Sharpes Gold   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

My God, thought Sharpe, he knows everything that happensin this army. There was silence. Was that the end of it? No court-martial? No apology? He coughed and Wellington looked up.

'Yes?

'I was expecting more, sir. Court-martials and drumheads."

Sharpe heard Lawford stir in embarrassment but the General did not seem worried. He stood up and used one of his few, thin smiles.

'I would quite happily, Captain Sharpe, string up you and that damned Sergeant. But I suspect we need you. What do you think of our chances this summer?

Again there was silence. The change of tack had taken them all by surprise. Lawford cleared his throat. 'There's clearly some concern, my lord, about the intentions of the enemy and our response.

Another wintry smile. 'The enemy intend to push us into the sea, and soon. How do we respond? Wellington, it occurred to Sharpe, was using up time. He was waiting for something or someone.

Lawford was feeling uncomfortable. The question was one he would rather hear answered by the General. 'Bring them to battle, sir?

'Thirty thousand troops, plus twenty-five thousand untried Portuguese, against three hundred and fifty thousand men?

Wellington let the figures hang in the air like the dust that shifted silently in the slanting sunlight over his desk. Overhead the feet of the men operating the telegraph still shuffled. The figures, Sharpe knew, were unfair. Massena needed thousands of those men to contain the Guerrilleros, the Partisans, but even so the disparity in numbers was appalling. Wellington sniffed. There was a knock on the door.

'Come in.

'Sir.

The Major who had shown them into the room handed a slip of paper to the General, who read it, closed his eyes momentarily, and sighed.

'The rest of the message is still coming?

'Yes, sir. But the gist is there.

The Major left and Wellington leaned back in his chair. The news had been bad, Sharpe could tell, but not, perhaps, unexpected. He remembered that Wellington had once said that running a campaign was like driving a team of horses with a rope harness. The ropes kept breaking and all a General could do was tie a knot and keep going. A rope was unravelling, here and now, an important one, and Sharpe watched the fingers drum on the edge of the table. The eyes came up to Sharpe again, flicked to Lawford.

'Colonel?

'Sir?

'I am borrowing Captain Sharpe from you, and his Company. I doubt whether I need them for more than one month.

'Yes, my lord. Lawford looked at Sharpe and shrugged.

Wellington stood again.