'How much?
'And horses! You'll have to change, of course, or are you staying in town?
'We'll be changing horses.
'There's the return fee on them, deposit on the vehicle, on the horses, then there's their feed, wages of the men if I can find a couple for you, their feed, hire of the carriage, deposit on the harness. Adds up, Major.
'How much?
'Drivers need to sleep somewhere, Major. He was eyeing Sharpe's weapons, wondering how much he dared ask. 'You ain't going abroad, Major? Just my little joke, sir. He sniffed. 'Still, seeing as you're the army and as how our lads are beating Boneypart, Major, I think I can do it for thirty guineas, plus the deposit and return fees, of course. All payable today, Major. Cash.
'Fifteen.
The stable owner stared at Sharpe in amazement, then gave a short laugh to demonstrate that the soldier must have misheard. 'This is a quality vehicle, Major! It's not your tradesman's cart! There's nobility who'd like this one, Major!
They settled on twenty-five guineas, which still gave Sharpe the disquieting sense that he had been cheated, and he was forced to leave a bond for a further two hundred guineas against the loss of the carriage, then he was forced to wait while the owner found a coachman and a groom who were willing to be hired for the week. Travelling by carriage was far faster than by saddle horse, which was one reason Sharpe had chosen to hire a vehicle, the other being that he could use it to remove the mounds of paperwork he expected to find at Foulness, but as he waited for the problems to be solved there were moments when he thought he would have preferred to walk. d'Alembord, Price, and Harper, on the other hand, were in high spirits because of what the day promised.
Sergeant Harper, delighted to be back in uniform, was equally delighted with the carriage. He had never travelled in one before, and he stared fixedly through the window for the sheer pleasure of watching a landscape beyond glass. 'This is grand, sir! This is just grand!
'Cost me a bloody ear-ring.
'You'll just have to marry a one-eared woman, eh?
Lieutenant Price groaned. 'I forgot your Irish wit, Sergeant.
Sharpe had told all three that they need not come with him, and all three, as he had hoped, had refused to abandon him. d'Alembord, sitting opposite Sharpe, looked out at the dull marshes over which the road led, level and monotonous, towards West Ham. 'You think Lord Fenner's already sent a message to this Girdwood?
'Maybe. But if the Lady Camoynes was right, then Sharpe had this one day at least. She had been licking his face, spreading the blood over his skin from the wounds that she had re-opened with her teeth. 'They think you're asleep, alley-cat. So don't wait. Don't talk to Lawford. Just go. Sharpe had obeyed her, driven into precipitate action by her assurance that Sir William Lawford, by going to Fenner, would betray the men at Pasajes.
They changed horses at Stifford, and again at Hadleigh, and the driver and groom, both promised a bounty by Sharpe if they completed the journey before sundown, worked fast. At Hadleigh, their last stop, where the old castle stood above the Thames estuary, Sharpe bought saddle horses. He had been that morning to St Alban's Street to find, to his pleasure, that the first money from the sale of the diamonds had arrived, then, to make his plans possible, he had withdrawn a great draft of the cash. This week, he knew, the money he had stolen from the French would be put to work for the British.
They were close now. Sharpe, as the ostler backed the fresh horses into the harness, called Harper and the two officers to his side. 'Remember why we're here. We need their record books, and we have to take the men away from Foulness so Fenner can't hide them again. That's all. We're not going to punish anyone. They nodded. It was the twentieth time he had told them, but he was nervous. He planned to find the proof which he was sure existed, proof that he could send to the green-eyed lady who wanted her vengeance on Fenner, then he would march the men to Chelmsford and there formally enlist them into the First Battalion and protect them while the proof worked its magic in London. 'Remember. We're not punishing anyone.
'I'm still looking forward to it. Harper laughed. 'By God, I am!
Sharpe smiled. 'There is a vengeful streak in you, Sergeant Harper.
'By God, sir, and you're right. Harper grinned, and they went on to Foulness.
At six o'clock, as always, Lieutenant Colonel Bartholomew Girdwood sat in his office and wrote, in his small, neat hand, the progress reports of his Companies. 'Number four's ready for musket training?
'Yes, sir. Captain Smith sat stiffly in front of the desk.
'Good, good! Girdwood made a mark on his chart. From the parade ground came the bellow of orders. He tapped his newly-tarred moustache with the shaft of his pen, making a sharp, rapping noise. 'How many men did Havercamp bring today?
‘Ten, sir.
Girdwood grunted. 'Getting near harvest. Always a bad time. Is he leaving tomorrow?
'Yes, sir.
'Issue him with funds. He frowned. 'Is that a coach?
'Sounds like it, sir."
Lieutenant Colonel Girdwood presumed Sir Henry had come, as he often did of an early evening, to inspect the camp. He would find nothing amiss, except, of course, the burned-out stables. The memory of the fire, and the thought of the two deserters, hurt him. One of them, the Irishman, had dared to fire at him! 'I suppose it would be expecting too much to have any news from the militia?
'Nothing as yet, sir.
'My God! Real soldiers would have found those bastards days ago. They've gone, Smith! Girdwood shook his head sadly. 'We won't see them again!
Hooves sounded outside. The noise, coupled with the jangling of the coach's trace chains, reminded Girdwood that Sir Henry was planning to stay in London until after the Prince Regent's victory parade, and he glanced stiffly towards the door. 'See who it is, Smith. No one, in Girdwood's view, had any business coming here, no one. The vicar of Great Wakering had arrived once, having talked his way past the bridge guard to offer spiritual solace to the camp, but Girdwood had ordered the man away and told him never to come back. He wondered if this was the vicar returning and he shouted through the open door after the Captain. 'And see the filth off, Smith! Smartly!
'Sir! The shout was a despairing one, cut off almost as soon as it was begun, then the door was snatched open and Girdwood, gripping the table's edge, saw a tall man silhouetted in the doorway. Instantly a pang of guilt stabbed through him, for the man wore uniform and a sword, and the moment that Girdwood had feared despite all Sir Henry's reassurances seemed to have come. An officer had come to arrest him!
'See what filth off? the man asked.
Girdwood stood. He could see, now that the man had walked into the room and shut the door, that the unwelcome visitor was a Rifle Major. Girdwood outranked him, and despite the fear he still felt, he made his voice harsh. 'You will leave this office, Major! Now! You did not have my permission to enter.
The Major took off the shako that had shadowed his face and dropped it casually onto a chair. He put his hands on Girdwood's table, leaned forward, and smiled into the Lieutenant Colonel's face. 'Remember me, Bartholomew?
Girdwood stared, not sure if the face was familiar or not. The two fresh scars on the Rifleman's face were dark with dried blood, and the sight of them, and something about the eyes that stared so implacably at him, brought to Girdwood's mind a memory of the two deserters. 'No. He had not meant to speak aloud. He shook his head, shrank back in his chair. 'No!