the flag had been hung. It was the signal which would tell the Fusiliers that the rescuers had succeeded, that they could climb the pass, and Sharpe had assumed that he would simply hang the flag over the edge of the building. The flagpole was a much better idea.
Frederickson had come to this part of the roof and looked up at the flag. 'Doesn't look the same, sir.
'The same?
'The Irish bit.
When the Act of Union had been passed, indissolubly joining Ireland to England as one nation, a diagonal red cross had been added to the Union flag. For some people, even after eleven years, it still looked strange. For others, like Patrick Harper, it was still offensive. Sharpe looked at the Captain. 'I hear you shot a prisoner.
'Was I wrong?
'No. You just saved a Court-Martial ordering the same thing.
'It seemed to pacify them, sir. Frederickson said it mildly, implying he had done the prisoners a service.
'Have you slept?
'No, sir.
'Get some. That's an order. We might need you later on.
Sharpe wondered why he had said that. If all went to plan the Fusiliers would relieve him within hours and the Rifles' job would be done. Yet an instinct needled him. Perhaps it was those strange horsemen in the dawn, or perhaps it was nothing more than the unaccustomed responsibility of leading nearly two hundred men. He yawned, rubbed the bristles on his chin, and hunched himself closer inside the greatcoat.
A cat walked on the tiles of the shallow-pitched roof, disdaining the Riflemen who crouched beneath the low stone parapet. It walked to the ridge of the tiles, sat, and began to wash its face with cuffing paws. Its shadow was long on the pink tiles.
Across the valley the shadow of the watchtower stretched towards the Castle. The two buildings were five hundred yards apart, the watchtower a good hundred and fifty feet higher, and between the two was a small, steep, thorn-covered valley. The mist was clearing from the smaller valley, showing the bare thorns touched with frost, revealing a small sparkling stream. Men still guarded the Castle and watchtower, and that was strange. Did Pot-au-Feu think that once the hostages were rescued his enemies would simply march away?
To the west the hills of Portugal were touched by the flame gold of the sun, their valleys black and grey, streaked with white mist, while the horizon was still smoky with night. The landscape looked crumpled, as if it needed to stretch and waken up. In the far valleys it would still be night.
Sharpe walked along the rooftop until he was at the northern parapet, lightly guarded, and he sat on the tiles and looked left towards the pass. No sign of the Fusiliers, but it was early yet.
'Sir? A German voice behind him. 'Sir? He turned. The man was offering him a cup of tea. The Germans had taken the habit from the British and, like them, carried the leaves loose in their pockets. One good rainstorm could ruin a week's supply. 'Yours?’
’I have more, sir.’
’Thank you.
Sharpe took it, cradled it in his gloved hands, and watched the German go back towards the flag. The cloth was beaded with moisture. The sun shone through the thin material. Something to fight for.
The mist still flowed soft down the pass, spilling like water, and Sharpe sipped the hot tea and was grateful to be alone. He wanted to stare at the great unfolding beauty of the dawn, the light spreading across Portugal beneath a sky that was vast and streaked with the cloud remnants of the night. More cloud threatened in the north, dark cloud, but this day would be fine.
He heard the footsteps on the roof and he did not turn round for he did not wish to be disturbed. He looked to his right, pointedly away from the footsteps, and watched the work-party coming down the steep path between the thorns with the packs tied to their rifles.
'Richard?
He turned back, scrambling to his feet. 'Josefina.
She smiled at him, a little nervous, and her face was swathed by the silver-fur of her dark green cloak hood. 'Can I join you?
'Yes, do. Aren't you cold?
'A bit. She smiled at him. 'Happy Christmas, Richard.
'And to you. He knew the Riflemen on the huge, wide roof would be looking at them. 'Why don't you sit.
They sat two feet apart and Josefina drew the thick, furred cloak about her. 'Is that tea?
'Yes.
'Can I have some?
'And live, you mean?
'I'll live. She held a hand out of her cloak and took the tin mug from him. She sipped, made a face. 'I thought you might come back last night.
He laughed. 'I was busy. He had been to see the hostages to find three Lieutenants paying court to them. Sharpe had not stayed long, only long enough to hear assurances that they had not been harmed, and to assure them that they would be returned to their husbands. All of them, curiously, had been concerned about the fate of the men who had held them hostage, and Sharpe had taken a list of names of those men who had been kind to the women. He had promised he would try and save them from execution. He grinned at Josefina and took the tea back. 'Would I have been welcome?
'Richard! She laughed, her nervousness gone because Sharpe's voice indicated approval of her. 'Do you remember when we met?
'Your horse had lost a shoe.
'And you were all grumpy and disagreeable. She held a hand out for the tea. 'You were very earnest, Richard.
'I'm sure I still am.
She made a face at him, blew on the tea, and sipped at the cup. 'I remember telling you that you'd become a Colonel and be horrid to your men. It's coming true.
'Am I horrid to them?
'The Lieutenants are frightened of you. Except for Mr Price, but then he knows you.
'And no doubt wanted to know you?
She smiled happily. 'He tried. He's like a puppy. Who's the frightening Captain with one eye?
'He's an English Lord, he's terribly rich, and he's very very generous.
'Is he? She looked at him, interest quickening in her voice, and then she saw he was teasing. She laughed.
'And you're Lady Farthingdale.
She made a shrugging motion beneath her cloak as if to indicate that it was a strange world. She sipped the tea, then offered it to Sharpe. 'Was he worried about me?
'Very.
'Truly?
‘Truly.
She stared at him with interest. 'Was he truly very worried?
'He was truly very worried.
She smiled happily. 'How nice.
'He thought you were being raped daily.
'Not once! That strange ‘Colonel’ Hakeswill made sure of that.
'He did?
She nodded. 'I told him that I'd come here to pray for my mother, which was sort of true. She laughed. 'Not really, but it worked for Hakeswill. No one could touch me. He used to come and talk to me about his mother. Endless talks! So I kept telling him that mothers were the most wonderful things in the world, and how lucky his mother was to have a good son like him, and he couldn't hear enough! Sharpe smiled. He knew of Hakeswill's devotion to his mother, and he knew that Josefina could not have stumbled on a better protection than to appeal to that devotion.
