‘Yes.’ Sharpe picked up Girdwood’s cane and the Lieutenant Colonel was helpless to protest. ‘You know me, Girdwood, as Private Vaughn. Or perhaps you just remember me as filth?’
‘No.’
Sharpe tapped the cane into his palm. ‘Do you make it a habit, Girdwood, to strike recruits? Or hunt men through the marshes?’
‘Who are you?’
Sharpe had been speaking softly, but now, with a savage, sudden blow, he cracked the cane onto the table to spill ink over Girdwood’s careful charts, and his voice was loud. ‘I am the man, Girdwood, who’s in charge of this Battalion. You are relieved.’
Girdwood stared. He could not imagine how a deserter, one of the filth of this camp, had suddenly come into this office as a full Major. He found it hard to make his voice coherent, but he managed. ‘You have orders?’
‘I have orders,’ Sharpe lied. ‘Of course I have bloody orders! You think I’d come to this place just for the pleasure of your filthy company?’
Girdwood knew he should be showing more bravado, but he was powerless to move and his voice, that was normally so harshly confident, was barely more than a whisper. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name, Girdwood, is Major Richard Sharpe, First Battalion the South Essex, and until three days ago, sometimes known as Private Vaughn.’ Sharpe saw the terror in Girdwood’s eyes, and felt no pity. ‘The man you hunted through the marshland, Colonel, was Regimental Sergeant Major Harper. An Irishman. You may remember that he once captured a French Eagle.’ Sharpe pointed with his cane at the gleaming badge on Girdwood’s shako. ‘That one.’
‘No.’ Girdwood was shaking his head. ‘No. No.’
‘Yes.’ Sharpe tapped the cane into his hand again, then, with sudden, terrible speed, he lashed it into Girdwood’s face, not to cut him as Sharpe was cut, but to ruin the careful sculpture of the shaped moustache. The blow shattered the shining pitch and a lump of tar hung pathetically down at the Lieutenant Colonel’s lip. Sharpe stared at him. ‘You spineless bastard. Dally!’
d’Alembord pushed the door open and stamped in with a wondrous display of military precision. ‘Sir?’
‘This is Lieutenant Colonel Girdwood. He is under arrest. You will conduct him to his quarters, search them for any papers belonging to this Battalion, and, if he gives you his word of honour, you will leave him unguarded.’
‘Yes, sir.’ d’Alembord looked at the small man with his ruined, broken moustache, and smiled. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be solemn. ‘Of course, sir.’
Sharpe snapped the silver headed cane in two and tossed the fragments onto Girdwood’s lap. ‘Get up, sir, and bugger off.’
Outside, as he followed d’Alembord and his prisoner, he saw a group of men gawping at him. He ignored them. ‘Lieutenant Price?’
‘Sir?’
‘Start going through the papers in this office.’ He tossed Price his rifle. ‘And Harry?’
‘Sir?’
‘If anyone tries to stop you, shoot them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sharpe untied his horse and mounted. He was beginning to enjoy himself.
Sergeant Lynch was not enjoying himself. He had been bawling at his squad, making them form a column of four on the centre files, swearing at the filth because they were getting it wrong, when he was suddenly aware that the men, instead of looking at him, were staring past him and that their faces, above the constricting leather stocks, were showing looks of astonishment and even delight. ‘Look at me, filth!’ They ignored him, and suddenly a voice bellowed behind him, a voice even louder than his own.
‘Look at me, filth!’
Sergeant Lynch turned.
Private O’Keefe stood there, except that he was not a private any longer, but a Sergeant, a huge Sergeant who had a rifle slung on one shoulder, a huge mouthed seven-barrelled gun on the other, and a sword-bayonet at his belt. Harper, grinning, stamped to attention a single pace away from Sergeant Lynch. ‘Remember me, filth?’
Lynch stared up at Harper, not knowing what to say or do, and the huge Irishman smiled back. ‘Say, “God save Ireland”, Sergeant Lynch.’
Lynch said nothing. The back of his neck, so acute was the angle at which he had to hold his head, was hurting because of the leather stock.