Sharpe's Battle Part 30

The first outsiders to arrive at San Isidro were a strong troop of King's

German Legion cavalry who scouted the valley before climbing to the fort.

Their captain reported a score of dead at the foot of the slope, then saw the far greater number of bodies lying in the fort's open area. "Mein Gott! What happened?"

"Ask Colonel the Lord Kiely," Sharpe said, and jerked a thumb at Kiely who was visible on the gatehouse turret. Other Real Compania Irlandesa officers were supervising the squads collecting the Portuguese dead, while Father Sarsfield had taken charge of a dozen men and their wives who were caring for the

Portuguese wounded, though without a surgeon there was little they could do except bandage, pray and fetch water. One by one the wounded died, some crying out in delirium, but most staying calm as the priest held their hands, asked their names and gave them the viatic.u.m.

The next outsiders to arrive were a group of staff officers, mostly British, some Portuguese and one Spaniard, General Valverde. Hogan led the party, and for a solemn half-hour the Irish Major walked about the horror with an appalled expression, but when he left the other staff officers to join Sharpe he was grinning with an inappropriate cheerfulness. "A tragedy, Richard!"

Hogan said happily.

Sharpe was offended by his friend's cheerfulness. "It was a b.l.o.o.d.y hard night, sir."

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Hogan said, trying and failing to sound sympathetic. The

Major could not contain his happiness. "Though it's a pity about Oliveira's cacadores. He was a good man and it was a fine battalion."

"I warned him."

"I'm sure you did, Richard, I'm sure you did. But it's always the same in war, isn't it? The wrong people get the hind teat. If only the Real Compania

Irlandesa could have been decimated, Richard, that would have been a great convenience right now, a real convenience. Still and all, still and all, this will do. This will do very well."

"Do for what?" Sharpe asked fiercely. "Do you know what happened here last night, sir? We were betrayed. Some b.a.s.t.a.r.d opened the gates to Loup."

"Of course he did, Richard!" Hogan said soothingly. "Haven't I been saying all along that they couldn't be trusted? The Real Compania Irlandesa aren't here to help us, Richard, but to help the French." He pointed to the dead. "You need further proof? But of course this is good news. Until this morning it was impossible to send the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds packing because that would have offended

London and the Spanish court. But now, don't you see, we can thank the Spanish

King for the valued a.s.sistance of his personal guard, we can claim that the

Real Compania Irlandesa was instrumental in seeing off a strong French raid over the frontier, and then, honours even, we can send the treacherous b.u.g.g.e.rs to Cadiz and let them rot." Hogan was positively exultant. "We are off the hook, Richard, the French malevolence is defeated, and all because of last night. The French made a mistake. They should have left you alone, but plainly

Monsieur Loup couldn't resist the bait. It's all so clever, Richard, that I wish I'd thought of it myself, but I didn't. But no matter; this'll mean goodbye to our gallant allies and an end to all those rumours about Ireland."

"My men didn't spread those rumours," Sharpe insisted.

"Your men?" Hogan mocked. "These aren't your men, Richard. They're Kiely's, or more likely Bonaparte's, but they're not your men."

"They're good men, sir, and they fought well."

Hogan shook his head at the anger in Sharpe's voice, then steered his friend along the eastern battlements with a touch on the rifle-man's elbow. "Let me try and explain something to you, Richard," Hogan said. "One third of this army is Irish. There's not a battalion that doesn't have its ranks full of my countrymen and most of those Irishmen are not lovers of King George. Why should they be? But they're here because there's no work at home and because there's no food at home and because the army, G.o.d bless it, has the sense to treat the Irish well. But just suppose, Richard, just suppose, that we can upset all those good men from County Cork and County Offaly, and all those brave souls from Inniskilling and Ballybofey, and suppose we can upset them so badly that they mutiny. How long will this army hold together? A week? Two days? One hour? The French, Richard, very nearly ripped this army into two parts and don't think they won't try again, because they will. Only the next rumour will be more subtle, and the only way I can stop that next rumour is by ridding the army of the Real Compania Irlandesa, because even if you're right and they didn't spread the tales of rape and ma.s.sacre, then someone close to them did. So tomorrow morning, Richard, you're going to march these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds down to headquarters where they will surrender those nice new muskets you somehow filched for them and draw rations for a long march. In effect,

Richard, they are under arrest until we can find the transport to carry them to Cadiz and there's nothing you can do about it. It's all been ordered."

Hogan took a piece of paper from his pouch and gave it to the rifleman. "And it isn't an order from me, Richard, but from the Peer."

Sharpe unfolded the paper. He felt aggrieved at what he perceived to be an injustice. Men like Captain Donaju only wanted to fight the French, but instead they were to be shuffled aside. They were to be marched down to headquarters and disarmed like a battalion of turncoats. Sharpe felt a temptation to crumple Wellington's written order into a ball, but sensibly resisted the impulse. "If you want to get rid of the troublemakers," he said instead, "then start with Kiely and his b.l.o.o.d.y wh.o.r.e, start with the-"

"Don't teach me my job," Hogan interrupted tartly. "I can't act against Kiely and his wh.o.r.e because they're not in the British army. Valverde could get rid of them, but he won't, so the easy thing to do, the politic thing, is to get rid of the whole d.a.m.ned pack of them. And tomorrow morning, Richard, you do just that."

Sharpe took a deep breath to curb his anger. "Why tomorrow?" he asked when he trusted himself to speak again. "Why not now?"

"Because it will take you the rest of today to bury the dead."

"And why order me to do it?" Sharpe asked sullenly. "Why not Runciman, or

Kiely?"

"Because those two gentlemen," Hogan answered, "will be going back with me to make their reports. There's going to be a court of inquiry and I need to make d.a.m.n sure that the court discovers exactly what I want it to discover."

"Why the h.e.l.l do we want a court of inquiry?" Sharpe asked sourly. "We know what happened. We got beat."

Hogan sighed. "We need a court of inquiry, Richard, because a decent

Portuguese battalion got torn to sc.r.a.ps, and the Portuguese government is not going to like that. Worse still, our enemies in the Spanish junta will love it. They'll say the events of last night prove that foreign troops can't be trusted under British command, and right now, Richard, what we want more than anything else is to have the Peer made the Generalisimo of Spain. We won't win otherwise. So what we need to do now, just to make sure that b.l.o.o.d.y Valverde doesn't have too much sunshine in which to make his hay, is hold a solemn court of inquiry and find a British officer on whom all the blame can be laid.

We need, G.o.d bless the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d, a scapegoat."

Sharpe felt the long, slow dawning of disaster. The Portuguese and Spanish wanted a scapegoat, and Richard Sharpe would make a fine victim, a victim who would be trussed and basted by the reports Hogan would concoct this afternoon at headquarters. "I tried to tell Oliveira that Loup was going to attack,"

Sharpe said, "but he wouldn't believe me-"

"Richard! Richard!" Hogan interrupted in a long-suffering tone. "You're not the scapegoat! Good G.o.d, man, you're nothing but a captain, and only a captain on sufferance. Aren't you a lieutenant on the list? You think we can go to the

Portuguese government and say we allowed a greenjacket lieutenant to destroy a prime regiment of cacadores? Good Lord alive, man, if we're going to make a sacrifice then the very least we can do is find a big, plump beast with enough fat on its carca.s.s to make the fire sizzle when we throw it on the flames."

"Runciman," Sharpe said.

Hogan smiled wolfishly. "Exactly. Our Wagon Master will be sacrificed to make the Portuguese happy and to persuade the Spanish that Wellington can be trusted not to ma.s.sacre their precious soldiers. I can't sacrifice Kiely, though I'd love to, because that will upset the Spaniards and I can't sacrifice you because you're too junior and, besides, I need you for the next time I've got a fool's errand, but Colonel Claud Runciman was born for this moment, Richard. This is Claud's proud and sole purpose in life: to sacrifice his honour, his rank and his reputation to keep Lisbon and Cadiz happy." Hogan paused, thinking. "Maybe we'll even shoot him. Only pour encourager les autres."

Sharpe guessed he was supposed to recognize the French phrase, but it meant nothing to him and he was too depressed to ask for a translation. He also felt desperately sorry for Runciman. "Whatever you do, sir," Sharpe said, "don't shoot him. It wasn't his fault. It was mine."

"If anyone's," Hogan said brusquely, "it was Oliveira's responsibility. He was a good man, but he should have listened to you, but I dare not blame Oliveira.

The Portuguese need him as a hero, just as the Spanish need Kiely. So we'll pick on Runciman instead. It ain't justice, Richard, but politics, and like all politics it ain't pretty, but well done it can work wonders. I'll leave you to bury the dead and tomorrow morning you report to headquarters with all your Irishmen disarmed. We're looking for a place to billet them where they can't get into trouble, and you, of course, can then go back to some proper soldiering."

Sharpe again felt a pang at the injustice of the solution. "Suppose Runciman wants to call me as a witness?" he asked. "I won't lie. I like the man."

"You have perverse tastes. Runciman won't call you, no one will call you. I'll make sure of that. This court of inquiry isn't supposed to establish the truth, Richard, but to ease Wellington and me off a painful hook that is presently inserted deep into our joint fundament." Hogan grinned, then turned and walked away. "I'll send you some picks and shovels to bury the dead," he called in callous farewell.

"You couldn't send us what we needed, could you?" Sharpe shouted after the

Major in bitterness. "But you can find b.l.o.o.d.y shovels fast enough."

"I'm a miracle worker, that's why! Come and have lunch with me tomorrow!"