Lawford drank it in one go. ‘That was the first man I’ve killed,’ he said, blinking from the harshness of the liquor.
‘Worry you?’
‘Of course it does! He was British!’
‘Can’t skin a cat without making a bloody mess,’ Sharpe said comfortingly.
‘Jesus!’ Lawford said angrily.
Sharpe poured half his liquor into Lawford’s glass, then beckoned to one of the serving girls who circled the tables refilling glasses. ‘You had to do it,’ he said.
‘If I’d have missed like you,’ Lawford said ruefully, ‘Gudin would have been just as impressed. That was a fine shot of yours.’
‘I was aiming to kill the bugger.’
‘You were?’ Lawford was shocked.
‘Jesus Christ, Bill! We have to convince these buggers!’ Sharpe smiled as the girl poured more liquor, then he tipped a handful of small brass coins into a wooden bowl on the table. Another bowl held a strange spice which the other
drinkers nibbled between sips, but Sharpe found the stuff too pungent. Once the girl was gone he looked at the troubled Lieutenant. ‘Did you think this was going to be easy?’
Lawford was silent for a few seconds, then gave a shrug. ‘In truth I thought it would be impossible.’
‘So why did you come?’
Lawford cradled the glass in both hands and stared at Sharpe as if weighing up whether or not to answer. ‘To get away from Morris,’ he finally confessed, ‘and for the excitement.’ He seemed embarrassed to admit as much.
‘Morris is a bastard,’ Sharpe said feelingly.
Lawford frowned at the criticism. ‘He’s bored,’ he said chidingly, then he steered the conversation away from the danger area of criticizing a superior officer. ‘And I also came because I owe gratitude to my uncle.’
‘And because it would get you noticed?’
Lawford looked up with some surprise on his face, then he nodded. ‘That too.’
‘Same as me then,’ Sharpe said. ‘Exact same as me. Except till the General said you was coming with me I had half a mind to run proper.’
Lawford was shocked by the admission. ‘You really wanted to desert?’
‘For Christ’s sake! What do you think it’s like in the ranks if you’ve got an officer like Morris and a sergeant like Hakeswill? Those bastards think we’re just bleeding cattle, but we’re not. Most of us want to do a decent job. Not too decent, maybe. We want a bit of money and a bibbi from time to time, but we don’t actually enjoy being flogged. And we can fight like the bloody devil. If you bastard lot started trusting us instead of treating us like the enemy, you’d be bloody amazed what we could do.’
Lawford said nothing.
“You’ve got some good men in the company,’ Sharpe insisted. ‘Tom Garrard is a better soldier than half the officers
in the battalion, but you don’t even notice him. If a man can’t read and doesn’t speak like a bleeding choirboy you think he can’t be trusted.’
‘The army’s changing,’ Lawford said defensively.
‘Like hell it is. Why do you make us powder our hair like bleeding women? Or wear that bloody stock?’
‘Change takes time,’ Lawford said weakly.
‘Too much bloody time/ Sharpe said fervently, then leaned against the wall and eyed the girls who were cooking at the tavern’s far end. Were they whores, he wondered? Hickson and Blake had told him they knew where the best whores were, then he remembered Mary and suddenly felt guilty. He had not seen her once since their arrival in Seringapatam, but nor had he thought that much about her. In truth he was having too good a time here; the food was good, the liquor cheap and the company acceptable, and to that was added the heady spice of danger. ‘After that brilliant piece of sharpshooting,’ he encouraged Lawford, ‘we’re going to be all right. We’ll have a chance to get out of here.’
‘What about Mrs Bickerstaff ?’ Lawford asked.
‘I was just thinking of her. And maybe you were right. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her. Couldn’t leave her with the army though, could I? Not with Hakeswill planning to sell her to a kin.’
‘A kin?’
‘A pimp.’