‘Why does he want the gold?’
She shrugged as though it were a stupid question. ‘To buy power.’
For a moment Sharpe wondered if she meant soldiers, and then saw she had spoken the truth. The Spanish armies were gone; the government, if it could be called a government, was in faraway Cadiz, and El Catolico had an unparalleled chance to build his own empire. From the hills of Old Castile he could fashion a fiefdom that would rival that of the ancient barons who had built the fortresses that dotted the border area. For a ruthless man the whole country of Spain was one big opportunity. He was still staring at the girl.
‘And you?’
‘I want the French dead.’ The words were spoken with a terrible vehemence. ‘All of them.’
‘You need our help.’
She looked at him very steadily, not liking the truth, but finally nodded. ‘I know.’
He kept his eyes open and leaned forward, kissed her again as the rain lashed at them and the stream soaked them and the carts of the French convoy screeched in their ears. She shut her eyes, put a hand behind his head, held him, and he knew it was not a dream. He wanted her.
She pulled away, smiled at him for the first time. ‘You know the river rises?’
He nodded. ‘Can we cross?’
She glanced at the stream, shook her head. ‘If the rain stops tonight? Yes.’ Sharpe had seen the extraordinary speed with which rivers, in these dry hills, rose and fell. She nodded at the fort. ‘You can spend the night there.’
‘And you?’
She smiled again. ‘Can I leave?’
He felt a fool. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ll stay. What’s your name?’
‘Richard.’
She nodded. She looked again at the fortress.
‘You will be safe. We use it. Ten men can stop the entrance.’
‘And El Catolico?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s frightened of you. He’ll wait till tomorrow, when his men come.’
Rain lashed across the valley, ran’ from rock and grass and swelled the stream as the wind tore at the landscape. Half in the water, half out, they waited for the convoy to pass, and for what the next day would bring. The war would have to wait.
CHAPTER 15
‘Sir, sir!’ A hand was shaking his shoulder and Sharpe opened his eyes, to see grey daylight on grey walls. ‘Sir?’
‘All right!’ The girl was waking as well, the eyes blinking in surprise before she remembered where she was. He smiled at her. ‘Stay here.’
He crawled out of the space beneath the stairs, past the soldier who had wakened him, and went over to the gaping hole in the south wall of the tower. Dawn was like a grey mist on the countryside, blurring the trees, the grassland across the river, but he could see white flecks on the water surface where there had been none the evening before. The water level was sinking fast and the rocks which marked the ford of San Anton were foaming the river surface. They could cross today, and he lifted his eyes to stare into the western hills as if hoping to see a friendly patrol. He remembered the guns going south the day before and he paused, motionless, in the broken gap to listen for the crumping sound of the giant, iron siege guns. Silence. The siege of Almeida had not yet started.
‘Sir!’ Lieutenant Knowles stood in the tower doorway.
‘Lieutenant?’
‘Visitors, sir. Coming down the valley.’
Sharpe grunted, scrambled to his feet, and strapped on his huge sword as he followed Knowles into the courtyard. There was a fire blazing, surrounded by men, and Sharpe looked at them.
‘Do you have tea?’
One of them promised to bring him a cup and he joined Knowles on the raised rampart that formed the south-eastern corner of San Anton’s courtyard. He looked into the valley, up past the stream where the girl had lain beneath his body and the French lancers had first been seen.
‘We’re bloody popular this morning.’
A line of horsemen was riding on the track from Casatejada, El Catolico’s men, in force, and among them Kearsey’s blue coat. Sharpe spat over the rampart into the stream far below.