France.
Provence, to the southeast.
A troop of well-arranged, well-equipped legionnaires marched into the Port of Toulon.
If one looked closely, one could notice slight differences in the crisp white uniforms worn by the soldiers—some had the collar embroidered with the patterns of the iris and dolphin, the exclusive insignia of the Crown Prince of France; others had the emblem of the Paris Police Academy on their collars.
Yes, this was precisely the “Crown Prince’s Own Guard Corps” preparing to set sail for Tunisia. They had left Paris and headed south half a month ago.
At the time, Joseph had even skipped the grand ceremony of the announcement of the metric standards in order to see them off. Although it was somewhat regrettable, evidently, the North African strategy was the most pressing issue at hand. He personally gave the troops a pep talk before the battle and accompanied them for more than 20 kilometers, greatly boosting their morale.
Outside the Port of Toulon, a captain leading the group looked at his soldiers, who were slightly weary from the sun, and waved his hand, calling out loudly:
“Where is the lead singer?”
“Yes, sir! Right here!” A young soldier, not very tall and carrying an accordion, quickly stepped forward and saluted the officer with his cap.
Patting him on the shoulder, the captain gestured towards the front of the line:
“Have them sing a song.”
“Can we sing ‘Glory and Victory’, sir?”
“Good, that one. It’s also my favorite,” the captain replied.
The lead singer ran to the front of the column and played a few high notes on the accordion to catch the soldiers’ attention, then signaled to the drummer and shouted:
“Sing with me—”
“On the battlefield, before the dawn, the bugle sounds,
“Warriors line up in tight ranks.
“Resolution and belief written on their faces,
“Glory and victory are our faith.
“Our loyalty shall never waver,
“To the King, we present our victories!
“With blood and fire, we earn supreme honor…”
The song, solemn and powerful, inspired the soldiers, who soon revitalized as they sang along.
Although, the tune was unmistakably that of the “La Marseillaise,” which would eventually become very familiar to almost every French person. Joseph had brought it to his regiment ahead of time, and, as expected, it was well-received by the soldiers. Consequently, Joseph simply made it their marching song.
Of course, Lady Garlan had refined the tune, and the lyrics were rewritten by the great literary figure Bomasha—completely transformed into a style of loyalty to the King and seeking honor and commendation on the battlefield.
At the docks, a large number of naval supply ships and escort warships had already been anchored, rocking gently with the waves.
The navy had taken the 800,000 livres that Joseph had “smooth-talked” from the Americans, and for this operation against the pirates, they only sent three warships, with most of the supplies provided by the Dutch—the navy had spent very little. Perhaps feeling a bit “guilty” about their compensation, the navy was very responsive to the needs of the North African campaign.
As more than 4,000 officers and men, along with horses, cannons, and other military supplies boarded the ships, at two-thirty in the afternoon, ten transport ships raised anchor and set sail, heading straight towards Tunisia.
…
Tunisia, in the south-central region.
The Chukri Valley, between Kairouan and Sfax.
Under the thick olive trees, a Tunisian Guard officer dressed in an orange robe raised his hand and slapped a mosquito as big as a green bean that was desperately sucking blood from his face.
Wiping the blood from his palm, he frowned and snapped at a soldier fanning nearby:
“Put some effort into it, you lazy thing!”
“Yes, yes, sir,” the soldier mumbled, increasing the vigor of his fanning.
The officer glanced down the valley but saw only green grass and trees, seemingly tranquil.
Turning to another officer with small eyes, he said:
“How much longer do we have to stay in this damned place? I’m about to be drained dry by mosquitoes!”
The small-eyed officer, fiddling with his boots and not looking up, replied:
“Be patient, Gedik, this is a direct order from Ksar Hellal Palace to Master Koja.”
Gedik glanced at the woods where they were hiding and grumbled:
“The Bey sitting in the palace has no idea what the frontline is like.” Enjoy new chapters from empire
The small-eyed officer waved him off:
“I heard Master Koja say it was Lady Hafsa’s idea.”
“Her?” Gedik snorted, “A woman meddling in matters of war, utterly without manners!”
“It’s said that she was the first to detect this rebellion. So now that she’s suggested Eunice will come for a sneak attack, the Bey followed her advice and ordered Master Koja to take precautions in advance.”
“Lord, how can they trust the word of a woman?” Gedik exclaimed.
Before he could finish his statement, he saw two scouts running frantically towards them, waving their hands:
“Enemy sighting! Our outpost has been attacked; there are at least a thousand enemy troops!”
Gedik and his colleague exchanged a look of disbelief and stood up abruptly:
“How on earth did that woman guess this?!”
Of course, Lady Hafsa hadn’t guessed. Joseph had informed her early on that Eunice was likely to make a desperate sneak attack on Chukri Valley.
This was because he had allowed Hafsa to leak Eunice’s movements to Hamoud Ali in advance, giving him ample time to arrange his troops to respond to the rebellion.
Meanwhile, Joseph also knew that Eunice had only a small number of weapons and that his military funds would soon run out. He provided Eunice with just 2,000 flintlock guns, and not a single livre of the so-called 2 million livres of military funding had been given.
It had been difficult enough for Eunice to rally people with just his own savings; he had no idea where to find the salaries or supplies for the troops that followed.