“You surely want to have your business in Puerto Crucero finished by the time the Espiritu Santo arrives there, do you not? Else how will you be able to travel back to Europe in her? Besides, we always specify the dates for travel, Colonel, otherwise how do we know the permits have been properly used?”
“But I need a tin-lined coffin made!” Sharpe insisted, “and I can’t do that and buy horses all in one day!”
Marquinez brushed the objections aside. “The armorers at Puerto Crucero will be pleased to make a coffin for you. And I’m sure Mister Blair will be happy to help you buy horses and saddles, as well as supplies for the journey.”
Sharpe still protested the arrangement. “Why can’t we sleep on the Espiritu Santa’s deck? We don’t need cabins.”
Marquinez tried to soothe Sharpe. “The fault is entirely ours. We insisted that Captain Ardiles carry reinforcements for the Puerto Crucero garrison, and he claims he cannot cram another soul on board his ship. Alas.” Marquinez sounded genuinely sympathetic. “But even if you could change Ardiles’s mind, then you would still need new travel permits because these, as you can plainly see, are good only for land travel and do not give you permission to journey by sea. It is the regulations, you understand.” Marquinez offered Sharpe one of his dazzling white smiles. “But perhaps, Colonel, you will do me the honor of letting me escort you for the first few miles? I could bring some company!” Marquinez raised his eyebrows to indicate that the company would be enjoyable, “and perhaps you will do me the favor of allowing me to provide you with luncheon? It would provide me with an opportunity to show you some scenery that is truly spectacular. I beg you! Please!” Marquinez waited for Sharpe’s assent, then sensed the Englishman’s suspicions. “My dear Colonel,” Marquinez hastened to reassure Sharpe, “bring Mister Blair if that will make you easier!”
It seemed churlish to refuse. So far Marquinez had exacted neither payment nor bribe for the travel permits, indeed he had produced everything Sharpe had wanted, and the elegant young Captain seemed genuinely enthusiastic about showing Sharpe and Harper some of Chile’s most beautiful countryside, and so Sharpe accepted the invitation, and then, with the permits safe in his pocket, he went to seek Blair’s urgent help in buying horses and supplies.
They had just one day before they rode south to rendezvous with a corpse.
It was, Harper said, a countryside so lovely and so fertile that it seemed only fitting that he rode it on a horse of gold.
In truth the horse was nothing special, but the beast had cost more money than either Harper or Sharpe had ever paid for a horse, and Sharpe’s horse had cost just as much, yet Blair had been at pains to convince them that the animals had been purchased at something close to a bargain price. “Horses are expensive here!” the Consul had pleaded, “and when you leave Chile you should be able to sell them at a profit. Or something close to a profit.”
“At a loss, you mean?” Sharpe asked.
“You need horses!” Blair insisted, and so they had paid for the two most expensive lumps of horseflesh ever bred. Harper’s was a big mare, gray with a wall left eye and a hard, bruising gait. She was not pretty, but she was stubborn and strong enough to cope with Harper’s weight. Sharpe’s horse was also a mare, a chestnut with a docked tail and gaunt ribs. “All she needs is a bit of feeding,” Blair had said, then negotiated the price of a mule that was to carry their luggage as well as the box which, taken from Blair’s strong room, was now even more depleted of its precious gold.
What was left in the box was still a small fortune, and one that seemed increasingly unnecessary. So far, to Sharpe’s astonishment, everything had proved remarkably easy. “It must be your reputation,” Blair had said. The Consul claimed to be too busy to accept Marquinez’s invitation, but had assured Sharpe there could be no danger in Marquinez’s company. “Or perhaps Bautista thinks you’ve got a deal of influence back in Spain. You’re a lucky man.”