Sharpe’s Fortress [181-011-4.2] By: Bernard Cornwell

would suffer, not him, so it did not really matter. And what was

Sharpe anyway? Nothing but an upstart from the ranks, so who would

care if he died? Torrance killed another moth, then opened the kitchen

door.

“Come here, Brick.”

“No, sir, please?”

“Shut up. And come here. You can kill these damn moths while I get

drunk.”

Filthy drunk, he reckoned, for he had been scared today. He knew he

had very nearly got caught when Sharpe had stripped the tent away from

the purloined supplies, but by killing Naig quickly Torrance had

protected himself, and now the price of his continued survival was

Sharpe’s death. Arrange that, he thought, and all his troubles would

be past. He forced Brick to drink some arrack, knowing how she hated

it.

Then he drank some himself. Damn Sharpe to hell, he thought, damn the

interfering bastard to hell, which was where Sharpe was going anyway so

Torrance drank to that happy prospect. Farewell, Mister Sharpe.

CHAPTER 4

Sharpe was not sure how far away Deogaum was, but guessed it was close

to twenty miles and that was at least a seven-hour journey on foot, and

so it was long before dawn when he stirred Ahmed from his sleep beside

the smouldering remains of a bullock-dung fire, then set off under the

stars. He tried to teach Ahmed some English.

“Stars,” Sharpe said, pointing.

“Stars,” Ahmed repeated dutifully.

“Moon,” Sharpe said.

“Moon,” Ahmed echoed.

“Sky.”

“Moon?” Ahmed asked, curious that Sharpe was still pointing to the

sky.

“Sky, you bugger.”

“Skyoobugger?”

“Never mind,” Sharpe said. He was hungry, and he had forgotten to ask

Captain Torrance where he was supposed to draw rations, but their

northward route took them through the village of Argaum where the

fighting battalions of the army were bivouacked. Unburied bodies still

littered the battlefield, and scavenging wild dogs growled from the

dark stench as Sharpe and Ahmed walked past. A picquet challenged them

at the village, and Sharpe asked the man where he would find the

cavalry lines. He could not imagine taking Ahmed to the 74th’s mess

for breakfast, but Sergeant Eli Lockhart might be more welcoming.

The reveille had sounded by the time Sharpe came to the gully where the

horses were picketed and the troopers’ campfires were being restored to

life. Lockhart scowled at the unexpected visitor through the smoky

dawn gloom, then grinned when he recognized Sharpe.

“Must be some fighting to do, lads,” he announced, ‘the bleeding

infantry’s here. Good morning, sir. Need our help again?”

“I need some breakfast,” Sharpe admitted.

“Tea, that’ll start you off. Smithers! Pork chops! Davies! Some of

that bread you’re hiding from me. Look lively now!” Lockhart turned

back to Sharpe.

“Don’t ask me where the chops come from, sir. I might have to lie.” He

spat in a tin mug, scoured its interior with the end of his blanket,

then filled it with tea.

“There you are, sir. Does your boy want some?

Here you are, lad.” Lockhart, a mug of tea in his own hand, then

insisted on taking Sharpe to the picketed horses.

“See, sir?” He lifted a horse’s leg to show off the new horseshoe.

“My guvnor’s beholden to you. I might introduce you after

breakfast.”

Sharpe assumed that Lockhart was talking of his troop commander, but

once the pork chops and bread had been eaten, the Sergeant led Sharpe

across to the lines of the native cavalry, and then to the tent of the

7th Native Cavalry’s commanding officer who, it seemed, was in charge

of all the army’s cavalry.

“He’s called Huddlestone,” Lockhart said, ‘and he’s a decent fellow.

He’ll probably offer us another breakfast.”

Colonel Huddlestone did indeed insist that both Lockhart and Sharpe

join him for a breakfast of rice and eggs. Sharpe was beginning to see

that Lockhart was a useful man, someone who was trusted by his officers

and liked by his troopers, for Huddlestone greeted the Sergeant warmly

and immediately plunged into a conversation about some local horses

that had been purchased for remounts and which Huddlestone reckoned

would never stand the strain of battle, though Lockhart seemed to feel

that a few of them would be adequate.

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