Author's Note: In this and the next few chapters, there will be some dialogue used from Sharpe's Company, though not always necessarily in the same order or context. As with the books, I own nothing from the film versions of Sharpe's Company or Sharpe's Enemy, but am just borrowing from them for entertainment purposes only, as I make no profit from it
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Two days later, Obadiah Hakeswill and the new recruits had reached Elvas, not far from the Spanish border. It had been a quick march across Portugal, where the men had been, just as Obadiah predicted, distracted and entirely interested in their new surroundings. Newkirk had taken advantage of this, pilfering a few useful items to either keep or sell. Obadiah did not do any stealing from the men; he would wait until they'd joined the larger unit, where the pickings were greater and until he could see which men had wives and, thus, be more easily manipulated. For now, he was contented to watch the men and discover their weaknesses, filing away his observations for later use. He had, however, done a bit of stealing in the towns they'd passed through; a bit of jewellery and some coins.
Ensign Matthews had accompanied them and had been easy to keep distracted and obeying Obadiah's every "suggestion". Hakeswill saw that the young officer didn't agree with every suggestion he made, but also that he was too fearful of openly opposing the intimidating sergeant. He intended to keep up the intimidation factor, in order to discourage the ensign from rebelling. It didn't matter much, at any rate, as the green officer would most likely die in the first battle, anyway. Too young to leave his mother, he was, in Obadiah's estimable opinion.
As they entered the small town, Obadiah noticed several of the men noticeably lagging. Normally, this would be an occasion to give the miscreants a thorough tongue lashing, but because it worked well into his plans, he'd let it go this one time. There would be plenty of time for that later.
Turning to the group of slowly marching men, he bawled, "Halt!" As the men meekly obeyed, he continued, "Time for a rest break, it is. Not that you lazy sods deserves it, mind you, but you needs to make yourselves presentable for your new captain to see!"
"Sergeant?" Ensign Matthews was puzzled as to why Hakeswill had given the men a rest break.
"Might be a good idea for the men rest their feet and have a drink before meetin' their new captain, it would," the sergeant explained patiently. "Gives them a few minutes to comb their hair and brush off their uniforms, it will, so's they'll be looking spanking when the captain inspects them, see?"
"Oh, yes, of course, Sergeant Hakeswill," Matthews said distractedly. "I hadn't thought of that."
Hakeswill rolled his eyes at the clueless young officer, thinking to himself that there wasn't much that Matthew had thought of.
"Maybe you'd like to go find the captain, while I stays here with the man, sir, eh?" Hakeswill prodded, twitching. "Let him know we've arrived and all, sir."
"Oh, ah, er, yes, Sergeant," Matthews stammered. "That's a good idea. I shouldn't be gone long."
In fact, Matthews was relieved to get to be away from Hakeswill's malevolent presence, even if just for a little while. If he was lucky, he'd not have to deal closely with the twitching sergeant once they integrated with the rest of the company.
Obadiah cackled as he watched the nervous young officer scuttle away. He eased himself down on the front step of a house to take a load off for awhile, as the men did likewise. His eyes gleamed as he imagined the reaction Sharpie would have when he saw his old sergeant once again.
Matthews returned about twenty minutes later. The men had done the best they could to get the worst of the road grime off their uniforms and had combed their hair and washed their faces. It was only a small improvement, but it would have to do.
The diminutive officer hurried over to Hakeswill, who was now prowling among the men, hectoring them to hurry up with their grooming efforts.
"Captain Sharpe is ready to see us, Sergeant," Matthews reported. "Shall we march them in, then?"
"Right away, sir," Hakeswill barked, cackling.
A few minutes later, the group turned the corner, where several officers and men were milling about. Obadiah spotted Richard Sharpe right away, standing by a cistern in shirtsleeves and with wet hair. As he watched his old nemesis throw on a green rifleman's jacket, he realized that Sharpie hadn't spotted him yet. Cackling again, he knew that was about to change.
"Detachment! Halt!" Hakeswill bellowed, in his best drill sergeant's voice. "Rigggghhhht face!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Obadiah saw Sharpe's head snap in his direction and the gobsmacked expression on his face. Chortling with glee, he left the men at attention, pushed past Matthews and walked boldly to where the officer was still staring in open mouth shock.
"Oh, my word, what a surprise," Hakeswill murmured, meeting his enemy's eye with an insolent expression, eyes narrowed. "Sharpie."
"Not dead yet, Hakeswill?" Sharpe sneered, looking at the older man with sheer loathing. "Ah, that's right, I almost forgot. You're indestructible. Unfortunately."
Not waiting for the scrawny sergeant to reply, he continued, "And Captain Morris? What about him?"
Not fazed In the slightest by Sharpe's overt hostility, as it indicated that he still had power over the upstart officer, Hakeswill replied smugly, "Major Morris, sir. Hale and hearty in Dublin, now, sir."
"And you've come to me," Sharpe observed acidly.
"Ever such a long way, sir," Obadiah murmured, his tone velvet, with almost a smirk on his face. "I was despairin'…"
"Left face!" Sharpe suddenly barked, cutting him off. "Quick march!"
Obadiah obeyed instinctively, knowing he could do nothing else if he wanted to ingratiate himself with other officers and to avoid punishment. There was a wall only about twelve feet to the left, but there was nothing for it, so he marched right up to it and stopped.
Sharpe, right on the sergeant's heels, grabbed the back of his bald head underneath the shako and turned it toward him. Outraged, Hakeswill raised one eyebrow as he glared at the younger man with pure malevolence, eyes glittering. How dare he humiliate him like this in front of his men and that boy officer, Matthews? Sharpie would pay, he vowed silently to himself.
Undaunted by the sergeant's baleful expression, Sharpe leaned in close and threatened, "You lay a finger on any of my men, Sergeant, and I'll bloody kill you."
With that, Sharpe removed his hand from Hakeswill's head, then stalked off without dismissing him. Obadiah would be obliged to remain in that position until Sharpe dismissed him. Seething, he listened as the bleeding sod went over to his men to address them.
A minute or two later, he overheard Sharpe speak to young Matthews: "Mr Matthews, get that wretch out of my sight." Then after a pause, "No, I'll do it."
Walking a bit closer to where the sergeant was still facing the wall, he called out, "Sergeant Hakeswill!"
"Sir!" His tone did not betray the seething rage he felt.
"You may fall out," Sharpe snapped, his tone smarmy.
"Thank you, sir."
After Sharpe had returned his attention to the men, Obadiah removed his shako and rubbed the back of his head, as if to remove the taint of Sharpe's touch from his skin. He spied a stable a few steps away on the other side of the street and decided to take refuge in there for awhile and be alone with his thoughts. He made note of a big, dark haired sergeant, also in rifle green, loitering by the side of a building, but otherwise didn't give him much thought.
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Meanwhile, back at Throckmorton Cottage, Anna and Catherine had settled down into a routine in their new home without Obadiah being around. At first, Anna had been melancholy, pining for her absent husband and worrying for his safety. But the needs of her family did not allow her the luxury of wallowing in those feelings for too long. She threw herself into keeping the children busy, particularly with their lessons, which also helped to distract her as well. Barry had taught her how to play chess, and Anna found it an enjoyable way to pass an evening, while listening to Bridget's growing proficiency with the pianoforte as Catherine continued with her lessons. Inspired by her daughter's quick progress, Anna began to play the instrument herself. She'd not played one since her teen years but even though her skills were rusty, she was able to regain all that she'd lost and was able to help Catherine with Bridget's lessons.
On the same day that Obadiah had arrived in Elvas with his men, Anna had awakened that morning not feeling well.
As she joined Catherine and the children for breakfast, the smell of eggs cooking overwhelmed her. Quickly excusing herself, she ran outside to the outhouse, where she proceeded to lose what little food remained in her stomach from the night before.
When she returned to the table, Catherine looked up at her in concern. "Are you all right? You looked a little green when you left so quickly."
Giving her aunt a wan smile, she replied, "There's nothing wrong with me that several months won't cure. It seems that Obadiah left me something to remember him by, after all."
"Are you sure?" the older woman asked.
"I'm almost positive," Anna replied firmly. "I felt this way the other times."
"We'll have to get Sally Barnes to come over and take a look at you," her aunt decided. "Then we'll have a better idea."
"I can't wait for Obadiah's next letter to arrive," the younger woman said. "I wish he was here, so I could tell him right away."
"There should be a letter coming before too long, I would imagine," Catherine said. "He has likely arrived in Portugal by now."
"You're right, of course," Anna murmured. "I hate to think that he won't be here when the baby comes."
"It is a shame," Catherine agreed. "But you'll give him something to look forward to when he does come home."
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After closing the stable door behind him, Obadiah Hakeswill found a nice clean stall to rest in for awhile. He set his shako upside down on his lap and took out the small bag of loot he had in there, which had been lodged in the sweatband. He leaned against the stall wall, relaxing, as he counted the coins and took a closer look at the jewellery he'd swiped. He sighed, thinking of the opportunities to steal that would soon be available to him.
A short time later, Obadiah heard the stable door creak open, then the careful footsteps of someone carrying a heavy object. Setting his shako aside, he carefully peered around the corner of the stall to see who was disturbing his privacy. He was in no mood to deal with the obnoxious Richard Sharpe again quite so soon.
He was pleasantly surprised to see a tall, attractive women wearing men's trousers throwing a saddle over the wall of another stall. She was obviously a whore, as no decent woman wore trousers and he knew that proper Portuguese and Spanish women did not go around in public unaccompanied by a chaperone of some sort. He knew she wasn't an Englishwoman by the style of her clothing and by her olive complexion.
Obadiah decided to take advantage of the sudden opportunity. He'd not had any since leaving Anna, weeks ago, and the itch had now built to nearly an unbearable level. The randy sergeant knew he needed a scratching sooner, rather than later. Though he would have preferred to lie with his own sweet wife, she was not here. And because he felt nearly ready to burst from the unrelieved need and because Anna would not be available to him for a year or more, he'd known he would have his itches scratched elsewhere while he was away. He was a healthy man, and men had their needs, after all. There wasn't any way on God's green Earth that he would remain celibate for all that time.
Standing up quickly, he brushed straw from his uniform, then stepped around the corner to reveal himself to the pretty whore. Not only was she pretty, but she looked clean, which meant she was likely an expensive ride. No matter, Obadiah had the coins for it.
"Hello, missy!" Obadiah said to the startled woman, grinning widely, as he suddenly appeared before her, coins showing in his open palm after he'd stuffed the jewellery into his haversack. "Speak English, do you?"
"What do you want?" Teresa Moreno demanded warily. She didn't like the looks of this man at all.
"What do you think I want, missy?" Obadiah snapped, puzzled. Did the whore think she was too good for him? Was she officers' meat? He didn't hold with any of that nonsense. He had the money and, by God, he was going to have her, whether she liked it or not. "I've just got here to Portugal after bein' cooped up for weeks on a stinkin' ship. I've got me a powerful itch and you're the woman to scratch it for me." Gesturing to his hand, he continued, 'I got the money to pay you proper, see?"
Backing carefully away from the aroused sergeant, she sneered at him and said, "I am not a whore. You need to find your pleasure elsewhere, Sergeant."
"Sure you are!' he insisted, twitching in irritation. "You ain't wearing proper women's clothing and here you are gallivantin' among soldiers without a proper escort. I means to have you and that's just what I'm going to do, too."
Now, almost completely put out, he gave her a light shove, causing her to fall back to land on her bum in the straw. Looming over her, he said softly, "Now…take off them trousers, then open your legs ever so wide and lie still as a dead 'un. I won't take long, then you can be on your way to find you another customer. No need to be afraid, I don't want to hurt you; I just needs to have you, is all."
As she shifted and put her hand to her waistband, seemingly to comply, he relaxed, then purred, "That's it," while moving his fingers to the buttons of his own trousers, with him now completely ready to take her.
A moment later, the bint unexpectedly sprang up and cut his hand with a dagger, having reached for it, while appearing to unbutton her trousers.
Backing away, he immediately drew his own bayonet from its scabbard, mentally cursing himself for letting down his guard, knowing that his desire had blunted his usual common sense.
Brandishing the weapon at her, he twitched again, then growled, "Come on, now, missy. You've had your fun, now let me have mine, eh? I don't think I've ever seen a whore less eager to make money than you are."
Sneering at the scrawny sergeant, she spat out, "Your mother was a pox-ridden sow, who sold herself to a toad!"
Now having completely lost his temper, he lunged at the uncooperative whore with his bayonet. No one insulted his mother and got away with it, especially not a whore.
But she was prepared for him, dagger at the ready and they danced around one another, feinting and jabbing.
"Like it rough, do you, missy?" Obadiah rasped, twitching yet again. "I'll give it to you rough, if that's the way you wants it, eh?" He sprang forward, giving her a glancing cut on the arm. There was no doubt the woman was a whore, as well as she fought. No real lady would have been anywhere near a match for him.
At that moment, the stable door opened to reveal the tall, dark-haired rifle sergeant he'd seen before. Without saying a word, the big man immediately stepped in to separate Obadiah from the whore, then head butted him, sending him sprawling into the straw. Sticking his head outside the stable door, the big man bellowed in a strong Irish brogue, "Mr Sharpe! Sir! Come quick!"
Turning back to the woman, the Irishman asked in a softer voice, "Miss Teresa, ma'am. Are you all right?"
As Richard Sharpe came in through the open door of the stable, Teresa pointed to Hakeswill, still sprawled into the hay. "He thought he might enjoy me and would not take no for an answer."
Sergeant Harper glared at his fellow sergeant. "Permission given to carry on and murder him, sir?"
Looking down at the rawboned sergeant, now swollen and bleeding from a cut to his forehead, Sharpe could barely control his temper, knowing what would have happened if Patrick Harper had not gone into the stable when he did.
Moving to stand over the fallen man, Sharpe barked, "Up!" When the older man did not immediately move, he bellowed again. "Get up!"
Hakeswill, figuring he was about to get an arse kicking, scrambled to his feet, still hurting from the Irishman's hard head. Finally, he stood, miserably facing Richard Sharpe, as blood trickled on his cheek.
"Officer's meat, is she, sir?" Obadiah sneered, his tone insolent. "Portuguese whore?" Looking again at Teresa, he continued, "Tenho rendimentos. How much, senwhora?" Hakeswill hadn't been in Portugal for three days, but he'd already learned the words to let a whore know he could pay her price.
"Shut your gob and listen," Sharpe said, refusing to rise to Obadiah's bait. "Three rules I have. Do you hear me, Sergeant?"
"Sir!" Hakeswill barked, wondering what the hell Sharpie was on about. He realized now that this was not any common whore, but that she was Sharpie's whore, if the looks passed between the two were any indication.
"Sharpe's rules, by which I regulate the Light Company," the officer continued in an oddly calm voice. "First, fight well, fight hard. I know you can do that Sergeant, because I've seen you fight before. Second, don't get drunk unless I tell you. Third, steal nothing but from the enemy or when starving."
Hakeswill repressed the urge to roll his eyes at the last rule. The only reason he'd gone back on active duty was to steal and no upstart officer from the gutter was going to keep him from that.
Sharpe, unaware of Hakeswill's scornful thoughts, went on, "Now, stand up straight. Arms down where they should be! Atten…shun!"
The sergeant automatically obeyed, but twitched after coming to attention, after which Sharpe sucker punched him in the stomach.
Refusing to give in to the pain, Hakeswill immediately straightened up again.
"Ooh," Harper jeered from the doorway. "You see, you don't move when an officer's talking to you. You should know that."
"Unless you want to hit me, Obadiah?" Sharpe taunted.
"Obadiah?" the Irish sergeant mocked. "What the devil kind of a name is that?"
Hakeswill kept his mouth clamped shut, but glared at the Irishman out of the corner of his eye. He knew he'd have to neutralize this man if he was going to have any sort of success stealing within the light company. Obadiah knew he'd need to have him busted in rank at the very least - or kill him if it came to that."
"Dead if you strike an officer, Obadiah," Sharpe baited. "Oh, but he can't die, so he says."
Grabbing hold of Hakeswill's chin, he tilted it up to reveal the hanging scar on his neck to Teresa and Harper. "See his neck? They tried to hang him once, but it didn't kill him."
Teresa moved close to Obadiah, no longer afraid of him. Sliding her dagger almost seductively down the side of his face, she said coldly, "I can kill him."
"Every battle some try," Sharpe told her. Turning to glare balefully at the sergeant again, he continued, "See how he stands at attention? Never disobeys an officer, do you, Obadiah?" Not expecting an answer, he went on scornfully, "Why, they love him - except me, of course. I'm wise to all his tricks."
Looking back at the other two, he explained, "I could kill him here and now without a second thought, but it needs to be done in front of his victims. It is my duty to them to see it done properly and in public. For he is evil, is Obadiah."
Now thoroughly disgusted by the sight of Obadiah Hakeswill, the officer turned back to him. "Get out." When the other man didn't move fast enough, he repeated, "Out. OUT!"
Just as sick of the self-righteous Sharpe as he was of him, Obadiah moved to leave the stable. As he passed the Irish Sergeant, he paused, not able to resist a little dig at him. "And you're as filthy an Irishman, as I ever did see," he muttered in his best imitation of an Irish brogue.
Not surprisingly, Harper made no attempt to control himself, but knocked the smaller sergeant to the ground and began to brawl with him. When Sharpe tried to break it up, he ended up getting pulled into the fracas and this was how the new Colonel, Windham, found them a few moments later, rolling around in a mud puddle in the middle of the street..
Once Obadiah had left the two riflemen shortly thereafter, heading for camp, he cackled to himself, knowing that at least old Sharpie had made a bad impression on his new commanding officer. And if the rumours were true, Sharpe was about to be busted back, anyway, when Captain Rymer arrived to assume the Captain's position. He vowed to himself to make as much trouble for his nemesis as he possibly could and was determined to exact his revenge on Harper, who was no doubt Sharpie's lackey. When Obadiah was through with Patrick Harper, he'd be of no use whatsoever to Richard Sharpe. He'd kill them both, if he ever got a good chance of doing it without being caught.
As for Sharpie's whore, Obadiah was more determined to have her now than ever. The pleasure would be that much more, knowing he'd be sullying the arrogant officer's woman. He'd just have to wait until the right opportunity presented itself.
After setting up his tent some time later and getting some supper, he looked at Anna's portrait and stroked the lock of her hair before writing yet another letter to her. He told her of how much he missed her but naturally did not mention much about the day's events in the letter. Once finished, he kissed Anna's portrait, before settling himself down to sleep.