The Sultan's Daughter (36 page)

‘Very well,' said Bonaparte. ‘Take another fifteen Guides, follow and send him back with an escort, then take charge of the gate yourself.'

When Roger reached the gate it had already been broken open and, to his great distress, he found Sulkowsky dead. But his men had poured a murderous fire into the Arabs and they had fled.

Suddenly it dawned on Roger that this great disturbance in the city was the very thing he had unconsciously been waiting for. Swiftly he had the gate again firmly secured, then placed a Lieutenant of Guides in charge of it, leaving him sixty men. Ordering the rest to follow him, he set off for the Pasha's palace.

On the way they had several skirmishes with the insurgents, but a volley of musketry scattered them on each occasion and Roger lost only two men. A quarter of an hour later they reached the little door in the great wall at the end of the palace garden. A score of musket balls aimed at the hinges weakened it considerably; a battering with musket butts did the rest. In ten minutes they had forced it back far enough to squeeze through.

As they approached the palace through the garden, one of the Janissaries gave the alarm. There ensued a short, sharp conflict, but the Turks were soon worsted by the veteran French. Six or more Turks fell, killed or wounded; the remainder fled.

When the firing had ceased, the corpulent Pasha, accompanied by several of his civilian staff, came out on to a terrace at the back of the palace and waved a white cloth in token of surrender. Wasting no time, Roger ordered him to lead the way to his seraglio. The Pasha broke into violent protests. Roger jabbed a pistol barrel into his stomach and told him that if he wished to live he had better not argue.

The sweating Pasha gave in and led Roger, followed by his men, along a tiled corridor to a series of arcaded rooms that opened on to the garden and were plentifully furnished with colourful divans. In one lofty room some two dozen women were assembled, most of them huddled together in a corner, some clutching children and others staring over their yashmaks with big, frightened eyes at the French soldiers.

At the first glance Roger identified Zanthé. She was not among the group, but was seated on a divan beside the elderly woman who had come off the barge in front of her, whom he assumed to be the Pasha's principal wife. Bowing to them he said:

‘Ladies, I apologise for this intrusion but, as you must know, the population of Cairo is in revolt. As was the case when that last happened, the mob may break into the palaces and do their inmates grievous injury. Have no fear. I am here to protect you. However, as it appears that the Turkish authorities have taken no steps to suppress the insurrection, they must have countenanced it. Therefore it is my duty to take two hostages.' After pausing a moment he waved a hand
towards Zanthé and added, ‘They will be His Excellency the Pasha and this lady.'

At that moment a hoarse voice exclaimed behind him, ‘Why, blow me, if she ain't yer old love, the Sultan's daughter.'

Swinging round, Roger recognised the Sergeant who had sold Zanthé to him. Scowling, he demanded, ‘What the devil are you doing here?'

‘No offence. Colonel,' replied the veteran with a grin. ‘I was among the guard at the Bab-el-Nasser gate. Seein' you had taken over and left it secure, I thought it would be more interestin' and there'd be a bit of loot, perhaps, if instead of staying there I came along to give you a hand.'

Meanwhile Zanthé had come to her feet. Her splendid eyes flashing, she cried in French, ‘How dare you pursue me! This is an outrage! I refuse to become your hostage.'

Roger ignored her and counted up his men. He found that they numbered twenty-two, including a Lieutenant, the Sergeant, Marbois—who had been with him throughout—and two Corporals. He ordered the Lieutenant, with one Corporal and nine men, to remain there and, with the help of the surviving Janissaries, to protect the seraglio. The other Corporal he told to act as escort to the Pasha. Then, turning to the Sergeant and motioning to Zanthé, he said:

‘Sergeant, you have taken charge of this lady before. This time you will be more gentle with her; but, even should she struggle, you will persuade her to accompany us.'

Realising that it would be futile to put up a fight, Zanthé, angry-eyed but passive, allowed the Sergeant to take her by the arm, and the terrified Pasha offered no resistance. Surrounded by the remaining half of his men, Roger led the way from the palace across the garden, out through the wall gate and round to his little house. There he again divided the party. He could not possibly take Zanthé back to headquarters; but he was already convinced that the rising was only a matter of dangerous mobs which could be put down by disciplined soldiers in a matter of hours. His small house was, therefore, very unlikely to be attacked, provided it were suitably garrisoned.

When they reached it, he had Zanthé taken up to the bedroom
and locked in. He had decided to leave the Sergeant there, with the Corporal, Marbois and three men. To the Sergeant he said:

‘My servant will provide the lady with anything she may require. You will remain here and, should the house be attacked, defend it to the last bullet. But I think it improbable that you will be called on to do more than sit here for, perhaps, twenty-four hours. One warning I must give you. Get no ideas with regard to the lady. When I return, should I learn that you have so much as laid a finger on her I'll cut off your ears and stuff them down your throat.'

The Sergeant grinned and touched his forelock. ‘That's the sort of orders I like to hear,
mon Colonel
. Shows you're made of the right stuff and worthy to be on the Staff of the “Little Corporal”.'

Roger would have given practically anything to be able to spend the next half-hour simply talking to Zanthé and endeavouring to persuade her that he had acted as he had only because of his intense love for her. But he dare not delay reporting back to the General-in-Chief.

Followed by the remaining five men, who escorted the Pasha between them, he made his way back to headquarters. There he learned that the General-in-Chief had wisely decided not to expose his troops to street fighting, during which they would be shot at from roof-tops, and that all French forces were being withdrawn to the Citadel.

Three-quarters of an hour later he reported Sulkowsky's death to his master, and informed him that he had brought in the Turkish acting Viceroy as a hostage. Bonaparte had been greatly attached to his Polish aide-de-camp; so he was very distressed at Roger's news. But regarding the Pasha, he said:

‘You have anticipated my wishes, Breuc. These Turkish officials have shown themselves to be untrustworthy; so I have already issued orders for the arrest of the principal ones among them. But we must not treat them harshly, and must still endeavour to win their goodwill, otherwise the Sultan might declare against us and that would make the establishment of a colony here far more difficult.'

For two days, from the heights above Cairo, Bonaparte rained cannon balls and grape-shot upon the city. His principal
target was the Great Mosque which was believed to be the headquarters of the rebellion. This cannonade completely quelled the ill-organised attempt to dispossess the conquerors. Forty-eight hours after the trouble had started the streets were silent and the French began to infiltrate back, unopposed, to the barracks and palaces they had previously occupied.

Accompanied by a squad of dismounted Guides, Roger hastened down to his house and found all well there. The small garrison had suffered only from a shortage of food. Having sent some of them out to procure supplies, Roger went upstairs, unlocked the door of the room in which Zanthé had been confined and confronted her.

She was sitting on his bed, her eyes cast down. Throwing himself on his knees before her, he seized her hands and cried, ‘My beautiful Zanthé, I deplore these past two days in which you must have suffered much discomfort. It was through no fault of mine. Now that the trouble is over I swear to you that I will leave nothing undone that will make you happy.'

After a moment, her eyes still cast down, she replied, ‘I am your captive. You are strong and virile. If you force me again I shall not be able to resist you. But how can a woman feel love for any man who behaves in that way towards her? For what you did to me, I hate you. And should you repeat it, given the least chance I will kill you.'

Her bitter words dissipated all Roger's hopes that, having once submitted to him, she would accept his further love-making without resistance and, perhaps, with pleasure. He realised now that his only hope of softening her heart was to woo her, if need be for several weeks. He had no hesitation in deciding to do so, because he felt that such a glorious prize would be well worth any restraint he would have to put upon himself.

With his usual practicability, he stood up and said with a wry smile, ‘Well, at least we will dine together and discuss the matter further.' Then, realising that there was nothing fit to eat in the house, he left her, collected Marbois and went out with him to see what delicacies could be procured in the
market, which had opened again after being closed for two days.

Only a limited number of stalls displayed goods for sale, and those they had to offer were, for the most part, very indifferent. Roger spent over an hour hunting round before he found a fresh-killed duck, zucchini, green almonds, lemon curd and a rose-scented Rahat Lacoum, that he felt were adequate for setting before Zanthé at their first meal together.

When he arrived back at the house, he was very surprised to find Duroc in the little fountain-court and Zanthé down there with him, sitting cross-legged on one of the piles of cushions. With an unhappy look on his sanctimonious face, the Aide-de-Camp-in-Chief drew Roger aside and said in a low voice:

‘Breuc, how could you be such a fool? I warned you when we saw this woman at the landing stage not to interfere with her. The Pasha complained that you had carried off a lady from his seraglio, and I felt sure that I would find her here. In spite of the treachery of these Turks you must know that our master is still anxious to propritiate them. He is furious with you. I have been ordered to escort the lady back to the Pasha's palace and place you under close arrest.'

Roger stared aghast at Duroc. It took nearly a minute before he realised, as seen through other eyes, the enormity of the thing he had done. His passion for Zanthé had blinded him to all else than the craving to have her again in his keeping. He had ignored the fact that she had recently become the concubine, or pierhaps even a junior wife, of the most important Turkish official south of Constantinople. He had ignored this in spite of Bonaparte's declaration that everything possible must be done to keep the Turks from openly siding with France's enemies.

Had Zanthé still been the lone widow of a merchant he might possibly have justified taking her under his protection, to save her from molestation while the city was in a state of riot. But he had left a garrison in the Pasha's palace to protect the other women in the seraglio; so he had no excuse for having removed her from it

His brief conversation with her an hour earlier flashed back into his mind. She had then made plain her intense resentment at his having carried her off; so it was not even as though he could plead that a mutual passion had made her a willing accomplice in his act and that he had rescued her from a situation that she detested. There was nothing for it but to pay the price for the rashness into which his obsession had led him.

Drawing a sharp breath he unhooked his sword, handed it to Duroc with a bow and said, ‘Monsieur, I surrender myself your prisoner.'

Duroc returned his bow, took the sword and replied, ‘Monsieur, 1 have to escort this lady back to the Pasha's
palace. Be good enough to proceed to headquarters and await my return there.'

Roger gave one quick look at Zanthé. Her yashmak masked her mouth, but her tawny eyes held a mocking smile. He made her a formal bow and said, ‘Madame, my love for you is the only excuse that I can offer for such inconvenience as I have caused you. It seems that I am about to pay heavily for it; but let me assure you that I am unrepentant. Given another chance, I would do the same again for an hour in your company.'

The smile left her eyes and astonishment took its place, but she made no reply. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the house.

Half an hour later Duroc joined him at their old headquarters and there condoled with him on the result of his folly. It then transpired that the General-in-Chief had expressed no wish to see him immediately; so they went upstairs together. Roger was allotted an attic room in the palace where, being under close arrest, he was to remain until sent for. Duroc said that he would arrange for Marbois to bring Roger's things round and look after him. His meals would be sent up from the mess. Duroc also promised that later in the day he would bring up some books; he then left Roger to his extremely distressing reflections.

To start with, he had lost his beautiful Zanthé—this time, as it seemed, for good. That was bad enough in all conscience, but very far from being the end of the matter. If a Turkish gallant had carried her off the outraged Pasha would, no doubt, have insisted on having his head brought to him on a charger; so if Bonaparte wished to retain this Oriental potentate's goodwill he would have to demonstrate publicly his extreme displeasure by taking some really drastic action against the culprit.

Roger did not think it likely that his master would go to the length of having him put in prison. On the other hand, it seemed improbable that open arrest for a month or more would be thought sufficient to meet the case. In Italy, in one of his ungovernable rages, Bonaparte had, on the spot, reduced a General to the ranks because he had allowed the Austrians to push him out of the castle of Castiglione; so
Roger did think it possible that he might shortly find himself drilling with a musket and being cursed by a Sergeant-Major. In any case, it seemed certain that he would be deprived of his aide-de-campship, which would put an end to the prospects, so enthusiastically envisaged by Admiral Nelson, of further serving his country by passing on some vital piece of information about Bonaparte's future intentions.