last Christmas.
CHAPTER 18
Christmas midnight. The mist clinging to stone and grass where the breeze had not yet taken it away, and the boot-heels of sentries were loud on the Castle ramparts. Flame flared in the courtyard. From below, the greatcoat-skirts of the patrolling sentries could have been the surcoats of armoured knights; their bayonets, catching the gleam of fire, the spearpoints of men who waited for Islam to attack in the dawn.
Sharpe held Teresa close. Two of her men waited in the Castle gateway, her horse moved restlessly behind her. 'You have the message.’
She nodded, pulled away from him. 'I'll be back in two days.
'I'll still be here.
She punched him softly. 'Make sure you are. She turned, mounted the horse, and pulled it towards the gateway. 'Take care!
'We ride more at night than at day! Two days! And she was gone through the arch, turning westward to take the news of the hidden French troops to Frenada. Another parting in a marriage that was made of too many partings, and he listened to the fading hooves and thought that at the end of two days' fighting there would be a reward.
He was late for Sir Augustus' meeting, and he hardly cared. The decision that Sharpe had made would render anything Sir Augustus had to say meaningless. Sharpe would take over. He climbed the stairway in the gate-tower, laboriously cleared of the windlass, and walked the circuit of the battlements towards the keep.
Sir Augustus had a huge fire in his room, the wood crackling fiercely as the thorns burned. The chimney, the only one in the Castle, opened up on the ramparts.
Farthingdale paused as Sharpe entered. A dozen officers sat or stood in the room, even Frederickson had been fetched from the watchtower, and the eyes looked at Sharpe. Farth-ingdale's voice was hostile. 'You're late, Major.
'My apologies, sir.
Pot-au-Feu had furnished the room in barbaric splendour, rugs on walls and floor, even serving as heavy curtains, and the curtains moved to reveal Josefina. She came from the balcony, smiled at Sharpe, then leaned against the wall as Sir Augustus lifted the piece of paper in his hand. 'I will recapitulate for those who could not be here on time. We leave at first light. The prisoners will go first, suitably dressed, and guarded by four Companies of the Fusiliers.
Brooker nodded, making notes on a folded square of paper.
'Captain Gilliland will go next. You will make space on your carts for the wounded.
Gilliland nodded. 'Yes, sir.
'Then the rest of the Fusiliers. Major Sharpe?
'Sir?
'Your Riflemen will be the rear-guard.
Captain Brooker raised the pertinent point of what was to be done with the women and children of the prisoners, and while the Captains made their suggestions, Frederickson looked appealingly towards Sharpe. Sharpe smiled and shook his head.
Frederickson misunderstood, or else was too upset to leave matters with Sharpe, for the Rifle Captain stood up and asked Farthingdale's permission to speak.
'Captain?
'Why are we leaving, sir?
'The Rifles are thirsting for glory, Farthingdale sneered, and Sharpe marked the men who smiled, for those were the men who had little taste for this fight. Farthingdale handed his piece of paper to a Fusilier, acting as clerk, who began the laborious task of copying out the orders. 'We are leaving, Captain Frederickson, because we are opposed by overwhelming force in a place where we have no reason to fight. We cannot fight four Battalions of French.
Sharpe ignored the fact that four Battalions of French were not too many for a well-sited defence. He uncurled from the wall. 'In fact, sir, a good many more than four.
All eyes were on Sharpe. Farthingdale looked lost for a second. 'More?
'Within eight miles of us, sir, and probably moving up tonight, there are nearer ten Battalions, maybe more. There's also five or six batteries of artillery, and at least another two hundred cavalry. My own suspicion is that that's a minimum. I'd venture a guess at fifteen Battalions.
The thorns crackled in the fireplace. The Fusilier clerk was staring open-mouthed at Sharpe. Farthingdale frowned. 'May I ask why you chose not to apprise me of this intelligence. Sharpe?’
’I just did, sir.
'And may I ask how you know?’
’My wife saw them, sir.’A woman's report.
'A woman, Sir Augustus, who has spent the last three years fighting the French. That jibe went home, provoking smiles from Frederickson and a handful of other officers.
Sir Augustus snapped at the clerk to keep writing, then snapped at Sharpe. 'I hardly see how it affects these orders, Major. If anything, it would seem to underline the wisdom of them.
'It would be interesting, sir, to know why the French are here in such force. I doubt if it's to destroy a watch tower.
'Interesting, no doubt, but that is not my concern. Are you suggesting we fight them? Sir Augustus let the sarcasm show in his question.
'Well, sir. They've probably got seven or eight thousand infantry, I suspect more. We've got, let me see, just over six hundred which includes our lightly wounded. We've also got Captain Gilliland's men, so I think we can pretty safely hold them off.
More smiles, and Sharpe marked those too, because they were the Captains he could rely on.
Sir Augustus was enjoying himself. 'How, Major?
'In the usual way, sir. Kill the bastards.
'My wife is in the room, Sharpe. You will apologize.
Sharpe bowed to Josefina. 'My apologies, Milady.
Farthingdale hitched the tail of his jacket up to warm himself in front of the fire. He was pleased with himself, having forced Sharpe to apologize, and he was enjoying his display of authority in front of Josefina. His voice was crisp. 'Major Sharpe dreams of miracles, I prefer to put my trust in soldierly common sense. Our plain duty is to live and fight another day. Captain Brooker?
'Sir? Sharpe had Brooker marked as a Farthingdale supporter.
'Detail two reliable Lieutenants to carry this intelligence ahead of us in the morning. See they're well mounted.
'Yes, sir.
Sharpe leaned back against the wall. 'I've already sent the message, sir.
'You take a great deal upon yourself, Major Sharpe. Sir Augustus' voice was rich in contempt. 'Did you think the courtesy of requesting my permission was too cumbersome for your precious time?
'My wife and her men are not subject to your permission, Sir Augustus. Sharpe let his own hostility show, and he saw the fury snap into Farthingdale's eyes. Sharpe kept talking, softening his tone. 'I do need your permission, sir, for one other thing. I would like one observation to be recorded of this meeting.
'Damn your observation!
'Doubtless you will, sir, but nevertheless it is important. Sharpe knew how to bully a bully. He was upright again, taller than anyone else in the room, a subdued anger and violence threatening the meeting. He paused, giving Sir Augustus a chance to order him into silence, and when the order did not come he threw out the lifeline he had thought about so carefully. If Sir Augustus listened, Sir Augustus could hold the pass. 'It's obvious, sir, that the French are interested in far more than the destruction of the watch tower. I suggest, sir, that their force
