CHAPTER TWO
"You want to go outside the city?"Dunnett repeated. He looked Sharpe over, his gaze settling with a slight sneer on the rifle Sharpe was holding. Sharpe knew that it was just another reason for Dunnett to not view him as a proper officer, that he carried the same weapon as the lower ranks, but he felt comfortable with the gun.
"To search for supplies,"Sharpe reiterated sullenly. The excuse was weak, he knew that. In truth, he didn't know why he was going. He just wanted to get out of the city, away from the battalion, away from lists and rations. He wanted to feel like a soldier, just for a while.
"Or perhaps you want to go and seek out the French?"Dunnett suggested, as though reading Sharpe's mind. "And get yourself killed by them?" He smiled."Well, no objection from me. Permission granted, Lieutenant."
It wasn't exactly the response Sharpe had hoped for but he'd got what he wanted. He stood to attention briefly, then headed towards the city gates.
Delfina come running up to him. "Richard? Where are you going?"
Sharpe scowled, inwardly. He didn't want to have to deal with this, not now. "Out,"he answered curtly. "Exploring."
"Can I come with you?"
Sharpe almost growled. "This isn't for fun!"he snapped. "There are French patrols out there, or had you missed the fact the country's been invaded?"
"Then take some men with you."
Sharpe shook his head. He had taken men with him when he rescued Delfina. Most of them hadn't come back. They, at least, had died for a cause. This time there was no cause. He wasn't going to put men at risk just because he wanted to alleviate his boredom. "I'll attract less attention on my own."
"And what if you don't come back, Richard?"Delfina asked angrily. "What will happen to me?"
Sharpe looked her over, aware of a responsibility he hadn't asked for and didn't want, however fond of her he was. "You'll be all right,"he said simply, before hurrying on his way.
Sharpe had gone about ten miles from the city gates when he heard them. Horses. They could have been friendly, allies. Something told Sharpe they weren't. He ducked into hiding in the bushes, moments before French uniforms came in sight. Thirty of them. Chasseurs. They were led by a full colonel, who had cultivated a full moustache in a way that had to have been done for effect rather than simply to save himself the trouble of shaving. He had a superior look about him that made Sharpe glad he didn't have to have anything to do with him.
Colonel Laurent of the 1st Provisional Chasseurs was unaware he was the subject of Sharpe's scrutiny. He wouldn't have cared if he had known. Such things were beneath his consideration. He was an officer in the best army every assembled, in service to a great country at the centre of a great empire. These things he was certain of, as certain as he was that Spain would soon be a part of that empire. Much of the country had freely accepted French rule and those who didn't would soon learn their error.
His aide, Captain Daborde, nodded towards the city in the not-too-distant distance. "Salamanca. The British army is there."
"They will not be there for long,"Laurent said simply. He had heard of the British victories of a few months earlier, how they had defeated General Junot's invasion of Portugal. He was not impressed. Everyone knew that when the British tried to confront the French directly they failed. They resorted to treaties. Even in so-called victory, they had signed a treaty and allowed Junot and his men to return to France. They would soon leave Spain when they saw how futile their efforts were.
But Laurent was no fool. He would gain nothing by attacking the British with a handful of men. He turned his horse away from the city. "Let us go find the people who do not accept French rule."
Sharpe had never felt more self-conscious in his life as he did when recounting his experience to Dunnett in the major's quarters. Dunnett had laid out a plan of the surrounding area and Sharpe had struggled to recognise the landmarks. Eventually, he indicated a route. "They were travelling in this direction. About fifty of them. Chasseurs."
"Not a threat to us then,"Dunnett replied smartly.
"Not yet, sir,"Sharpe persisted. "But if they're pushing that far forward…"
Captain John Murray came to join them at the table. In a way, Sharpe was glad for his presence. He had no friends among his fellow officers but Murray at least treated him with a certain amount of respect. "There are Spanish villages in that direction."
"Well, what do you expect us to do, Murray?"Dunnett asked angrily. "Go riding to their rescue?"
"Perhaps the sighting should be reported to Sir John, sir?"Murray suggested.
Dunnett sighed but his commitment to his duty won out. "Yes, fine. I'll see what our commander has to say. Laugh me out of his office, probably." He left the room with a filthy look in Sharpe's direction.
Sharpe looked at Murray, grateful for his support but somewhat resentful that Dunnett had listened to him so easily. "I hear the French army's eighty miles away."
"It was,"Murray confirmed. "But it's getting closer all the time." He gestured to points on a map. "A few days ago, the French defeated the Spanish at Gamonal. It's left them with a clear route into central Spain. Around the same time, General Blake's army was defeated by Marshal Victor here at Espinosa. The French occupiers in Barcelona have been cut off but the only force preventing them getting reinforcements is the garrison at Rosas here and they're under siege. Our navy is attempting to give them support but success is less than guaranteed. They say Bonaparte himself has entered Spain to ensure the French invasion is a success. They're coming for us, Sharpe."
Sharpe knew the threat to the British was large. But until that moment, he'd never thought their cause might be hopeless.