Padstowe's Lodgings, Oporto

"Yes, he did. He also told me that Rifleman Cotton was tried and sentenced for its theft."

"Ah. What happened was that, as I understand it, Cotton found it in Captain Vickery's baggage and took it out, intending to tell Vickery, only he never got the chance 'cause it was discovered - by Lieutenant Waldegrave, in fact. It was Colonel Edrington in charge of the court martial, and he decided he couldn't try Cotton for takin' it from you 'cause there wasn't enough evidence for that, though there was enough to bring him to trial for takin' it from Vickery. He never got the whole sentence; Edrington had him took down after fifty lashes, and seems that Captain Vickery ain't convinced he meant to prig it, 'cause Cotton's still his batman."

He tasted the wine. It was surprisingly good.

"I reckon you should go and see Captain Vickery, find out a bit more about it. As far as I know, his man just made a simple error of judgement."

[OOC: Sorry, got kicked off the computer unexpectedly by parents.]

"A simple error of judgement, I'm sure," he repeated. "But one which somebody else counted on being made. Stephen told me... that you had your suspicions."

(That's OK)

Sharpe let out a breath. "I do that, aye," he said, his Yorkshire accent broadening noticeably. "I know that you were... attacked, the night afore we left Lisbon. I know that afore you were jumped, you'd bin to see Captain Vickery, an' Cotton waited at table. I know... or rather, Captain Vickery knows, and I trust him, that Cotton ain't so stupid as to mug an officer who's shown him nowt but goodwill from almost the first time they met. I also know that there's a soldier out there who's got a grudge against me, you, Cotton and one other soldier at least, an' I've bin at two courts-martial where the soldiers he's got a grudge against have bin on trial." He sighed. "I know that Hakeswill - you and me both know I'm talkin' about Hakeswill - likes to keep his nose out of things and makes sure whatever happens, it can't be traced back to him. If he'd kept your watch, it could've bin traced to him. What better way of gettin' his own back would there be than jump you an' plant your watch where Cotton's goin' to find it? If he won't get done for thumpin' an officer, he'll get done for havin' stolen goods. An' that's a floggin' offence, if it ain't a hangin' one."

Padstowe nodded grimly.

"Vickery said in his letter that in all Cotton got fifty, though the sentence was in fact much higher. I am am glad Edrington has proved to be a man of compassion, as well as sense. Though I know... God damn it, Richard, if only I could remember! He came at me from behind and it all went black so quickly. I grabbed his coat and it felt like a soldier's coat..."

He put the glass down and balled his fist on the desk in frustration.

"Why can't I remember?"

Sharpe made a gesture of hopelessness. "'Cause you ain't supposed to remember. If he got you like he did me, you didn't even see his face. And Cotton ain't the first man to be flogged for summat he didn't do, or set up for a floggin' by Hakeswill, neither. The bastard's as cunning as a damn snake."

Padstowe met Sharpe's eyes, his face grim.

"We need to put an end to him," he said bluntly. "And soon. Is there any way, any way to get at him?"

Sharpe's face was equally grim. "I don't know. He used to tell us all the time that he couldn't be killed. Apparently he was sent to the gallows but survived it, so he reckons he's goin' to live forever. That's another reason I've wanted to have him done proper, but so folks see it. Reckons his mother's his damn guardian angel as well, or summat like that. But he's too crafty to get caught in the open."

Padstowe remained silent for a moment, watching Sharpe, then lowereed his eyes to the desk.

"Then," he said carefully. "If perhaps he cannot be caught out in the open, we should find another to take care of him."

It came right back down to that, didn't it? "Wouldn't it be better for you, an' Cotton, and Williams and everyone else he's got a down on, for it to be done in the open? If it's done in the dark, secret-like, and you know and I know he's dead, Cotton's still goin' to be lookin' over his shoulder in case Hakeswill's there with summat planned against him. It might be easier to do it quiet-like, but would it really be better? 'Cause then we'd be no better than him, sneakin' up in the dark where we can't be seen."

This was his fight. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt by Hakeswill, but he needed it to be done fairly, openly, to beat Hakeswill without sinking to his level.

"I did not mean secretly, but-" Padstowe brought his eyes up again to meet Sharpe. "What if evidence were found; say evidence of the most damning variety, and he were brought to trial for it?"

Sharpe grinned wolfishly. "I'd say... I'd say he'd be done. Hoist on his own petard, ain't that the phrase? Give him a taste of his own medicine. I'd say you couldn't get fairer than that. It's what he's bin doin' since... since I knew him, almost."

"But you would be happy with it?"

"If you can come up with summat that'd make him pay, good and proper, I'd help you, Jonathan."

Padstowe nodded.

"Good. Because I am going to need your help - and the help of a few other officers. I do not know exactly how yet, but I am going to get him to compromise himself if it's the last thing I do."

Sharpe nodded in agreement. "I reckon Captain Vickery'd be up for helpin' and all. He weren't happy with what happened to Cotton, I can tell you that. Don't know who else might, though."

"Leave that to me," Padstowe said. He took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat, clearly wishing to divert the conversation.

"So what's happened to you since we last met? Same old, or have you had a quiet life?"

Sharpe grinned. "Did a bit o' walkin'. Had to chase off a French patrol that turned out to be a bit bigger than we was expectin' it to be. Did some more walkin'. Had a bit of a skirmish at Pombal - nothin' to write home about. Walked some more an' thought we was goin' to have to finish up swimmin' till you found them boats. Like I said, we found what the Portuguese left of those men of the Third Hussars who decided they were goin' to try to get back to their army, and we ran into another patrol of Frogs... the Fifteenth, I think it was. And then there was the battle here, but likely you know all about that."

"I essence, but not in detail," Padstowe said, shifting a little in his seat again. "Most of it I've found out since being here; I did not receive any communication from the army, save Vickery's letter. It was interesting that you found the 15th Frogs so far south."

"Heaven knows what they were doin' there. Likely they just got lost. I wouldn't trust a Frog to be able to read a map if he had instructions." He ran a finger around the edge of his glass, thinking. "Have you seen Vickery - or Cotton - since you got back to the army? I reckon they'd like to know you're gettin' better."

"No, neither. You are the first, besides Hogan, to see me. I have not had time nor knowledge enough to call on anybody." He sipped at his glass again.

"Ah. So... how are you mending after Hakeswill jumped you?" he asked, and then frowned. "Reckon I oughtn't ask that, but I'm only askin' as a friend, Jonathan. You can tell me to mind me own business, if you'd rather not talk about that."

"No, it's alright; I expect I will get asked that more than once. I met Andrew Barnthorp - he escorted us on the way here - who I have not seen for a year or so, but he did not ask. Typical Andrew, that... But in answer I still some cracked ribs and a cracked scapula - shoulder, that is - which shall take a while to heal. The bastard re-opened my bullet wound, but that is very nearly healed. The bruising is all but gone and thankfully he did not do any damage to my organs; but somehow I do not think my cheek will ever be the same again."

He smiled, the contracting muscles of his face clearly showing up where his right cheekbone was mishaped.

"It could habve been a whole lot worse."

"It could have." He grinned. "At least didn't end up with a scar, so that's summat to be thankful for. Though the girls seem to like scars. Reckon they think they're rakish and dashin'. And he could have killed you, which would be a whole lot worse." He sighed. "D'you have any idea what Nosey's got planned for us to do now we've kicked the Frogs out of here?"

Padstowe shook his head.

"I've been out of the running too long to be privy to that," he said simply. "Though I can guess that he'll want to try and catch Soult before he makes it into Spain. If he doesn't he'll have a little bit of a problem."