Patrick Harper appeared from the stables leading two horses. He passed close to Sir Augustus and stopped by Sharpe. 'Horse, sir.

'I see two.

'Thought you might like company. Harper's face was tight with annoyance. Sharpe looked at him curiously.

'What is it?

'D'you hear what the man's saying?

'No.

'‘My victory.’ He's telling her that he won here, so he is. Telling her that he took the Castle. And did you see her? She didn't even recognize me! Not so much as the time of day!

Sharpe grinned, took the reins, and pushed his left foot into a stirrup. 'She has a fortune to protect, Patrick. Wait till he's gone, she'll say hello. He pulled himself up. 'Wait here.

He hid his annoyance from Harper, but he was affronted just the same. If Sharpe ever wrote a book like 'Practical Instructions', which he would not, then there would be one piece of advice repeated page after page. Always give credit where it is due, however tempting to take it for yourself, for the higher a man rises in the army the more he needs the loyalty and support of his inferiors. It was time, Sharpe decided, to puncture Sir Augustus' self-esteem. He pulled the horse round, walked it to where Farthingdale was pointing up at the Colours and describing the morning as a very satisfying little fight.

'Sir?

'Major Sharpe?

'I thought you should have this, sir. For your report. Sharpe held out a scruffy, folded scrap of paper.

'What is it?

'The butcher's bill, sir.

'Ah. A hand, gloved in fine leather, twitched the paper away and tucked it into his sabretache.

'Aren't you going to look at it, sir?

'I was with the doctor, Sharpe. I've seen our wounded.’

’I was thinking of the killed, sir. Colonel Kinney, Major Ford, one Captain, and thirty-seven men, sir. Most of those died in the explosion. Wounded, sir. Forty-eight seriously, another twenty-nine not so serious. I'm sorry, sir. Thirty. I'd forgotten yourself.

Josefina giggled. Sir Augustus looked at Sharpe as though the Major had just crawled out of a particularly malodorous sewer. 'Thank you, Major.’

’And my apologies, sir.’

’Apologies?

'I haven't had time to shave.

Josefina laughed outright and Sharpe, remembering that she had always liked her men to fight, gave her a look of anger. He was not her man, and he was not fighting for her, and then whatever he might have said was interrupted by a trumpet call, insistent and faraway, the tones of a French cavalry instrument.

'Sir! The Rifleman on the keep. 'Four froggies, sir! One of 'em's got a white flag, sir. Coming this way!

'Thank you! Sharpe was tugging at the slings of his sword. He was not elegant on horseback, not like Sir Augustus, but at least the huge cavalry sword could hang properly at his side instead of being hitched halfway up his ribs by shortened slings. He rebuckled the leather straps and looked about the courtyard. 'Lieutenant Price!’Sir? Harry Price was tired. 'Look after Lady Farthingdale till we return!’Yes, sir! Price seemed suddenly awake. If Sir Augustus was peeved at this usurpation of his authority then Sharpe gave him no time to protest, nor did Sir Augustus choose to countermand the order. He followed Sharpe's horse through the shadowed sloping cobbles of the gateway, out onto the track and then right onto the grass where Sharpe let his horse have its head.

The trumpet was still calling, demanding a response from the British positions, but at the appearance of the three horsemen the notes died to an echo. In front of the French officers was a Lancer, a white strip of cloth tied beneath his lance-head, and Sharpe remembered the white ribbons that decorated the hornbeam in the Convent and he wondered if the German Lancers who fought for Napoleon also worshipped their old forest Gods at Yuletide; the old pre-Christian name for the winter feast.

'Sir! Sergeant Harper spurred up on Sharpe's left. 'Do you see, sir? The Colonel!

It was, too, and at the same moment Dubreton recognized Sharpe and waved. The French Colonel touched spurs to his horse, went past the Lancer, splashed through the small stream and cantered towards them. 'Major!

'Sharpe! Hold back! Farthingdale's protest was lost as Sharpe also put his heels back and the two horsemen raced together, circled, then reined in so that the horses were alongside each other and facing different directions. 'Is she safe?

Dubreton's eager request was in stark contrast to his studied calm when they had met before in the Convent. Then the Frenchman had been able to do nothing for his wife, now it was different.

'She's safe. Quite safe. Not even touched, sir. Can I say how glad I am?

'God! Dubreton shut his eyes. The bad dreams, the imaginings of all those drear nights seemed to flow out of him. He shook his head. 'God! The eyes opened. 'Your doing, Major?

'The Rifles, sir.

'But you led them?

'Yes, sir.

Farthingdale reined in a few paces behind Sharpe and on his face was a look of fury because the Rifleman had offended decorum by racing ahead. 'Major Sharpe!

'Sir. Sharpe twisted in his saddle. 'I have the honour to name Chef du Battalion Dubreton. This is Colonel Sir Augustus Farthingdale.

Farthingdale ignored Sharpe. He spoke in what, to Sharpe's ears, sounded like fluent French, and then the other two French officers arrived and Dubreton made the introductions in his equally flawless English. One was a German Colonel of Lancers, a huge man with a red moustache and curiously gentle eyes, while the other was a French Colonel of Dragoons. The Dragoon Colonel wore a green cloak over his green uniform, and on his head was a tall metal helmet that had a cloth cover to stop the sun reflecting from the polished metal. He had a long straight sword and, unusual for a Colonel, a cavalry carbine rested in his saddle's bucket holster. A fighting Regiment, the Dragoons, hardened by chasing elusive Partisans through a hostile countryside, and Sharpe saw the Frenchman's disdain when he looked at the fastidious Sir Augustus. Behind the officers the Lancer picked at the knot of the white cloth.

Dubreton smiled at Sharpe. 'I owe you thanks.’

’No, sir.

'But I do. He looked at Harper, modestly holding back, and raised his voice. 'I'm glad to see you well, Sergeant!’

’Thank you, sir. Kind of you. And your Sergeant?’

’Bigeard's in the village. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you. Farthingdale interrupted in French, his voice implying annoyance at the civilities. Dubreton's replies were in English. 'We came, Sir Augustus, on the same mission as yourselves. May I express our pleasure at your success, my personal thanks, and my regrets that you have suffered casualties? The stripped bodies of the dead waited white and cold beside the deepening graves.

Sir Augustus stayed talking in French, Sharpe suspected to exclude him from the discussion, while Dubreton, perhaps wishing the opposite, obstinately made his replies in English. The patrol Sharpe had half glimpsed in the dawn had been Dubreton's scouts, brave men who had volunteered to ride into the valley pretending to be deserters and who would have somehow escaped back before nightfall to guide the rescue party into the valley. They had seen the Riflemen, seen the flag hoisted, and had prudently withdrawn. 'They were disappointed, Sir Augustus!

The Frenchwomen were to be handed over immediately, that Sharpe gathered from Dubreton's words, and then the conversation grew sticky and awkward because Sir Augustus was not able to answer the Frenchman's questions about the whereabouts of the French deserters. Farthingdale was forced to turn to Sharpe for help. Sharpe smiled ruefully. 'I'm afraid many escaped.

'I'm sure you did everything possible, Major. Dubreton said it tactfully.

Sharpe glanced at the two other Colonels. Two Regiments of Cavalry? It seemed a lot for this rescue attempt, but their presence had given him another idea. The Dragoon Colonel was looking at Sharpe's great sword that hung beside the cavalry sabre that was attached to his borrowed saddle. Sharpe grinned. 'Our weakness, Colonel, was in cavalry. We chased them out of the Castle, but we can't do much about rounding them up in the hills. He looked southwards. 'Not, I think, that they'll have got very far.