"I a.s.sure you he does," Stokes said. He was irritated by Hakeswill's presence. He disliked the man intensely, even though Hakeswill had spent only a short time as Sharpe's subst.i.tute.

"So what is it, Sergeant?"

Hakeswill's face twitched.

"Come to be of use to you, sir."

The reply puzzled Stokes.

"I thought you'd been returned to company duties?"

"That I am, sir, and not before time. But I was thinking of poor Sharpie, sir, as you tell me he languishes in the heathens' jail, sir, which I did not know, sir, until you told me."

Stokes shrugged.

"He's probably being fairly treated. The Mahrattas aren't renowned for being unduly cruel to prisoners."

"I was wondering if he left his pack with you, sir?"

"Why would he do that?" Stokes asked.

"I was just wondering, sir. Officers don't like carrying their baggage everywhere, sir, not if they want to keep their dignity, and if he did leave his pack with you, sir, then I thought as how we might relieve you of the responsibility, sir, seeing as how Mister Sharpe was a comrade of ours for so long. That's what I was thinking, sir."

Stokes bridled, but was not certain why.

"It isn't a heavy responsibility, Sergeant."

"Never thought it was, sir, but it might be a nuisance to you, sir, seeing as how you're charged with other duties, and I would relieve you of the responsibility, sir."

Stokes shook his head.

"As it happens, Sergeant, Mister Sharpe did leave his pack with me, and I promised him I would keep it safe, and I'm not a man to break promises, Sergeant. I shall keep it."

"As you chooses, sir!" Hakeswill said sourly.

"Just thought it was a Christian act, sir." He turned and marched away. Stokes watched him, then shook his head and turned back to gaze at the growing encampment.

Tonight, he thought, tonight we shall make the batteries, and tomorrow the big guns will be hauled forward. Another day to fill the magazines with powder and shot and then the stone-breaking could begin. Two days of battering, of dust and rubble and smoke, and then the cricketers could lead the charge across the isthmus. Poor men, Stokes thought, poor men.

"I hate night actions," Captain Morris complained to Hakeswill.

"Because of Serry-apatam, sir? A right dog's mess, that was." The battalion had attacked a wood outside Seringapatam by night and the companies had become separated, some became lost, and the enemy had punished them.

Morris attached his scabbard to its slings and pulled his hat on. It was dark outside, and soon the oxen would drag the gab ions forward to the position Stokes had chosen for the breaching batteries. It would be a prime moment for the enemy to sally out of the fortress, so Morris and his company must form a picquet line ahead of the proposed batteries.

They must watch the fortress and, if an attack was made, they must resist it, then slowly fall back, protecting the sappers until the reserve troops, a battalion of sepoys, could be brought forward from the plateau. With any luck, Morris fervently hoped, the enemy would stay in bed.

"Evening, Morris!" Major Stokes was indecently cheerful.

"Your lads are ready?"

"They are, sir."

Stokes led Morris a few yards from his tent and stared towards the fortress that was nothing but a dark shape in the night beyond the closer blackness of the rocks.

"The thing is," Stokes said, 'that they're bound to see our lanterns and must hear the carts, so they're liable to unleash a pretty furious artillery barrage. Maybe rockets as well. But take no heed of it. Your only job is to watch for infantry coming from the gate."

"I know, sir."

"So don't use your muskets! I hear musket fire, Captain, and I think infantry. Then I send for the Madra.s.si lads, and the next moment the whole place is swarming with redcoats who can't tell who's who in the dark. So no firing, you understand? Unless you see enemy infantry.

Then send a message to me, fight the good fight and wait for support."

Morris grunted. He had been told this twice already, and did not need the instructions a third time, but he still turned to the company which was paraded and ready.

"No one's to fire without my express permission, you understand?"

"They understands, sir," Hakeswill answered for the company.

"One musket shot without permission and the culprit's earned himself a skinned back, sir."

Morris took the company forward, following the old road that led directly to the gateway of the Outer Fort. The night was horribly dark, and within a few paces of leaving the engineers' encampment, Morris could hardly see the road at all. His men's boots scuffed loud on the hard-packed stones. They went slowly, feeling their way and using what small light came from the merest sliver of moon that hung like a silver blade above Gawilghur.

"Permission to speak, sir?" Hakeswill's hoa.r.s.e voice sounded close to Morris.

"Not too loud, Sergeant."

"Like a mouse, sir, quiet I will be, but, sir, if we're here, does that mean we'll be joining the a.s.sault on the fort, sir?"

"G.o.d, no," Morris said fervently.

Hakeswill chuckled.

"I thought I should ask, sir, on account of making a will."

"A will?" Morris asked.

"You need a will?"

"I have some wealth," Hakeswill said defensively. And soon, he reckoned, he would have even more, for he had cleverly confirmed his surmise that Sharpe's missing pack was in Major Stokes's keeping.

"You have some wealth, do you?" Morris asked sarcastically.

"And who the h.e.l.l will you leave it to?"

"Your own self, sir, if you'll forgive me, sir. No family, apart from the army, sir, which is mother's milk to me."

"By all means make your will," Morris said.