„Good questions,” Sharpe said dryly, „all of them.”
Lopes looked at the Quinta again. „Everywhere else in Portugal, senhor, where the French have left their dung, they have destroyed places like this. They have stolen the paintings, broken the furniture and drunk the cellars dry. Yet the war does not come to this house?” He turned to stare down the driveway where some twenty or thirty men had appeared. „My pupils,” he explained, „they need rest.”
The „pupils” were his men, a ragged band with which Lopes had been ambushing the French columns that carried ammunition to the gunners who fought against the Portuguese troops still holding the bridge at Amarante. The Schoolteacher had lost a good few men in the fights and admitted that his early successes had made him too confident until, just two days before, French dragoons had caught his men in open ground. „I hate those green bastards,” Lopes growled, „hate them and their big swords.” Nearly half his men had been killed and the rest had been lucky to escape. „So I brought them here,” Lopes said, „to recover, and because the Quinta do Zedes seems like a safe haven.”
Kate bridled when she heard Lopes wanted his men to stay at the house. „Tell him to take them to the village,” she said to Sharpe, and Sharpe carried her suggestion to the Schoolteacher.
Lopes laughed when he heard the message. „Her father was a pompous bastard too,” he said.
„You knew him?”
„I knew of him. He made port but wouldn’t drink it because of his stupid beliefs, and he wouldn’t take off his hat when the sacrament was carried past. What kind of a man is that? Even a Spaniard takes off his hat for the blessed sacraments.” Lopes shrugged. „My men will be happy in the village.” He drew on a filthy-smelling cigar. „We’ll only stay long enough to heal the worst wounds. Then we go back to the fight.”
„Us too,” Sharpe said.
„You?” The Schoolteacher was amused. „Yet you don’t fight now?”
„Colonel Christopher ordered us to stay here.”
„Colonel Christopher?”
„This is his wife’s house,” Sharpe said.
„I did not know he was married,” Lopes responded.
„You know him?”
„He came to see me in Braganga. I still owned the school then and I had a reputation as a man of influence. So the Colonel comes calling. He wanted to know if sentiment in Braganca was in favor of fighting the French and I told him that sentiment in Braganga was in favor of drowning the French in their own piss, but if that was not possible then we would fight them instead. So we do.” Lopes paused. „I also heard that the Colonel had money for anyone willing to fight against them, but we never saw any.” He turned and looked at the house. „And his wife owns the Quinta? And the French don’t touch the place?”
„Colonel Christopher,” Sharpe said, „talks to the French, and right now he’s south of the Douro where he’s taken a Frenchman to speak with the British General.”
Lopes stared at Sharpe for a few heartbeats. „Why would a French officer be talking to the British?” he asked and waited for Sharpe to answer, then did so himself when the rifleman was silent. „For one reason only,” Lopes suggested, „to make peace. Britain is going to run away, leave us to suffer.”
„I don’t know,” Sharpe said.
„We’ll beat them with you or without you,” Lopes said angrily and stalked down the drive, shouting at his men to bring his horse, pick up their baggage and follow him to the village.
The meeting with Lopes only made Sharpe feel more guilty. Other men were fighting while he did nothing and that night, after supper, he asked to speak with Kate. It was late and Kate had sent the servants back to the kitchen and Sharpe waited for her to call one back to act as her chaperone, but instead she led him into the long parlor. It was dark, for no candles were lit, so Kate went to one of the windows and pulled back its curtains to reveal a pale, moonlit night. The wisteria seemed to glow in the silver light. The boots of a sentry crunched on the driveway. „I know what you’re going to say,” Kate said, „that it’s time for you to go.”