He turned left, beside the wall of the timber yard, and down toward the orchard. No-one was on the track as he had expected, but as he drew nearer he shouted for Harper and was rewarded by hearing a flurry of com-mands as the Light Company Sergeants ordered the men onto the track. He assumed the men would be reluctant to parade but doubted if they would dare oppose him, and he stopped and watched as Harper paraded the company in four ranks.
“Company on parade. Sir!”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
Sharpe walked to the front of the company, his back to the trees and to the crowd of spectators drawn from the Battalion’s women mixed with men from the other compa-nies who had come over the wall from the yard.
“We’re going on parade early.” They didn’t move. Their eyes stared rigidly in front of them. The six men detailed for punishment one step forward.”
There was a fractional hesitation. The six men, three Riflemen and three from the original Light Company, looked left and right but took the pace. There was a murmur in the ranks.
“Quiet!”
The men went silent but from behind, from the or-chard, a group of women began shouting insults and encouraging their men not to give up the protest. Sharpe spun round.
“Hold your tongues! Women can be flogged too!”
He marched the company to the market square and moved the footballers reluctantly from the thin turf. The six men to be flogged stood in the front rank wearing only their trousers and shirts. They went easily enough. Sharpe could tell from their faces that they were relieved that he had taken them over and forced them onto parade. Whatever hot words had been spoken in the burning Spanish afternoon Sharpe knew that no man really wanted to go through the hopeless business of taking on the full authority of the army. That sounded simple, he thought, and now he had to persuade nine other companies. He walked close to the six men in the front rank and looked hard at them.
“I know it’s unfair.” He spoke quietly. “You didn’t make the noise this morning.” He stopped. He was not sure what he wanted to say, and to go further would be to sound too sympathetic to their protest. Gataker, one of the unlucky Riflemen, grinned cheerfully.
“It’s all right, sir. It’s not your fault. And we’ve bribed the drummer boys.”
Sharpe smiled back. The bribe would be of little use, Simmerson would make sure of that, but he was grateful for Gataker’s words. He stepped back five paces and raised his voice.
“Wait here! If any man moves he’ll replace one of these six men!”
He walked over the turf towards the double gates of the timber yard. He had never really worried about his own men, knew that they would follow him, but as he paced towards the shut gates he wondered what trouble was brewing inside. And, more importantly, what trouble was being brewed behind the slab-like walls of the castle. He felt for his sword hilt and walked on.
CHAPTER 16
“Sir! Captain! Sir!”
Ensign Denny was running towards him, sword trailing, his face streaming with sweat. “Sir?”
“What did you find out?”
“Colonel’s at the castle, sir. I think he’s with the General. I met Captain Leroy and Major Forrest. Captain Leroy asked you to wait for him.”
Over Denny’s shoulder Sharpe saw Leroy, on his horse, coming from the steep streets that led to the castle. The American, thank God, was not hurrying. He walked his horse as though there were no emergency; if the men in the timber yard saw panic and worry among the officers they would think they were winning and merely become more obstinate.
Leroy’s horse almost sauntered the last few yards. The American nodded at Sharpe, took his hands off the reins, and lit a long black cheroot. “Sharpe.”
Sharpe grinned. “Leroy.”
Leroy slid off the horse and looked at Denny. “You ride a horse, young man?”
“Oh yes, sir!”
“Well climb up on that one and keep her quiet for me. Here you are.” Leroy cupped his hands and heaved the Ensign into the saddle.