A scream jerked his attention back to the plaza where a recalcitrant prisoner fought against the hands which pushed him up to the platform. The man’s fight was useless. He was forced to the garotte and strapped into the chair. The iron was bent around his neck and the collar’s tongue inserted into the slot where the screw would draw it tight. Alzaga made the sign of the cross. ‘Pax et misericordia et tranquillitasr
The prisoner’s yellow-frocked body jerked in a spasm as the collar gripped his neck to break his spine and choke the breath from him. His thin hands scrabbled at the arms of the chair, then the body slumped down. Sharpe supposed that swift death would have been the Count of Mouromorto’s fate if he had not stayed safe inside the French-held palace. “Why,” he asked Louisa suddenly, “did the Count stay in the city?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Sharpe shrugged. “I’ve never seen him apart from de l’Eclin before. And that Colonel is a very clever man.”
“You’re clever, too,” Louisa said warmly. “How many soldiers know about caltrops?”
Vivar pushed through the crowd and climbed the steps. “The forges are being heated. By six o’clock you’ll have a few hundred of the things. Where do you want them?”
“Just send them to me,” Sharpe said.
“When you hear the bells next ring, you’ll know the gonfalon is unfurled. That’s when you can withdraw.”
“Make it soon!”
“Shortly after six,” Vivar said. “It can’t be sooner. Have you seen what the French did to the cathedral?”
“No.” But nor did Sharpe care. He only cared about a clever French Colonel, a chasseur of the Imperial Guard, then a single rifle shot sounded from the south-west, and he ran.
CHAPTER 17
The shot warned, not of de l’Eclin’s arrival, but of the approach of a Cazador patrol. Their horses were whipped to blood and lather. Vivar, who had returned with Sharpe to discover what had prompted the shot, translated the picquet’s message. “They saw French Dragoons.”
“Where?”
“About two leagues to the south-west.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds.” Vivar interpreted his patrol’s anxious report. “The Frenchmen chased them and they were lucky to escape.” He listened to more excited words. “And they saw the chasseur.” Vivar smiled. “So! We know where they are now. All we must do is hold them out of the city.”
“Yes.” Somehow the news that the enemy was at last approaching served to calm Sharpe’s apprehension. Most of that nervousness had been concentrated on Colonel de PEclin’s cleverness, but the prosaic knowledge of which road the enemy was on, and how faraway his forces were, made him seem a less fearsome opponent.
Vivar followed the tired horsemen through the gap in the barricade. “You hear the hammers?” he called back.
“Hammers?” Sharpe frowned, then did indeed hear the echoing ring of hammers on anvils. “Caltrops?”
Til send them to you, Lieutenant.“ Vivar started up the hill. ”Enjoy yourselves!“
Sharpe watched the Major walk away, then, on an impulse, he threaded the barricade and followed him up the cobbled street. “Sir?”
“Lieutenant.”
Sharpe made certain he was out of his men’s earshot.
“I want to apologize for what happened in the tavern, sir, I…“
“What tavern? I haven’t been in a tavern all day. Tomorrow, maybe, when we’re safely away from these bastards, we’ll find a tavern. But today?” Vivar’s face was entirely serious. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I don’t like it when you call me ”sir“,” Vivar smiled. “It/ means you’re not being belligerent. I need you belligerent, Lieutenant. I need to know Frenchmen are going to die.”
They’ll die, sir.“
“You’ve put men in the houses?” Vivar meant the houses which lay along the road outside the city’s perimeter.
“Yes, sir.”
“They can’t defend against an attack from the west there, can they?”
“It won’t be from the west, sir. We’ll see them to the west first, but they’ll attack from the south.”
It was plain as a pikestaff that Vivar was unhappy with Sharpe’s deployment, but he also had faith in the Rifleman’s skills and that faith made him swallow his protest. “You’re a typical British soldier,” he said instead, “talking of taverns when there’s work to do.” He laughed and turned away.