Collett obligingly left and Windham leaned back. ‘I’m sorry, Sharpe.’
‘Yes, sir. And the gazette?’
‘Refused.’ So there it was. The firing squad pulled their triggers and Lieutenant Richard Sharpe gave a mocking, sardonic laugh that made Windham frown. A Lieutenant again!
‘So what am I to do, sir?’ Sharpe let the bitterness edge his voice. ‘Am I to report to Captain Rymer?’
‘No, Mr. Sharpe, you are not. Captain Rymer would find your presence an embarrassment, I’m sure you can understand that. He must be given time to settle in. I’ll keep you busy.’
‘I forgot, sir. I’m in charge of the women now.’
‘Don’t be impertinent, Sharpe!’ Windham snapped forward, startling the dogs.
‘You don’t understand, do you?’
‘There are rules, orders, regulations, Sharpe, by which our lives are conducted. If we ignore those rules, burdensome though they may be, then we open the gates to anarchy and tyranny; the very things against which we fight! Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir. ‘ Sharpe knew it would be pointless to mention that the rules, orders, and regulations were made by the privileged to protect the privileged. It had always been so, and always would. The only thing for him to do now was to get out with his shreds of dignity intact and then get stinking drunk. Show fellow Lieutenant Price how a real expert fell over.
Windham leaned back. ‘We’re going to Badajoz.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’re senior Lieutenant. ‘
‘Yes, sir.’ Sharpe’s replies were listless.
‘There’ll be vacancies, man! If we attack.’ That was true, and Sharpe nodded.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You can exchange.’ Windham looked expectantly at Sharpe.
‘No, sir.’ There were always officers who found their Regiments going to unpopular places such as the Fever Islands and who would offer to exchange with another officer in a battalion closer to the gaming tables and far from weird diseases. Usually they would offer a cash bribe to facilitate the exchange, but Sharpe dared not leave Spain, not while Teresa and Antonia were shut up in Badajoz. He listened to the rain on the window and thought of the girl riding. ‘I’ll stay, sir.’
‘Good!’ Windham sounded far from pleased. ‘There’s plenty of work. The mule train needs tidying up, I’ve seen that already, and, God knows, we’ll be swamped with pickaxes and spades. They all need counting ‘
‘In charge of mules, pick-axes, and women, sir?’
Windham’s eyes met the challenge. ‘Yes, Mr. Sharpe, if you insist. ‘
‘A suitable job, sir, for an ageing Lieutenant.’
‘It might, Lieutenant, engender humility.’
‘Yes, sir.’ An important quality to a soldier, humility, and Sharpe gave another sardonic laugh. Humility had not captured the gun at Ciudad Rodrigo, nor hacked a path through Fuentes de Onoro’s tight streets, nor fetched the gold from Spain, nor taken an Eagle from the enemy, nor rescued a General, nor brought a group of starving Riflemen out of a rout nor killed the Sultan Tippoo, and Sharpe’s sardonic laugh became real. He was being arrogant to himself, and perhaps Windham was right. He needed humility. He would now be parading wives and counting shovels, neither of which activity called for much initiative or leadership, and mules were notoriously chary of quick, confident decisions, and humility was best. He would be humble. ‘Sir?’
‘Yes?’
‘A request. ‘
‘Go on, man. ‘
‘I want to lead a Forlorn Hope at Badajoz, sir. I’d like you to forward my name now. I know it’s early, but I would be grateful if you would do so.’
Windham stared at him. ‘You’re unbalanced, man.’
Sharpe shook his head. He was not going to explain that he wanted a promotion that no man could take from him, and that he wanted to test himself in a breach because he had never done it. And if he died, as he surely would, and never saw his daughter? Then she would know that her father had died trying to reach her, leading an attack, and she could be proud. ‘I want it, sir.’
‘You don’t need it, Sharpe. There will be promotion at Badajoz.’
‘Will you forward my name, sir?’
Windham stood up. ‘Think about it, Sharpe, think about it.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘Report to Major Collett in the morning.’ The interview had been far worse than he had feared and the Colonel shook his head. ‘You don’t need it, Sharpe, you don’t. Now good day to you.’