CHAPTER FOUR

Delfina hadn't gone far from the city when she began to feel foolish. She was aware there was a certain element of childishness in her protest. Richard frustrated her at times but it wasn't really him that she was angry with. It was the British, or even her own people, who seemed to be relying on their oldest allies to save them from the French. The danger was real and she knew it…so heading out into that danger to prove a point was unwise to say the least. Still, her only alternative was sloping back to Sharpe, so she went on.

The nearest village was five miles away and it took her over an hour to reach it. There, she explored the streets until she found a stallholder selling a variety of knitted shawls. She approached. "What do you have in purple?"

The stallholder examined her suspiciously. "You're not Spanish, are you?"

"I'm Portuguese." She wasn't sure if the explanation would help or not; the Spanish and Portuguese were not especially friendly. She held out a hand. "Delfina."

The other woman seemed to soften slightly as she accepted the handshake. "Catalina. What are you doing here?"

"I'm with the British garrison at Salamanca." Again, a potentially awkward declaration: The Spanish were even less friendly towards the British than they were towards the Portuguese.

"And don't they sell shawls in Salamanca?"Catalina asked.

Delfina had to resort to the truth. "I just wanted to get out."

Catalina nodded, accepting it for now. "Let's see what we can find for you."

But less than a mile away, Colonel Laurent was training his spyglass on the village. He put it away and smiled. "Let us see what that village has to say about the French."

"Eli! Eli!" Sharpe caught sight of the cavalryman, dismounted, heading into a tavern and raced up to him.

Lockhart turned round, looking as though he was wondering if he should be standing to attention. "Yes, sir?"

Sharpe paused to get his breath back, painfully aware that this wasn't a good look for an officer and deciding that he didn't care. "Are you going out?"

Lockhart didn't need to ask what he meant. He looked at him cautiously, as though worried what Sharpe wanted. "There's a patrol going out this afternoon."

"Can I come with you?"

Lockhart sighed. Having a lieutenant asking him for a favour was not the most comfortable experience he had ever had, especially when it was a man he considered a friend. Couldn't Sharpe see it was beyond his power? "Dick, I can't do that."

Sharpe thought hard, trying to find a compromise. "Then, tell me when you're leaving. And where from. I'll join you there. You can…provide introductions." Sharpe knew he was grasping but some soldier's instinct told him that something was wrong.

"I can do that,"Lockhart agreed. "Have you got a horse?"

Sharpe didn't. And he couldn't afford one. "Have you got any spares?"

Lockhart sighed. "No, sir."

"I'll borrow one,"Sharpe replied. He wasn't sure who from. He didn't have any friends who had horses. The landlord of his rooms had a horse. It probably wouldn't be much good if he had to ride into battle but hopefully all he needed was a horse to carry him.

Lockhart nodded in acqueisance. "Then I'll do all I can."

Sharpe looked towards the city gate and hoped Delfina would be all right until he could reach her.

Delfina was in hell.

She had just been finishing her transaction with Catalina when the French came. Laurent and his men had spread through all the streets of the village, cutting off any escape. Most of the people had been herded into the square where Delfina was, where the French surrounded them. One man, apparently the closest thing the village had to a leader, approached the colonel. "What do you want from us?"

"I want to know where your loyalties lie,"Laurent replied. "Who do you serve?"

"Our loyalty is with Spain."

"But who rules Spain? Your juntas? Do you recognise King Joseph? Or do you still think that Bourbon king, whose own father denounced him, will return?"

"That remains to be seen."

It was a small defiance but it was enough. A moment later, Laurent's sword ended the man's life. And then the panic started. People tried to get out of the square but all who did were cut down by the chasseurs' sabres. Some of those who were simply standing still were cut down as well. Delfina noted with a mounting horror that it was mostly the men and the elderly who were being killed. Young women were beaten but spared.

Laurent seemed to notice her and spurred his horse to trot over to her. "And what about you, senorita?" he asked. "Do you still dream of the return of King Ferdinand?"

Delfina looked up at him. "I'm Portuguese,"she replied. "I'm a subject of the Braganzas, of Queen Maria."

Laurent laughed. "Queen Maria is mad and in Brazil. She will not help you." He gestured with his sabre, indicating for her to gather with the other women in the centre of the square. "You have been visited by Colonel Laurent!"he told them. "You have been visited by the soldier of Bonaparte, of the Empeur!" He turned to his men. "Choose any of them you wish."

Sharpe was aware that the horse he was dragging was not exactly up to military standards. He hadn't even had the nerve to mount the grey beast, who seemed determined to be as uncooperative as possible. When he saw the hussars on their fine horses up ahead, he almost turned back. Only his concern for Delfina stopped him.

Lockhart saw him coming and gave a nod of welcome before clearing his throat. "Captain Spence, sir?"

The man who answered was probably five years younger than Sharpe, somewhere in his mid-twenties. But his tone was free of condescension as he addressed his subordinate. "Yes, Lockhart, what is it?"

Lockhart gestured to the newcomer. "This is Lieutenant Sharpe, sir. We fought together in India. He asked permission to accompany us."

Spence looked Sharpe over with mild confusion. "Why is that, Sharpe?"

"I'm a quartermaster in the 95th, sir. I was given permission to seek out supplies." Sharpe was aware that the reply was a half-truth. Dunnett had only given him permission for the one trip. But he didn't feel like going to Dunnett again.

Spence nodded. "Well, I don't see why not." He glanced at an ensign who was probably fifteen years younger than Sharpe. "Miller, provide the lieutenant with any assistance he needs."

Sharpe mounted his horse, nodding as politely as he could manage at Miller. And then he rode out with the rest of them, to see what they might find.