And I hate to suggest it, but if you walk a few paces east of the village you’ll find plenty of red sashes on corpses. Pick one, help yourself to a sword, then come and meet your fellow officers. They’re few enough now, I fear, so you’ll surely be welcome. Even the men might be glad of you, despite your being English.” Wallace smiled.
I’m very grateful to you, sir,” Sharpe said. He was still scarcely able to believe what had happened. He was Mister Sharpe! Mister!
“And what do you want?” Wallace suddenly asked in an icy tone, and Sharpe saw that his new Colonel was staring at Obadiah Hakeswill.
“Him, sir,” Hakeswill said, pointing at Sharpe.
“Sergeant Sharpe, sir, what is under arrest.”
Wallace smiled.
“You may arrest Sergeant Sharpe, Sergeant, but you will certainly not arrest Ensign Sharpe.”
“Ensign?” Hakeswill said, going pale.
“Mister Sharpe is a commissioned officer, Sergeant,” Wallace said crisply, ‘and you will treat him as such. Good day.” Wallace touched his hat to Sharpe, then turned his horse and rode away.
Hakeswill gaped at Sharpe.
“You, Sharpie,” he said, ‘an officer?”
Sharpe walked closer to the Sergeant.
“That’s not how you address a King’s officer, Obadiah, and you know it.”
“You?” HakeswilPs face twitched.
“You?” he asked again in horror and amazement.
Sharpe thumped him in the belly, doubling him over.
“You call me “sir”, Obadiah,” he said.
“I won’t call you “sir”,” Hakeswill said between gasps for breath.
“Not till hell freezes, Sharpie, and not even then.”
Sharpe hit him again. Hakeswill’s three men watched, but did nothing.
“You call me “sir”,” Sharpe said.
“You ain’t an officer, Sharpie,” Hakeswill said, then yelped because Sharpe had seized his hair and was dragging him up the street. The three men started to follow, but Sharpe snarled at them to stay where they were, and all three obeyed.
“You’ll call me “sir”, Sergeant,” Sharpe said, ‘just you watch.” And he pulled Hakeswill up the street, going back to the house from where he had seen the elephant. He dragged Hakeswill through the door and up the stairs. The Sergeant screamed at him, beat at him, but Hakeswill had never been a match for Sharpe who now snatched the musket from Hakeswill’s hand, threw it away, then took him to the window that opened just one floor above the courtyard.
“See that elephant, Obadiah?” he asked, holding the Sergeant’s face in the open window.
“I watched it trample a man to death not long ago.”
“You won’t dare, Sharpie,” Hakeswill squealed, then yelped as Sharpe took hold of the seat of his pants.
“Call me “sir”,” Sharpe said.
“Never! You ain’t an officer!”
“But I am, Obadiah, I am. I’m Mister Sharpe. I’ll wear a sword and a sash and you’ll have to salute me.”
“Never!”
Sharpe heaved Hakeswill onto the window ledge.
“If you ask me to put you down,” he said, ‘and if you call me “sir”, I’ll let you go.”
“You ain’t an officer,” Hakeswill protested.
“You can’t be!”
“But I am, Obadiah,” Sharpe said, and he heaved the Sergeant over the ledge. The Sergeant screamed as he fell into the straw below, and the elephant, made curious by this strange irruption into this already strange day, plodded over to inspect him. Hakeswill beat feebly at the animal which had him cornered.
“Goodbye, Obadiah,” Sharpe called, then he used the words he remembered Pohlmann shouting when Dodd’s sepoy had been trampled to death.
“Haddahl’ Sharpe snapped.
Had daW “Get the bastard off me!” Hakeswill screamed as the elephant moved still closer and raised a forefoot.
“That won’t do, Obadiah,” Sharpe said.
“Sir!” Hakeswill called.
“Please, sir! Get it off me!”
“What did you say?” Sharpe asked, cupping a hand to his ear.
“Sir! Sir! Please, sir! Mister Sharpe, sir!”
“Rot in hell, Obadiah,” Sharpe called down, and walked away. The sun was gone, the village was stinking with powder smoke, and two armies lay in ragged ruin on the bloody fields outside Assaye, but that great victory was not Sharpe’s. It was the voice calling from the courtyard, calling frantically as Sharpe ran down the wooden stairs and walked down the alleyway.
“Sir! Sir!” Hakeswill shouted, and Sharpe listened and smiled, for that, he reckoned, was his real victory. It was Mister Sharpe’s triumph.