And that, Sharpe thought, explained the silly bitch’s disappearance. She had eloped! But what Sharpe still did not understand was why she would need to conceal such a love from her mother who would surely approve of her choice? Christopher, so far as Sharpe could tell, was well born, affluent, properly educated and a gentleman: all the things, indeed, that Sharpe was not. Christopher was also very annoyed and, when Sharpe reached the Quinta, the Colonel faced him from the front steps and again demanded an explanation for the rifleman’s presence in Vila Real de Zedes.
„I told you,” Sharpe said, „we were cut off. We couldn’t cross the river.”
„Sir,” Christopher snapped, then waited for Sharpe to repeat the word, but Sharpe just stared past the Colonel into the Quinta’s hallway where he could see Kate unpacking clothes from the big leather valise.
„I gave you orders,” Christopher said.
„We couldn’t cross the river,” Sharpe said, „because there wasn’t a bridge. It broke. So we went to the ferry, but the damned Frogs had burned it, so now we’re going to Amarante, but we can’t use the main roads because the Frogs are swarming over them like lice, and I can’t go fast because I’ve got a wounded man and is there a room here where we can put him tonight?”
Christopher said nothing for a moment. He was waiting for Sharpe to call him „sir,” but the rifleman stubbornly stayed silent. Christopher sighed and glanced across the valley to where a buzzard circled. „You expect to stay here tonight?” he asked distantly.
„We’ve marched since three this morning,” Sharpe said. He was not sure they had left at three o’clock because he had no watch, but it sounded about right. „We’ll rest now,” he said, „then march again before tomorrow’s dawn.”
„The French,” Christopher said, „will be at Amarante.”
„No doubt they will,” Sharpe said, „but what else am I to do?”
Christopher flinched at Sharpe’s surly tone, then shuddered as Hagman moaned. „There’s a stable block behind the house,” he said coldly, „put your wounded man there. And who the devil is that?” He had noticed Vicente’s prisoner, Lieutenant Olivier.
Sharpe turned to see where the Colonel was looking. „A Frog,” he answered, „whose throat I’m going to cut.”
Christopher stared in horror at Sharpe. „A Frog whose … „ he began to repeat, but just then Kate came from the house to stand beside him.
He put an arm about her shoulder and, with an irritable look at Sharpe, raised his voice to call to Lieutenant Olivier. „Monsieur! Venez id, s’il vous plait.”
„He’s a prisoner,” Sharpe said.
„He’s an officer?” Christopher asked as Olivier threaded his way through Sharpe’s sullen men.
„He’s a lieutenant,” Sharpe said, „of the 18th Dragoons.”
Christopher gave Sharpe a rather startled look. „It is customary,” he said coldly, „to allow officers to give their parole. Where is the lieutenant’s sword?”
„I wasn’t keeping him prisoner,” Sharpe said, „Lieutenant Vicente was. The Lieutenant’s a lawyer, you see, and he seems to have the strange idea that the man should stand trial, but I was just planning on hanging him.”
Kate gave a small cry of horror. „Perhaps you should go inside, my dear,” Christopher suggested, but she did not move and he did not insist. „Why were you going to hang him?” he asked Sharpe instead.
„Because he’s a rapist,” Sharpe said flatly and the word prompted Kate to give another small cry, and this time Christopher bodily pushed her into the tiled hallway.
„You will mind your language,” Christopher said icily, „when my wife is present.”
„There was a lady present when this bastard raped her,” Sharpe said. „We caught him with his breeches round his ankles and his equipment hanging out. What was I supposed to do with him? Give him a brandy and offer him a game of whist?”
„He is an officer and a gentleman,” Christopher said, more concerned that Olivier was from the 18th Dragoons which meant he served with Captain Argenton. „Where is his sword?”
Lieutenant Vicente was introduced. He carried Olivier’s sword and Christopher insisted it be returned to the Frenchman. Vicente tried to explain that Olivier was accused of a crime and must be tried for it, but Colonel Christopher, speaking his impeccable Portuguese, dismissed the idea. „The conventions of war, Lieutenant,” he said, „do not allow for the trial of military officers as though they were civilians. You should know that if, as Sharpe claims, you are a lawyer. To allow the civil trial of prisoners of war would open up the possibilities of reciprocity. Try this man and execute him and the French will do the same to every Portuguese officer they take captive. You understand that, surely?”