“Counting them, Sharpe?” McCandless asked abruptly.
“No, sir.”
“Seventeen in that park, mostly nine-pounders, but there are some much heavier brutes at the back. Keep your eyes open, man. That’s why we’re here.”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir.”
They passed a line of tethered camels, then a compound where a dozen elephants were being brought their supper of palm leaves and butter-soaked rice. Children followed the men carrying the rice to scavenge what slopped from the pails. Some of the Mahratta escort had spurred ahead to spread news of the visitors and curious crowds gathered to watch as McCandless and his two companions rode still deeper into the huge encampment. Those crowds became thicker as they drew close to the camp’s centre which was marked by a spread of large tents. One of the tents was made of blue-and-yellow-striped canvas, and in front of it were twin flagpoles, though the wind was slack and the brightly coloured banners just hung from their tall poles.
“Leave the talking to me,” McCandless ordered Sharpe.
“Of course, sir.”
Simone suddenly gasped. Sharpe turned and saw she was staring across the heads of the curious crowd towards a group of European officers. She looked at Sharpe suddenly and he saw the sadness in her eyes. She gave him a half-smile.
“Pierre,” she offered in brief explanation, then she shrugged and tapped her horse with her crop so that it hurried away from Sharpe. Her husband, a small man in a white coat, gazed in disbelief, then ran to meet her with a look of pleasure on his face. Sharpe felt oddly jealous of him.
“That’s our main duty discharged,” McCandless said happily.
“A disobliging woman, I thought.”
“Unhappy, sir.”
“Doesn’t have enough to keep her busy, that’s why. The devil likes idle hands, Sharpe.”
“Then he must hate me, sir, most of the time.” He stared after Simone, watching as she slid down from the saddle and was embraced by her shorter husband. Then the crowds hid the couple from him.
Someone shouted an insult at the two British horsemen and the other spectators jeered or laughed, but Sharpe, despite their hostility, took some consolation from McCandless’s confidence. The Scotsman, indeed, was in a happier mood than he had shown for days, for he revelled being in his enemy’s lines.
A group of men emerged from the big striped tent. They were almost all Europeans, and in their forefront was a tall muscled man in shirtsleeves who was attended by a bodyguard of Indian soldiers wearing purple coats.
“That’s Colonel Pohlmann,” McCandless said, nodding towards the big red-faced man.
“The fellow who used to be a sergeant, sir?”
“That’s him.”
“You’ve met him, sir?”
“Once, a couple of years back. He’s an affable sort of man, Sharpe, but I doubt he’s trustworthy.”
If Pohlmann was surprised to see a British officer in his camp, he did not show it. Instead he spread his arms in an expansive gesture of welcome.
“Are you new recruits?” he shouted in greeting.
McCandless did not bother to answer the mocking question, but just slid from his horse.
“You don’t remember me, Colonel?”
“Of course I remember you,” Pohlmann said with a smile.
“Colonel Hector McCandless, once of His Majesty’s Scotch Brigade, and now in the service of the East India Company. How could I forget you, Colonel? You tried to make me read the Bible.” Pohlmann grinned, displaying tobacco-stained teeth.
“But you haven’t answered my question, Colonel. Have you come to join our army?”
“I am the merest emissary, Colonel,” McCandless said, beating dust from the kilt that he had insisted on wearing in honour of meeting the enemy. The garment was causing some amusement to Pohlmann’s companions, though they took care not to let their smiles show if McCandless glanced their way.
“I brought you a woman,” McCandless added in explanation.
“How do you say in England, Colonel,” Pohlmann asked with a puzzled frown, ‘coals to Newcastle?”
“I offered safe conduct to Madame Joubert,” the Scotsman said stiffly.
“So that was Simone I saw riding past,” Pohlmann said.
“I did wonder.
And she’ll be welcome, I dare say. We have enough of everything in this army; cannon, muskets, horses, ammunition, men, but there can never really be enough women in any army, can there?” He laughed, then summoned two of his purple-coated bodyguards to take charge of the horses.