Sharpe uncoiled the whip from his neck, picked up one of the clumsy spears, and finished off the two jettis who still lived. One had been stunned and the other was almost unable to
breathe, and both now had their throats cut. From the windows of the low buildings around the courtyard men and women stared at Sharpe in shock.
‘Don’t just stand there!’ Sharpe snarled at Lawford. ‘Sir,’ he added hastily.
Lawford and McCandless came through the gate, while Kunwar Singh, as if released from a spell, suddenly hurried to meet them. Mary crossed to Sharpe. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Never better, lass,’ he said. In truth he was shaking as he picked up his red coat and as Kunwar Singh’s six men stared at him as though he was a devil come from nightmare. Sharpe wiped sweat from his eyes. He was oblivious of most of what had just happened for he had fought as he had always fought, fast and with a lethal skill, but it was instinct that led him, not reason, and the fight had left him with a seething hate. He wanted to slake that hate by killing more men, and perhaps Kunwar Singh’s soldiers picked up that ferocity, for none of them dared move.
Lawford crossed to Sharpe. ‘We think the assault is about to come, Sharpe,’ the Lieutenant said, ‘and Colonel McCandless is being taken to a place of safety. He’s insisted that we go with him. The fellow in the jewels isn’t happy about that, but McCandless won’t go without us. And well done, by the way.’
Sharpe glanced up into the Lieutenant’s eyes. T’m not going with him, sir, I’m going to fight.’
‘Sharpe!’ Lawford reproved him.
‘There’s a bloody great mine, sir!’ Sharpe raised his voice angrily. ‘Just waiting to kill our lads! I ain’t letting that happen. You can do what you bloody well like, but I’m going to kill some more of these bastards. You can come with me, sir, or stay with the Colonel, I don’t care. You, lad!’ This was to one of Kunwar Singh’s uncomprehending soldiers. ‘Give me some cartridges. Come on, hurry!’ Sharpe crossed to the man, pulled open his pouch and helped himself to a handful of
cartridges that he shoved into a pocket. Kunwar Singh made no move to stop him. Indeed, everyone in the courtyard seemed to be stunned by the ferocity that had reduced three of the Tippoo’s prized jettis to dead meat, though the officer commanding the troops on the inner wall did now call down to demand to know what was happening. Kunwar Singh shouted back that they were doing the Tippoo’s bidding.
McCandless had overheard Sharpe talking to Lawford. ‘If I can help, Private . ..’ the Colonel said.
‘You’re weak, sir, begging your pardon, sir. But Mister Lawford will help me.’
Lawford said nothing for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, of course I will.’
‘What will you do?’ McCandless asked. He spoke to Sharpe, not Lawford.
‘Blow the bloody mine, sir, blow it to kingdom come.’
‘God bless you, Sharpe. And keep you.’
‘Save your prayers for the bloody enemy, sir,’ Sharpe said curtly. He rammed a bullet home, then plunged into an alleyway that led southwards. He was loose in his enemy’s rear, he was angry, and he was ready to give the bastards a taste of hell on earth.
Major General Baird hauled a huge watch from his fob pocket, sprang open the lid, and stared at the hands. One o’clock. On the fourth of May 1799. A Saturday. A drop of sweat landed on the watch crystal and he carefully wiped it away with a tassel of his red sash. His mother had made the sash. “You’ll not let us down, young Davy,’ she had said sternly, giving him the strip of tasseEed silk and then saying no more as he had walked away to join the army. The sash was over twenty years old now, and it was frayed and threadbare, but Baird reckoned it would last him. He would take it back to Scotland one day.
It would be good, he thought, to go home and see the new
century. Maybe the eighteen hundreds would bring a different world, even a better one, but he doubted that the new era would manage to dispense with soldiers. Till time ended, Baird suspected, there would be uses for a man and his sword. He took off his mildewed hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Almost time.
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