ecovered his consciousness； but never his senses； and Sharpe had been a witness。 He had tried to stop the hammering and； for his efforts； was accused by Morris and Hakeswill of the beating。 He had been tied to a cart's wheel and flogged。
Now； suddenly face to face with his enemy after all these years； he felt an uneasy sense of helplessness。 Hakeswill seemed untouchable。 He had the confidence of a man who simply did not care what happened to him； because he knew he was indestructible。 The Sergeant went through life with a suppurating hatred of other men； and； from behind his mask of military conformity； spread poison and fear throughout the panies he served。 Hakeswill； Sharpe knew； would not have changed； any more than his appearance had changed。 The same great belly； perhaps a few inches bigger； a few more lines on the face； another tooth or two missing； yet still the same yellow skin and the mad stare； and Sharpe remembered； unfortably； that once Hakeswill had told him they were alike。 Both on the run； both without family； and the only way to survive； the Sergeant said； was to hit hard and hit first。
He looked at the recruits。 They were wary； as well they might be； cautious of this new pany。 Sharpe； though they could not know it； shared their unease。 Hakeswill； of all people； in his pany？ Then he remembered the gazette； and knew that the pany might not be his； and he felt his thoughts begin their profitless descent into gloom so he snapped them away。 'Sergeant Harper？'
'Sir？'
'What's happening today？'
'Football； sir。 Grenadier pany playing the Portuguese。 Heavy casualties expected。'
Sharpe knew that Harper was trying to cheer up the newers and so he dutifully smiled。 'A light day； then； for your first day。 Enjoy it。 Tomorrow we work。' Tomorrow he would be without Teresa； tomorrow would be a day nearer Badajoz and tomorrow he might be a Lieutenant。 He realized the recruits； some of whom he had found himself； were waiting for him to continue。 He forced another smile。 'Wele to the South Essex。 I'm glad you're here。 This is a good pany and I'm sure it will stay that way。' The words sounded incredibly lame； even to himself； as if he knew they were untrue。
He nodded at Harper。 'Carry on； Sergeant。'
The Irishman's eyes flicked towards Hakeswill； still facing the wall； and Sharpe pretended not to see。 Damn Hakeswill； he could stay there； but then he relented。 'Sergeant Hakeswill！'
'Sir！'
'Dismiss！'
Sharpe walked into the street； wanting to be alone； but Leroy was leaning on the gatepost and the American lifted an amused eyebrow。 'Is that how the Hero of the Field of Talavera weles recruits？ No calls to glory？ No bugles？'
'They're lucky to get a wele at all。'
Leroy drew on his cigar and fell into step beside Sharpe。 'I suppose this unhappiness is caused by your lady leaving us？〃
Sharpe shrugged。 'I suppose so。'
'Then shall I share other news？'
Leroy had stopped and his dark eyes seemed to be amused。
'Napoleon's dead？'
'Alas； no。 Our Colonel arrives today。 You don't seem surprised？'
Sharpe waited for a priest； mounted on a drooping mule； to go past。 'Should I be surprised？'
'No。 ' Leroy grinned at him。 'But the usual reaction is to say 〃who； why； what； how do you know？〃 Then I give you all the answers； and that's called a conversation。'
Sharpe's depression was dissipated by Leroy。 'So tell me。'
The thin； laconic American looked surprised。 'I never thought you would ask。 Who is he？ His name is Brian Windham。 I've never liked the name Brian； it's the sort of name a woman gives to a boy in the hope he will grow up honest。' He tapped ash on to the roadway。 'Why？ I think there is no answer to that。 What is he？ He is a mighty hunter of foxes。 Do you hunt； Sharpe？'
'You know I don't。'
'Then your future may be gloomy； as mine may be。 And how do I know？'
He paused。
'How do you know？'
'Because our good Colonel； honest Brian Windham； has a forerunner； a messenger； a John the Baptist to his ing； a Paul Revere； no less。'
'Who？'
Leroy sighed； he was being unusually loquacious。 'You've never heard of Paul Revere？'
'No。 '
'Lucky man； Sharpe。 He called my father a traitor； and our family called Revere a traitor； and I rather think we lost the argument。 The point is； my dear Sharpe； that he was a forerunner； an agent of warning； and our good Colonel has sent such a warning of his arrival in the shape of a new Major。'
Sharpe looked at Leroy； the American's expression had not changed。 'I'm sorry； Leroy。 I'm sorry。'
Leroy shrugged。 As the senior Captain he had been hoping for the vacant Majority in the Battalion。 'One should expect nothing in this army。 His name is Collett； Jack Collett； another honest name and another foxhunter。'
'I'm sorry。'
Leroy began walking again。 'There is something else。'
'What？'
Leroy pointed with his cigar into the courtyard of the house where the officers were billeted and Sharpe looked through the archway and； for the second time that morning； he had a sudden； unwele shock。 A young man； in his middle twenties； stood next to a pile of luggage that his servant was unstrapping。 Sharpe had never seen the officer before but the uniform was only too familiar。 It was the uniform of the South Essex； plete even to the silver badge of the Eagle that Sharpe had captured； but it was a uniform only one man could wear。 It had a curved sabre； slung on chains； and a silver whistle holstered on the cross belt。 The insignias of rank； denoting a Captain； were not epaulettes； but wings made from chains and decorated with a bugle horn。 Sharpe was looking at a man dressed as the Captain of the South Essex Light pany。 He swore。 Leroy laughed。 'Join the downtrodden。'
No one had the guts to tell him； except Leroy！ The bastards had brought in a new man； over his head； and he had never been told！ He felt a huge anger； a depression； and a helplessness in the face of the army's cumbersome machinery。 He could not believe it。 Hakeswill； Teresa going； and now this？
Major Forrest appeared in the archway； saw Sharpe； and came towards him。 'Sharpe？'
'Sir。 '
'Don't jump to conclusions。' The Major sounded miserable。
'Conclusions； sir？'
'About Captain Rymer。' Forrest nodded towards the new Captain who； at that moment； turned and caught Sharpe's eye。 He bowed briefly； a polite acknowledgement； and Sharpe forced himself to respond。 He looked back to Forrest。
'What happened？'
Forrest shrugged。 'He bought Lennox's mission。 '
Lennox？ Sharpe's predecessor had died two and a half years before。 'But that was。。。'
'I know； Sharpe。 His will was in the courts。 The estate has only just released the mission for sale。'
'I didn't even know it was for sale！' Not； Sharpe thought； that he could have afforded the fifteen hundred pounds。
Leroy lit a new cigar from the butt of his old。 'I doubt if anyone knew it was for sale。 Right； Major？'
Forrest nodded miserably。 An open sale meant that the legal price had to be paid。 It was far more likely that Captain Rymer was a friend of one of the lawyers who had cut out the petition； sold it to Rymer； and in return received a higher price。 The Major spread his hands。 I'm sorry； Sharpe。'
'So what happens？' Sharpe's voice was hard。
'Nothing。' Forrest tried to sound hopeful。 'Major Collett； you haven't met him； Sharpe； agrees with me。 It's a mix up。 So you stay in mand till Colonel Windham arrives。'
'Later today； sir。'
Forrest nodded。 'Everything will be all right； Sharpe。 You'll see。 Everything。'
Sharpe saw Teresa walk through the courtyard； carrying her saddle； but she did not see him。 He turned away and stared over the rooftops of Elvas； pink in the sunlight； and saw that a cloudbank； riding the north wind； had bisected the landscape with its shadow。 Spain lay in shadow and Badajoz was a dark citadel far away。 He swore again； foully and at length； as if the curses might fight for him against the ill fortune。 He knew it was fanciful； stupid even； but it seemed as if the fortress that barred the eastern road； its walls high over the Guadiana； was at the centre of the evil； spreading a baleful fate over all who came near。 Hakeswill； Rymer； Teresa going； all things changing； and what else； he wondered； would go wrong before they lanced the evil in Badajoz？
CHAPTER 9
Everything about Obadiah Hakeswill was graceless and repulsive to the point of fascination。 The body was huge； but any man who mistook the belly for a sign of weakness would be caught by the arms and legs that had massive strength。 He was clumsy； except when performing a drill movement； though even when he was marching there was a hint that； at any moment； he might bee some snarling； shambling beast； half wild； half man。 His skin was yellowish； a legacy of the Fever Islands。 His hair was blond； going grey； and stretched thinly over his scarred scalp； falling lank to the stretched； tensed； obscenely mutilated neck。
Some time in the past； even before the hanging； he had known he would never be liked