Sharpe's Gold Read Online Free PDF

he

    might ever have contemplated another course of action and, through his innocently

    wide eyes, wondered if he saw a flicker of amusement behind the General's cold, blue

    gaze.
    Wellington looked away, to Lawford, and with his usual disarming speed suddenly

    became affable. 'You're well, Colonel?'
    'Thank you, sir. Yes.' Lawford beamed with pleasure. He had served on Wellington's staff,

    knew the General well.
    'Join me for dinner tonight. The usual time.' The General looked at Forrest. 'And you,

    Major?'
    'My pleasure, sir.'
    'Good.' The eyes flicked at Sharpe. 'Captain Sharpe will be too busy, I fear.' He nodded a

    dismissal. 'Good day, gentlemen.'
    Outside the headquarters the bugles sounded the evening and the sun sank in

    magnificent crimson. Inside the quiet room the General paused a moment before

    plunging back into the paperwork that must be done before the dinner of roast mutton.

    Hogan, he thought, was right. If a miracle were needed to save the campaign, and it was,

    then the rogue he had just seen was the best man for the job. More than a rogue: a fighter,

    and a man who looked on failure as unthinkable. But a rogue, thought Wellington, a damned

    rogue all the same.

CHAPTER 3
    Sharpe had spent the hour between leaving and returning to Wellington's headquarters

    conjuring all kinds of quixotic answers to the mystery of what he was supposed to bring

    back to the General. Perhaps, he had thought as he stirred the Company into activity,

    it would be a new French secret weapon, something like the British Colonel Congreve's

    rocket system, of which there were so many tales but so little evidence. Or, more

    fanciful still, perhaps the British had secretly offered refuge to Napoleon's divorced

    Josephine, who might have smuggled herself to Spain to become a pawn in the high politics

    of the war. He was still wondering as he was shown into a large room of the headquarters,

    to find a reception committee, formal and strained, flanking a wretchedly embarrassed

    Lieutenant Ayres.
    The unctuous young Major smiled at Sharpe as though he were a valued and expected

    guest. 'Ah, Captain Sharpe. You know the Provost Marshal, you've met Lieutenant Ayres, and

    this is Colonel Williams. Gentlemen?' The Major made a delicate gesture as if inviting

    them all to sit down and take a glass of sherry. It seemed that Colonel Williams, plump and

    red-veined, was deputed to do the talking.
    'Disgraceful, Sharpe. Disgraceful!'
    Sharpe stared a fraction of an inch over Williams's head and stopped himself from

    blinking. It was a useful way of discomfiting people, and, sure enough, Williams wavered

    from the apparent gaze and made a helpless gesture towards Lieutenant Ayres.
    'You imperilled his authority, overstepped your own. A disgrace!'
    'Yes, sir. I apologize!'
    'What?' Williams seemed surprised at Sharpe's sudden apology. Lieutenant Ayres was

    squirming with uneasiness, while the Provost Marshal seemed impatient to get the charade

    done. Williams cleared his throat, seemed to want his pound of flesh. 'You apologize?'
    'Yes, sir. Unreservedly, sir. Terrible disgrace, sir. I utterly apologize, sir,

    regret my part very much, sir, as I'm sure Lieutenant Ayres does his.'
    Ayres, startled by a sudden smile from Sharpe, nodded hastily and agreed. 'I do, sir. I

    do.'
    Williams whirled on his unfortunate Lieutenant. 'What do you have to regret, Ayres? You

    mean there's more to this than I thought?'
    The Provost Marshal sighed and scraped a boot on the floor. 'I think the purpose of this

    meeting is over, gentlemen, and I have work to do.' He looked at Sharpe. 'Thank you,

    Captain, for your apology. We'll leave you.'
    As they left, Sharpe could hear Colonel Williams interrogating Ayres as to why he should

    have any regrets, and Sharpe let a grin show on his face which widened into a broad smile as

    the door opened once more and Michael Hogan came into the room. The small Irishman shut the

    door carefully and