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Cairo: June 1800

Kléber’s death at the hands of Suleiman al-Halabi reinvigorated the Egyptian Resistance. The assassination of the supreme French commander gave them hope that they could do even more, that the myth of the invincible French invader was on its way to oblivion. At the same time, the French contingent was weakened and demoralized by the death of their leader. A grand military funeral was held for him. His coffin was draped with the French flag, and a military march played as a carriage drew it slowly through the streets, followed by rows of officers, soldiers, and the men of the Scientific Campaign. The populace turned out in the streets to view the funeral of the French commander on his way to his final resting place, with triumph in their gloating eyes. At the same time that Kléber was being buried to the tune of a military march, his assassin, Suleiman al-Halabi, was impaled on a spear, having been sentenced to this horrible death. His body was strung up in the city’s largest square to be seen by everyone who came and went, and people crowded beneath the body, cheering for him and throwing flowers.

General Menou was appointed in Kléber’s stead. He was less brutal than those who had gone before him, politically minded and more liberal. In any case, the Campaign was breathing its last. Agreements and treaties were signed between both parties, culminating in the Campaign leaving Egyptian soil. Life returned to Egypt, to its inhabitants, streets and thoroughfares, to its skies, its earth, its Nile. The invader was gathering up the remnants of itself to leave, after two years pressing down on them and cutting off their air. Since he had come into the country, every door had locked its misery in behind it, the streets had darkened, and bodies and severed heads and human remains floated to the surface of the Nile. In the night, in the darkened dungeons of the Citadel, the screams and groans of innocents rang out, imprisoned without charge and forgotten in its depths. It was time for a new day to dawn; it was time for the houses of Egypt to open their doors and windows to the sun. At last, there were no circulars posted on the doors and walls bearing rigid and strict laws and long lists of prohibitions. The printing presses no longer printed French newspapers, their front pages emblazoned with images of people killed and hanged for contravening military decrees. Most importantly, the French soldiers no longer sauntered through the streets in their dismal uniforms.

The Egyptians celebrated and exchanged congratulations. Trays bearing juices, beverages, rice pudding, and delicacies of all kinds were passed around. Women let out ululations, taking off their black clothing and donning bright colors. The wealthy slaughtered camels and sheep, handing out gifts of meat and holding banquets. Others took to avenging themselves and exacting punishment against those who had supported the Campaign and stood by the French: the merchants who had had dealings with them, the judges who ruled in their favor, the Azharite imams who had failed to condemn them, the rich landowners who had had business dealings with them, the women who had offered themselves to the men of the Campaign—even the café boys were not safe from those who wanted to settle scores.

And Zeinab was Napoleon’s lover. What would they do to her, an Egyptian girl who made free with her honor and accepted the position of mistress to General Bonaparte? It was she who had gone around proudly in the streets with her face unveiled, as if to say, “I am Napoleon’s mistress: who would dare reproach me?”

No one cared to find out the truth of her relationship with him, whether or not he had ever touched her. The mere fact that Napoleon’s carriage had stopped outside the home of Sheikh al-Bakri to take Zeinab to his debauched parties was damning evidence of her crimes. Zeinab was not an ordinary Egyptian girl—she was the daughter of Naqib al-Ashraf (the Head of the Prophet’s Descendants) and a high-ranking imam of al-Azhar—and so her crime was multiplied, its punishment redoubled.