A scream cut through the Convent, an awful scream, agony slicing the air.
No one moved. The scream had come from within the Convent. A woman’s scream.
Pot-au-Feu looked at Sharpe’s rifle, then at Dubreton. He spoke in a reasonable tone, his deep voice placatory, and Dubreton looked at Sharpe. ‘He suggests we forget this small contretemps. If you lower your gun, he will call his man back.’
‘Tell him to call the man first.’ It was as if the scream had never happened.
‘Obadiah! Obadiah!’ Pot-au-Feu’s voice was wheedling. ‘Come ‘ere, Obadiah! Come!’
Dubreton spoke to Bigeard and the French Sergeant slowly released his grip. For a second Sharpe thought Hakeswill would throw himself at Harper again, but Pot-au-Feu’s voice drew the shambling, yellow faced figure back towards him. Hakeswill stooped, picked up the fragment of sword with its handle, and thrust it pathetically into his scabbard so that at least it looked correct. Pot-au-Feu spoke softly to him, patted his arm, and beckoned to one of the three girls. She huddled next to Obadiah, stroking him, and Sharpe lowered his rifle as he stood up.
Pot-au-Feu spoke to Dubreton. The Colonel translated for Sharpe. ‘He says Obadiah is his loyal servant. Obadiah kills for him. He rewards Obadiah with drink, power and women.’
Pot-au-Feu laughed when Dubreton had finished. Sharpe could see the strain on the Colonel’s face and he knew the Frenchman was remembering the scream. His wife was held here. Yet neither officer had asked about the scream, for both knew that to do so was to play into Pot-au-Feu’s hands. He wanted them to ask.
It came again, wavering to a shrill intensity, sobbing in gasps to silence. Pot-au-Feu acted as if it had never sounded. His deep voice was talking to Dubreton again.
‘He says he will count the money, then the women will be brought.’
Sharpe had presumed that the table was for counting the money, but three men dragged the coins to a clear patch of tiles and began the laborious task of piling them and counting. The table had another purpose. Pot-au-Feu clapped his podgy hands and a fourth girl appeared who carried a tray. She put it on the table and the fat Frenchman fondled her, took the lid from the earthenware pot on the tray, and then spoke lengthily to Dubreton. The rumbling voice seemed full of pleasure; it lingered lasciviously on certain words as Pot-au-Feu spooned food into a bowl.
Dubreton sighed, turned to Sharpe, but his eyes looked into the sky. Smoke was rising where there had been none twenty minutes before. ‘Do you want to know what he said?’
‘Should I, sir?’
‘It’s a recipe for hare stew, Major.’ Dubreton gave a thin smile. ‘I suspect rather a good one.’
Pot-au-Feu was eating greedily, the thick sauce dripping onto his fat, white-breeched thighs.
Sharpe smiled. ‘I just cut them up, boil them in water and salt.’
‘I can truly believe that, Major. I had to teach my own wife to cook.’
Sharpe raised an eyebrow. There was an inflection in Dubreton’s words that was intriguing.
The Frenchman smiled. ‘My wife is English. We met and married during the Peace of Amiens, the last time I was in London. She has lived the ten years since in France and is now even a creditable cook. Not as good as the servants, of course, but it takes a lifetime to learn how simple cooking is.’
‘Simple?’
‘Of course.’ The Colonel glanced at Pot-au-Feu who was delicately picking up a lump of meat that had fallen onto his lap. ‘He takes his hares, cuts the flesh off the bones, and then soaks them for a full day in olive oil, vinegar and wine. You add garlic, Major, a little salt, some pepper, and a handful of juniper berries if you have them. You save the blood and you mix it with the livers which you have ground into a paste.’ There was an enthusiasm in Dubreton’s voice. ‘Now. After a day you take the flesh and you cook it in butter and bacon fat. Just brown it. Put some flour in the pan then put it all back into the sauce. Add more wine. Add the blood and the liver, and heat it up. Boil it. You will find it superb, especially if you add a spoonful of olive oil as you serve it.’