Chapter 115 Napoleon Arrives At Cairo



July 21st, 1798, Ibrahim Bey was sitting behind his desk, his face pale as he listened to the report of the surviving Mamluk soldiers who fought the French Army that was marching towards Cairo.

"Murad Pasha is dead, Ibrahim Pasha," the Mamluk soldier announced somberly. "The French possessed a monstrous weapon that tore our lines from afar, a gun that could spit out a lot of bullets in mere seconds. It wasn't a battle... Ibrahim Pasha, it was a massacre..."

Ibrahim Bey's heart sank at the confirmation of Murad Bey's demise. The weight of the loss and the devastating power of the French's weapon weighed heavily on his shoulders. The once-mighty Mamluk army had been shattered, leaving Cairo vulnerable to the impending French invasion.

"Where is the rest of his army?" Ibrahim asked, his voice trembling with a mix of grief and concern.

"The French have taken the surviving soldiers as prisoners of war. They are now marching towards Cairo with their full force. Soon, Cairo will be a battlefield," the soldier replied dreadfully.

Ibrahim Bey clenched his fists, his mind racing to find a solution to this dire situation. With the majority of experienced Mamluk soldiers lost in the previous battle, the defense of Cairo seemed nearly impossible. The city was now left with only 2,000 Mamluk soldiers, most of whom were inexperienced and untested in combat.

"We cannot defend Cairo without Murad Bey and his troops," Ibrahim sighed, his tone growing weak. "I must make a difficult decision. I will leave this city, gather additional forces in Syria, and then we will march down to Cairo to retake it. This situation has grown worse, and it seems I will have to seek an alliance with the Ottomans once again."

"Vive la République!" they chanted, their fervor filling the air.

But amidst the jubilant cries of the French troops, the captive Mamluk soldiers could only listen, their eyes downcast and their hearts heavy with defeat. The contrast between the exultant French forces and the dejected Mamluk prisoners spoke volumes about the current state of affairs.

Napoleon hopped back onto his camel and resumed their march. Two hours later, Napoleon and the French Army arrived at the gates of Cairo.

The city of Cairo, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, greeted Napoleon and his army with an air of apprehension. Its bustling streets, lined with ancient structures and vibrant markets, now appeared subdued in the presence of the conquering force. The local Egyptian population watched from a distance, their expressions a mix of curiosity, fear, and resignation.

As the French troops entered the city, the rhythmic clatter of their marching boots echoed through the narrow alleys. The sound resonated with an imposing authority, causing the residents to retreat into the safety of their homes. Windows shuttered, doors closed, and a heavy silence settled over the city, broken only by the occasional whispers of concern.

Napoleon, ever observant, took note of the apprehensive reactions from the local population. He understood the impact his presence had on their lives and the uncertainty that now pervaded their hearts. Despite his victorious demeanor, he recognized the delicate balance he needed to strike between asserting his authority and winning the trust of the Egyptian people.

"This is where the real fight begins," Napoleon muttered under his breath.

"General Bonaparte, I bring news," Murat rode his horse next to Napoleon's camel, matching its speed.

"What is it, Murat?" Napoleon asked, his eyes fixed on the street ahead of him.

"General Bonaparte, we received this news just now. The leader of Egypt, Ibrahim Bey, Murad Bey's partner, had fled the city."

"He must be heading towards Syria," Napoleon mumbled and turned his head towards Murat. "Well, that's good, without the Mamluks and the Beys in Cairo, we effectively conquered the city of Cairo and became a master of Egypt. Now, it's time for cooperation with the locals."