonaparte's back, his face a picture of dismay. His first delight in Zanthé had been all too brief. Now he was to be torn from her arms in the middle of the night and might not see her again for weeks. To protest at an order of Bonaparte's could bring on one of those furious rages and even lead to dismissal. Yet he felt he must risk it. After a moment he said: