Sharpes Sword   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

Major Hogan, his grey moustache stained yellow by the snuff to which he was addicted, looked Sharpe up and down. “You’re looking well. I hope you are because I might need you.”

“Need me?” Sharpe was putting on his black shako, picking up rifle and sword. “What for?”

“Come for a walk.” Hogan took Sharpe’s elbow for a second and steered him away from the Light Company up the long slope that led to the ridge-crest. “You have news of Colonel Leroux for me?”

“Leroux?” For a brief moment Sharpe was lost. The events of Salamanca seemed so long ago, even far away, and his mind at this moment was concerned with the battle that would be fought for the San Christobal Ridge. He was thinking of skirmishers, of Riflemen, not about the tall, pale-eyed French Colonel who was in the city’s fortresses. Hogan frowned.

“You met him?”

“Yes.” Sharpe laughed ruefully. “I met the bastard.” He told Hogan about the capture of the Dragoon officer, of the parole, of the man’s escape, and finally how he had chased him up the hill. Hogan listened intently.

“You’re certain?”

“That he’s in the forts? Yes.”

“Truly?” Hogan had stopped, was staring hard at Sharpe. “You’re really certain?”

“I saw him climb in. He’s there.”

Hogan said nothing as they finished the climb to the ridge top. They stood there, where the ground dropped steeply away to the great plain where the French were gathered. Sharpe could see an ammunition tumbril coming forward to the closest battery and he had to fight back the thought that his own death might be on that cart.

Hogan sighed. “God damn it, but I wish you’d killed him.”

“So do I.”

Hogan stared, Sharpe suspected without seeing, at the French army. The Major was thoughtful, worried even, and Sharpe waited as he took from his pocket a scrap of paper. Hogan thrust it at Sharpe. “I’ve carried that for two months.”

The paper meant nothing to Sharpe. It had groups of numbers written like words in a short paragraph. Hogan smiled wryly. “It’s a French code, Richard, a very special code indeed.” He took the paper back from Sharpe. “We have a fellow who can read these codes, a Captain Scovell, and damned clever he is too.” Sharpe wondered what the story was behind the scrap of paper.