Second day on the march

"I believe I shall. There is nothing more I can do here, unless you would care to name it; and the two young riflemen have already left. I should have liked to speak to them, but it is perhaps better if I do not. Their comrades will look after them."

"If you want to speak to them, they can be found easily enough once we are back with the column. Even if they have already reached the camping ground."

Stephen shook his head. "No, I must ride back to Lisbon. I fear it may be quite a while before I rejoin the column."

"I am sure you can trust Mr Sharpe to have an eye for them. He ... But you know him quite well I believe." Edrington wondered if he should warn Maturin about Waldegrave. Waldegrave might now want to be revenged for the insult of being made to apologize, but that desire would probably fade before the doctor returned to the Division. "Shall we go? The General will follow if he wishes. Unless as his physician you order him to go."

"I would not say I know him well - our acquaintance has been a short one - but for my part I would name him a friend." Stephen looked over at Wellesley. "He should come with us, I think - he will make the burial team nervous, and they need no extra burden." He waved at Sir Arthur. "Come along now, General!"

Stephen realised as he reached up to remount that Sharpe had never told him the name of the man he suspected of the attack on Padstowe. "A moment, I beg," he said to the colonel, before walking across. "Lieutenant!"

Sharpe heard his name called, and turned to see who it was. "Doctor?"

Stephen waited until he was close enough to Sharpe that they could not be overheard. "His name. Padstowe's attacker. Please."

Sharpe sighed. "I reckon - I got no proof, mind, and you'll not find owt - it was a sergeant in the 33rd. Hakeswill. And I will kill him one day. I promise you that."

He didn't reckon; he knew. But there was no way of proving it. There never was, nor ever would be. Hakeswill was far too cunning and canny for that.

Stephen was not fooled. "How do you know it was him? What motive would he have to attack Captain Padstowe?"

Sir Arthur, who had dismounted to take a closer look at the crucified body and had just managed to make out the words 'Padre Miguel' scrawled into the white flesh of the corpse, looked up at the doctor with an angry glare. What was the man thinking, calling him to heel like a dog?

But it seemed the doctor's attention had wandered, and he was now talking to Sharpe, and he took advantage of the moment to inspect the one with its eyes gouged out. It worried him that the Portuguese responsible had not informed him of this...

Sharpe sighed. "It's a long story, probably too long for right now, but I knew the sergeant years ago, in India. He can carry a grudge till the Second Comin', and Captain Padstowe managed to get on his bad side not so long ago. I'll tell you more when we've got time, but believe me, it was Hakeswill. There'll be no proof found, though. Never is."

Stephen nodded. "And is he with the march? Or will he still be in Lisbon? He knows you - will you be a target as well?"

"Oh, he's here with the 33rd. Towards the back of the Division. Never puts a foot wrong, he don't. He won't be far from his regiment, you can count on that." At the Doctor's second question, he smiled grimly. "Been a target of his for ten years, since Seringapatam. I was flogged once, 'cause of him, didn't I tell you?"

"Ah, so he was the sergeant who disliked you? I see, so, I see." Stephen nonchalantly scratched at his head, reaching under his wig. "Where at the back?"

"With the 33rd. Red facings. He'll be somewhere with the Light Company." Sharpe looked at Stephen intently. "Don't you go doin' anythin'. He's mine, has been for ten years, and I am going to kill him meself. Personal, like. I promise you that."

"I do not care about your revenge, Richard. If he is a threat, then he must be eliminated, and if that cannot be done by the proper channels then we should sacrifice appropriateness for celerity." Stephen looked a little sympathetic. "In a small matter, yes, it is a wicked yet undeniable joy to exact a personal revenge, but in a large matter, which inevitably entail large dangers, it does not matter by whose hand it is done, as long as it is done. There is a temporary... disappointment, but it fails in comparison to the subsequent relief. He cannot be allowed to hurt you, or Captain Padstowe, or anyone else again."

Sharpe turned to face Maturin properly. "Doctor - Stephen. It ain't about revenge. He hurt Padstowe because of me. I were attacked from behind, a week ago, and a Private from another regiment came along and interrupted him, only to get accused of doin' it hisself. I knew it weren't him, and Jonathan defended the man at his court-martial. He got in the way - they both did - of Hakeswill doin' fer me."

He sighed. "If it weren't for me, Jonathan would be hale and hearty now. And I have promised myself for ten years that I would do for him. Proper, legal and in front of the men he's hurt. I won't stoop to his level, and nor should you, 'cause that'll make you as bad as him."

Stephen's eyes widened, and then his face closed. He looked even whiter than he normally did. "Good day to you, Lieutenant."

Damn. Damn Hakeswill. Damn the whole stinking mess. And now it looked as though the Doctor was ignoring everything he'd said.

"Fine. If you will excuse me, I have work to do." He turned to greet the burial party that had arrived, sent by Sergeant Harper.

How dare Sharpe say that? How dare he? As bad as this Sergeant Hakeswill? "I will not kill him. And if he does something else, on your head be it. But if you think that you can stop him from hurting anyone else, then I implore you to do it, and to do it soon."

Sharpe turned back with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that. And I will do me best to stop him hurtin' anyone else. I just..." Just what? Got annoyed because the Doctor had sounded as though he ws going to step in and stop Sharpe keeping his ten-year-old promise? "Just... I'm sorry." He held out his hand, feeling awkward.

Stephen hesitated for a split second before he took Sharpe's hand, and even managed a smile. "I need to get back to Lisbon, and there is nothing further I can do here. I hope to see you when I catch up again." He looked over, and spotted Wellesley peering down at one of the bodies. "We shall bring the General with us - I see your men are arriving."

He sighed. "But Richard, if he threatens you, or Captain Padstowe, or anyone, for that matter, I will do it." He hoped Sharpe would take the compromise. "But I wish you success. Bring him to justice."

"I will. Believe me, Stephen, I will." He was glad he hadn't alienated the Doctor; the man could be a valuable ally, he felt, and an even more valuable friend. "You stay safe on your way back into Lisbon, right? And tell Captain Padstowe... tell Jonathan I'm sorry. And I will make sure justice is done."

Stephen smiled sadly. "If I can find a place between my own apologies, I will, though I do not know what you have to apologise for." He rubbed at his chin, feeling it rasp. "I wonder about your colonel. What is he like?"