Gibbons could hardly mistake Hogan’s message. The Captain had seen the scuffle and was warning Gibbons about the likely consequence of a formal duel. The Lieutenant took the proffered escape. He bent down and picked up his Light Company shako, then nodded to Sharpe.
“My mistake, Sharpe.”
“My pleasure, Lieutenant.”
Hogan watched Gibbons retrieve his horse and disap-pear from the alleyway. “You’re not very gracious at receiving an apology.”
“It wasn’t very graciously given.” Sharpe rubbed his cheek. “Anyway, the bastard hit me.”
Hogan laughed incredulously. “He what?”
“Hit me, with his whip. Why do you think I dumped him in the manure?”
Hogan shook his head. “There’s nothing so satisfying as a friendly and professional relationship with your fellow officers, my dear Sharpe. I can see this job will be a pleasure. What did he want?”
“Wanted me to salute him. Thought I was a private.”
Hogan laughed again. “God knows what Simmerson will think of you. Let’s go and find out.”
They were ushered into Simmerson’s room to find the Colonel of the South Essex sitting on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of trousers. A doctor knelt beside him who looked up nervously as the two officers came into the room; the movement prompted an impatient flap of Simmerson’s hand. “Come on, man, I haven’t all day!”
In his hand the doctor was holding what appeared to be a metal box with a trigger mounted on the top. He hovered it over Sir Henry’s arm and Sharpe saw he was trying to find a patch of skin that was not already scarred with strangely regular marks.
“Scarification!” Sir Henry barked to Hogan. “Do you bleed, Captain?”
“No, sir.”
“You should. Keeps a man healthy. All soldiers should bleed.” He turned back to the doctor who was still hesitating over the scarred forearm. “Come on, you idiot!”
In his nervousness the doctor pressed the trigger by mistake and there was a sharp click. From the bottom of the box Sharpe saw a group of wicked little blades leap out like steel tongues. The doctor flinched back. “I’m sorry, Sir Henry. A moment.”
The doctor forced the blades back into the box and Sharpe suddenly realised that it was a bleeding machine. Instead of the old-fashioned lancet in the vein Sir Henry preferred the modern scarifier that was supposed to be faster and more effective. The doctor placed the box on the Colonel’s arm, glanced nervously at his patient, then pressed the trigger.
“Ah! That’s better!” Sir Henry closed his eyes and smiled momentarily. A trickle of blood ran down his arm and escaped the towel that the doctor was dabbing at the flow.
“Again, Parton, again!”
The doctor shook his head. “But, Sir Henry. ”
Simmerson cuffed the doctor with his free hand. “Don’t argue with me! Damn it, man, bleed me!” He looked at Hogan. “Always too much spleen after a flogging, Captain.”
“That’s very understandable, sir,” Hogan said in his Irish brogue, and Simmerson looked at him suspiciously. The box clicked again, the blades gouged into the plump arm, and more blood trickled onto the sheets. Hogan caught Sharpe’s eye and there was the glimmer of a smile that could too easily turn into laughter. Sharpe looked back to Sir Henry Simmerson, who was pulling on his shirt.
“You must be Captain Hogan?”
“Yes, sir.” Hogan nodded amiably.
Simmerson turned to Sharpe. “And who the devil are you?”
“Lieutenant Sharpe, sir. 95th Rifles.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a damned disgrace, that’s what you are!”
Sharpe said nothing. He stared over the Colonel’s shoulder, through the window, at the far blue hills where the French were gathering their strength.
“Forrest!” Simmerson had stood up. “Forrest!”
The door opened and the Major, who must have been waiting for the summons, came in. He smiled timorously at Sharpe and Hogan and then turned to Simmerson. “Colonel?”
“This officer will need a new uniform. Provide it, please, and arrange to have the money deducted from his pay.”
“No.” Sharpe spoke flatly. Simmerson and Forrest turned to stare at him. For a moment Sir Henry said nothing; he was not used to being contradicted, and Sharpe kept going. “I am an officer of the 95th Rifles and I will wear their uniform so long as I have that honour.”