nothing else. Nothing useful. He complained of it to Lavisser who said Sharpe could be amply supplied in Vygard. “It’s the house where my mother grew up and it’s rather beautiful.” He sounded wistful. “My grandfather has anything you might need; pistols, swords, everything, though I truly doubt we’ll encounter trouble. I’m sure the French do have agents in Copenhagen, but they’re hardly likely to try murder.”
“Where’s Vygard?” Sharpe asked.
“Near Koge where our hospitable Captain is supposed to put us ashore.” They were eleven days out of Harwich, sailing a sunlit sea. Lavisser was leaning on the stern rail where he looked as though he did not have a care in the world. He wore no hat and his golden hair lifted in the wind. He had blue eyes and a sharp-cut face, so that he looked like one of his Viking ancestors who had sailed this same cold sea. “You really won’t need weapons, Richard,” Lavisser went on. “We’ll simply borrow a carriage from Vygard to carry the gold to Copenhagen, conclude our business with the Crown Prince and so have the satisfaction of preserving peace.”
Lavisser had spoken confidently, but Sharpe recalled Lord Pumphrey’s doubts that the Danish Crown Prince was a man open to bribery. “What if the Crown Prince refuses?” he asked.
“He won’t,” Lavisser said. “My grandfather is his chamberlain and he tells me that the bribe is the Prince’s own suggestion.” He smiled. “He needs money, Sharpe, to rebuild the Christiansborg Palace that got burned down a few years back. It will all be very easy and we shall go home as heroes. Where’s the danger? There are no Frogs in Vygard, none in my grandfather’s town house in Bredgade, and the Prince’s own guards will keep the bastards well out of our way. You really do not need weapons, Richard. Indeed, I don’t wish to offend you, but your own presence, though utterly welcome, is also superfluous.”
“Things can go wrong,” Sharpe said stubbornly.
“How very true. An earthquake could devastate Copenhagen. Maybe there will be
Lavisser was persuasive, but Sharpe felt naked without proper weapons, and other men who were senior to Lavisser had thought it wise to give the guardsman protection, and so Sharpe went below to the tiny cabin that he shared with Lavisser and there pulled open his pack. His civilian clothes were inside, the good clothes that Grace had bought for him, along with the telescope that had been a grudging gift from Sir Arthur Wellesley. But at the very bottom of the canvas pack, hidden and half forgotten, was his old picklock. He pulled it out, then unfolded the slightly rusting picks. Grace had discovered it once and wondered what on earth it was. She had laughed in disbelief when he told her. “You could be hanged for possessing such a thing!” she had declared.
“I keep it for old times’ sake,” Sharpe had explained lamely.
“You’ve never used it, surely?”
“Of course I’ve used it!”
“Show me! Show me!”
He had shown her how to pick a lock, a thing he had done scores of times in the past. He was out of practice now, but the picks still made brief work of the padlock which secured the great chest in which the government money was stored. There were plenty of weapons on board the Cleopatra, but to get some Sharpe knew he would have to cross some tar-stained hands with gold.
Sharpe had money of his own. He had taken twenty-four pounds, eight shillings and fourpence halfpenny from Jem Hocking and the bulk of that had been in coppers and small silver which Sergeant Matthew Standfast, the new owner of the Frog Prick, had been happy to exchange for gold. “At a price, sir,” Standfast had insisted.
“A price?”
“Filthy stuff!” Standfast had poked the grimy coppers. “I’ll have to boil them in vinegar! What have you been doing, Lieutenant? Robbing poor boxes?” He had exchanged the twenty-four pounds, eight shillings and fourpence halfpenny for twenty-two shining guineas that were now safely wrapped in one of Sharpe’s spare shirts.
He could have used his own money to get weapons, but he did not see why he should. Britain was sending him to Denmark and it was Britain’s enemies who threatened Lavisser, so Britain, Sharpe reckoned, should pay, and that meant taking gold from the big chest that half filled the cabin that Sharpe and Lavisser shared. Sharpe had to edge one of the hanging cot beds aside to open the chest’s lid. Inside were layers of gray canvas bags secured with wire ties that were sealed with crimped lead tags blobbed with red wax. Sharpe lifted three bags from the top layer and selected a lower bag that he slit with his knife.
Guineas. The golden horsemen of Saint George. Sharpe lifted one, looking at the image of the saint lancing the writhing dragon. Rich, thick, gold coins, and the chest had enough to suborn a kingdom, but it could spare a little for Lieutenant Sharpe and so he stole fifteen of the heavy coins that he secreted in his pockets before restoring the bags. He was just putting the last one in place when there was the thud of feet dropping down the companionway ladder immediately outside the cabin. Sharpe closed the chest lid and sat on it to hide the absence of a padlock. The cabin door opened and Barker came in with a bucket. He saw Sharpe and paused.
Sharpe pretended to be pulling up his boots. He looked up at the hulking Barker who had to stoop beneath the beams. “So you were a footpad, Barker?”
“That’s what the Captain told you.” Barker put the bucket down.
“Where?” Sharpe asked.
Barker hesitated, as if suspecting a trap in the question, then shrugged. “Bristol.”
“Don’t know it,” Sharpe said airily. “And now you’re reformed?”
“Am I?”
“Are you?”
Barker grimaced. “I’m looking for Mister Lavisser’s coat.”
Sharpe could see the padlock in a corner of the cabin and hoped Barker did not notice it. “So what will you do if the French interfere with us?”
Barker scowled at Sharpe. It seemed as if he had not understood the question, or else he just hated talking to Sharpe, but then he sneered. “How will they even know we’re there? The master speaks Danish and you and I will keep our gobs shut.” He plucked a coat from a hook on the back of the door and left without another word.
Sharpe waited for his steps to fade, then restored the padlock to the hasp. He did not like Barker and the feeling was evidently mutual. On the face of it the man made a strange servant for Lavisser, yet Sharpe had met plenty of gentlemen who liked to mix with brutes from the gutter. Such men enjoyed listening to the stories and felt flattered by the friendships, and presumably Lavisser shared their taste. Maybe, Sharpe reflected, that explained why Lavisser was being so friendly to himself.
Next day he used two of the guineas to bribe the ship’s Master-at-Arms who made the gold vanish into a pocket with the speed of a conjurer and an hour later brought Sharpe a well-honed cutlass and two heavy sea- service pistols with a bag of cartridges. “I’d be obliged, sir, if Captain Samuels didn’t know about this,” the Master-at-Arms said, “on account that he’s a flogger when he’s aggravated. Keep ‘em hidden till you’re ashore, sir.” Sharpe promised he would. There would be no difficulty in keeping the promise during the voyage, but he did not see how he was to carry the weapons off the ship without Captain Samuels seeing them, then thought of the chest. He asked Lavisser to put them with the gold.
Lavisser laughed when he saw the cutlass and heavy-barreled guns. “You couldn’t wait till we reached Vygard?”
“I like to know I’m armed,” Sharpe said.
“Armed? You’ll look like Bluebeard if you carry that lot! But if it makes you happy, Richard, why not? Your happiness is my prime concern.” Lavisser took the chest’s key from a waistcoat pocket and raised the lid. “A sight to warm your chill heart, eh?” he said, indicating the dull gray bags. “A fortune in every one. I fetched it myself from the Bank of England and, Lord, what a fuss! Little men in pink coats demanding signatures, enough keys to lock up half the world, and deep suspicion. I’m sure they thought I was going to steal the gold. And why not? Why don’t you and I just divide it and retire somewhere gracious? Naples? I’ve always wanted to visit Naples where I’m told the women are heart-breakingly beautiful.” Lavisser saw Sharpe’s expression and laughed. “For a man up from the ranks, Richard, you’re uncommonly easy to shock. But I confess I’m tempted. I suffer the cruel fate of being the younger son. My wretched brother will become earl and inherit the money while I am expected to fend for myself. You find that risible, yes? Where you come from everyone fends for themselves, so I shall do the
