Where the Light Falls(129)
Perhaps a minute or so later, General Bonaparte removed the spectacles perched atop his narrow nose and rubbed his eyes; all side conversations ceased.
The general opened his eyes and spoke: “Citizen Fourier, what was it that you described to me earlier? Something about the mathematical genius it would have taken to build that grand pyramid that stands less than four leagues away?”
The man addressed stepped forward. André noticed that he was not in uniform like the soldiers and officers, but rather in plain clothing. He was one of Napoleon’s scholars, André guessed, one of the hundreds of scientists and mathematicians selected by the general to accompany the army on this march, to explore and record what the French found in this storied desert kingdom.
Citizen Fourier cleared his throat before answering. “Sir, the ancients possessed a thorough understanding of ratios and triangles; that is to say, they had a significant understanding of geometric principles.”
General Bonaparte flashed a brief smile. “Yes, Fourier, that has become apparent to many of us by now.” Some of the officers laughed at their commander’s quip. “But, citizen, you told me how this great structure appeared at its origin.”
“Yes, sir. At the time of its creation, it would have been covered with highly polished limestone, reflecting the sun’s light and shining like a jewel. The original pyramid would have acted like a gigantic mirror, reflecting light so powerfully as to be visible even from the heavens, a shining star on earth.”
“A shining star on earth.” The general stood up now and paced slowly before his desk. “And tomorrow, it shall be ours.” Bonaparte’s eyes flashed with an unmistakable zeal as he looked at the men assembled before him.
“My fellow soldiers and countrymen, we are on the eve of a battle that will be recalled by posterity among the likes of Alexander, Caesar, and Rameses the Great. We have crossed the sea of the Roman Empire and traversed the sands of Africa to meet a great and ancient foe. We are here not merely to advance the cause of France and the Republic of our people. No, we are here to enhance the glory of all civilization.” The general paused, letting his words take root. The tent was silent now, and all eyes, including André’s, were fixed on the young commander.
“Like our forebears of antiquity, we travel east because that is where all great men go. Great deeds are done by men who possess the boldness to travel to lands deemed unconquerable by others and master what it is they fear. Men, very soon you and your soldiers will leave your mark on history, and it is up to you to decide what that will be.”
With that, the supreme commander gazed around the tent once more. Seemingly satisfied with the impact of his words, he crossed back to his chair and took his seat. “General Kléber has informed me that our fleet remains safely moored off Aboukir Bay, with no sign of the English or that bogeyman Admiral Nelson. So the unfortunate situation of our resupply should abate soon. Furthermore, our ships traveling up the Nile with Captain Perrée should be here in a day, so the mutinous talk that has plagued this army since we left the comfort of Alexandria will cease, and you as commanders will ensure it stops at once.” With that, the general sighed and motioned a hand toward the assembly. “General Dumas, you look like one who has seen a ghost. Do the mummies lurking in their tombs frighten you?”
Dumas shifted from one foot to the other as, around him, small sputters of laughter popped up.
“These desert savages wouldn’t harm a fellow African,” General Murat said with a snicker, glancing sideways toward Dumas.
If Dumas heard Murat’s goading, he ignored it, for his gaze remained fixed on the man at the front of the tent. “Sir, it is not the dead who concern me.”
General Dumas took a cautious step forward. “General, with all deference due to your command…” Dumas paused briefly, considering his next words. “I fear that the men—to say nothing of the horses—are not prepared for this kind of warfare.”
The others in the tent became suddenly silent, all stifled laughter dissipating. General Dumas lowered his voice as he continued, and André could hardly believe his boldness: “Our enemy hovers at our flanks, striking where we are weak and vulnerable, then simply vanishes back into the desert, where our men do not wish to go. Our supply lines grow more vulnerable each day, and our reserves of water are now almost nonexistent. The soldiers have marched for weeks without bread, and those who have taken food from the Arab villages have been shot. We cannot sustain this. Perhaps if we sent an emissary to Cairo we could—”