The lancers ducked their spired helmets as they clattered through the tunnel of the city's Bangalore Gate and so led the fugitives into the stinking tangle of crowded streets. The spears forged the lancers' path, driving civilians aside and forcing wagons and handcarts into hasty retreats up any convenient alley. Even the sacred cows that wandered freely inside the city were forced aside, though the lancers did it gently, not wanting to offend the sensibilities of the Hindus. They passed the mosque, then turned down a street lined with shops, their open fronts thickly hung with cloth, silk, silver jewellery, vegetables, shoes and hides. In one alley Law-ford caught a glimpse of bloodsoaked men butchering two camels and the sight almost made him gag. A naked child hurled a bloody camel's tail at the two white men, and soon a horde of tattered, chanting children were dodging through the lancers' horses to mock the prisoners and pelt them with animal dung. Sharpe cursed them, Lawford hunched low as he walked, and the children only ran away when two European soldiers, both dressed in bluejackets, chased them away. 'Prisonniers? one of the two men called cheerfully.

'Non, monsieur, Lawford answered in his best schoolboy French. 'Nous sommes deserteurs.

'C'est bonl' The man tossed Lawford a mango. 'Lafemme aussi?

'Lafemme est notre prisonniere. Lawford tried a little wit and was rewarded with a laugh and a farewell shout of bonne chance.

'You speak French? Sharpe asked.

'A little, Lawford claimed modestly. 'Really only a little.

'Bloody amazing, Sharpe said and Lawford was obscurely pleased that he had at last succeeded in impressing his companion. 'Bet not many private soldiers speak Frog, Sharpe dashed Lawford's pleasure, 'so don't show yourself as being too good at it. Stick to bloody English.

'I didn't think of that, Lawford said ruefully. He looked at the mango as though he had never seen such a piece of fruit before, and it was plain that his hunger was tempting him to bite into the sweet flesh, but then his manners prevailed and he gallantly insisted that Mary eat the fruit instead.

The lancers turned into a delicately sculpted archway where two sentries stood guard. Once inside the archway the cavalrymen slid down from their saddles and, lances in hand, led their horses down a narrow passage between two high brick walls. Sharpe, Mary and Lawford were more or less abandoned just inside the gateway where the two sentries ignored them, but did chase away the more curious townsfolk who had gathered to stare at the Europeans. Sharpe sat on a mounting block and tried to ignore the pain in his back. Then the lancer officer returned and shouted at them to follow him. He led them through another arch, then under an arcade where flowers twined round pillars, and so to a guardroom. The officer said something to Mary, then locked the door. 'He says we're to wait, Mary said. She still had the mango, and though the lancers had stripped Sharpe and Lawford of their coats and packs and had searched the two men for coins and hidden weapons, they had not searched Mary and she took a small folding penknife from an inside pocket of her skirt and cut the fruit into three portions. Law-ford ate his share, then wiped juice from his chin. 'Did you ever get that picklock, Sharpe? he asked, saw Sharpe's furious glare, and coloured. 'Dick, he corrected himself.

'Had it all along, Sharpe said. 'Mary's got it. And she's got the guinea. He grinned despite his pain.

'You mean you lied to General Baird? Lawford asked sternly.

"Course I bloody lied! Sharpe snarled. 'What kind of a fool admits to having a picklock?

For a moment Lawford looked as though he would reprove Sharpe for dishonesty, but the Lieutenant controlled the urge. He merely shook his head in mute disapproval, then sat with his back against the bare brick wall. The floor was made of small green tiles on which Sharpe lay on his belly. In minutes he was asleep. Mary sat beside him, sometimes stroking his hair and Lawford found himself embarrassed by her display of affection. He felt he ought to talk with Mary, but found he had nothing to say and so decided it was better not to speak in case he woke Sharpe. He waited. Somewhere deep in the palace a fountain splashed. Once there was a great clatter of hooves as cavalrymen led their horses out from the inner stables, but most of the time it was quiet in the room. It was also blessedly cool.

Sharpe woke after dark. He groaned as the pains in his back registered and Mary hushed him. 'What time is it, love? Sharpe asked her.

'Late.

'Jesus, Sharpe said as a stab of agony tore down his spine. He sat up, whimpering with the effort, and tried to prop himself against the wall. A wan moonlight came through the small barred window and Mary, in its dim light, could see the bloodstains spreading through the bandages and onto Sharpe's shirt. 'Have they forgotten us? Sharpe asked.

'No, Mary said. 'They brought us some water while you were asleep. Here. She lifted the jug towards him. 'And they gave us a bucket. She gestured across the dim cell. 'For… she faltered.

'I can smell what the bucket's for, Sharpe said. He took the jug and drank. Lawford was slumped against the far wall and there was a small open book face down on the floor beside the sleeping Lieutenant. Sharpe grimaced. 'Glad the bugger's brought something useful, he said to Mary.

'You mean this? Lawford said, indicating the book. He had not been asleep after all.

Sharpe wished he had not used the insult, but did not know how to retrieve it. 'What is it? he asked instead.

'A Bible.

'Bloody hell, Sharpe said.

'You don't approve? Lawford asked icily.

'I had a bellyful of the good book when I was in the foundlings' home, Sharpe said. 'If they weren't reading it to us they were hitting us round the head with it, and it wasn't some litde book like that one, but a bloody great big thick thing. Could have stunned an ox, that Bible.

'Did they teach you to read it? Lawford asked.

'We weren't reckoned good enough to read. Good enough to pick hemp, we were, but not read. No, they just read it to us at breakfast. It was the same every morning: cold porridge, tin of water and an earful of Abraham and Isaac.

'So you can't read? Lawford asked.

'Of course I can't read! Sharpe laughed scornfully. 'What the bloody hell's the use of reading?

'Don't be a fool, Dick, Lawford said patiently. 'Only a fool takes pride in pretending that a skill he doesn't possess is worthless. For a second Lawford was tempted to launch himself on a panegyric of reading; how it would open a new world to Sharpe, a world of drama and story and information and poetry and timeless wisdom, then he thought better of it. 'You want your sergeant's stripes, don't you? he asked instead.

'A man doesn't have to read to be a sergeant, Sharpe said stubbornly.

'No, but it helps, and you'll be a better sergeant if you can read. Otherwise the company clerks tell you what the reports say, and what the lists say, and what the punishment book says, and the quartermasters will rob you blind. But if you can read then you'll know when they're lying to you.

There was a long silence. Somewhere in the palace a sentry's footsteps echoed off stone, then came a sound so familiar that it almost made Lawford weep for homesickness. It was a clock striking the hour. Twelve o'clock. Midnight. 'Is it hard? Sharpe finally asked.

'Learning to read? Lawford said. 'Not really.

'Then you and Mary had better teach me, Bill, hadn't you?

'Yes, Lawford said. 'Yes. We had.

They were taken out of the guardroom in the morning. Four tiger-striped soldiers fetched them and pushed them down the arcade, then into a narrow corridor that seemed to run beside the kitchens, and afterwards through a shadowed tangle of stables and storerooms that led to a double gate which opened into a large courtyard where the bright sun made them blink. Then Sharpe's eyes adjusted to the brilliant daylight and he saw what waited for them in the courtyard, and he swore. There were six tigers, all of them huge beasts with yellow eyes and dirty teeth. The animals stared at the three newcomers, then one of the tigers rose, arched its back, shook himself, and slowly padded towards them. 'Jesus Christ! Sharpe said, but just then the tiger's chain lifted from the dusty ground, stretched taut, and the tiger, cheated of its breakfast, growled and went back to the shadows. Another beast scratched itself, a third yawned. 'Look at the size of the bastards! Shaipe said.