Текст книги "The Generals"
Автор книги: Simon Scarrow
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
Chapter 39
Napoleon
Alexandria, August 1798
Aboukir Bay reeked of death and destruction even several days after the battle.The beach was littered with shattered timbers and severed cordage. Bodies were still being washed up on the shore, blotched and bloated and often mutilated by the effects of cannon fire and explosions. What was left had been worried by the fish gorging themselves in the bay. In the now calm waters, wreckage floated on the surface and the masts of the ships that had been sunk rose stark and bare from their watery grave.
‘Sweet Jesus . . .’ Berthier muttered as he gazed across the scene. He opened his mouth to continue and then closed it again with a slight shake of the head.There were no words to describe the scale of the defeat that France had suffered at the hands of Lord Nelson and his fleet.
‘What was the final cost?’ asked Napoleon.
Berthier took a moment to collect his thoughts and reached for his pocket book. He flicked the pages open to the notes he had made earlier that morning after consulting the army’s chief surgeon, Dr Desgenettes. ‘Nearly two and a half thousand killed or wounded. Over three thousand taken prisoner when their ships were captured.’
Napoleon waved his hand dismissively. ‘What about the ships? How many did we lose?’
‘The L’Orientblew up.Three ships of the line were taken and burned by the Royal Navy, another nine ships of the line were captured and two frigates were sunk.’
‘And how many survived?’
‘Two ships of the line and two frigates. They escaped to the east. We haven’t heard anything from them yet.’
Napoleon shut his eyes for a moment. With one blow the English had shattered French naval power in the Mediterranean, and severed the link between Napoleon’s army and France.Very well then, he concluded, that was the situation. What mattered now was surviving the consequences. His eyes flickered open.
‘Berthier, take a note.’
His chief of staff hurriedly opened a fresh page of his pocket book and fumbled in his jacket for a pencil. He sat down on a rock and waited for Napoleon to begin.
‘Tell Kléber to have some boats armed to patrol the harbours at Alexandria. If the Royal Navy is still out there, it’s possible they will attempt a cutting-out raid against what is left of our fleet. Have Marmont’s brigade moved up to Rosetta in case the English attempt any landings there. Then find a small ship, something fast, and have a warning sent to our forces in Malta. The ship is then to continue to France to convey the news of Admiral Brueys’s defeat. Got all that?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘There’s one other matter to deal with. I must write a letter to the Sultan in Constantinople. Talleyrand should be close to concluding a treaty with Turkey by now. If I can reassure the Sultan that we are operating in his interests, then he might not be tempted to take advantage of this temporary setback.’
Berthier paused and looked up. ‘Temporary setback, sir?’
‘This.’ Napoleon gestured vaguely towards the bay. ‘The fleet had already served its purpose, in getting my army here safely.We can, and shall, manage without them.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Berthier turned his attention back to his pocket book. ‘Anything else?’
Napoleon nodded. ‘A message needs to be sent to Ahmad Pasha at Acre. He needs to be warned off any plans he might have for joining forces with what’s left of the Mamelukes in Egypt. If we can secure an alliance with him so much the better. In the meantime,’ he turned away from the bay and gazed back in the direction of Alexandria, ‘we had better do what we can to settle the army into Egypt and win over the locals. It’s possible we may be here for quite a while.’
Leaving Kléber and Marmont to guard against any attempts by the English to further exploit Nelson’s victory, Napoleon and his staff mounted up and swiftly returned to Cairo. News of the battle had reached every corner of the city and there was a palpable tension in the streets of the capital as those who still opposed the French occupation openly rejoiced. The morale of the French troops was dangerously low now that their lifeline to their homeland was cut. Napoleon knew that the only cure for their malaise was to be kept occupied and fed a diet of rewards and propaganda. He immediately set out a list of public works and administrative measures to be carried out as soon as possible.
Chambers of commerce were set up in the largest towns of the delta, and register offices established to record land ownership and to issue birth certificates in an attempt to provide the basis of a new tax system. Napoleon was mindful that, despite the defeat at Aboukir Bay, Paris would still be anticipating fresh spoils from its army in Egypt. French engineers began projects to improve the economy of the new province by building roads and windmills, and work began on dredging the canal that linked Alexandria to Cairo. In the capital itself, Napoleon decreed that street lighting would be provided and a local police force set up. A hospital was established for the city’s poorest inhabitants and the French historians, artists and scientists who had accompanied the expedition were finally rewarded for all the discomfort and danger they had endured. The Institute of Egypt for Arts and Sciences was inaugurated in Cairo with Gaspard Monge as its president. Napoleon added his lustre to the proceedings by accepting the post of vice-president.
He commandeered the mansions of the Mameluke leaders and handed them over to his senior officers. The soldiers, distressed by the hot climate, and lacking the wine and bread they had been raised on back in France, were even more disgruntled by the lack of available women. In order to distract them from their grievances Napoleon set up a soldiers’ social club and two light-hearted newspapers. Gradually, the troops began to adjust to their new setting, discovering the pleasures of native cheboukpipes, steam baths and spiced native food enjoyed from the comfort of divans.
In order to impress upon the local worthies the technical superiority of the French regime, Napoleon ordered the officer in command of the hot air balloon detachment to mount a public demonstration and ride his balloon aloft for all of Cairo to see. On the appointed day the sheikhs and imams and their retinues were treated to a feast in shelters round an open square while Captain Conté and his men prepared their equipment.
There was an audible gasp from the French officers as Napoleon emerged from his quarters wearing a turban and silk robes over his shirt, trousers and boots. A bright sash ran round his middle, over which was fastened a sword belt from which hung a jewelled scimitar. He strode across to the largest shelter, under which Sheikh Muhammad el Hourad and his followers watched him approach, rising at the last moment to bow and make their greetings.
‘General, you honour us,’ the sheikh smiled. ‘But I confess, I am a little confused by your attire.’
‘Why, sir?’ Napoleon glanced down at his robes, and the feather in the top of his turban dipped forward and bounced off his nose. A ripple of subdued laughter went round his guests, but when he glared at them they fell silent. Napoleon turned to the sheikh.‘I was merely trying to show you that we French are more than willing to adapt to your ways.’
‘I see.’ The sheikh smiled. ‘And of course we appreciate the gesture. But tell me, why do you wear the turban of a Mameluke and the robes of a Bedouin?’
Napoleon glanced over his shoulder and glared at Junot. His aide shrugged helplessly and Napoleon resolved to give him a firm dressing down when the guests had gone. He turned back to the sheikh, trying hard not to blush with embarrassment and anger. ‘I apologise. I was badly advised. Now, please, take your seats.The food will arrive shortly, and we can talk while Captain Conté makes his balloon ready for flight.’
Napoleon and his staff officers settled on to the divans prepared for them while the sheikh and his followers resumed their reclining positions. When everyone was settled Berthier nodded to one of the orderlies and the man hurried away to the kitchens.
The sheikh watched the officers and men laying the wood in the heavy cast-iron grate below the platform on which rested the round basket which would carry Captain Conté aloft. In the centre of the basket was a funnel which led up into the envelope of the balloon itself.
‘General, can that thing really fly?’
‘Yes. I have seen it myself, back in Paris.’
‘By what magic does it work?’
‘Not by magic, but by science.’ Napoleon smiled, and then continued in a lecturing tone.‘By the principle that hot air, being lighter than the air surrounding it, will rise, filling out the balloon, and then causing it to lift, taking both basket and passenger with it. The balloon will continue to rise until the air inside has cooled and then it will descend safely back to the ground.’
‘And you are sure you have seen this work, with your own eyes?’
‘Yes.’ Napoleon replied testily. ‘I give you my word.’
‘Then I am sure it will be so, if Allah wills it.’
‘Speaking of Allah, or more broadly religion, I think it is a good time to mention to you that I have decided to enact a measure guaranteeing religious toleration in Egypt. I wondered what your views on the matter were.’
The sheikh stroked his beard. ‘I assume that you mean that Jews and Christians should be allowed to practise their rites freely, alongside those of Islam.’
‘Yes. That would seem to be the best way to encourage good relations between all the faiths. France wants peace and prosperity for all the peoples of Egypt.’
‘And would you enforce such tolerance?’ the sheikh asked wryly.
‘Indeed.’ Napoleon nodded, and his feather tipped forward again. With a grimace he quickly reached up and savagely plucked it out of the turban and tossed it on to the divan behind him.
The band suddenly struck up as the doors to the kitchens opened and a long line of servants emerged carrying platters of delicacies and exotic fruits. As the French officers and their guests began to eat, Captain Conté’s crew finally lit the fire underneath his balloon-launching platform. The flames flickered into life and the timber crackled merrily. At first nothing seemed to be happening and then, as Napoleon watched, the balloon envelope rippled and began to fill, with painstaking slowness. After a while he lost interest in the display and idly glanced round the faces of those sitting at the tables set for the French.
In amongst them were a handful of women, and almost at once Napoleon’s gaze fell upon a slim figure with fine tresses of auburn hair. She sat at the side of a handsome young lieutenant who frequently glanced at her in open adoration. It was easy to see why, Napoleon reflected. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen since leaving France. Since he last saw Josephine, he reflected bitterly, reopening the still fresh wound in his heart.
He lowered his plate and turned to Junot.‘Who is that woman over there?’
Junot followed the direction indicated by Napoleon and smiled. ‘Ah! That is the delightful Pauline Fourès.’
‘I don’t recall seeing her before. Is that man her husband?’
‘Yes, Lieutenant Fourès, one of our cavalry officers. A bit of a firebrand by all accounts. I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed his wife before, sir. She disguised herself as a hussar to accompany her husband on the campaign. She only revealed her true identity after the battle outside Cairo.’
‘Good God!’ Napoleon shook his head in wonder. ‘How could she have managed it? To have survived all that and kept her secret . . .She sounds interesting. I should like to meet her.Would you see to it, Junot? Supper, tonight at my mansion.’
‘Yes, sir. An invitation to Madame Fourès, and the good lieutenant as well?’
‘No. I think I would rather hear her story without any distraction.’
‘I understand, sir. I’ll see to it.’
‘Good.’ Napoleon looked at her for a moment longer and then turned his attention back to his meal. He was aroused at the prospect of meeting the woman, and at the same time felt a vague sense of shame at pulling rank over her husband, and the prospect of being unfaithful to Josephine, in spirit at least. Then his heart hardened. Let Josephine hear of this. Let her suffer the injury he had endured at her hands. As for Lieutenant Fourès? Napoleon shrugged. Perhaps it was time for Fourès to share his general’s knowledge of the perfidy of women.
The sheikh coughed softly. ‘I beg your pardon, General, but how long does this balloon of yours take before it makes its ascent?’
‘What?’ Napoleon shook off his thoughts of Josephine and Pauline Fourès. He looked across the square. Captain Conté was desperately piling more fuel on to the fire. Above it the material of the balloon had barely risen and resembled nothing so much as the flaccid, wrinkled breast of an old woman. Napoleon granted the captain a few minutes’ grace, then discreetly gestured to Junot to come closer.
‘Sir?’
‘Have a word with Conté. Nothing too harsh, you understand, but tell him he’d better get that thing up in the air before he makes complete fools of us.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Junot eased himself up from his divan, strolled across the courtyard and beckoned to the hapless Captain Conté, who emerged from under the platform with his face glistening with sweat and streaked with grime. He listened to Junot for a moment, looked past him towards Napoleon, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
‘Is there a problem, General?’
Napoleon turned to the sheikh.‘Not at all. Demonstrations of such complexity take time, that’s all.’
‘It’s just that your captain doesn’t seem very happy. Does he really know what he’s doing?’
‘Who? Captain Conté?’ Napoleon was hurt by the accusation and impulsively rushed to defend the reputation of his officer.‘Captain Conté has one of the most brilliant minds in the French army. That’s why I personally selected him for this campaign.’>
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ Napoleon said irritably. ‘The man is a genius. He invented the pencil, you know.’
‘The pencil.’The sheikh nodded slowly. ‘Then, truly, he is not a man to be underestimated.’
Napoleon could not take the humiliation any more. He rose, and made an excuse that he had work to attend to and was sorry but the demonstration would have to wait for another day.
‘I quite understand, General,’ the sheikh responded with a kindly expression. ‘Perhaps when Allah is more willing to permit men to behave like birds.’
‘Yes, quite.’
As soon as the last of the sheikhs and imams had departed Napoleon tore off the turban and hurled it to the ground. ‘So much for appeasing their sensibilities! The smug bastards. Laughing up their sleeves at us!’ He whirled round and stabbed a finger at Conté.‘It’s your fault! You and that worthless balloon of yours! Take it down. Get rid of it. Get it out of my sight before I have it cut to pieces and wipe my arse on it.’
‘Sir!’ Captain Conté tried to explain. ‘It was the day’s heat. I could not make my balloon more buoyant than the surrounding air. It works best in cooler climates.’
‘Really?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘Cooler climates? Then you’d better pack it up and fuck off back to France with it, Captain.’
‘Sir! I . . .Yes, sir.’
Napoleon glared at him a moment, then turned round to look for Junot. ‘Junot! Over here! At once, man!’
Junot ran across the courtyard and stood stiffly to attention before his general. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘That other business. Concerning Madame Fourès. See to it now, please.’
‘Tonight, sir?’
‘Tonight. I need something to take my mind off this disaster.’ A smile flickered across Napoleon’s face. ‘I think that she will prove a most diverting companion.’
The door closed behind the woman as Junot left the room and for a moment Napoleon watched her from his seat on the balcony outside. Pauline Fourès was wearing a sheer silk gown that hid little of her fine figure in the wan glow of the oil lamps burning in a bracket hanging from the ceiling. For a moment she simply stared round the room; then she darted across to a small side table and helped herself to a piece of baklava. Napoleon could not help chuckling and she froze at once.
‘Who’s there? General?’
Napoleon rose and entered the room.
‘Madame Fourès, a pleasure.’ He bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’
‘How could I refuse?’ She smiled, and her full lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. ‘Colonel Junot was most insistent. And, after all, you are the most powerful man in Egypt.Your word is law.’
‘It is. Please sit down.’ He gestured to the two chairs beside the side table. ‘Since you have started on the delicacies, feel free to continue.’
‘Ah . . .’ She laughed. ‘Now I am ashamed.’
They sat and Napoleon poured them each a glass of wine, and they picked at the baklava as he asked her to tell the story of her adventures since the expedition had left France. When she had finished Napoleon reflected for a moment before he spoke.
‘I envy a man who inspires such devotion in his wife.’
Pauline stared back at him. ‘I love my husband, General, but I loathed life as an officer’s wife back in France. I have not sacrificed anything to follow him. In truth I escaped the drudgery of eking out a life in a rented room while waiting for him to return. There has to be more to life than that. There has to be adventure.’
‘Indeed.’ Napoleon leaned closer to her. ‘And have you found it?’
‘I thought so, for a while. But now I am a mere lieutenant’s wife once more.’
‘Yes . . .A woman of your beauty deserves better.’
She looked at him for a moment and then tilted her head slightly.‘What are you saying, General? Are you going to offer my husband a promotion?’
‘No.’ Napoleon felt uneasy about what he was about to suggest and his eyes fixed on hers. ‘A general’s position is an isolated one. I cannot acknowledge any man, any friend, as an equal.Yet I need companionship . . .the comfort of intimacy.You understand? I need a woman. A special woman.’
‘But you are married.’
‘Yes,’ Napoleon replied bitterly. ‘And as you have no doubt heard, my wife has found a companion of her own. I will deal with her when I return to France. Under the circumstances I do not feel obliged to remain faithful to her. And I find that I am uncommonly attracted to you.’
‘I see.’ Pauline nodded. ‘And what exactly are you offering me?’
‘A palace here in Cairo.The company of the finest officers and scientific minds in Egypt. Is that not adventure enough for you, Madame Fourès?’
She considered this for a while before replying. ‘And what of my husband? What becomes of him?’
‘I will send him back to France. It would be best for all three of us.’
‘Yes.’ She licked her lips. ‘A palace, you say?’
Napoleon nodded.
‘And what happens when the campaign is over?’
‘I don’t know yet. Let’s see what happens. But I will make no promises.’>
‘No promises, then.’ She took his hand and kissed it. ‘Please, call me Pauline. And when can this . . . adventure begin?’
Napoleon felt his heart beating faster as he gestured towards the arched doorway on the far side of the room. The night suddenly seemed unbearably hot. ‘My bedchamber is over there. The choice is yours.’
Pauline rose from her chair, and staring down at Napoleon she reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, so that it cascaded down over her shoulders.Then she turned away and glided across the room towards the bedchamber.
Chapter 40
‘You have to admire their sense of humour.’ Napoleon smiled as he laid down the dispatch from Alexandria and reached across the bed to stroke her back. ‘Who would have thought the English were capable of it?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s very funny,’ Pauline snapped.‘I can hardly control the mad desire to laugh like a lunatic.’
‘Be fair, my little Cleopatra.’
‘Don’t call me that! That’s what the common soldiers call me. I won’t have it, not here in my bedroom.’
‘Very well, then, Pauline it is.’ Napoleon eased himself closer to her and kissed her bare shoulder as his fingers traced their way down the gentle groove in the flesh above her spine and crept towards the upward curve of her buttocks. But she did not respond with her usual animal purr to his touch, and he withdrew his hand.
‘What’s the matter?’
Pauline opened her eyes and stared at him. ‘What do you think? You contrive to send my husband on an errand back to Paris so that we can be together without complications.Then the wretched Royal Navy capture him, hear his tale, and politely return him to Egypt. Bastards! So what are we going to do? He’ll be back in Cairo any day.’
Napoleon sighed. Another problem to deal with. The very least of his problems, he reflected. Despite his best efforts to convince the fellahinthat the French were determined to improve their lot, the natives were still ambushing patrols and murdering any stragglers, or any soldier who dared to venture out of barracks on his own.The collection of taxes was bringing in a fraction of what it should, and even though the task had been subcontracted to local tax officials the natives were adept at concealing their wealth and making any excuse to avoid paying their dues. The difficulty of winning over the local people was exacerbated by the behaviour of his own men. Despite the declared ideals of the revolution, the French soldiers were inclined to pay mere lip service to the high moral values that France was supposed to be spreading through this corner of the world.As soon as they were out of sight of their officers they were liable to loot the nearest village, and were not above raping any women who caught their eye. Napoleon had issued orders that any men found responsible for such deeds must be tried and shot at once. Already he had been obliged to sign two death warrants, and hoped that this would deter any more crimes.
‘Well?’ Pauline nudged him with her hip. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Do?’
‘About my husband!’
‘You must divorce him.There is no other way of dealing with it.’
‘Then I will have nothing. Can’t you send him away again? Somewhere dangerous . . .’
Napoleon propped himself up on an elbow and stared at her. ‘Lieutenant Fourès is a good officer. He doesn’t deserve such a fate. I will not send him to his death. Not even for you, Pauline.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about what’s happened? I don’t believe it.’
Napleon shrugged. ‘I have done the man an injustice. I will not compound it with murder. So you must divorce him. I will see that the procedure is as swift as possible.Then I will move you into quarters next to mine, and settle an allowance on you.You will live well enough, Pauline.’
‘And when you tire of me? What then? I shall be alone, with no family, no honour.What do you imagine will become of me?’
‘Pauline, how could I grow tired of you?’ Napoleon reached over to her back again and continued his caresses where he had left off, running the tips of his fingers over her buttocks and letting them slide down into the cleavage. She shut her eyes and moaned, pushing back against his touch. He leaned over her, easing her auburn tresses aside so that he could kiss the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, yes . . . Like that.’
He eased Pauline on to her back and entered her gently.
‘My love,’ she muttered. ‘Do you love me?’
‘Of course,’ Napoleon said. ‘Now that’s enough talk. More than enough. We can talk later. Much later.’
Pauline’s divorce was rushed through with what would have seemed indecent haste back in Paris, but the world of the army was less demanding in its values and barely noticed the legal formality. Except for Eugène, who served on Napoleon’s staff and for a while regarded his stepfather with frosty disdain every time they had occasion to confer. Much as he liked the young man, Napoleon felt no compulsion to try to hide his relationship with Pauline. Not after suffering the hurt and humiliation he had endured at the hands of Eugène’s mother.
Pauline continued to affect her taste for military clothing and wore the uniform of a general when she accompanied Napoleon on his tours of the province. Lieutenant Fourès accepted the situation with good grace, as a man must when he has lost out to an officer of such lofty rank with the status of a national hero. He quietly returned to his regiment where his fellow officers and his men regarded him with shaming pity until he could take it no longer. One morning he took a horse and rode into the desert, and neither man nor horse was ever seen again.
In the new year the resistance to the French occupiers increased in both scale and ferocity, despite the measures that Napoleon had taken to win over the fellahinas well as their religious and political leaders in the towns and cities.
‘Nothing we do makes a difference,’ Napoleon complained bitterly to his staff at one of his weekly briefings. ‘Now they attack us almost every day.’
Berthier coughed. ‘With respect, sir, the peasants are not involved in the resistance. It’s mostly what’s left of the Mameluke forces and the Bedouin, raiding from the desert.’
‘But who is supporting them?’ Napoleon shot back. ‘Who is feeding them? Who is passing on intelligence about our movements and the strength of our patrols? The peasant scum, that’s who.’
‘They probably have no choice in the matter, sir. The fellahinare caught between us and the enemy.They’ll swear that they are loyal to us, and the moment we pass on and the enemy turn up they’ll swear loyalty to Murad Bey.You can hardly blame them.’
‘I’m not going to blame them, Berthier. I’m going to teach them a lesson. A very hard lesson, and if they are sensible they will profit from it. I want a declaration issued. I want a thousand copies of it printed off and sent to every town and village in Egypt. From now on, if any French soldiers are murdered, there will be reprisals. If it occurs in the cities or towns then ten natives will be executed for each French life taken. If our patrols are attacked in the country then the nearest village will be burned to the ground and all livestock slaughtered.The heads of those we execute will be prominently displayed as a warning to others.’ Napoleon paused to let his words sink in, then he continued. ‘We will establish order in Egypt, gentlemen. However many lives it costs. And then we shall have peace.’
Some of the staff officers shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but no one raised any protest, and then Berthier nodded. ‘Very well, sir. I’ll see that to it that the declaration is drafted.’
‘Good.’ Napoleon felt some of the tension drain from him, and he crossed over to the window and gazed out over the rooftops of Cairo. ‘The sooner these people are on our side the better. Especially given the wider situation. Speaking of which . . . Junot, are you ready to make your report?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Junot rose to his feet and cleared his throat before he began. ‘According to our spies, the enemy still fighting us in lower Egypt amounts to some fifteen thousand mounted Arabs, and perhaps as many as fifty thousand infantry. Fortunately for us they have not evolved any effective tactics for engaging our columns. They cannot break our infantry squares and they cannot endure against our massed volleys. So they are limited to the raids that we have been dealing with. They are further weakened by internal disputes between various tribes and religious factions. Accordingly, they do not pose a significant danger to us.The real danger comes from outside.’Junot approached the large map of the region that had been painted on to the wall of the staff officers’ briefing room. He picked up a cane and raised it up to the eastern coast of the Mediterranean and lightly tapped the name of a coastal town. ‘I speak of Ahmad Pasha, the ruler of Acre and the Turkish province of Syria. Our latest report, from a merchant who called into Acre for supplies a month ago, is that Ahmad Pasha has amassed an army of fifty thousand men, together with a sizeable artillery train. He has also been feeding supplies and men across the Sinai to support the rebels opposing us in Egypt. That is why they have become more ambitious in their attacks on our forces recently. As a result the general sent a message to Ahmad Pasha demanding that this cease, and offering to agree a peace treaty.’ Junot paused. ‘The merchant reports that the officer sent to deliver the message has been executed.’
There was a ripple of angry muttering from the officers and Junot waited until they were silent again before continuing. ‘A formal protest has been sent to the Turkish Sultan in Constantinople, demanding that he censure Ahmad Pasha. That might not count for much, but if Ahmad Pasha can be made to think that he is threatened from Turkey if he leads his army against us, then at least he might think twice about throwing his lot in with Murad Bey.’ When Junot sat down, Napoleon was gazing into his courtyard. Pauline and a few of the other officers’ wives and mistresses were sitting by a fountain chatting happily. He felt tired, and in need of a break from his official duties. More than anything he desired to be in the arms of Pauline. Then at least he would be spared the weighty concerns of commanding his isolated army.
‘That is all for today, gentlemen.You are dismissed.’
