Williams grunted, half in amusement and half in understanding. “Those lads would, sir. You’ve got the cream of the Battalion there.”
“The cream?” Sharpe could not hide his surprise.
“The rogues, anyway.” Williams grinned. “Not me, sir. I was never much of a one for a scrap. I always hoped I’d never have to earn my pay, like.” He laughed. “But these boys, sir, most of them are right bastards.” The words were said with a kind of admiration. “Stands to reason, sir, if you think about it. I watched the lads when those crapauds attacked at the bridge, sir. Some were just ready to give up, but not these lads. They made sure they got away. You’ve got the tough ones, sir. Except for me. I was just lucky. But if you give these lads a chance to fight, sir, they’ll follow you.”
“They followed you, too,” Sharpe said. “I saw you on that hilltop. You were good.”
Williams touched the chevrons on his right sleeve. “I’d be ashamed of the stripes if I didn’t muck in. But no, sir, it was you. Bloody madness, it was, to charge that hill. But it worked!”
Sharpe shrugged the compliment away, but he recognized it for one and was secretly rather pleased. He might not be a born officer, but by God he was a born soldier. He was the son of a whore, bereft of God, but a God-damned soldier.
There were spades and shovels in the village that, taken back to the mouth of the canyon, were used to dig graves for the French dead.
Vivar walked with Sharpe to where the shallow graves were being scraped from the hard earth. The Spaniard stopped by one of the Dragoons who had died in the cavalry charge and whose body had since been stripped naked. The skin of the dead man’s body was as white as the churned snow, while his face had been turned brown by exposure to wind and sun. The bloodied face was framed by pigtails.
”Cadenettes,“ Vivar said abruptly. ”That’s what they call those. What do you call them, braids?“
“Pigtails.”
“It’s their mark.” He sounded bitter. “Their mark of being special, an elite.”
“Like the rosemary in your men’s hats?”
“No, not like that at all.” Vivar’s abrupt denial checked the words between the two men. They stood in embarrassed silence above the enemy dead.
Sharpe, feeling uncomfortable, broke the silence. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible for dismounted cavalry to break horsemen.”
The praise delighted the Major. “Nor would I have believed it possible for infantry to take that hill. It was stupid of you, Lieutenant, very stupid, and more brave that I could have dreamed possible. I thank you.”
Sharpe, as ever made awkward by a compliment, tried to shrug it away. “It was my Riflemen.”
“They did it to please you, I think?” Vivar spoke meaningfully, trying to offer Sharpe some reassurance. When the Englishman offered no response, the Spaniard’s voice became more intense. “Men always behave best when they know what is expected of them. Today you showed them what you wanted, and it was simple victory.”
Sharpe muttered something about luck.
Vivar ignored the evasion. “You led them, Lieutenant, and they knew what was expected of them. Men should always know what their officers expect of them. I give my Cazadores three rules. They must not steal unless they will die for not stealing, they must look after their horses before themselves, and they must fight like heroes. Three rules only, but they work. Give men firm rules, Lieutenant, and they will follow you.”
Sharpe, standing on the lonely and cold-swept plateau, knew he was being offered a gift by Major Vivar. Perhaps there were no rules for being an officer, and perhaps the best officers were born to their excellence, but the Spaniard was offering Sharpe a key to success and, sensing the value of the gift, he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Rules!” Vivar went on as though Sharpe had not spoken. “Rules make real soldiers, not child-killers like these bastards.” He kicked the dead Frenchman, then shuddered. Other French corpses were being dragged across the slurried snow to the shallow grave. Til have one of my men make some crosses from burnt wood.“ Again Sharpe was surprised by this man. One moment he kicked the naked corpse of an enemy, the next he was taking care to mark those enemies‘