Sharpes Gold   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

There were no animals in sight, no humans, just the wind stirring the barley that should have been harvested. The single village street was empty and Sharpe let his eyes travel beyond the church, across a flat pasture to some stunted fruit trees, and there, half hidden by the orchard, was another church and a bell-tower.

'What's the far church?

'Hermitage.

'Hermitage?

Kearsey grunted. 'Some holy man lived there, long ago, and they built the shrine. It's not used now, except that the graveyard's there. Sharpe could see the walled cemetery through the trees. Kearsey nodded at the hermitage. 'That's where the gold is.

'Where's it hidden?

'In the Moreno vault, inside the hermitage."

The village street ran left and right across Sharpe's vision. To the right, to the south, the street became a road that disappeared in the purple shadows at the far end of the valley, miles away, but to the left the road came nearer to the hills before disappearing into the slopes. He pointed.

'Where does it go?

'Ford at San Anton. Kearsey was chewing his grey moustache, glancing up at the white stone on the hilltop, back to the village. 'They must be there.

'Who?

'The French.

Nothing moved, except the wind on the heavy bar ley. Kearsey's eyes flicked up and down the valley. 'An ambush.

'What do you mean, sir? Sharpe was beginning to understand that in this kind of warfare he knew nothing.

Kearsey spoke quietly. 'The weathervane on the church. It's moving. When the Partisans are in the village they jam it with a metal rod so you know they're there. There are no animals. The French have butchered them for food. They're waiting, Sharpe, in the village, and they want the Partisans to think they've gone.

'Will they?

Kearsey gave his asthmatic bark. 'No. They're too clever. The French can wait all day.

'And us, sir?

Kearsey flashed one of his fierce glances on Sharpe. 'We wait, too.

The men had piled their arms on the floor of the bowl, and as the sun rose they used the weapons to support spread greatcoats to give themselves shade. The water in the canteens was brackish but drinkable, and the Company grumbled because, before leaving Almeida, Sharpe, Harper and Knowles had virtually stripped each man and taken away twelve bottles of wine and two of rum. Even so, Sharpe knew, someone would have drink, but not enough to do any harm. The sun's heat increased, baking the rocks, while most of the Company slept, heads pillowed on haversacks, and single sentries watched the empty landscape around the hidden gully.