‘Sir, I’ve found . . . something.You must come and see.’

‘What? What is it, doctor?’

Desgenettes glanced past Napoleon to the ranks of the guides behind him. ‘Please, sir, come with me, and tell these men to stay here.’

Napoleon was still furious with Lannes and Eugène and he shook his head.Whatever it was the doctor wanted to show him would have to wait. The army had to be readied for the advance to Acre. But there was an imploring look in the man’s eyes and after a moment’s hesitation Napoleon nodded irritably.

‘Very well, then, but make it quick.’

Desgenettes turned and led the way back through the arch into the courtyard beyond. To one side there was a narrow doorway leading into some kind of storage room and as they approached it Napoleon could hear groaning, and the fevered mutterings of sick men. He paused on the threshold and saw that the floor inside the storeroom was covered with crude mattresses on which men lay, covered with soiled rags. The stench of the place was overpowering and Napoleon raised a hand to cover his mouth and nose.

‘What is this place? A hospital?’

‘No, sir.’ Desgenettes leaned over the nearest man and carefully lifted the corner of the blanket that covered him. The man’s jaw was slack and hung open and his eyes gazed sightlessly at the ceiling and Napoleon realised he was dead. Then he saw the swollen lumps on the man’s neck and round his armpits. Some had burst and glistened with blood and pus.The stench hit Napoleon like a blow and he had to struggle to keep himself from vomiting.

‘Buboes,’ Desgenettes explained, and let the blanket drop back over the body. He gestured to the other men in the room, most still moving fitfully as they mumbled and cried out. ‘They’ve all got the same symptoms.’ He turned to Napoleon. ‘This isn’t a hospital, sir. It’s a plague house.’

Chapter 43

‘That delay at El Arish is about to cost us dearly,’ Napoleon said as he surveyed the new earthworks and other fortifications that had been erected around Acre. Some of Ahmad Pasha’s engineers were still toiling away digging a ditch in front of the large bastion that dominated the city’s walls. The enemy was in a strong position indeed, he reflected. Acre was built on a spur of land that thrust out to sea at an angle to create the harbour. A mole protected the harbour and at the end of the mole stood a lighthouse. The landward side of the city was defended by massive walls and outer works and through his telescope Napoleon could see the barrels of artillery pieces, positioned to sweep the open ground before the city the moment the French launched an assault.Two British warships were anchored outside the harbour, out of range of Napoleon’s field guns in case the French decided to use heated shot.

‘This is going to be tricky. We can only attack on a narrow front, and they can use the mole and the English ships to enfilade our positions. We cannot blockade them, which means the English can bring in supplies and reinforcements at will. Well then, if we can’t starve them out, we’ll have to blast them out. This has to be settled by an assault on the city.’ He turned to Berthier. ‘Any sighting of Admiral Perée’s ships?’

‘Not yet, sir. But they should reach Haifa any day.The artillery train is already there and will bring the siege guns up to Acre the moment they are landed.’

‘Good. Then we’ll see how tough those walls really are.’

Napoleon’s telescope picked out a group of men who had appeared on top of the main bastion. Most were in flowing robes and turbans, and there were a few Europeans amongst them in blue coats with gold epaulettes.Two of the figures stepped on to a platform just behind the ramparts and gazed out towards the French lines. With a thrill of excitement Napoleon realised he must be looking at Ahmad Pasha himself, the man the Turks called Djezzar - the Butcher - a sobriquet awarded in recognition of the man’s legendary ferocity and the abject cruelty he visited on his enemies. That Ahmad Pasha had survived into his seventies in the brutal world of Turkish politics was tribute to his ruthlessness.

Two can play at that, Napoleon reflected coldly. News of the massacre of Turkish prisoners at Jaffa must have reached Acre by now.Ahmad Pasha and his forces would be in no doubt about the merciless nature of their opponent. Although he took little pleasure in the deed, Napoleon knew that it would unsettle many of the enemy soldiers and he needed every advantage he could wring out of the situation. The French army might well be a match for any soldiers the Sultan and his allies could field, but it was terribly outnumbered and right at the end of a slender line of communications stretching all the way down the coast towards Egypt. Just one setback might shatter Napoleon’s army.The men’s morale was low enough as things stood.The climate, the hostility of the native peoples, and the exhaustion and discomfort of the desert marches together with the bloody assaults on El Arish and Jaffa, had all taken their toll on the French soldiers.

And now the plague had broken out in their ranks. Napoleon had forbidden Dr Desgenettes and his staff to breathe a word about the plague victims they had encountered at Jaffa. The plague house had been sealed off and placed under guard so that its unhappy occupants would die in secret. But, somehow, somewhere in Jaffa, the plague had found its way into the blood of the French soldiers as they looted the city. Already nearly fifty men had been diagnosed with the terrible disease and the first of them had died that morning. Desgenettes had taken over a Greek Orthodox monastery off the road between Jaffa and Acre, and new cases were hurriedly taken out of the sick tents and moved to the makeshift hospital. It was only a matter of time before the secret was out and the men would have one more dread to add to their burden.

Napoleon switched his attention from Ahmad Pasha to the naval officer standing beside him.That must be Sir Sidney Smith, the commander of the small squadron that Admiral Nelson had detached to the Levant to harry the French army. The English naval captain was obviously determined to win a reputation for himself. Even here on the fringe of the civilised world, Napoleon pondered, it came down to a conflict between France and England. It was amusing, Napoleon reflected, that even though they were separated by only a narrow stretch of water, they were obliged to fight each other in conflicts spread right across the world.

The naval officer raised his telescope and swept it over the French lines until it foreshortened into a glinting dot and then he stopped. For a moment the two foes scrutinised each other down the lengths of their telescopes, until the Englishman lowered his glass and waved cheerily before turning away to confer with Ahmad Pasha.

‘We’ll see who’s still smiling in a week’s time,’ Napoleon muttered.

Berthier looked up from his notebook. ‘Pardon, sir?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Napoleon snapped his telescope shut and turned to his chief of staff. ‘I want the approach trenches and the batteries prepared as soon as possible.When the siege guns are in position they will commence firing at once. That central bastion is the key to their defences. If we take that and mount some guns on it, then we can bombard any point of the city at will. See that the orders are given, Berthier.’

For the rest of the day the trenches crept towards the walls of Acre, under constant bombardment from the guns mounted in the towers and the main bastion. Napoleon noted that none of the enemy’s pieces seemed to be heavy guns and was thankful for that small mercy at least. Some time could be saved on the earthworks being thrown up to protect the siege guns. Napoleon returned to his observation point from time to time to check on the progress and watched impatiently as his engineers struggled to break up the hard ground and dig deep enough to provide enough soil to bank up the sides of the trenches and make them safe for the men to approach the walls of Acre. As night fell Napoleon retired to his tent and reviewed his progress. It had taken longer to reach Acre than he had thought, but now the army had begun its siege the end of the campaign was a matter of weeks away. Within days the siege guns would be pulverising the walls until a breach was made.As at Jaffa, his men would pour into the city and sweep the defenders aside.With Acre in French hands Napoleon could return to Egypt, and the warm embrace of Pauline, and prepare to counter the Sultan’s other pincer arm. He went to bed with a warm feeling of satisfaction. It was true that the campaign had been dogged by delay, some misfortune and the bad feeling that had arisen after the massacre of the prisoners on the beach at Jaffa, but in the end they had reached their goal and soon the French flag would be flying above Acre. When word of the victory reached Paris there would be further public acclaim and laurels for his reputation.