Chapter 1146: The End of the Battle of the Pyramids
Naturally, Muhammad Ali was well aware that he was participating in an extremely high-stakes gamble—his previous actions had essentially been an act of defying orders on the battlefield.
However, the chips on the table were far too enticing. He was willing to risk his life for the potential rewards.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, a sudden commotion broke out among the defenders on the outskirts of Cairo. Before long, soldiers began casting aside their weapons and fleeing back into the city in a frantic retreat.
An officer galloped up to Muhammad Ali, shouting breathlessly in Albanian, "My Lord, the Egyptians are retreating!
"According to the soldiers we captured, Ibrahim's main force has been crushed by the French. Over a hundred thousand French soldiers are expected to cross the Nile by tomorrow morning."
Muhammad Ali’s expression remained as calm as ever. He mounted his horse and rode to the front lines to personally oversee the pursuit of the routed enemy.
No one saw him let out a long, heavy sigh of relief the moment he raised his riding crop.
The following morning, Muhammad Ali rode slowly outside the walls of Cairo, his eyes fixed intently on the ancient and prosperous city.
An officer caught up to him, calling out anxiously, "My Lord, the troops in Cairo have all scattered. If we launch an attack now, we can occupy the city immediately. Why are you..."
He knew perfectly well that Cairo was within his grasp, but he was waiting for news from the other side of the river.
Without French support, the most he could hope for was the military merit of "capturing Cairo," which might not even outweigh the penalty for his insubordination.
He wanted far more than just a bit of credit.
He waited until noon, when a French messenger dressed in Egyptian attire finally arrived and handed him a letter.
Muhammad Ali scanned the contents quickly, a smile spreading across his face. He pressed his hand to his chest in a respectful salute and said in French, "Please convey my sincerest gratitude to General Masséna. I shall follow his instructions to the letter."
As soon as the Frenchman departed, he turned to his officers. "Order the troops to enter the city immediately. Maintain order at all key points.
"Restrain your soldiers strictly. No one is to pillage any Mamluk, and under no circumstances are they to be harmed."
The officers looked at each other in dismay. One asked cautiously, "My Lord, but if they attack us..."
"That will not happen. They will welcome me into the Governor’s Palace with a grand ceremony."
Hours later, to the cheerful melodies of the ney and kamancheh, hundreds of Mamluk nobles led the citizens from the eastern gate of Cairo to escort Muhammad Ali all the way to the Governor's Palace.
Inside the palace hall, the officers of the Albanian Legion watched in astonishment as Cairo's officials and religious leaders presented their commander with chest after chest of exquisite, expensive gifts.
A grand banquet followed. The entire city of Cairo celebrated as if they had just achieved a victory over the Ottoman army.
At the same time.
Abdullah was leading nearly four thousand Mamluk cavalry across the Nile, landing on the eastern bank.
He did not attack the newly occupied Cairo. On the contrary, Algerian officers soon arrived, leading camel trains from the city to deliver vast quantities of bread, oats, and other supplies to his men.
The next day, Abdullah ordered the army to move toward Obor along the southern edge of the desert—the location where Raif's main Ottoman force was currently stationed.
Mounted on his horse, Abdullah gazed at the vast expanse of yellow sand and couldn't help but recall his conversation with Ibrahim Bey from the previous night.
"Are you saying we should support a minor Ottoman officer as Governor?"
"Yes," Ibrahim had nodded. "The French have promised that if we do this, they will release our soldiers and guarantee that no Mamluk will be harmed. They even promised not to make major changes to the official positions in Cairo."
"But..."
"Execute my orders!"
Ibrahim barked the command, then glanced at the French soldiers guarding the tent entrance. He lowered his voice and continued:
"An officer with no local roots is far easier to handle than a high official sent from Constantinople. Besides, he will definitely have to rely on us to govern Egypt. In ten or twenty years, we can marginalize him again, just as we have done with every previous Ottoman Governor."
He patted Abdullah on the shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. "Remember, resistance flows in Mamluk blood. We bow our heads today only so we can rise again tomorrow!"
Abdullah had bowed his head. "I understand, Lord Bey."
Ibrahim continued, "Tomorrow, gather the cavalry that can still fight and head to Obor..."
Abdullah’s eyes had widened. "Lord Bey, the Ottoman main force still has over forty thousand men, and our soldiers are exhausted. It might be difficult to..."
A nearby Mamluk officer interrupted his thoughts now, whispering with a grimace, "My Lord, perhaps we should rest for a few days first. If we attack Raif like this, it might be very difficult..."
Abdullah smiled. "Do not worry. The Ottomans will stick their own necks out for us to cut."
"What?"
A day later, Abdullah's army arrived near the Harazuni Wadi southwest of Obor. They immediately went into hiding in the desert near the upper reaches of the dry riverbed.
On the other side, Raif was still planning to rest his troops at Obor, intending to wait for the French to begin their assault on Cairo before moving in to coordinate.
Just then, a French messenger brought news. It wasn't about a French attack, however; it was the news that Muhammad Ali had seized Cairo while Ibrahim’s main force was away.
Raif was stunned.
As the commander-in-chief of this offensive against the Mamluks, he was still eating sand in Obor with tens of thousands of troops while an obscure Albanian officer had snatched the glory of taking Cairo!
He hurriedly inquired about the situation in the city. Upon hearing that the Mamluk forces had completely scattered, he immediately ordered the entire army to march toward Cairo at maximum speed.
He was terrified that Muhammad Ali would finish looting all the wealthy Mamluks before he got there.
Furthermore, if he arrived quickly, he could intercept Muhammad Ali's report to the Sultan.
'The report of this great victory must be written by my hand!' he thought.
And so, the Ottoman army hastily formed ranks and began a forced march toward Cairo.
However, just as Raif’s vanguard crossed the Harazuni Wadi, they suddenly felt the ground begin to tremble slightly.
Raif was completely unprepared for battle—Cairo had been taken, so what organized army could possibly be left in Egypt?
Soon, a dark mass of cavalry appeared on the horizon.
Because he hadn't even sent out scouts, it wasn't until he could see the distinctive feathers in the caps of the approaching riders that he cried out in terror:
"Form ranks! It's the Mamluk cavalry!"
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