CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sharpe stood at the coast watching a fleet of Royal Navy ships transporting an army. He couldn't help remembering how just a few weeks ago, he had been part of an army that had arrived in Portugal in just such a fleet. But this fleet was not taking troops to Portugal but away from it. And the troops on them were not British but French.

"So what do you think of our new commander's strategy, Mister Sharpe?"

Sharpe turned at the voice and was shocked to find Sir Arthur Wellesley standing next to him. The army's former commander had been superseded by the arrival of two senior generals, Sir Huw Delrymple and Sir Harry Burrard. It had been they who had accepted the French surrender and arranged to have their army transported out of Portugal with full equipment.

Sharpe simply shrugged. He found the terms of the truce puzzling but had no wish to insult a senior officer.

"Simply outrageous,"continued Wellesley, who obviously had no such qualms. "Really, Sir Huw has no idea how to conduct a war. He thinks he can beat Bonaparte by patting his marshals on the head and sending them on their way. When London finds out that we gave safe passage to a defeated enemy, there'll be hell to pay."

"Perhaps they'll put you back in charge, sir,"Sharpe suggested casually.

Wellesley stared at him. "Are you attempting to flatter me, Mister Sharpe? In the hope I might further your career again?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Wellesley examined Sharpe's insignia. "Still a second lieutenant, eh? There are peculiar stories claiming that you played your own small part in our victory at Vimiero. You really should put as much effort into your career as into this cloak and dagger business. You never known where you might end up."

Sharpe made his way through the streets of Vimiero to a particular tavern. He took a few gold coins out of Machin's purse and kept them in his hand until a certain bar wrench came in sight, then pressed them into her palm. "A mug of ale, please, senhorita. Keep the change."

Delfina's eyes lit up at the sight of him. "Richard!" She kissed him tenderly. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd see how you're settling in with your new employer here. If you ever want to go back to following the army…"

"You did me much kindness, Richard, but now Machin is dead, it is time I have my life back. I have made friends here now."

"Good,"Sharpe answered and, to his surprise, he realised he meant it.

"Will you be staying here long?"

"No. There's a rumour we might be going to Spain, trying to drive the French out of there before they think of coming back here."

Delfina paused and looked at him, suddenly realising why he'd come there that day. "This is goodbye, isn't it?"

Sharpe nodded. "Afraid so, lass."

Delfina kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Richard. For everything."

Sharpe turned and walked out of the tavern, affecting only a small backward glance. He would miss Delfina but he had always known she would be his for just a short time. There was something else he had his eyes on now. Something a lot more permanent.

Dunnett looked up from his papers at the junior officer who had requested a meeting with him. "And what can I do for you, Mister Sharpe?"he asked, managing to make the simple question sound like an insult.

"Lieutenant Machin's commission,"Sharpe replied. "I want it." Machin had been found when the battlefield had been searched. And even though he had been far from his own battalion, as far as anyone was concerned he had died a hero's death.

"You want to be made full lieutenant?"Dunnett asked, unable to keep the sneering tone out of his voice.

"I've been an officer for five years,"Sharpe pointed out. "That gives me enough seniority."

"Quite so,"Dunnett agreed. "But to purchase a lieutenancy requires a sum of five hundred and fifty pounds. Do you possess such a sum?" It was clear that Dunnett believed Sharpe did not.

Sharpe tossed Machin's purse onto the desk.

Dunnett opened it and counted out the coins, disappointed to see it was all there. "Where did you get this?"he asked.

"Earned it,"Sharpe replied abruptly.

Dunnett decided the point wasn't worth pursuing. "Very well, I hereby authorise a promotion to full lieutenant for Mister Richard Sharpe. Won't mean an increase in pay, though. You'll still be quartermaster and your salary will reflect that."

"Step closer to getting my own company though,"Sharpe retorted.

For a moment, Dunnett was lost for words. Then his sneer returned. "We shall see, Lieutenant Sharpe."

"I keep telling them what you did on the ridge,"Cooper protested. "How you saved the army. But no-one believes me. Harper says you spent the whole of the battle at the baggage train."

Sharpe gave an ironic smile. He'd expected no less. "We know what happened, let them think what they like."

"But they think we didn't do any fighting,"Cooper protested.

"You think Rolica and Vimiero are all there is to beating the French? There'll be plenty more battles to fight. We'll show them what we can do then."

Cooper grinned. "Right, sir. Lieutenant, sir."

Sharpe had intended the words simply to shut the soldier up. But as he stood there, he realised the truth of them. Now they were at war the rules had changed. Anyone could advance in this army, even someone who had crawled out of the gutter like him. He would show the likes of Dunnett and Harper that he was not only a good soldier, but a good officer. Somewhere along the way, they would learn Sharpe's value.

I'll be adding a Historical Note to this shortly but this concludes the story. Any opinions on it welcome!