The balcony shutters were closed. Somewhere deep in the palace, perhaps from the harem where the Tippoo's six hundred wives, concubines and handmaidens all lived, a harp tinkled prettily, while down in the courtyard the tigers' keepers used their long staves to herd the beasts as they released them from their chains. The Tippoo smiled at his followers. 'Back to the walls, gentlemen, he said. 'We have work to do.

The keepers released the last tiger, then followed the jettis out through the gateway. The dead soldier had been dragged away. For a moment the tigers watched the remaining body, then one of the beasts crossed to the merchant's corpse and eviscerated the fat belly with one blow of its huge paw.

And so Ravi Shekhar had died. And now was eaten.

Sharpe was back with his company before sunset. He was greeted ebulliendy by men who saw in his release from the flogging a small victory for the lower ranks against blind authority. Private Mallinson even clapped Sharpe on the back, and was rewarded with a stream of curses.

Sharpe ate with his usual six companions who, as ever, were joined by three wives and by Mary. The supper was a stew of beans, rice and salt beef, and it was at the end of the small meal, when they were sharing a canteen of arrack, that Sergeant Hakeswill appeared. 'Private Sharpe! He was carrying a cane that he pointed towards Sharpe. 'I wants you! 'Sergeant. Sharpe acknowledged Hakeswill, but did not move.

'A word with you, Private. On your feet now!

Sharpe still did not move. 'I'm excused company duties, Sergeant. Colonel's orders.

Hakeswill's face wrenched itself in a grotesque twitch. 'This ain't your duty, the Sergeant said, 'this is your bleeding pleasure. So get on your bloody feet and come here.

Sharpe obediently stood, flinching as his coat tugged at his grievously wounded back. He followed the Sergeant to an open space behind the surgeon's tent where Hakeswill turned and rammed his cane into Sharpe's chest. 'How the hell did you escape that flogging, Sharpie?

Sharpe ignored the question. Hakeswill's broken nose was still swollen and bruised, and Sharpe could see the worry in the Sergeant's eyes.

'Didn't you hear me, boy? Hakeswill shoved the cane's tip into Sharpe's belly. 'How come you was cut down?

'How come you were cut down from the scaffold, Sergeant? Sharpe asked.

'No lip from you, boy. No lip, or by God I'll have you strapped to the tripod again. Now tell me what the General wanted.

Sharpe shook his head. Tf you want to know that, Sergeant, he said, 'you'd better ask General Harris yourself.

'Stand still! Stand straight! Hakeswill snapped, then cut with his cane at a nearby guy rope. He sniffed, wondering how best to worm the information out of Sharpe and decided, for a change, to try gentleness. 'I admire you, Sharpie, the Sergeant said hoarsely. 'Not many men have the guts to walk after getting two hundred tickles of the whip. Takes a strong man to do that, Sharpie, and I'd hate to see you getting even more tickles. It's in your best interest to tell me, Sharpie. You know that. It'll go bad with you else. So why was you released, lad?

Sharpe pretended to relent. 'You know why I was released, Sergeant, he said. 'The Colonel announced it.

'No, I don't know, lad, Hakeswill said. 'Upon my soul, I don't. So you tell me now.

Sharpe shrugged. 'Because we fought well the other day, Sergeant. It's a reward, like.

'No, it bleeding ain't! Hakeswill shouted, then dodged to one side and slashed his cane onto Sharpe's wounded back. Sharpe almost screamed with the pain. 'You don't get called away to a general's tent for that, Sharpie! Hakeswill said. 'Stands to reason! Never heard nothing like it in all my born days. So you tell me why, you bastard.

Sharpe turned to face his persecutor. 'You lay that cane on me again, Obadiah, he said softly, 'and I'll tell General Harris about you. I'll have you skinned of your stripes, I will, and turned back into a private. Would you like that, Obadiah? You and me in the same file? I'd like that, Obadiah.

'Stand still! Hakeswill spat.

'Shut your face, Sergeant, Sharpe said. He had called Hakeswill's bluff, and there was pleasure in that. The Sergeant had doubtless thought he could bully the truth out of Sharpe, but Sharpe held all the trump cards here. 'How's your nose? he asked Hakeswill.

'Be careful, Sharpie. Be careful.

'Oh, I am, Sergeant, I am. I'm real careful. Have you done now? Sharpe did not wait for an answer, but just walked away. The next time he faced Obadiah, he thought, he would have the stripes on his sleeve, and God help Hakeswill then.

He talked to Mary for half an hour, then it was time to make the excuses that Lieutenant Lawford had rehearsed with him. He picked up his pack, took his musket, and said he had to report to the paymaster's tent. Tm on light duties till the stripes heal, he told his mates, 'doing sentry-go on the money. I'll see you tomorrow.

Major General Baird had made all the arrangements. The camp's western perimeter was guarded by men he could trust, and those men had orders to disregard anything they saw, while next day, Baird promised Lawford, the army would take care not to send any cavalry patrols directly west in case those patrols discovered the two fugitives. 'Your job is to go as far west as you can tonight, Baird told Sharpe and Lawford when he met them close to the western picquet line, 'and then keep walking west in the morning. You understand now?

'Yes, sir, Lawford answered. The Lieutenant, beneath a heavy cloak that disguised his uniform, was now dressed in the common soldier's red wool coat and white trousers. Sharpe had tugged Lawford's hair back, then wrapped it round the learner pad to form the queue, and after that he had smothered it with a mix of grease and powder so that Lawford looked no different from any other private except that his hands were still too soft, but at least they now had ink under the fingernails and ground into the pores. Lawford had grimaced as Sharpe had tugged at his hair, and protested when Sharpe had gouged two marks in his neck where a stock would have scraped twin calluses, but Baird had hushed him. Lawford winced again when he put on the leather stock and realized just what discomfort the ordinary soldier endured daily. Now, safe out of sight of the soldiers about their camp-fires, he dropped the cloak, pulled on a pack and picked up his musket.

Baird hauled a huge watch from his pocket and tilted its face to the half moon. 'Eleven o'clock, the General said. 'Time you fellows were away. He put two fingers in his mouth and sounded a shrill quick whistle and the picquet, visible in the pale moonlight, magically parted north and south to leave an unguarded gap in the camp's perimeter. Baird had shaken Lawford's hand, then patted Sharpe's shoulder. 'How's your back, Sharpe?

'Hurts like hell, sir. It did too.

Baird looked worried. 'You'll manage, though?

'I ain't soft, sir.

T never supposed you were, Private. Baird patted Sharpe's shoulder again, then gestured into the dark. 'Off you go, lads, and God be with you. Baird watched the two men run across the open ground and disappear into the darkness on the farther side. He waited for a long time, hoping to catch a last glimpse of the two men's shadows, but he saw nothing, and his best judgement suggested that he would probably never see either soldier again and that reflection saddened him. He sounded the whistle again and watched as the sentries reformed the picquet line, then he turned and walked slowly back to his tent.

'This way, Sharpe, Lawford said when they were out of earshot of the sentries. 'We're following a star.

'Just like the wise men, Bill, Sharpe said. It had taken Sharpe an extraordinary effort to use Mister Lawford's first name, but he knew he had to do it. His survival, and Lawford's, depended on everything being done right.