‘God knows.’
Price was distracted by another pretty girl and Sharpe drew him on to the Rue de Montreuil, past the gate to the Delaunay estate, and so to the city wall. A guard tried to stop them, saying the wall’s firestep was private property, but Sharpe growled that the allies now commanded Paris and were free to go wherever they wished. The guard reluctantly stepped aside, and Sharpe and Price climbed the steps. ‘That’s new,’ Sharpe said.
‘New, sir?’
‘Trying to keep us off the wall.’ He thought about it. ‘It’s because they’ve got something to hide,’ he went on, ‘and they didn’t need to hide it before the city fell.’ That explanation made sense to him. ‘I believe there’s a battalion of Light Infantry in those buildings,’ Sharpe pointed to the house and the huge warehouse, ‘and they’re here to make trouble.’ There was little sign of any men, but in one of the yards between the warehouse and the wall there were a dozen blue coats hanging out to dry. ‘And there’s a tunnel under the wall,’ Sharpe went on, ‘that we think goes to that tavern.’ He pointed and saw that the tables in the inn’s garden were crowded. He took out his telescope and trained it, seeing men drinking and eating. He moved the glass to the table nearest the door and stiffened. ‘Look,’ he gave the glass to Price. ‘Look at the table nearest the door on the right. There’s a man I want you to recognise.’ It was the man he supposed was Lanier, no longer in uniform, but unmistakable.
‘You mean the fellow with the queue?’ Price asked, meaning the horse-tail of dark hair that Lanier wore.
‘That’s him.’
‘Christ, he looks unpleasant,’ Price said.
‘I think his name is Lanier, he commands a battalion.’
‘Horrible looking bugger. He reminds me a bit of—’
‘Don’t say it, Harry.’
‘I was only going to say he reminds me of the devil, sir. My aunt had a picture of Satan in a book, and that fellow has the same eyes. And oh my God, now he’s looking at us!’
Sharpe took the glass back, trained it, and saw that Lanier also had a telescope that was aimed directly at him. The Frenchman raised a hand. He could have been brushing a scrap of dirt from his coat, but Sharpe suspected it was a greeting. He collapsed the glass, troubled that Lanier had noticed them, and he supposed he and Harper had been too obvious in the last three days. ‘Bugger,’ he said softly.
‘Sir?’
‘I have a feeling the bastard knows who I am, Harry, and he might even have sent men to follow Pat Harper and me home.’
‘That wouldn’t be difficult, sir. Can’t miss Pat Harper. Built like a prizefighter.’
‘Cheer me up, Harry.’
‘We could go to a public bath, sir? Sergeant Weller says there are naked women in them.’
‘So I’m told, Harry, so I’m told.’
They walked back to the gate, down the steps and then back through the city. ‘I want the house watched, Harry,’ Sharpe told him, ‘just a small picquet, and I also need a picquet on the gate of the Mauberges house. Six men. Just to guard against intruders.’
‘Of course, sir, but you think that’s necessary?’
‘I hope it isn’t, but that bastard Lanier worries me.’
‘Anyone who looks like Satan should worry you, sir. What do we do if they try to get in?’
‘Shoot the buggers.’
No one tried to enter the grounds that night. Sharpe relieved Price some time in the middle of the night and later in turn was relieved by Harper. Sharpe went to the house and wearily climbed to the bedrooms to find Lucille. ‘You were standing guard?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Half the night, yes.’
‘Are we in danger?’
‘Officially no, but possibly. Do you know of an officer called Colonel Lanier?’
‘The hero of Marengo! Everyone knows of him.’
‘It’s possible he’s kept some troops in the city.’
‘Because of la Fraternité?’
‘Which you know nothing about,’ he reminded her.
‘Which I know nothing about.’
‘And yes,’ Sharpe said, ‘la Fraternité. And I suspect he knows about me.’
‘And will kill you?’
‘If I frustrate him, yes.’
Lucille shuddered. ‘Lanier is a dangerous man.’
‘So am I,’ Sharpe said lightly.
‘You will take care, Richard!’
‘I always do. That’s why I’m still alive. But right now I’m going to sleep.’ He had undressed and had just climbed into the bed when there was a sudden commotion downstairs, starting with a pounding on the front door. Sharpe instinctively sat up, and Lucille put a calming hand on his shoulder. Sharpe heard Vignot shouting to ask who hammered on the door. ‘If it’s one of my men,’ Sharpe said, ‘I’ll kill him.’
He heard the door open, then another voice boomed in the great hallway. ‘Oh, the west wind doth blow, And the small rain down doth rain. Oh that my love were in my arms, And I in my bed again.’ It was Alan Fox, who paused briefly. ‘Sharpe! Get up! I need you!’
Sharpe groaned. ‘I must go.’ He turned and kissed Lucille.
‘Go,’ she said.
He started to dress, pulling on his shirt and then the French cavalry overalls.
‘Sharpe!’ the voice boomed. ‘Get your duds on, we have business! Dalliance must wait!’
‘Bloody man,’ Sharpe said. He pulled on his boots, slung his coat, sash, sword belt and scabbard over his shoulder, paused to kiss Lucille again, then went out to the corridor.
Fox, grinning, was waiting in the downstairs hall. ‘Did I interrupt you, Colonel?’
‘Go to hell, Fox.’
‘My passage thence is booked and paid for, Sharpe. The Peer wants to see you.’
‘The Duke?’
‘You know another peer?’
‘At this time of the morning?’
‘Time and tide wait for no man, Sharpe. Ah! Good man!’ The last words were to Vignot, who had evidently been commanded to bring a glass of brandy, which he did with an ill grace. Fox drained it, tossed the glass back to the steward, and dragged the front door open. ‘It ain’t far, Sharpe. The Peer, like you, prefers his luxuries.’
‘He didn’t in Spain and Portugal.’
‘We are back in civilisation, Sharpe. Come.’
A light rain had started, which did not improve Sharpe’s mood. He dragged on his green jacket, buckled the sword belt, and followed Fox’s long strides up the drive. ‘Have you killed Lanier yet?’ Fox demanded.
‘Not yet.’
‘You think he’s left Paris?’
‘I thought he had. Didn’t see him for three days, but he was there last night.’
‘And you didn’t shoot him?’
‘He was too far away. I saw him through a telescope.’
‘The Peer won’t be pleased,’ Fox said, then hailed Pat Harper, who was in charge of a six-man picquet at the gate. ‘You were quite right, Sergeant! Up in the bedrooms!’
‘Bastard,’ Sharpe growled.
‘A pleasure to serve you, Mister Fox,’ Harper said. He was grinning, but his face suddenly changed to anxiety. ‘You remember that officer who borrowed your telescope, sir?’
‘I do.’
‘I think I saw him.’ Harper gestured through the barred gate at the rough grassland beyond. ‘Him and three men, sir.’