"Too much news, my Lord, and none of it good," Hogan said. He took off his hat and fanned his face. "Marshal Bessiиres has joined Massйna, my Lord. Brought a deal of cavalry and artillery with him, but no infantry as far as we can gather."
"Your partisans?" Wellington was inquiring about the source of Hogan's information.
"Indeed, my Lord. They shadowed Bessiиres's march." Hogan took out his snuff box and helped himself to a restorative pinch while Wellington digested the news. Bessiиres commanded the French army in Northern Spain, an army devoted wholly to fighting partisans, and the news that Bessiиres had brought troops to reinforce Marshal Massйna hinted that the French were readying themselves for their attempt to relieve the seige of Almeida.
Wellington rode in silence for a few yards. His route took him up a gentle slope to a grassy crest that offered another view of the enemy fortress. He took out a spyglass and gave the spreading, low walls and the artillery-shattered rooftops a long inspection. Hogan imagined the gunners handspiking their guns around to lay on their new target. Wellington grunted, then snapped the spyglass shut. "So Massйna's coming to resupply these rascals, is he? And if he succeeds, Hogan, they'll have enough supplies to last out till hell goes cold unless we storm the place first, and storming it will take until midsummer at least, and I can't storm Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo at the same time, so Massйna will just have to be stopped. It'll go low, I warrant." This last remark referred to a cannon that had just fired from the walls. The smoke jetted out across the ditch as Hogan tried to catch sight of the missile. The roundshot arrived a second before the sound of the gun. The ball bounced on the slope below the General's party and ricocheted high over his head to crack against an olive tree. Wellington turned his horse away. "But you know what it will mean, Hogan, if I try to stop Massйna in front of Almeida?"
"The Coa, my Lord."
"Exactly." If the British and Portuguese army fought the French close to Almeida then they would have the deep, fast-flowing River Coa at their backs, and if Massйna succeeded in turning Wellington's right flank, which he would assuredly try to do, then the army would be left with one road, just one road, on which it could retreat if it suffered defeat. And that one road led across a high, narrow bridge over the Coa's otherwise uncrossable gorge, and if the defeated army with all its guns and baggage and women and pack-horses and wounded were to try and cross that one narrow bridge then there would be chaos. And into that chaos would plunge the Emperor's heavy horses with their sword-wielding troopers and thus a fine British army that had thrown the French out of Portugal would die on the frontier of Spain and there would be a new bridge over the Seine in Paris and it would bear the odd name of Pont Castello Bom in commemoration of the place where Andrй Massйna, Marshal of France, would have destroyed Lord Wellington's army. "So we shall have to beat Marshal Massйna, won't we?" Wellington said to himself, then turned to Hogan. "When will he come, Hogan?"
"Soon, my Lord, very soon. The stores in Ciudad Rodrigo won't allow them otherwise," Hogan answered. With the arrival of Bessiиres's men the French now had too many mouths to feed from Ciudad Rodrigo's supply depots, which meant they would have to march soon or starve.
"So how many does Massйna have now?" Wellington asked.
"He can put fifty thousand men into the field, my Lord."
"And I can't put forty thousand against them," Wellington said bitterly. "One day, Hogan, London will come to believe that we can win this war and will actually send us some troops who are not mad, blind or drunk, but till then…?" He left the question unanswered. "Any more of those damned counterfeit newspapers?"
Hogan was not surprised by the sudden change of subject. The newspapers describing the fictional atrocities in Ireland had been intended to disaffect the Irish soldiers in the British army. The ploy had failed, but only just, and both Hogan and Wellington feared that the next attempt might be more successful. And if that attempt came on the eve of Massйna's crossing of the frontier to relieve Almeida it could be disastrous. "None, sir," Hogan said, "yet."
"But you've moved the Real Companпa Irlandesa away from the frontier?"
"They should be arriving at Vilar Formoso this morning, my Lord," Hogan said.
Wellington grimaced. "At which juncture you will apprise Captain Sharpe of his troubles?" The General did not wait for Hogan's answer. "Did he shoot the two prisoners, Hogan?"
"I suspect so, my Lord, yes," Hogan answered heavily. General Valverde had reported the execution of Loup's men to the British headquarters, not in protest at the actual deed, but rather as proof that Loup's raid on the San Isidro Fort had been provoked by Captain Sharpe's irresponsibility. Valverde was riding a high moral horse and loudly proclaiming that Spanish and Portuguese lives could not be trusted to British command. The Portuguese were unlikely to worry overmuch about Valverde's allegations, but the juntain Cadiz would be only too eager for any ammunition they could use against their British allies. Valverde was already passing on a litany of other complaints, how British soldiers failed to salute when the Holy Sacraments were being carried through the streets, and how the freemasons among the British officers offended Catholic sensibilities by openly parading in their regalia, but now he had a more bitter and wounding allegation: that the British would fight to the last drop of their allies' blood and the massacre at San Isidro was his proof.
"Damn Sharpe," Wellington said.
Damn Valverde, Hogan thought, but Britain needed Spanish goodwill more than it needed one rogue rifleman. "I haven't talked to Sharpe, my Lord," Hogan said, "but I suspect he did kill the two men. I hear it was the usual thing: Loup's men had raped village women." Hogan shrugged as if to imply that such horror was now commonplace.
"It may be the usual thing," Wellington said acidly, "but that hardly condones the execution of prisoners. It's my experience, Hogan, that when you promote a man from the ranks he usually takes to drink, but not in Mister Sharpe's case. No, I promote Sergeant Sharpe and he takes to conducting private wars behind my back! Loup didn't attack the San Isidro to destroy Oliveira or Kiely, Hogan, he did it to find Sharpe, which makes the loss of the caзadores all Sharpe's fault!"
"We don't know that, my Lord."
"But the Spanish will deduce it, Hogan, and proclaim it far and wide, which makes it hard, Hogan, damned hard for us to blame Runciman. They'll say we're hiding the real culprit and that we're cavalier with allied lives."
"We can say the allegations against Captain Sharpe are malicious and false, my Lord?"
"I thought he admitted them?" Wellington retorted sharply. "Didn't he boast to Oliveira about executing the two rogues?"
"So I understand, my Lord," Hogan said, "but none of Oliveira's officers survived to testify to that admission."
"So who can testify?"
Hogan shrugged. "Kiely and his whore, Runciman and the priest." Hogan tried to make the list sound trivial, then shook his head. "Too many witnesses, I'm afraid, my Lord. Not to mention Loup himself. Valverde could well attempt to get a formal complaint from the French and we'd be hard put to ignore such a document."
"So Sharpe has to be sacrificed?" Wellington asked.
"I fear so, my Lord."
"God damn it, Hogan!" Wellington snapped. "Just what the devil was going on between Sharpe and Loup?"