Leaving the Officers' Mess

"Need you be told again, sir!" The other officer snapped at Williams. "By God, learn to keep a civil tongue when addressing your betters!"

He turned to Sharpe, frowning, as he was now trembling and Padstowe cursed silently. Why did Sharpe have to interfere? Damn him, but it was making things worse!

"I agree, it is not absolutely conclusive," he said evenly. "And this must be delt with as a formal investigation. But it does seem to support Lieutenant Sharpe's testimony." He glanced to Hakeswill. "But what I should like to see, gentlemen, is the sergeant's hands."

Hakeswill's child-like eyes darted this way and that between the officers. Damn, but this one was clever! Clever officers were rare, and Hakeswill loathed them with a passion. Officers were supposed to believe what their sergeants told them, not figure things out for themselves. But he obediantly held out his hands, thanking his lucky stars that he had had the presence of mind to pull his jacket sleeves down over his palms beforehand.

"Sir!"

He fought down the trembling he felt as a result of escaping so narrowly with his life and swallowed as he saw Padstowe's look. "Beg pardon, sir."

He always had to stick his oar in where it wasn't wanted, didn't he? At least things seemed to be going the right way for once. He moved away and hoped it wouldn't be noticed too much by the wrong people if he ended up using a wall to stay upright.

Williams leaned forward, then rocked back on his heels. If not this man, then who had attacked the Rifleman? He'd seen nothing from the end of the alley - just a shape and the sound of running feet.

He gritted his teeth on his protest and stared forward.

Bugger. He knew it was Hakeswill, and now there seemed to be no proof at all that it was. He hoped it was just the shock that was preventing him from thinking clearly; he did not want to see the Welsh Private suffer for something he hadn't done.

Padstowe frowned. Damn, the man's hands were clean! There were any number of ways this might have been achieved - but even worse it threw into doubt Sharpe's testimony. He turned around to his friend.

"Lieutenant Sharpe, you have stated that you are convinced that Sergeant Hakeswill attacked you. I ask you again, are you certain that you saw your assailant and that it was Sergeant Hakeswill?"

And for God's sake, answer truthfully! He prayed.

Sharpe pushed himself upright. "I thought someone was following me, so I stepped into the alley here to load my rifle. Blank only, of course. There was someone up there" - he pointed to the far end of the narrow street - "but that weren't the man following me, cause when I turned to carry on, I was jumped from behind. Managed to fire the rifle. The bastard trying to do for me buggered off that way" - again he pointed - "and then a few seconds later the Private here was askin' if I was all right. The other cove was still runnin' at the time."

At least, that was how he remembered it. He just hoped he'd remembered right.

"So you didn't actually see the assailant clearly or recognise him?"

"It was like the officer..." He stopped, and asked with rather less force: "Permission to speak, Sir?"

Padstowe frowned, but nodded.

"I should like to hear Mister Sharpe's answer to the question first, then I shall ask you your version of events, Private...?"

"Williams, Sir. Third battalion, Inniskillings."

This was not good. He hadn't seen his face, though he knew damn well who it was.

"I'd recognise him anywhere, even if it were black as pitch. Spent enough of my life watching out for him, after all."

And if that last sentence gave the other officers even more of an excuse to sneer at him, he no longer cared.

Padstowe could have shaken Sharpe in frustration. He had not answered the question, and he dare not ask anymore here. The other officer, a major, snorted.

"Confound it, Padstowe, the man's wits are clearly addled! Shouldn't all this be saved for the court marshal?"

Padstowe turned on the major.

"The inquest. Sir. And I should like to hear what Private Williams has to say for himself."

The major sighed and waved a dismissive hand.

"Very well, if you believe you can trust the word of a Welshman..."

Padstowe frowned deeper, but held his tongue. He turned back to Williams.

"Private Williams," he said evenly. "Would you please relate to us the event as it unfolded from your point of view?"

The pause had given Williams time to re-arrange his story. The Rifles officer was doing the best for him, and it was only right that he return the favour - not mention that he had originally been suspicious of him. But an inquest - or a court martial - did not sound good. In fact, he'd be lucky to come out of this with a whole skin. That was what doing good did for you.

"I was on my way back to the billet, Sir. Just turning into this street, from the lane down there -" he jerked his head towards the corner. "I saw the officer stop at the mouth of this lane - " Again a jerk of the head " and I thought I saw a figure up by the cart, Sir. But I was in the light, and they were in the dark. So I stopped for a moment - stepping into the shadows like to help me see. And then the second man attacked the officer: I heard that, Sir, and the rifle. And the attacker stepped back as I came running, see, and I could recognize the Sergeant." He swallowed. "And he could see me. I ran up, and by the time I got to the lane's end, the Sergeant had gone. So I went back to the officer. Sir"

"It's a lie, sir!" Hakeswill protested. The bastard Welsh and Sharpie were doing there best to knobble him - but there was still enough doubt on the situation that he might get things to swing his way. "Honest to God, sir, Private Williams did not see me because I was not there, sir!"

He turned to the major, his best ally in the current situation.

"Put my right hand up to God, sir, I did not lay a finger on Mister Sharpe, sir. Only came to help, only came to do my duty! I knows better than to assault an officer, or to speak disrespectful to one."

You know better than to go for an officer if there's the slightest chance you'll be caught, Sharpe thought. He didn't say anything though. The ones who could see through Hakeswill were the ones who could do least about it: the soldiers themselves, or the officers like him, who'd been raised from the ranks.

And it looked as though he was going to get the major on his side, which would be bad for all of them. He was going to kill Hakeswill one day. Not in private, as the Sergeant had tried to do to him, but properly, in public, with all the force of the Army's law behind him. That would be proper justice.

Williams kept his mouth shut with difficulty. It might technically be a lie that he had recognised the Sergeant, but he had no doubts about the essential truth that it had been him attacking the officer. And that he himself had been identified by the Sergeant. This was Hkeswill's revenge. Well, at least Maria was out of harm's way.

The major looked at Hakeswill approvingly and scowled back at Padstowe.

"I'm more inclined to believe the sergeant's version of events, captain. After all, Williams would seek to acquit himself, and the lieutenant was half-dazed at the time. You can draw no conclusion tonight. I say we put this fellow Williams under arrest until there is time to conduct a proper inquest before a military court."

Padstowe looked at the private pityingly, but nodded.

"Agreed, sir. But I request that Sergeant Hakeswill be placed under arrest as well - seeing as he is also a suspect."

The major shrugged.

"Please yourself. I trust there is no objection, sergeant? Rountine and all that."

"None, sir," said Hakeswill, quivvering to attention. "None, as I knows you is an officer and a gentleman and it is your duty, sir, to find out that what has done this crime. And I knows that you will come to a fair and just conclusion, sir."

Gotcha, Davvie. He may not have had Sharpe, but there would be more opportunities in the future, and the Welshman was stitched up beautifully.

Damn. So much for helping the Private out. Next time, the man wouldn't hesitate to walk past, if helping meant he'd get into trouble. And that was not a good thing at all.

Damn them all. Bleeding officers. He scowled at the Major, and the Captain and finally at the Rifles lieutenant. No one asked him if he had any bleeding objection to being placed under arrest, did they? Just so long as they didn't shut him up with the Sergeant...

"That's settled, then." The major turned to Vickery. "Would you mind fetching the guard, Vickery? We need to get these fellows under lock and key."

He turned to Sharpe.

"Can you walk, sir?"

"I'll see him to his billet, sir," Padstowe said before Sharpe had a chance to answer.

The major nodded again.

"See that he gets there safe. Don't want him getting jumped again."

"No, sir," Padstowe said, biting back what he wouldlike to have said to the major. Damn him, damn the fool! Damn the sergeant, damn Williams, and damn Sharpe! It was all such a bloody mess!

"Yes, I can walk." No thanks to that bastard, he added privately.

If it was going to come to a court martial - and it seemed more than likely it would, now - Williams was not going to get away with a whole skin. Hakeswill had done him nicely, and Sharpe felt responsible. If he hadn't been walking where he was, none of this would have happened.

He watch Vickery go for the guard. Hakeswill would come out smelling of roses. Somehow, he always did.

Padstowe sidled up next to Sharpe and gently took his elbow, his heart heavy.

"Come on," he said quietly. "There's nothing more we can do here. Not tonight."

That was nothing more than the cold truth. Sharpe allowed Padstowe to pull him away from the wall, although he was mostly recovered by now.

"If anything happens to that lad, I'll not forgive him," he said sourly. "He was only trying to help."