Sharpe。 'All ready； Mr。 Sharpe？'
'Yes； sir。'
'Keep the baggage close when we cross！'
'Yes； sir。' No； sir； three bags full； sir。 'Sir？'
'Mr。 Sharpe？' Windham was eager to be away。
'Have you forwarded my request； sir？'
'No； Mr。 Sharpe； much too early My pliments！' The Colonel touched the tassel on his bicorne and wheeled his horse away。
Sharpe hitched his sword up； useless to him for counting spades and pick…axes； and trudged over the mud towards the Battalion's baggage。 Each pany kept a mule that carried the books； the endless paperwork that went with a Captaincy； a few paltry supplies and； quite illegally； some officers' baggage as well。 Other mules carried the Battalion supplies； the spare arms chest； uniforms； more paperwork； and the surgeon's grim load。 Mixed with the mules were the officers' servants； leading spare horses and packhorses； and； mingled among them all； the children。 They shrieked and played round the animals' legs； watched by their mothers who crouched beneath makeshift shelters waiting for the order to march。 By regulation there should be just sixty wives with the Battalion； but inevitably； after three years at war； the South Essex had collected far more。 There were nearer three hundred women marching with the Battalion； the same number of children； and they were a mixture of English； Irish； Scottish； Welsh； Spanish and Portuguese； there was even a Frenchwoman； left behind in the fighting at Fuentes de Onoro； who had chosen to stay with her captors and had married a Sergeant in Sterritt's pany。 Some were whores； following the army's meager pennies； some were proper wives with papers to prove it； while some called themselves wives and did not need the ceremony。 All were tough。 Many had married twice or three times in the war； having lost their husbands to a French bullet or a Spanish fever。
The previous morning Windham had cancelled the wives' parade。 In barracks the parade made some sense； it kept a Colonel in touch with the families and gave a good officer a chance to detect brutality； but the women of the South Essex did not like the parade； were not used to it； and had showed their discontent。 The very first time that Sharpe had lined them for Windham's inspection Private Clayton's wife； a pretty girl； had been suckling her baby。 The Colonel had stopped； glanced down； and frowned at her。 'This is hardly the time； woman！'
She had grinned； lifted her breasts towards him。 'When 'e's 'ungry； 'e's 'ungry； just like 'is father。' There was a chorus of laughter from the wives； jeers from the men； and Windham had strode away。 Jessica would have known what to do； but not he。
Now； as Sharpe approached the rain…swept baggage； the women grinned at him from beneath their blankets。 Lily Grimes； a tiny woman of irrepressible cheerfulness； and a voice with the piercing quality of a well…honed bayonet； gave him a mock salute。 'Given up parading us； Cap'n？' The women always called him Captain。
'That's right； Lily。'
She sniffed。 'He's mad。'
'Who？'
'Bloody Colonel。 What did he want us to parade for； anyway？'
Sharpe grinned。 'He worries about you； Lily。 He likes to keep an eye on you。'
She shook her head。 'He wants to look at Sally Clayton's tits more like。' She laughed and peered up at Sharpe。 'You didn't look away either； Cap'n。 I watched you。 〃
'I was just wishing it had been you； Lily。 〃
She shrieked with laughter。 'Any time； Cap'n； you just ask。 '
Sharpe laughed； walked away from her。 He admired the wives； and he liked them。 They endured all the disforts of the campaign； the nights under pouring rain； the hard rations； the long marches； yet they never gave up。 They watched their men go into battle and afterwards they searched the field for a corpse or a wounded husband； and all the while they brought up their children and looked after their men。 Sharpe had seen Lily carrying two of her children up a hard road； her husband's musket； and the family's few belongings as well。 They were tough。
And they were not ladies； three years in the Peninsula had made sure of that。 Some dressed in old uniforms； most were garbed in voluminous； filthy skirts with tattered shawls and scarves around their heads。 They were tanned dark brown； with calloused hands and feet； and most could strip a corpse bare in ten seconds； a house in thirty。 They were foul…mouthed； loud； and utterly immodest。 No women could live with a battalion and be anything else。 They slept with their men； often enough； in open fields with nothing but a tree or hedge to give an illusion of privacy。 The women washed themselves； relieved themselves； made love； gave birth； and all in plain sight of a thousand eyes。 To a fastidious observer they were a fearful sight； yet Sharpe liked them。 They were tough； loyal； kind and unplaining。
Major Collett bawled an order for the Battalion to make ready； and Sharpe turned to his mand； the baggage。 It was chaos。 Two children had succeeded in cutting the pannier from one of the Sutler's mules； and the Sutler； a Spaniard who was a kind of traveling shop…keeper with the Battalion； was screaming at the children； but not daring to let go of the straw halter that tethered his other mules。
Sharpe yelled at them。 'Make ready！' They took no notice。 The Sutler's assistants caught the children； snatched back the bottles； but then the mothers； sensing loot； attacked the assistants for beating the children。 It was pandemonium； his new mand。
'Richard！' Sharpe twisted back。 Major Hogan was behind him。
'Sir。'
Hogan grinned down from his horse。 'We're very formal today。'
'We're very responsible。 Look。' Sharpe waved at the baggage train。 'My new pany。'
'I heard。' Hogan slipped from his horse； stretched； and then turned as there were sudden shouts from the bridge。 An officer's horse had bee frightened by the sliding； grey water。 It was nervously backing in short； jerking steps towards the infantry pany behind。 The Captain； panicking； was whipping the beast； increasing its terror； and the horse began to rear fitfully。
'Get off！' Hogan shouted。 He had a surprisingly loud voice。 Tool！ Get off！ Dismount！'
The officer lashed down at the horse； wrenched the reins； and the horse put all its force into bucking the rider off its back。 It succeeded。 The horse slammed up； screaming； and the officer tumbled from the saddle； bounced once on the roadway's edge； and disappeared downstream into the river。 'Stupid bastard！' Hogan was angry。 A Sergeant threw a length of timber into the water； but it fell short； and Sharpe could see the Captain flailing the river； struggling against the freezing current that took him away from the bridge。 'He's had it。'
No one dived in to save the officer。 By the time a man had stripped himself of pack； haversack； ammunition pouch； weapons and boots the Captain would be long gone。 The horse； free of its burden； stood shivering on the bridge and a Private soothed it； then led it calmly to the southern bank。 The Captain had disappeared。
'There's a vacancy。' Sharpe laughed。
'Bitter？'
'Bitter； sir？ No； sir。 Being a Lieutenant is very satisfying。'
Hogan gave a sad smile。 'I hear you were drunk。'
'No。' He had been drunk three times since the day Teresa left； the day he had lost the pany。 Sharpe shrugged。 'You know that gazette was refused in January？ No one dared tell me。 Then the new man arrives so someone has to tell me。 So I look after the baggage while some half…cooked youngster destroys my pany。'
'Is he that bad？'
'I don't know。 I'm sorry。' Sharpe's anger had taken himself by surprise。
'Do you want me to talk to the General？'
'No！' Pride would stop Sharpe bleating for help； but then he turned back。 'Yes； you can talk to the General。 Tell him I'll lead the Forlorn Hope for him at Badajoz。 '
Hogan paused with a pinch of snuff half…way to his nostrils。 He put it back in the box； carefully； and snapped the lid shut。 'Are you serious？'
'I'm serious。'
Hogan shook his head。 'You don't need it； Richard。 God！ There'll be promotion by the grave load！ Don't you understand？ You'll be a Captain within a month。'
Sharpe shook his head。 He understood； but his pride was hurt。 'I want the Hope； sir； I want it。 Ask for me。'
Hogan took Sharpe's elbow and turned him so they were both looking eastwards along the river towards the city。 'Do you know what it's like； Richard？ It's bloody impossible！' He pointed to the great stone bridge that carried the road to the city。 'We can't attack there。 Anyone trying to cross that bridge will be shredded。 So； try the east wall。 They've damned the stream and it's one bloody great lake。 We'd need the navy to cross that； unless we can blow up the dam and they've built a fort to stop us doing that。 There's the castle； of course。' Hogan's words were urgent； almost bitter。 'If you feel like climbing a hundred feet of rock and then scaling a forty foot wall； and all the time dodging the grapeshot； you're wele。' He pointed again。 'So there's the west wall。 Looks easy enough； doesn't it？' It did not look easy。 Even at four miles Sharpe could s