“We both served in Spain,” Sharpe explained.
“You did! Then our debt to you is incalculable. Please, seat yourselves. You said you had a letter of introduction?”
Marquinez took and read Dona Louisa’s letter which did not specifically describe Sharpe’s errand, but merely asked any Spanish official to offer whatever help was possible. “Which of course we will offer gladly!” Marquinez spoke with what seemed to be a genuine warmth. “I never had the pleasure of meeting Don Bias’s wife. He died, of course, before she could join him here. So very tragic, and such a waste. He was a good man, even perhaps a great man! There was something saintly about him, I always thought.” The last compliment, uttered in a very bland voice, somehow suggested what an infernal nuisance saints could be. Marquinez carefully folded the letter’s pendant seal into the paper, then handed it back to Sharpe with a courtly flourish. “And how, sir, might we help you?”
“We need a permit to visit Puerto Crucero where we want to exhume Don Bias’s body, then ship it home.” Sharpe, encouraged by Marquinez’s friendliness, saw no need to be delicate about his needs.
Marquinez smiled, revealing teeth as white and regular as a small child’s. “I see no extraordinary difficulties there. You will, of course, need a permit to travel to Puerto Crucero.” He went to his table and riffled through his papers. “Did you sail out here on the Espiritu Santo?”
‘Yes.”
“She’s due to sail back to Spain in a few days and I see that she’s ordered to call at Puerto Crucero on her way. There’s a gold shipment ready, and Ardiles’s ship is the safest transport we have. I see no reason why you shouldn’t travel down the coast in the Espiritu Santo and, if we’re fortunate, you might even take the body back to Europe in her hold.”
Sharpe, who had been prepared by Blair for every kind of official obstructiveness, dared not believe his good fortune. The Espiritu Santo could indeed solve all his problems, but Marquinez had qualified his optimism with one cautious word that Sharpe now echoed as a tentative query. “Fortunate?”
“Besides the permit to travel to Puerto Crucero,” Marquinez explained, “you will need a permit to exhume Don Bias’s body. That permit is issued by the church, of course, but I’m sure the Bishop will be eager to satisfy the Dowager Countess of Mouro-morto. However, you should understand that sometimes the church is, how shall I say? Dilatory?”
“We came prepared for such difficulties,” Sharpe said.
“How so?” The question was swift.
“The church must have charities dear to its heart?”
“How very thoughtful of you.” Marquinez, relieved that Sharpe had so swiftly understood the obstacle, offered his guests a dazzling smile and Sharpe wondered how a man kept his teeth so white. Marquinez then held up a warning hand. “We mustn’t forget the necessary license to export a body. There is a disease risk, you understand, and we have to satisfy ourselves that every precaution has been taken.”
“We came well prepared,” Sharpe said dourly. The requirements, so far as he could see, were two massive bribes. One to the church which, in Sharpe’s experience, was always greedy for cash, and the other to the army authorities to secure the travel permit and for the license to export a body, which license, Sharpe suspected, had just been dreamed up by the inventive Marquinez. Dona Louisa, Sharpe thought, had understood Chile perfectly when she insisted on sending him with the big chest of coins. Sharpe smiled at the charming Marquinez. “So when, senor, may we expect a travel permit? Today?”
“Oh, dear me, no!” Marquinez frowned, as though Sharpe’s suggestion of such haste was somehow unseemly.
“Soon?” Sharpe pressed.
“The decision is not mine,” Marquinez said happily.
“Our affairs will surely not be of interest to Captain-General Bautista?” Sharpe said with what he hoped was a convincing innocence.
“The Captain-General is interested in all our visitors, especially those who have been notable soldiers,” Marquinez bowed to Sharpe, whose fame had been described in Louisa’s letter of introduction. “Tell me,” Marquinez went on, “were you at Waterloo?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am sure the Captain-General will want to meet you. General Bautista is an afficionado of the Emperor. He would, I think, be delighted to hear of your experiences.” Marquinez beamed delightedly, as if a mutual treat awaited his master and Sharpe. “Such a pleasure to meet you both!” Marquinez said, then ushered them back to the guardroom. “Such a pleasure,” he said again.