"Look at this." Gaetano—the "instructor"—raised his right hand, palm held flat and angled toward the sky.
Alessandro frowned.
"Put your hand down," he said with disgust.
"This is the military salute used in France, or rather, the salute soldiers gave Bonaparte." Gaetano lowered his hand. "Like the ancient Roman soldiers saluting Caesar. Some also called him the First Consul."
Alessandro gave a cold laugh. "You're still missing Mussolini."
"Who is Mussolini?" Gaetano asked.
Alessandro said nothing. He looked out at the sea shrouded in thick fog.
"You've heard about what Bonaparte did in Egypt?" Gaetano asked.
"You mean the fleet from France being burned?" Alessandro asked.
"I heard a rumor that Mahomed once appeared before Bonaparte in person and said, 'You may govern the Mamluks as you see fit. I entrust them to you. You have granted power to the sheikhs and ulema, so everything you do will go smoothly.'"
"I don't understand..."
"The Prophet granted him authority, just as God gave kings the authority to rule mankind. A revolutionary who had embraced Enlightenment ideas actually went around preaching the divine right of kings in Egypt." Gaetano sneered. "According to the precepts of the Quran, Muslims are forbidden to drink alcohol. But the Mufti drafted a proposal: if Protestants could atone for their sins through good deeds, then as Muslims, they could drink alcohol. Everyone had to give at least one-tenth of their income to charity or good works, while those who had already become believers had to donate one-fifth of their income."
"They wanted to sell rum to the Turks?" Alessandro said incredulously.
"Not everyone strictly follows the precepts. When they saw merchant ships carrying sugar, someone would surely ask whether they had any liquor. Do you think Protestants or Bonaparte would feel guilty about their sins?"
Alessandro stared