"Is it awkward for you, Sharpe? Serving with Hakeswill?" Officers who were promoted from the ranks were never expected to serve with their old regiments, and Wellesley was plainly wondering whether Sharpe found his old comrades an embarra.s.sment.

"I daresay you'll get by," the General said, not waiting for an answer.

"You usually do. Wallace tells me he's recommended you for the Rifles?"

"Yes, sir."

"That could suit you, Sharpe. Suit you very well. In the meantime, the more you learn about supplies, the better." The cold eyes looked back to Torrance, though it appeared the General was still talking to Sharpe.

"There is a misapprehension in this army that supplies are of small importance, whereas wars are won by efficient supply, more than they are won by acts of gallantry. Which is why I want no more delays."

"There will be none, sir," Torrance said hastily.

"And if there are," Wellesley said, 'there will be a court martial. You may depend upon that, Captain. Major Elliott?" The General spoke to the engineer who until now had been a spectator of Torrance's discomfiture.

"Tell me what you need to build our road, Major."

"A hundred bullocks," Elliott said sourly, 'and none of your spavined beasts, Torrance. I want a hundred prime Mysore oxen to carry timber and road stone. I'll need rice every day for a half-battalion of sepoys and an equivalent number of pioneers."

"Of course, sir," Torrance said.

"And I'll take him' Elliott stabbed a finger at Sharpe 'because I need someone in charge of the bullocks who knows what he's doing."

Torrance opened his mouth to protest, then sensibly shut it.

Wellesley glanced at iSharpe.

"You'll attach yourself to Major Elliott, Sharpe. Be with him at dawn tomorrow, with the bullocks, and you, Captain Torrance, will ensure the daily supplies go up the road every dawn. And I want no more summary hangings."

"Of course not, sir." Torrartce, relieved to be let off so lightly, ducked his head in an awkward bow.

"Good day to you both," the General said sourly, then watched as the two officers left the tent. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn.

"How long to drive the road, Elliott?"

"Two weeks?" the Major suggested.

"You've got one week. One week!" The General forestalled Elliott's protest.

"Good day to you, Elliott."

The engineer grumbled as he ducked out into the fading light.

Wellesley grimaced. "Is Torrance to be trusted?" he asked.

"Comes from a good family, sir," Blackiston said.

"So did Nero, as I recall," Wellesley retorted.

"But at least Torrance has got Sharpe, and even if Sharpe won't make a good officer, he's got the makings of a decent sergeant. He did well to find those supplies."

"Very well, sir," Campbell said warmly.

Wellesley leaned back in his chair. A flicker of distaste showed on his face as he recalled the terrible moment when he had been unhorsed at a.s.saye. He did not remember much of the incident for he had been dazed, but he did recall watching Sharpe kill with a savagery that had astonished him. He disliked being beholden to such a man, but the General knew he would not be alive if Sharpe had not risked his own life.

"I should never have given Sharpe a commission," he said ruefully.

"A man like that would have been quite content with a fiscal reward. A fungible reward. That's what our men want, Campbell, something that can be turned into rum or arrack."

"He appears to be a sober man, sir," Campbell said.

"Probably because he can't afford the drink! Officers' messes are d.a.m.ned expensive places, Campbell, as you well know. I reward Sharpe by plunging him into debt, eh? And G.o.d knows if the Rifles are any cheaper. I can't imagine they will be. He needs something fungible, Campbell, something fungible." Wellesley turned and rummaged in the saddlebags that were piled behind his chair. He brought out the new telescope with the shallow eyepiece that had been a gift from the merchants of Madras.

"Find a goldsmith in the camp followers, Campbell, and see if the fellow can replace that bra.s.s plate."

"With what, sir?"

Nothing too flowery, the General thought, because the gla.s.s was only going to be p.a.w.ned to pay mess bills or buy gin.

"In grat.i.tude, AW," he said, 'and add the date of a.s.saye. Then give it to Sharpe with my compliments."

"It's very generous of you, sir," Campbell said, taking the gla.s.s, 'but perhaps it would be better if you presented it to him?"

"Maybe, maybe. Blackiston! Where do we site guns?" The General unrolled the sketches.

"Candles," he ordered, for the light was fading fast.

The shadows stretched and joined and turned to night around the British camp. Candles were lit, lanterns hung from ridge-poles and fires fed with bullock dung. The picquets stared at shadows in the darkness, but some, lifting their gaze, saw that high above them the tops of the cliffs were still in daylight and there, like the home of the G.o.ds, the walls of a fortress showed deadly black where Gawilghur waited their coming.

CHAPTER 5.

The first part of the road was easy enough to build, for the existing track wound up the gender slopes of the foothills, but even on the first day Major Elliott was filled with gloom.

"Can't do it in a week!" the engineer grumbled.

"Man's mad! Expects miracles. Jacob's ladder, that's what he wants." He cast a morbid eye over Sharpe's bullocks, all of them prime Mysore beasts with brightly painted horns from which ta.s.sels and small bells hung.

"Never did like working with oxen," Elliott complained.

"Bring any elephants?"

"I can ask for them, sir."

"Nothing like an elephant. Right, Sharpe, load the beasts with small stones and keep following the track till you catch up with me. Got that?"

Elliott hauled himself onto his horse and settled his feet in the stirrups.

"b.l.o.o.d.y miracles, that's what he wants," the Major growled, then spurred onto the track.