"Hurry now! Don't keep the Colonel waiting!" Miller barked.
Marcos flinched as if he expected to be hit, then reminded Sharpe that Captain-General Vivar had been riding on a tour of inspection that was supposed to end at the citadel in Puerto Crucero. "From there, serior, he would go back to Valdivia by ship. But no one came back! Neither the Captain-General, nor Captain Lerrana. No one. Not even the troopers! No one came back till after we heard the Captain-General had vanished, then General Bautista arrived from Puerto Crucero, and Captain Lerrana came with him, but by then he was a Colonel and in a new uniform." Marcos clearly felt that the detail of Lerrana's new uniform was exceedingly telling. He described it in detail, how it had thickly cushioned epaulettes from which hung gold chains, and how it had gold-colored lace on the coat, and high boots that were new and shining.
"Tell him about the prisoner!" Miller interrupted the admiring description of the uniform.
"Ah, yes!" Marcos snatched another bite from his sausage. "General Bautista was the senior officer in the province, so he came to take over the Captain-General's duties. He came by ship, you understand, and his men came by boat up the river to the Citadel in Valdivia. They came by day, and we made an honor guard for the General. But one boat came at night. In it, senor, was a prisoner who had come from Puerto Crucero, a prisoner so secret that no one even knew his name! The prisoner was hurried into the Angel Tower in the Citadel. You have to understand, senor, that the Angel Tower is very old, very mysterious! It used to be a terrible prison! They say the ghosts of all the dead cling to its stones. Once a man was put in there he only came out as a corpse or an angel." Marcos superstitiously crossed himself. 'They stopped using the tower as a prison in my grandfather's time, and now no one will step inside for fear of the spirits, but that is where the Captain-General's prisoner was taken and, so far as I know, senor, he is still there. Or he was when I left." Marcos ended the tale in a rush, then looked eagerly at Miller as though seeking praise for the telling.
"And you think Captain Vivar is that prisoner?" Sharpe asked Marcos.
Marcos nodded energetically. "I saw his face, senor. I was on duty at the inner gate, and they brought him past me to the door of the tower. I was ordered to turn around and not look, but I was in shadow and they did not see me. It was the Captain-General, I swear it."
"God save Ireland," Harper said under his breath.
Sharpe leaned back. "I wish I could believe him," he spoke in English, to no one in particular.
"Of course you can believe him!" Cochrane said stoutly. "Who the hell else do you think Bautista's got in there? The Virgin Mary?"
Marcos greedily bit into a hunk of bread, then looked alarmed as Sharpe leaned forward again.
"Did you ever see your cavalry friends from the Captain-General's escort again?" Sharpe spoke Spanish again.
"Yes, senor."
"What do they say happened to General Vivar?"
Marcos swallowed a half-chewed lump of bread, scratched his crotch, looked sideways at Miller, then shrugged. "They say that the Captain-General disappeared in a valley. There was a road that went down the valley's side like this," Marcos made a zig-zag motion with his right hand, "and that the Captain-General ordered them to wait at the top of the road while he went down into the valley. And that was it!"
"No gunfire?" Sharpe asked.
"No, senor."
Sharpe turned to stare at the dark ocean. The sea's roar came from the outer rocks. "I don't know if I trust this man."
Cochrane responded in Spanish, loud enough for Marcos to hear. "If the dog lies, we shall cut off his balls with a blunt razor. Are you telling lies, Marcos?"
"No, senor! I promise!"
"It still doesn't make sense," Sharpe said softly.
"Why not?" Cochrane stood beside him.
"Why would Vivar ride into the valley without an escort?"
"Because he didn't want anyone to see who he was going to meet?" Cochrane suggested.
"Meaning?"
Cochrane drew Sharpe away from the others, escorting him down the ramparts. His Lordship drew on a cigar, its smoke whirling away in the southern wind. "I think he was meeting Bautista. This man's story," Cochrane jerked his cigar toward Marcos, "confirms other things I've been hearing. Your friend Vivar had learned something about Bautista, something that would break Bautista's career. He was going to offer Bautista a choice: either a public humiliation or a private escape. I believe he went into the valley to meet Bautista, not knowing that Bautista would take neither choice, but had planned a coup d'etat. That's what we're talking about, Sharpe! A coup d'etat! And it worked brilliantly!"
"Then why didn't Bautista kill Vivar?"
Cochrane shrugged. "How do I know? Perhaps he was frightened? If everything went wrong, and Vivar's supporters rallied and opposed Bautista, he could still release Vivar and plead it was all a misunderstanding. That way, whatever other punishment he faced, Bautista would not have the iron collar around his neck, eh?" Cochrane grimaced in grotesque imitation of a man being garotted.
"But Don Bias must be dead by now!" Sharpe insisted. He had spoken in Spanish and loud enough for Marcos to hear.
"Senor?" Marcos's frightened face was lit from beneath by the lurid glow of the brazier's coals. "I think he was alive six weeks ago. That was when I left Valdivia, and I think General Vivar was alive then."
"How can you tell?" Sharpe asked scornfully.
The infantryman paused, then spoke low so that his voice scarcely carried along the battlements. "I can tell, serior, because the new Captain-General likes to visit the Angel Tower. He goes alone, after dark. He has a key. The tower has only one door, you understand, and they say there is only one key, and General Bautista has that key. I have seen him go there. Sometimes he takes an aide with him, a Captain Marquinez, but usually he goes alone."
"Oh, sweet Jesus." Sharpe rested his hands on the parapet and raised his face to the sea wind. The detail of Marquinez had convinced him. Dear God, he thought, but let this man be lying, for it would be better for Don Bias if he were dead.
"What are you thinking?" Cochrane asked softly.
"I'm frightened this man Marcos is telling the truth."
Cochrane listened for a few seconds to the sound of the sea, then he spoke gently. "He is telling the truth. We're dealing with hatred. With madness. With cruelty on a monumental scale. Vivar and Bautista were enemies, that much we know. Vivar would have treated his enemy with honor, but Bautista does not deal with honor. I hear Bautista likes to see men suffer, so think how much he would like to watch his greatest enemy suffer! I think he goes to the Angel Tower at night to watch Vivar's misery, to remind Vivar of his defeat, and to see Vivar's humiliation."
"Oh, Christ," Sharpe said wearily.
"We know now why Vivar's body was never found," Cochrane said, "because plainly there is no body, and never was. Bautista had to pretend to make a search, for he dared not let anyone suspect Vivar was alive, but he must have been laughing every time he sent out another search party. And there's something else," Cochrane added with relish.
"Which is?"
"The Angel Tower is in Valdivia!" Cochrane chuckled, "So perhaps you had better come with me after all?"
"Oh, shit." Sharpe said, for he was tired of war, and he wanted to go home. He felt a sudden overwhelming need to be in Normandy, to smell woollen clothes drying before the fire, to listen to the day's small change of news and gossip, to doze before the kitchen fire while the cauldron bubbled. He had lost his taste for battle, and could find no relish for the kind of suicidal horror that Cochrane risked at Valdivia.