When the guns stopped they were ordered back to bury the dead quickly, and the men scraped shallow holes in the soft earth beside the stream. The French came as well. For a few minutes the troops avoided each other but soon someone made a joke, held out a hand, and within minutes the enemies shook hands, tried on each other’s shakoes, shared the meagre scraps of food and treated each other like long-lost friends rather than sworn enemies. The valley was littered with the remains of battle: unexploded shells, weapons, looted packs, the usual garbage of defeat.
“Sharpe! Captain!” Sharpe turned to see Hogan picking his way through the dead and the wounded. “I’ve been looking for you!” The Engineer slid from his horse and looked around. “Are you all right?”
“I’m all right.” Sharpe accepted Hogan’s offered water-bottle. “How’s Josefina?”
Hogan smiled. “She slept.”
Sharpe looked at the dark rings under the Irishman’s eyes. “But you didn’t?”
Hogan shook his head and then indicated the bodies. “One sleepless night isn’t much to complain about.”
“And Josefina?”
“I think she’s all right. Really, Richard.” Hogan shook his head. “She’s subdued, unhappy. But what would you expect after last night?”
Last night, thought Sharpe. Good God, it was only last night. He turned away and looked at the bloodied water of the Portina stream and at the Frenchmen on the far bank who were excavating a wide shallow hole into which their stripped dead were being thrown. He turned back to Hogan. “What’s happening in town?”
“In the town? Oh, you’re worried about her safety?” Sharpe nodded. Hogan took out his snuff box. “Every-thing’s quiet. They rounded up most of the Spanish and they’re back in their lines. There’s a guard in the town to stop any more looting.”
“So she’s safe?”
Hogan looked at Sharpe’s red-rimmed eyes, at the deep shadows on the face, and nodded. “She’s safe, Richard.” Hogan said no more. Sharpe’s face scared him; a grim face, he thought, like the face of a desperate adventurer who would risk everything on the single fall of a pair of dice. The two men began walking beside the stream, between the bodies, and Hogan thought of the Prince of Wales Dragoon, a Captain with a broken arm, who had called at the house early in the morning. Josefina had been surprised to see him, but pleased, and told Hogan that she had met the cavalry officer in the town the day before. The Dragoon had taken over Hogan’s vigil but this, the Engineer thought, was no time to tell Sharpe about Captain Claud Hardy. Hogan had liked the man, had taken immediately to Hardy’s laughing description of how he had fallen from his horse, and the Irishman could see how relieved Josefina was to have someone sitting beside her who told her jokes, talked blithely of balls and banquets, hunting and horses, but who shrewdly understood whatever horrors still lurked in her memories of the night before. Hardy was good for Josefina, Hogan knew, but this was not the time to tell that to Sharpe.
“Richard?”
“Yes?”
“Have you done anything about. ?” Hogan broke off.
“Gibbons and Berry?”
“Yes.” Hogan stepped aside and led his horse away from a Frenchman dragging a naked corpse over the grass. Sharpe waited until the man had gone.
“Why?”
Hogan shrugged. “I was thinking.” He spoke hesitantly. “I was hoping that after a night to think about it you would be careful. It could destroy your career. A duel, a fight. Be careful.” Hogan was virtually pleading. Sharpe stopped and turned to him.
“I promise you one thing. I will do nothing to Lieutenant Berry.”
Hogan thought for a moment. Sharpe’s face was un-readable but finally the Irishman nodded slowly. “I sup-pose that’s a good thing. But you’re still determined about Gibbons?”
Sharpe smiled. “Lieutenant Gibbons will soon join Lieutenant Berry.” He turned away and began walking up the slope. Hogan ran after him.
“You mean?”
“Yes. Berry’s dead. Tell Josefina that, will you?”
Hogan felt an immense sadness, not for Berry, who had probably deserved whatever Sharpe had done to him, but for Sharpe, who saw all of life as one immense battle and had equipped himself to fight it with an unparalleled ferocity. “Be careful, Richard.”