„We?” Sharpe asked. „The poets and philosophers?”
„We would walk there,” Vicente said, „spend the night in the tavern and walk back. I doubt there will be Frenchmen there. It is not on the road to Amarante. Not on any road.”
„So we go to the village at the edge of the wilderness,” Sharpe said. „What’s it called?”
„Vila Real de Zedes,” Vicente said. „It is called that because the vineyards there once belonged to the King, but that was long ago. Now they are the property of-”
„Vila Real de what?” Sharpe asked.
„Zedes,” Vicente said, puzzled by Sharpe’s tone and even more puzzled by the smile on Sharpe’s face. „You know the place?”
„I don’t know it,” Sharpe said, „but there’s a girl I want to meet there.”
„A girl!” Vicente sounded disapproving.
„A nineteen-year-old girl,” Sharpe said, „and believe it or not, it’s a duty.” He turned to see if the stretcher was finished and suddenly stiffened in anger. „What the hell is he doing here?” he asked. He was staring at the French dragoon, Lieutenant Olivier, who was watching as Harper carefully rolled Hagman onto the stretcher.
„He is to stand trial,” Vicente said stubbornly, „so he is here under arrest and under my personal protection.”
„Bloody hell!” Sharpe exploded.
„It is a matter of principle,” Vicente insisted.
„Principle!” Sharpe shouted. „It’s a matter of bloody stupidity, lawyer’s bloody stupidity! We’re in the middle of a bloody war, not in a bloody assizes town in England.” He saw Vicente’s incomprehension. „Oh, never mind,” he growled. „How long will it take us to reach Vila Real de Zedes?”
„We should be there tomorrow morning,” Vicente said coldly, then looked at Hagman, „so long as he doesn’t slow us down too much.”
„We’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Sharpe said, and then he would rescue Miss Savage and find out just why she had run away. And after that, God help him, he would slaughter the bloody dragoon officer, lawyer or no lawyer.
The savage country house, which was called the Quinta do Zedes, was not in Vila Real de Zedes itself, but high on a hill spur to the south of the village. It was a beautiful place, its whitewashed walls edged with masonry to trace out the elegant lines of a small manor house which looked across the once royal vineyards. The shutters were painted blue, and the high windows of the ground floor were decorated with stained glass which showed the coats of arms of the family which had once owned the Quinta do Zedes. Mister Savage had bought the Quinta along with the vineyards, and, because the house was high, possessed a thick tiled roof and was surrounded by trees hung with wisteria, it proved blessedly cool in summer and so the Savage family would move there each June and stay till October when they took themselves back to the House Beautiful high on Oporto’s slope. Then Mister Savage had died of a seizure and the house had stayed empty ever since except for the half-dozen servants who lived at the back and tended the small vegetable garden and walked down the long curving drive to the village church for mass. There was a chapel in the Quinta do Zedes and in the old days, when the owners of the coats of arms had lived in the long cool rooms, the servants had been allowed to attend mass in the family chapel, but mister Savage had been a staunch Protestant and he had ordered the altar taken away, the statues removed and the chapel whitewashed for use is a food store.
The servants had been surprised when Miss Kate came to the house, nit they curtsied or bowed and then set about making the great rooms comfortable. The dust sheets were pulled from pieces of furniture, the )ats were knocked off the beams and the pale-blue shutters were thrown open to let in the spring sun. Fires were lit to take away the lingering winter chill, though on that first evening Kate did not stay indoors beside the fires, but instead sat on a balcony built on top of the Quinta’s porch and stared down the drive which was edged with wisteria hanging from the cedar trees. The evening shadows stretched, but no one came.