Sharpe's Gold

'Watch me. Sharpe smiled.

'I will. And my daughter?

'She'll come back to you. Very soon.

'And that makes you sad?

Sharpe nodded and Moreno gave Sharpe a shrewd look that reminded the Rifleman that once this man had been powerful. Could be again.

Moreno's voice was gentle. 'Perhaps one day?

'But you hope not.

Teresa's father nodded and smiled. 'I hope not, but she is headstrong. I watched her, from the day I betrothed her to El Catolico, and knew one day she would spit in my face, and his. She waited her moment, like you.

'And now he waits his?

'Yes. Go carefully. He went to the door, waved a hand. 'We will meet again.

Sharpe sat down, poured a glass of wine, and shook his head. He was tired, to the bone, and his shoulder ached and he wondered if his left arm would ever move free again, and the shadows lengthened on the carpet till he slept, not hearing the evening gun, or the door opening.

'Sharpe!

God Almighty! He jerked upright. 'Sir?

Cox strode over the floor, trailing staff officers and paper. 'What the devil's happening, Sharpe?

'Happening, sir?

'Your men won't release the gold!

Kearsey came through the door and with him, magnificently uniformed, a Spanish Colonel. It took Sharpe a few seconds, seconds of focusing on the gold lace, the looping silver, to realize it was El Catolico. The face had not changed. The powerful eyes, the slight glint of humour, the face of an enemy.

He turned back to Cox. 'I'm sorry, sir?

'Are you deaf, Sharpe? The gold! Where is it?

'Don't know, sir. Waited here, sir. As ordered, sir.

Cox grunted, picked up a piece of paper, looked at it, and let it drop. 'I've made a decision.

'Yes, sir. A decision, sir. Sharpe had adopted his erstwhile sergeant's ma

'I'm sorry, Sharpe. I only have your word for it, and Lossow's. The gold is Spanish, obviously Spanish, and Colonel Jovellanos is an accredited representative of the government of Spain. He gestured at El Catolico, who smiled and bowed. Sharpe looked at the Partisan leader in his immaculate finery.

'Yes, sir. Accredited representative, sir!

The bastard must be handy with a pen, he thought, and it suddenly occurred to him that one of the fat coins would make a superb seal, pressed into the red wax with the ornate coat of arms downwards. He wondered how El Catolico had obliterated the writing round the edge of the coin, but then thought how he would do it himself with a file, or by hammering the soft gold flat.

Cox sighed. 'You will deliver the gold to Colonel Jovellanos and his men, and you will do it quickly. Is that understood?

'Yes, sir. Understood! He was standing ramrod straight, staring at a point just above Cox's head.

The Brigadier sighed. 'I don't think it is, Captain. Cox sat down wearily, pulled a sheet of paper towards him, uncapped his ink, and took a fresh goose-quill. 'At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, Captain, twenty-seventh August 1810. He was writing quickly, paraphrasing the formal order as the quill scratched on the paper. 'A detachment of my troops will take charge of the bullion… He paused; the room listened to the scrape of the pen. … Led by…" Cox looked round the room, found one of his officers. … Colonel Barrios. Barrios nodded, a formal gesture. 'You, Colonel, will deliver the gold to Colonel Jovellanos, who will be ready to leave at the north gate. El Catolico nodded, clicked his heels for attention. Cox looked up. 'Colonel?

El Catolico smiled. His voice was at its silkiest. 'I was hoping to persuade you, sir, to allow myself and some of my men to stay and help in your gallant defence."

Sharpe could not believe it. The bastard. He had as much intention of staying as Sharpe had of handing over the gold.

Cox smiled, blinked with pleasure. 'That's uncommonly decent of you, Colonel. He gestured at the paper. 'Does it change anything?

'Only that the gold, sir, could be handed to Senor Moreno, or one of my Lieutenants.

'Of course, of course. Cox dipped the quill, scratched out some words. 'To the Spanish contingent of Colonel Jovellanos. He raised an eyebrow to El Catolico. 'I think that covers it.

El Catolico bowed. 'Thank you, sir. He shot a look of triumph at Sharpe. 'And, sir? El Catolico bowed again. 'Could the transfer be tonight?

Sharpe held his breath, let it out slowly as Cox spoke. The Brigadier was frowning, looking at the paper.

'Ten o'clock will do, Colonel. Sharpe suspected he did not want to cross out the top lines of the closely written order. Cox smiled at El Catolico, gestured at Sharpe. 'After all, Captain Sharpe can hardly leave!

El Catolico smiled politely. 'As you say, sir.

So what was the bastard playing at? Why the suggestion that he might stay on? Sharpe stared at the tall Spaniard, trying to fathom the motive. Could it be just to curry favour with Cox? Sharpe doubted it; the Spaniard was getting most of what he wanted without trying. Except that El Catolico did want one thing more. Sharpe thought of the dark hair on the pillow, the slim body on the stiff, white linen sheets. The Spaniard wanted the girl, and his revenge, and if it could not be tonight, then El Catolico would stay on till it was accomplished.

Sharpe was suddenly aware that Cox had spoken his name. 'Sir?

The Brigadier had pulled another sheet of paper forward. 'At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, Captain, your Company will join my defences on the south wall. The pen splattered ink on the paper.

'Pardon, sir?

Cox looked up from the paper, irritated. 'You heard me, Sharpe! You join the garrison. Captain Lossow leaves. I don't need cavalry, but you stay. No infantry can hope to escape now. Understand?

God in heaven! 'Yes, sir.

The cathedral clock began chiming. Kearsey put a hand on Sharpe's elbow. 'I'm sorry, Sharpe.

Sharpe nodded, listening to the bell. He was oblivious of Kearsey's concern, of El Catolico's triumph, of Cox's preoccupation. Ten o'clock, and all not well. The decision had been forced on him, but it was still his decision. The last echo of the last note died flatly away, and Sharpe wondered if any bell would ever ring, ever again, in the grey-starred, ill-starred fortress town.