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Chapter 1142: An "Outing" in Egypt

After several volleys from Masséna's artillery, the Mamluk defenders outside the port scattered in an instant.

Following this, the French infantry encountered almost no resistance as they stormed into the port from both the east and the south.

Ottoman officials accompanying the French army immediately stepped forward to restore order in the Port of Alexandria. By dusk that day, the French soldiers were already feasting on a dinner of roasted lamb served with mashed fava beans, provided by the locals.

After a brief period of rest and reorganization, Masséna began leading his army eastward along the Nile.

This was a stark contrast to the historical situation where Napoleon had to maintain order everywhere in Egypt. Because France had the endorsement of the Ottoman Empire—Egypt's theoretical suzerain—the common people remained remarkably calm. Some even took the initiative to bring logistics and supplies to the French forces.

Masséna remained on high alert throughout the journey. He constantly scanned the surrounding terrain with his telescope, refusing to let his troops pass through any area until cavalry had scouted it at least three times.

Nevertheless, the journey remained exceptionally smooth. A day later, they arrived at the major town of Damanhur. This was a critical source of water and supplies in northern Egypt. By securing this location, the French army had essentially established a firm foothold in the country.

Damanhur was still largely undefended. Masséna’s Legion didn't even stop there, pressing further south along the Nile.

After a week of intense marching, the majestic Pyramids finally appeared before Masséna’s eyes.

What he didn't realize was that Napoleon had taken a full twenty days to cover this same distance in another timeline. Back then, to avoid Mamluk ambushes, Napoleon's men had been forced to march through the deep desert for extended periods. Nearly a thousand soldiers had perished from thirst or disease along the way.

This time, however, France was acting in coordination with the Ottomans. Two weeks prior, tens of thousands of Ottoman troops had already entered the Sinai Peninsula in eastern Egypt.

The Mamluk forces were almost entirely focused on the Ottoman army, never suspecting a sudden strike from the west.

Consequently, Joseph had decisively ordered Masséna to stick to the Nile. Not only was the distance shorter, but there were also ample supplies along the route.

Reality mirrored his predictions perfectly; the entire west bank of the Nile was completely undefended.

Historically, the Battle of Chobrakit—a grueling engagement for the French—didn't even take place.

The French generals gazed through their telescopes at the Pyramids, which rose like mountains from the desert sands, and couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

Marmont, the artillery commander, excitedly rode his horse to Masséna’s side and called out, "General, I haven't seen even a glimpse of the enemy. If we cross the Nile now, we can form a pincer movement with the Ottoman forces against Cairo by tomorrow noon!"

The main body of Cairo was built on the east bank of the Nile; the west was primarily agricultural and held little strategic value.

Recalling the Crown Prince's instructions, Masséna shook his head. "No, we wait right here."

A signalman ran over to report, "General, we've confirmed the signal from the opposite bank."

"The Ottomans sure are losing quickly. Good thing we didn't arrive late." Masséna turned to Marmont. "Set up your artillery positions nearby immediately and fire a few rounds toward Cairo."

Marmont’s eyes widened in surprise. "But there are no enemies there!"

"Correct," Masséna nodded. "But once you start firing, they will come."

On the west bank of the Nile...

Murad, one of the two great Mamluk Beys, listened to the distant roar of cannons. He looked irritably at the cavalry officer beside him. "Where are the French?"

"Approximately three kilometers west of Imbaba Village, Bey," the officer replied, adding, "There are at least ten thousand soldiers."

In the local units of measure, they were about half a farsakh away, a distance of roughly three kilometers.

Murad grew even more agitated.

Imbaba was less than ten kilometers from Cairo. The French could be at the city gates at any moment. Meanwhile, he only had four thousand cavalry under his command—the main Mamluk force was currently led by Ibrahim, fighting the Ottomans east of Cairo. This small force wouldn't be enough to stop ten thousand Frenchmen.

Just then, an Egyptian officer sprinted over and bowed to Murad. "Bey, the Great Bey has ordered you to clear the riverbank immediately. His cavalry is crossing the river."

The "Great Bey" was the internal title the Mamluks used for Ibrahim.

Murad’s eyes nearly bulged. "Crossing the river? What about Cairo?"

The officer explained hurriedly, "The Great Bey successfully ambushed the left wing of Raif's forces this morning, routing the Ottoman army. The enemy’s vanguard has already retreated near Obour.

"Having heard that the French are approaching, the Great Bey decided to take this opportunity to join you in repelling them first to avoid being caught in a pincer movement."

Murad was overjoyed. Obour was twenty-five kilometers from Cairo; it was unlikely the Ottomans would be able to launch another offensive for at least two days.

It wasn't that the Mamluks had suddenly become stronger, but rather that the Ottoman forces were pathetically weak.

The Janissaries went without saying, but even the new batch of "New Order" troops were merely thrown together during training. After three years of idling in Constantinople, they were now barely indistinguishable from the old army.

In contrast, the Mamluks had maintained rigorous traditional training to preserve their status as a military elite. Against the Ottomans, they were undoubtedly a force of veterans.

Thus, when Ibrahim spotted a gap in the Ottoman flank, he decisively gathered over ten thousand cavalry and launched a charge, easily shattering Raif’s formation.

Had it not been for the French threat, Ibrahim might have driven the Ottoman army all the way back east of Suez.

Murad quickly ordered his men to clear the riverbank and asked the officer, "How many troops are reinforcing the west bank?"

"Eight thousand cavalry, ten thousand infantry, and twelve cannons."

Murad’s gaze toward Imbaba Village shifted.

Combined with his own troops, they had over ten thousand elite Mamluk cavalry—more than enough to trample an equal number of French infantry into the dust.

The ferry business on both banks of the Nile was highly developed. By ten o'clock the following morning, Ibrahim's entire army had arrived on the west bank.

The two supreme Mamluk commanders then led their forces toward the vicinity of Imbaba Village.

When the scouts reported that the French were still three kilometers west of the village, Murad couldn't help but sneer.

"It’s been a day and a half, and they haven’t even managed to occupy this tiny village."

Ibrahim pondered for a moment. 'Perhaps their supplies haven't caught up. This is the perfect chance to crush them.'

He turned and gestured to his herald. "Order Abdullah to deploy a defensive line with his back to Imbaba! The cavalry will follow me in a frontal assault!"

On the other side, in the French camp, a signalman reported rapidly to Masséna, "General, the enemy is approaching and is now three kilometers away. Their cavalry is split into two parts: eight thousand are massing in front of us, while another two thousand are flanking our left wing."