The Generals

Chapter 45

‘Having maintained ourselves in the heat of Syria for three months, with only a handful of men, after capturing forty guns and six thousand prisoners; after razing the fortifications of Gaza, Jaffa, Haifa and Acre, we shall return to Egypt. I am obliged to go back there because it is the season of the year when hostile landings may be expected.’

Junot finished reading the proclamation aloud and Napoleon nodded with satisfaction. ‘It strikes a suitably uplifting tone, I think.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Junot agreed in a measured voice. ‘But the fact is that Acre is still in Turkish hands. I wonder if the men will really share your view of our, er, success?’

Napoleon frowned at his subordinate. ‘I’m not a fool, Junot. I know we’ve failed. But I can hardly say that to the men, particularly as we face a hard march back to Egypt. But if they believe that I believe we have achieved something it will put some heart back into them. Got it?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then have that copied and distributed to the army at once. On your way out, send Dr Desgenettes in.’

Junot saluted and strode through the tent flaps. Napoleon shifted uneasily on his chair.The next interview was going to be a difficult affair but there was no putting the matter off. As soon as the heavy guns had exhausted their ammunition they were to be spiked before the rearguard pulled back, following the rest of the army. Once the French army began to retreat the enemy would close up on them and harass the column all the way back to the fortified depot at Katia.The army would have to march as fast as it could, and that meant some sacrifices would have to be made, Napoleon reflected. He glanced up as a figure entered the tent.

‘You sent for me, sir.’ Dr Desgenettes stood hat in hand before Napoleon’s desk. He looked pale and exhausted and there was several days’ growth of stubble on his face.

‘Yes. Sit down, doctor.’ Napoleon clasped his hands together as he continued. ‘You know that the army is about to break camp?’

Desgenettes nodded. ‘Junot told me about the retreat, yes.’

Napoleon smiled faintly. ‘The correct term is withdrawal, doctor . . .We will be abandoning the heavy guns, and any other burdens that might slow us down, and that’s why I need to speak to you.’

Desgenettes looked confused for a moment before he realised what his commander was implying, and then his expression instantly changed to anger.‘The men in the hospital.You want to leave them behind? Have you any idea what the enemy will do to them, sir?’

‘They could be treated fairly.’

‘After what happened to the prisoners at Jaffa? If we left them to the Turks we’d be committing murder, sir.’

‘Then, if we cannot take them with us, let’s not leave them to the Turks.’

Desgenette’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you suggesting, sir?’

Napoleon paused, frustrated that the man was forcing him to spell it out. ‘I’m suggesting that for those men who are too sick to move, or who would slow us down, an overdose of opium might be the most humane solution.’

‘You would kill our men?’

‘Not me. You. I want this task carried out by someone who knows what to do.’

‘Sir, I am a doctor - a healer, not a killer.’

‘Is it not the case that a doctor’s duty is to alleviate pain and suffering?’

‘Do not dissemble with me, sir.’ Desgenettes shook his head. ‘I refuse to do it.’

‘It is not a request. It is an order. If you disobey me you will be committing mutiny.’

Desgenettes slapped his chest. ‘Then shoot me! I will not kill our countrymen.’ He paused a moment and looked at Napoleon shrewdly.‘But then I’m forgetting.They’re not your countrymen, sir.’

Napoleon took a sharp intake of breath. ‘How dare you speak to me like that! Doctor, you forget yourself. I am your general and while you wear a uniform you are a soldier first and a doctor second.’

‘My medical oath takes precedence, sir. In any and all circumstances.And you will have to shoot me and my staff before you reach my patients. Then you’ll have to murder them yourselves. I hardly think the rest of the army will approve of such actions, however much they revere General Bonaparte.’

Napoleon glared at him for a long time, wanting more than anything to have this man immediately taken outside and shot for his insubordination, but he knew that the army would not stand for that. Desgenettes, like most doctors, enjoyed the respect, gratitude and open affection of the common soldiers. It would be dangerous to harm the man, Napoleon realised. He forced himself to smile.

‘Very well, doctor, there are now over two thousand men on the sick list. How do you propose to move them?’

‘A good number of them are walking wounded. The rest can be carried on horses, camels and stretchers. At least as far as Jaffa, where we can put them on ships.’

Napoleon considered the proposal. The siege would be lifted in three days. Time enough to move the sick and wounded to Jaffa. He looked at Desgenettes and nodded. ‘Very well, doctor, you have convinced me. Make the arrangements immediately. You can draw on men from Lannes’s division to act as stretcher-bearers. Now, leave me.’

The rearguard had spiked the siege guns during the night, and as dawn broke on 20 May huge columns of smoke billowed into the sky as General Reynier’s men set fire to the supplies and equipment that were being abandoned by the French army. As soon as the rearguard pulled back, the Turks in Acre swarmed out of the gates to pursue them, forcing Reynier to skirmish all the way to Jaffa. Napoleon had arrived in the port a day earlier and was shocked to discover that only a handful of small ships remained. The houses and merchants’ storerooms along the quay were packed with sick and wounded men.

‘Where is Admiral Perée?’ he demanded.

‘The admiral sailed for Alexandria yesterday, sir,’ Berthier replied.

‘Why? I gave him orders to take Desgenette’s patients on board.’

‘The admiral said he could not risk having any plague victims on his ships. He also said that he must leave before the Royal Navy blockaded the port.’

‘Damn the admiral to hell,’ Napoleon muttered in fury as he gazed at the men slumped in the shade along the quay. The transfer of the sick and injured from Acre had exhausted the patients, and those assigned to help them. Only a small number of them could be found berths in the vessels that remained in the harbour.

‘Tell Desgenettes to have the worst cases loaded on to these ships as soon as possible. Those who are too sick to move, and those who are least likely to recover, are to remain in Jaffa. Tell him that they must be dealt with humanely after all.’

Berthier looked at him curiously but Napoleon just shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll understand the order well enough.’

As the last ships put to sea Napoleon and the rest of the army began the march south along the coast.The wounded who were forced to walk did their best to keep up, and for the first few days their comrades did all that they could to help them along. Then, as exhaustion, hunger and thirst began to take their toll on the men, the weakest were left to fend for themselves, and the tormented cries of stragglers taken and tortured by the enemy haunted the men gathered round the campfires each night. The army trudged into Gaza on the last day of May and filled their canteens and haversacks with the remainder of the rations as they steeled themselves for the crossing of the Sinai desert.

By day the Sinai was smothered by blistering heat that sapped the very last dregs of energy from the men as they limped forward with cracked lips and parched throats. Those of the injured who died were unceremoniously pitched into the sand and left to feed the carrion that swirled in lazy circles as they followed the army across the wasteland. Discipline became as fragile as the bodies that depended on it, and the hostility of the men was evident in their glares and the bitter tone of their muttering whenever Napoleon and his staff rode by. So Napoleon gave up his horse to help carry the wounded, and ordered his staff to do the same, and they walked the rest of the way, alongside the straggling columns of their men.

At last, four days later, the first soldiers arrived at Katia, under the horrified gaze of those watching from the walls of the fortified village. The men of the army that had invaded Syria were barely comprehensible as they croaked their requests for food and water, and when these were brought to them they tore at the food and drank like wild animals.

As Napoleon watched them emerge from the desert and sink down in the shade of Katia’s buildings he had little doubt that the army bore the brand of defeat. Nearly two and a half thousand had died in battle or of the plague. A similar number were sick or wounded, and would not be fit to serve again for some weeks, if at all. Over a third of the army that had set out in high spirits to carve a swath through the Turkish empire had been lost, and would not be replaced.

That much was clear now. There would be no fleet sent from France with reinforcements. Napoleon and his army had been abandoned by the Directory, something the men would realise soon enough. And when they did his authority over them would be tenuous at best. Napoleon had no desire to let Egypt be the end of his career. The future, his future, lay back in Europe. The question was, how could he justify leaving his army and returning to France?

As he pondered this question, Napoleon let his shattered army rest for several days. Uniforms were cleaned and patched.

Weapons were issued to those who had lost theirs and the men set to polishing their buttons and whitening their cross belts in preparation for the triumphal entry into Cairo that Napoleon announced to his men shortly before the understrength battalions began their march from Katia across the Nile delta to the capital. The celebrations, speeches, awards of decorations and presentations of swords and prizes lasted the whole day, and then the men were issued with the very last of the wine and spirits that had been landed with the army nearly a year ago. As the streets of Cairo echoed with the shouts and laughter of drunken revellers Napoleon retired to his bechamber with Pauline Fourès.

‘Can’t you have someone tell them to be quiet?’ Pauline nodded to the shutters as she unlaced her bodice, and flung it across the back of a chair. ‘Thank God I’m out of that. I thought those ceremonies would never end.’

‘Pauline, right now I need to give them anything I can to help bolster their spirits. After the Syrian experience, and the revolts Desaix had to deal with in my absence, their morale has never been lower.They’ve not seen France for over a year, and as things stand they don’t know when they will again. So you do as I say and humour them.’

‘Very well.’ Her lips opened in a seductive smile. ‘Now, can I humour you, my general?’

Napoleon crossed over to her and enclosed her bare body in his embrace, relishing the smooth skin of her back as he ran a hand down towards her hip.

‘You’ve no idea how much I have missed this.’

‘This?’ She laughed playfully and reached a hand behind to pat her bottom. ‘Just this?’

‘Just that.’ He laughed, and she playfully swatted his shoulder. ‘And all that is attached to it.’

A sudden outburst of singing rose up from the street outside Napoleon’s garden and Pauline turned towards the shutters again. ‘I can’t be passionate with that racket going on.’

‘Then don’t be passionate.’ Napoleon led her towards the bed and started pulling off his clothes. ‘Get on the bed.’

Pauline raised her eyebrows in amusement, but did as she was told. As she lay bathed in the moonlight that pierced the shutters, Napoleon tore off his boots, then stockings, trousers and underwear in one, and climbed on top of her, pushing her thighs apart and penetrating her with a gasp of pleasure, and then making love to her as vigorously as he had ever done to any woman before.

‘I think you really needed that,’ Pauline smiled shortly afterwards. ‘I take it there weren’t too many available women on campaign?’

‘Not enough to go round. In any case, I was busy fighting a war.’

Pauline was silent for a moment, before she continued softly, ‘Was it as bad as they say? I’ve heard some terrible stories in the last few days.’

‘They’re all true.’ Napoleon rolled off her, made himself comfortable on his side and then rested his head on her soft stomach.‘The Army of the Orient is all but finished.We can hold on for a few more months, maybe a year. But disease and the fighting will see to us all in the end. Unless we quit Egypt.’

‘Quit Egypt? How? We have no ships and the Directory will not send us any more.’ Pauline stroked his head. ‘Anyway, is it so bad here? I’ve never been happier, living in a palace, with a famous general as a lover. All that would be lost if I returned home.’

‘Unless I return to France I will not be a famous general much longer,’ Napoleon replied quietly. ‘I must get back to France. I am needed there.’

‘You’re needed here. I need you. Your men need you. If you left, how long do you think they would last?’

‘France’s need is greater.’

‘Your need, you mean.’

Napoleon shrugged.‘It is the same thing at the end of the day. Or will be.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’ Napoleon propped himself up and looked at her with a grin. ‘I need you again.’

‘What a romantic you are.’ Pauline narrowed her eyes. ‘You’ve spent far too much time in the company of that lot.’ She jerked her thumb towards the shutters.

Napoleon chuckled and eased himself on to his back, pulling her over on top of him. As Pauline felt his penis hardening, she ground herself down on him and whispered, ‘Promise me.When you leave Egypt, you’ll take me with you.’

‘Who said I was leaving?’

‘Just promise me.’

‘All right then, I promise.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Now, no more teasing. Make me forget everything that exists outside this room.’

Just three weeks after the celebrations of the army’s return to Cairo a Turkish fleet, escorted by Sir Sidney Smith’s squadron, anchored in Aboukir Bay and began to land troops. As soon as General Kléber’s messenger arrived he was ushered into Napoleon’s presence. Napoleon glanced through the dispatch and looked up at the dusty messenger.‘You are to return at once. Tell Kléber not to confront them. He is to wait in Alexandria until I join him with the rest of the forces we can spare. He is to avoid battle under any circumstances. Clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then go.’

As the messenger saluted, turned and strode away Napoleon rapped out a series of orders to Berthier to prepare the army to march immediately. They left Cairo the same day that the news had arrived, ten thousand infantry and a thousand cavalry under Murat. They took six days to march up the Nile as far as Rahmaniya and then cut across the desert towards Aboukir. At any moment Napoleon was expecting news that the enemy had marched on Alexandria, yet there was no message from Kléber and Napoleon could not help wondering if that was because Kléber was already under siege, or, worse, had already been overwhelmed. As they drew near to Alexandria, Napoleon rode ahead with his staff until they had Aboukir in view. The bay was filled with Turkish ships, and towering above them were the masts and spars of two warships of the Royal Navy. On the point overlooking the western approach to the bay stood a fortress.

Clearly visible on its ramparts, and teeming across the narrow strip of land that linked the fortress to the mainland, were the enemy forces.

‘It doesn’t look as if they’ve moved since stepping ashore,’ Berthier mused. ‘There must be ten . . . maybe fifteen thousand of them. They could have taken Alexandria with ease. What the hell are they still doing here?’

‘I can’t see any horses,’ Napoleon said as he gazed through his telescope. ‘There’s your answer. Their cavalry must still be at sea.’

‘No cavalry?’ Murat sounded disappointed and Napoleon smiled.

‘Never mind, Murat. You will have to content yourself with the enemy’s infantry. Berthier, go back to the army and order the men to march on Aboukir.We’ll attack as soon as they are in line.’

‘What about Kléber’s division, sir? Shall I send for him?’

‘No. We can’t afford to wait. If any of those ships in the bay are carrying horses, they’ll have a chance to land them if we wait for Kléber.’

Berthier turned his horse and galloped back towards the faint column of dust that marked the head of the French army approaching across the desert. As Napoleon continued to examine the Turkish positions it was clear that they had made extensive additions to the defences of the fortress, and dug three lines of trenches, supported by several bastions, across the neck of land, each of which was defended by thousands of soldiers. Janissaries, Napoleon surmised, if this army had been transported from Turkey.

He lowered his telescope and shook his head. ‘It’s hard to believe that they have just sat on their backsides and handed the initiative to us. What kind of general would be so foolish?’

‘One who is about to be kicked into the sea,’ Murat grinned.

As the French army deployed in front of the first trench the Turkish troops began to beat their drums and the harsh blare of trumpets sounded across the dusty open ground between the armies. Some of the enemy guns, mounted in the nearest bastions, opened fire but the range was long and the heavy iron balls merely kicked up plumes of sand and grit well ahead of the first French line. The moment the last unit was in position Napoleon gave the order to attack, starting with Lannes on the left flank. The guns of Lannes’s division advanced towards the enemy and unlimbered. Moments later the first cannon boomed out across the open ground as they pounded the embrasures of the nearest bastion. Once the enemy guns were knocked out General Lannes gave the order to advance, and with colours unfurled and drums beating the battalions of his division rolled forward.

As the French bombardment ceased the janissaries rose up in their trenches and raised their muskets. There was no attempt to hold fire until the French had approached to within lethally close range and the Turkish troops wasted their first shots in a ragged crackle of musketry that felled only a handful of men before Lannes’s division reached the first trench and halted to pour a single devastating volley into the dense ranks of the enemy massed before them. The effect was just as Napoleon had envisaged and as the gunpowder smoke cleared in the sea breeze, he saw that the enemy had broken and were streaming back towards the second trench. The panic spread along the first line, so that General Destaing’s brigade did not even have the chance to fire at the enemy opposite them before they too broke and ran to the shelter of the next line of defence.

From his horse Napoleon could see that the men of the second line were made of sterner stuff and withheld their first volley until the attacking columns were close. The shattering effect of their fire stalled Lannes’s men a short distance from the second trench, and they deployed into line and exchanged fire with the janissaries. As he watched, Napoleon noticed a peculiar aspect of the fight. Every so often, a janissary would leap out of his trench and race towards the nearest French body. Most were shot down before they reached the corpses, but one, faster than his comrades, raced forward, swung his curved blade down and cut off the head, which he tucked under his arm as he turned and sprinted back to his own lines. He didn’t make it. A shot caught him in the centre of the back and he pitched forward and twitched feebly on the ground.

Even though he did not doubt that the enemy’s second line would cave in before the disciplined fire of the French troops, Napoleon did not want to lose any more men than necessary and decided the time had come for Murat’s cavalry to deliver the blow that would shatter the enemy’s will to continue the fight. As soon as the order was received, Murat trotted his horse to the front of the cavalry formation and bellowed the command to advance. It was as brave a sight as Napoleon had ever seen, and he felt his heart swell with pride, and only a little anxiety, as the lines of horsemen walked forward, slowly gathering pace as they crossed the abandoned first line of defence, then breaking into a trot before finally charging the enemy.

Murat’s cavalry tore into and through the second line, scattering the Turkish forces before them. Sabres glittered in the midday sun as the horsemen hacked and slashed at the fleeing men. Fear preceded them and the Turks in the last trench turned and ran without even firing a shot. Clambering out of their positions, some made for the safety of the fortress above them; many more ran towards the beach and waded out into the surf, hoping to swim to safety. The cavalry rode after them until the sea was up to the flanks of their mounts, and all the time the riders were cutting down the men in the water around them, turning it red as the day wore on.

The killing stopped late in the afternoon and Napoleon rode forward with Berthier to inspect the battlefield. Thousands of enemy dead lay piled in the trenches and scattered across the open ground between. Mingled with them were the French dead and wounded and Napoleon hurriedly detailed the nearest soldiers to help their injured comrades down to the dressing stations Desgenettes had established just behind the army’s original battle line. Over a thousand of the enemy had managed to reach the fortress and even now General Menou was busy reversing the defences of the last trench so that the defenders were now trapped there. As night fell, Napoleon returned to his tent to dictate a report of the battle to be sent to the Directory aboard the fast packet ship that communicated between France and Alexandria, when it could be assured of a route clear of English warships. The victory at Aboukir had smashed the Sultan’s chances of driving the French out of Egypt for the next year, or possibly two. Napoleon phrased his report with the usual glowing praise for the gallantry of the men and their commanders. It was true the French had suffered nearly a thousand casualties, but they had smashed the cream of the Sultan’s forces.

The next day an envoy landed from the Turkish fleet still anchored in the bay, asking permission to collect the Turkish wounded and take them on board the ships to carry them home. At first Napoleon was tempted to deny the request. But there had been more than enough suffering already, and he relented. As the Turkish seamen began to load the wounded janissaries aboard the ships’ boats being held steady in the surf, the envoy approached with a package of newspapers bound with string tucked under one arm. He paused a short distance from Napoleon as the guides relieved him of his sword, knife and pistol, then continued forward, proffering the bundled newspapers.

‘My master, Sir Sidney Smith, bids me to offer these to you in gratitude for the return of our wounded. They are the latest editions to reach the fleet, and are as current as anything that General Bonaparte’s army has read in months.’

‘The Directory is losing the war,’ Napoleon announced to his inner circle of senior officers: Berthier, Lannes and Murat. He had summoned them to his office as soon as he had returned to Cairo. The contents of the newspapers Smith had sent him had been carefully sifted before being circulated via the army’s official journal, and only a handful of men had been permitted to know the full details of events in Europe. Napoleon did not bother to hide his bitterness as he continued. ‘Almost everything that we gained in Italy has been lost to Austria. In Germany our armies have been beaten back towards the French border and in Paris the factions plot against each other with no thought of the men fighting and dying for France.The war will be lost, the revolution will be crushed and France will return to the tyranny of the Bourbons, unless the situation changes.’ He paused and glanced round at the others. ‘Or unless the situation is changed, by us.’

Berthier coughed.‘By us? How can we change anything from here, sir? You’ve said it yourself, we have been abandoned by the Directory. They might as well have forgotten we exist.’

‘Very well, then,’ Napoleon responded. ‘If we can’t influence events from Egypt, then we must return to France.’

Murat laughed. ‘Return to France? And how do you propose we do that, sir? March the army back into Syria, through Turkey, across the Balkans, over the Alps, and back through Italy? I warrant we’d get as far as the Sinai before the troops mutinied and shot us all.’

‘Then we go by ourselves, and leave the army here.’

The three generals looked at Napoleon in shocked silence. It was Lannes who responded first. ‘Abandon the army?’

‘They would hardly be abandoned,’ Napoleon countered. ‘I will leave Kléber in command. After the defeat at Aboukir Bay it’ll be a while before the Turks mount any further invasions. If the situation here worsens then the army can be evacuated at a later date. I give my word on that.’

‘As long as you can persuade the Directory to send the ships.’

‘My dear Lannes.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘I think the Directory is a spent force in France. The people, and more important the army, are desperate for a change. They crave a government with the will to act decisively and save the revolution. France needs strong men, now more than ever. It is our patriotic duty to return to France and do what we can to save her.’

There was a moment’s silence before Berthier said, ‘My general, you know I would follow you anywhere, but what exactly do you intend to do if . . . when we reach France, when we reach Paris?’

‘It’s impossible to say exactly. We’ll have to see what the situation is when we arrive. But let’s assume, for the moment, that conditions are ripe for leading France in a new direction.’ Napoleon’s eyes glinted as he opened his hands to gesture to his three subordinates.‘Why should it not be we who determine the course of that new direction? Are we not patriots? Have we not risked our lives for France on the battlefield? Who better, or more deserving, to lead the nation forward to victory, and peace?’

Lannes shook his head. ‘You are talking treason, sir.’

‘Treason? What have I ever done to betray France? No.This is not treason. Treason is what those corrupt politicians in Paris practise every day they mismanage the war and drive our people into poverty.’ Napoleon stabbed his finger down on the table. ‘The time for change has come, Lannes. All that matters now is to determine which side you are on.’

Lannes looked at Napoleon with a hurt expression. ‘General, I am on your side, and at your side, whatever happens, until the day I die.’

Napoleon nodded. ‘Thank you. And you, Berthier? Murat? Are you with me?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then it is settled. Never forget, my friends, that we do this for France, and for no other reason.’

‘When do we leave?’ asked Berthier. ‘I will need time to plan for the transfer of authority to Kléber, and to brief my replacement here.’

‘There will be no mention of this to anyone outside this room,’ said Napoleon. ‘If word got out then the morale of the men would sink like a rock. We’d risk a mutiny.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘There are two frigates at Alexandria, provisioned and ready to sail at a moment’s notice. In addition to you three, I will be taking my personal servant, Roustam, some of my household staff, a few good officers and two hundred picked men of the guides. None of them are in the know. Tomorrow, we leave Cairo, ostensibly on a tour of our outposts on the Nile delta. We will make straight for Alexandria, board the ships and set sail.’

Berthier was stunned. ‘But when will you inform Kléber?’

‘I will send him a message as we embark.’

Lannes took a sharp breath. ‘Can you imagine how he will react? The man will be incandescent.’

‘That can’t be helped,’ replied Napoleon. ‘We have to put France first, ahead of our friends and comrades. It is painful, shameful even. I accept that, but it is necessary. I am sure all of you understand that. Now, time is short, my friends. You must take as little away with you as possible; we cannot afford to arouse suspicion. Be ready to leave at dawn tomorrow.’

‘How long will you be away?’ asked Pauline as Napoleon dressed himself beside their bed by the light of a lamp. Outside the sun had not yet risen.

‘No more than two weeks.’

‘Good. After last night, I can hardly wait to have you back in my arms.’ She smiled dreamily, recalling the frenzied lovemaking, and the tenderness of her general as she lay in his arms afterwards. She raised her arms towards him.‘One last kiss, before you go.’

Napoleon hesitated as he looked down at her. Pauline lay there, in the twisted sheets, with all the drowsy beauty and allure of the recently awoken, and he felt his passion for her stirring again. Only now it was tempered by the imminence of his betrayal. Still, it was better that she suspected nothing. Napoleon smiled, climbed on to the bed and kissed her on the mouth, responding in kind as Pauline’s tongue darted between his lips.At length he eased himself up, picked up his hat and sash and made for the door.

‘Don’t take too long, my love,’ Pauline called softly after him. ‘Return as soon as you can.’

‘I will,’ Napoleon replied, and then the door closed behind him.

Outside, in the courtyard, the rest of the officers and men were waiting for their commander. Napoleon mounted his horse and urged it forward.As the small column headed out of the gate, he glanced back once, and saw, as he knew he would, Pauline’s silhouette at the window of their bedchamber. She waved and blew him a kiss, and he lifted his hat, and then turned his back on her and spurred his horse into a trot as he led his companions down the darkened street.