Sharpes Gold   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

'Am I?

El Catolico smiled again, still halfway through the trapdoor. 'Kearsey doesn't think so, but Kearsey equates honour with God. You don't. May I come up? I'm alone.

Sharpe nodded. He waited till the tall Spaniard was on the roof and then kicked the trapdoor shut. It was heavy, thick enough to stop a bullet, but for added safety Sharpe pulled the iron ladder on top.

El Catolico watched. 'You are nervous. They won't come up. He cocked a friendly eye at Sharpe. 'Why are you here?

'The ladder was missing.

The tall Spaniard looked puzzled. The hands spread apart in an uncertain gesture. 'Missing?

Sharpe kicked it. 'It was up the tower this morning. This evening it was gone.

'Ah! He laughed. 'We used it to climb the church wall. He looked at Sharpe's dishevelled uniform. 'I see you had other methods. In one of his graceful gestures he opened his cloak. 'You see? No pistol. I have only the sword. He made no attempt to pick it up.

Above the church roof Sharpe could see the sudden flare of torches. Search parties were starting out. There was sweat on the palm of his sword hand, but he would not give the Spaniard the satisfaction of seeing him wipe it off.

'Why are you here?

'To pray with you. El Catolico laughed, jerked his head at the street. 'They're making so much noise they won't hear us. No, Captain, I'm here to kill you.

Sharpe smiled. 'Why? You've got the gold.

El Catolico nodded. 'I don't trust you, Sharpe. As long as you're alive I don't think the gold will be easy to collect, though Brigadier Cox presents you with a problem. Sharpe acknowledged it with a nod and El Catolico looked at him shrewdly. 'How were you going to solve it?

'The same way that I intend to solve it tomorrow. He wished he were as confident as he sounded. He had seen El Catolico in action, measured swords with him, and he was thinking desperately how he could win the fight that must start soon. The tall Spaniard smiled, gestured at his rapier.

'Do you mind? You can kill me, of course, before I reach it, but I don't think you will. He had talked as he moved and then he stopped, picked it up, and turned round. 'I was right. You see? You are a man of honour!

Sharpe could feel the new blood wet on his chest and he rested his sword as the Spaniard, with a studied ease, dropped his cloak and flexed the blade. El Catolico took the tip of the rapier in his left hand and bent it, almost double.

'A fine blade, Captain. From Toledo. But then, I forgot, we have already tried each other.