Sharpes Gold   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

Ayres, startled by a sudden smile from Sharpe, nodded hastily and agreed. 'I do, sir. I do.

Williams whirled on his unfortunate Lieutenant. 'What do you have to regret, Ayres? You mean there's more to this than I thought?

The Provost Marshal sighed and scraped a boot on the floor. 'I think the purpose of this meeting is over, gentlemen, and I have work to do. He looked at Sharpe. 'Thank you, Captain, for your apology. We'll leave you.

As they left, Sharpe could hear Colonel Williams interrogating Ayres as to why he should have any regrets, and Sharpe let a grin show on his face which widened into a broad smile as the door opened once more and Michael Hogan came into the room. The small Irishman shut the door carefully and smiled at Sharpe.

'As graceful an apology as I expected from you. How are you?

They shook hands, pleasure on both their faces. The war, it turned out, was treating Hogan well. An engineer, he had been transferred to Wellington's staff, and promoted. He spoke Portuguese and Spanish, and added to those skills was a common sense that was rare. Sharpe raised his eyebrows at Hogan's elegant, new uniform.

'So what do you do here?

'A bit of this and the other. Hogan beamed at him, paused, then sneezed violently. 'Christ and St Patrick! Bloody Irish Blackguard!

Sharpe looked puzzled and Hogan held out his snuff-box. 'Can't get Scotch Rappee here, only Irish Blackguard. It's like sniffing grapeshot straight up the nostrils.

'Give it up.

Hogan laughed. 'I've tried; I can't. His eyes watered as another sneeze gathered force. 'God in heaven!

'So what do you do?

Hogan wiped a tear from his cheek. 'Not so very much, Richard. I sort of find things out, about the enemy, you understand. And draw maps. Things like that. We call it «intelligence», but it's a fancy word for knowing a bit about the other fellow. And 1 have some duties in Lisbon. He waved a deprecating hand. 'I get by.

Lisbon, where Josefina was. The thought struck Hogan as it came to Sharpe, and the small Irishman smiled and answered the unspoken question. 'Aye, she's well.

Josefina, whom Sharpe had loved so briefly, for whom he had killed, and who had left him for a cavalry officer. He still thought of her, remembered the few nights, but this was no time or place for that kind of memory. He pushed the thought of her away, the jealousy he had for Captain Claud Hardy, and changed the subject.

'So what is this thing that I must bring back for the General?

Hogan leaned back. 'Nemos belli, pecuniam infinitam.

'You know I don't speak Spanish.

Hogan gave a gentle smile. 'Latin, Richard, Latin. Your education was sadly overlooked. Cicero said it: "The sinews of war are unlimited money."

'Money?

'Gold, to be precise. Bucketfuls of gold. A King's bloody ransom, my dear Richard, and we want it. No, more than we want it, we need it. Without it — He did not finish the sentence, but just shrugged instead.

'You're joking, surely!

Hogan carefully lit another candle — the light beyond the windows was fading fast — and spoke quietly. 'I wish I was. We've run out of money. You wouldn't believe it, but there it is. Eighty-five million pounds is the war budget this year — can you imagine it? — and we've run out.

'Run out?

Hogan gave another shrug. 'A new government in London, bloody English, demanding accounts. We're paying all Portugal's expenses, arming half the Spanish nation, and now we need it. He stressed the 'we'. 'It's what, I think, you would call a local embarrassment. We need some money fast, in a matter of days. We could force it out of London in a couple of months, but that will be too long. We need it now.

'And if not?

'If not, Richard, the French will be in Lisbon and not all the money in the world will make any difference. He smiled. 'So you go and get the money.

'I go and get the money. Sharpe grinned at the Irishman. 'How? Steal it?

'Shall we say "borrow"? Hogan's voice was serious. Sharpe said nothing and the Irishman sighed, leaned back. 'There is a problem, Richard, which is that the gold belongs to the Spanish government, in a manner of speaking.

'What manner?

Hogan shrugged. 'Who knows where the government is? Is it in Madrid, with the French? Or in Cadiz?

'And where's the gold? Paris?

Hogan gave a tired smile. 'Not quite that far. Two days' march. His voice became formal, reciting instructions. 'You leave tonight, march to Almeida. The crossing of the Coa is guarded by the Sixtieth; they're expecting you. In Almeida you meet Major Kearsey. From then on you are under his orders. We expect you to take no longer than one week, and should you need help, which pray God you do not, here is all you're going to get.

He pushed a piece of paper over the table. Sharpe unfolded it. Captain Sharpe is directed by my orders and all Officers of the Allied Armies are requested and instructed to offer Captain Sharpe any assistance he may require. The signature was a simple Wellington.

'There's no mention of gold? Sharpe had expected elucidation at this meeting. He seemed to find only more mysteries.

'We didn't think it wise to tell too many people about a great pile of gold that's looking for an owner. It sort of encourages greed, if you follow me.

A moth flew crazy circles round the candle flames. Sharpe heard dogs barking in the town, the tramping of horses in the stables behind the headquarters.

'So how much gold?

'Kearsey will tell you. It can be carried.

'Christ Almighty! Can't you tell me anything?

Hogan smiled. 'Not much. I'll tell you this much, though. He leaned back, locked his fingers behind his head. 'The war's going bad, Richard. It's not our fault. We need men, guns, horses, powder, everything. The enemy gets stronger. But there's only one thing can save us now, and that's this money.

'Why?

'I can't tell you. Hogan sighed, pained by hiding something from a trusted friend. 'We have something that is secret, Richard, and it must stay that way. He waved down an interruption. 'It's the biggest damned secret I've ever seen, and we don't want anyone to know — anyone. You'll know in the end, I promise you; everyone will. But for the moment, get the gold; pay for the secret.

They had marched at midnight. Hogan had waved them farewell, and now with the dawn bleaching the sky the Light Company was climbing the gorge of the river Coa towards the fortress town of Almeida. A shadowy picquet had waved them across the narrow, high bridge that spanned the river, and it had seemed to Sharpe, in that moment, that he was marching into the unknown. The road from the river zigzagged up the side of the gorge.