The bombardment did not stop.
From the upper terrace of the Casbah, Hussein Dey watched another shell burst along the western quarter. The impact lifted a curtain of dust that rolled through narrow streets and climbed the whitewashed walls in waves.
Bordj Moulay Hassan was gone.
What remained of it stood broken and occupied. Through the haze, he could see movement along the crest where the French had planted their flag. Moments later, flashes erupted from that height. A shell arced down and struck inside the lower district near the old barracks.
The fortress that had guarded the harbor for generations was now a gun platform pointed at the city.
Behind Hussein Dey, the chamber shook again. Plaster cracked from the ceiling beams. A servant flinched but did not flee.
Agha Ibrahim stepped in from the stairwell, face dark with dust.
"They have moved guns onto the fortress," he said without ceremony.
"I can see that," Hussein Dey replied.
