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ly；　lumpen；　and　friendless；　a　world　that　had　tried　to　kill　him　and　which　now；　above　all；　feared　him。
　
　He　hated　Sharpe。　To　Hakeswill　officers　were　officers；　born；　like　John　Morris；　to　their　exalted　station　and　the　purveyors　of　reward　and　privilege。　But　Sharpe　was　an　upstart。　He　came　from　the　same　gutters　as　Hakeswill；　and　the　Sergeant　had　once　tried　to　break　him　and　failed。　He　would　not　fail　again。　Now；　sitting　in　the　stable　behind　the　officers'　house；　stripping　a　hambone　with　his　fingernails　and　cramming　the　scraps　into　an　open；　churning　mouth；　he　took　pleasure　at　remembering　their　meeting。　Hakeswill　had　recognized　the　officer's　embarrassment　and　chalked　it　up　as　a　small　victory　to　be　followed　and　exploited。　There　was　the　Sergeant　too；　the　Irishman　who　would　be　worth　baiting；　and　he　cackled　as　he　stuffed　the　food　into　his　mouth　and　scratched　the　flea…bites　in　his　armpit。　There　was　profit　in　fear；　none　in　harmony。　Hakeswill　had　made　himself　fortable　by　reducing　panies　into　divided　camps；　those　for　him　and　those　against。　Those　he　disliked　would　be　forced　to　pay　money；　or　services；　so　that　the　Sergeant's　life　would　be　bearable。　Hakeswill　had　a　shrewd　idea　that　Patrick　Harper　would　not　allow　it　to　happen　easily；　nor　Sharpe；　but　he　laughed　out　loud。　He　had　not　re…enlisted　in　an　active　service　battalion；　one　that　would　lead　to　the　rich　pickings　of　a　war；　to　be　thwarted　by　those　two。
　
　He　fished　in　his　ammunition　pouch　and　came　up　with　a　handful　of　coins。　It　was　not　much；　a　few　shillings；　but　all　he　had　managed　to　steal　in　the　chaos　of　the　arrival。　He　had　e　to　the　stable　to　count　his　gains　and　to　hide　them　deep　in　his　pack。　He　preferred　services　to　money。　Soon　he　would　discover　which　soldiers　in　the　Light　pany　were　married；　and　which　had　the　prettiest　wives。　Those　were　the　ones　to　go　for；　the　ones　who　would　be　reduced　to　quaking　misery　by　Hakeswill's　battery　of　weapons　till　they　would　offer　anything　for　a　release　from　his　torment。　Their　wives　were　his　usual　price。　He　knew　that；　on　average；　two　or　three　would　give　in；　would　bring　their　women　in　tears　to　some　straw…filled　stable　like　this　and；　after　a　while；　the　women　surrendered。　Some　came　drunk；　but　he　never　minded　that；　and　one　had　tried　to　rip　him　with　a　bayonet　and　he　had　killed　her；　and　blamed　the　husband　for　her　death；　and　he　laughed　as　he　remembered　the　man's　execution；　hung　from　a　high　tree。　It　would　take　time　to　bee　fortable　in　this　new　battalion；　to　root　around　in　it　like　a　beast　settling　in　its　lair；　but　he　would　do　it。　And；　just　like　an　animal　slumping　into　rest；　he　would　first　claw　out　the　rocks　that　would　be　unfortable　beneath　his　yellow　hide；　rocks　like　Sharpe　and　Harper。
　
　He　had　the　stable　to　himself。　A　horse　moved　in　the　stall　behind　him；　light　chinked　between　the　thick；　curved　roof　tiles；　and　the　Sergeant　was　glad　of　the　time　to　be　alone；　to　think。　Stealing　equipment　was　a　good　beginning。　Pick　your　men；　steal　from　them；　then　report　the　loss　and　have　them　charged；　hoping　that　the　new　Colonel　was　a　flogging　man。　It　was　extraordinary　what　a　man　would　do　to　avoid　a　flogging；　and　what　a　woman　would　give　to　save　her　man　from　the　lashes！　It　was　so　easy；　and　he　laughed　again。　Two　or　three　savage　floggings　and　the　pany　would　be　eating　out　of　his　hand！　There　was　even　a　rumor；　that　had　flashed　through　the　Battalion　like　wildfire；　that　Sharpe　had　lost　the　pany。　That　was　good　news；　it　removed　an　obstacle；　and　Hakeswill　had　judged　that　Price　would　be　no　great　problem。　The　new　Ensign；　Matthews；　was　a　mere　boy；　and　the　only　problem　was　Patrick　Harper。　His　fault　was　probably　excessive　honesty；　and　Hakeswill　grinned。　It　was　so　easy！
　
　The　door　of　the　stable　opened　and　Hakeswill　froze。　He　liked　to　stay　unseen；　to　watch　without　being　watched。　One　person　entered；　he　could　tell　by　the　footsteps；　and　walked　to　the　row　of　stalls　behind　Hakeswill　as　the　big；　wooden　door　closed　under　its　own　ponderous　weight。　The　newer　was　hidden　from　him　and　he　moved；　infinitely　slowly；　timing　his　movements　so　that　the　rustle　of　straw　should　seem　like　the　stirrings　of　a　draught　and　then；　thankfully；　a　horse　staled　noisily　and　the　splashing　covered　the　sound　of　him　kneeling　up　to　peer　through　a　chink　in　the　boards。
　
　He　almost　crowed　with　delight。　It　was　a　girl；　a　girl　with　the　kind　of　beauty　a　man　might　dream　of；　but　know　he　could　never　possess。　She　was　a　native；　too；　he　could　see　that　by　the　clothes　and　by　her　dark　skin　and　hair；　and　native　girls　were　always　fair　game。　He　tensed　himself。　He　wanted　this　girl。　He　forgot　everything；　Sharpe；　Harper；　his　plans；　everything；　for　he　was　suddenly　swamped　with　lust　for　this　girl　and　he　began　to　edge　the　bayonet　from　its　scabbard。
　
　Teresa　heaved　the　saddle　on　to　her　horse；　pulled　the　blanket　straight　beneath　the　leather；　and　pulled　the　girth　through　its　thick　buckle。　She　spoke　to　the　horse　in　Spanish；　murmuring　to　it；　and　heard　nothing　strange　in　the　stable。　She　did　not　want　to　leave　Sharpe；　to　return　to　the　Anfrancesados；　the　French…lovers；　in　the　city；　but　Antonia　was　there；　and　ill；　and　Teresa　had　to　go　back　to　protect　her　child　through　the　siege。　After　that；　pray　God；　the　child　would　be　well　enough　to　be　moved。
　
　And　marriage？　She　sighed　and　looked　up　to　the　roof。　It　was　not　right　that　Antonia　should　be　a　bastard；　yet　Teresa　could　not　see　herself　following　this　army　like　a　puppy　behind　a　pack；　and　she　knew　Richard　Sharpe　would　not　leave　to　live　in　Casatejada。　Marry　anyway？　At　least　the　baby　would　have　a　name；　a　good　name；　and　there　was　no　shame　for　a　child　to　carry　the　name　of　an　unknown；　absent　father。　She　sighed　again。　It　would　all　have　to　wait　until　the　siege　was　done；　or　the　child　better；　and　suddenly；　like　a　dark　cloud；　she　wondered　what　might　happen　if　Sharpe　died　in　the　siege。　She　shrugged。　She　would　tell　everyone　that　he　had　married　her　before　the　siege；　and　no　one　would　be　any　the　wiser。
　
　Hakeswill　waited　till　her　hands　were　full；　bridling　the　horse；　and　then　he　rolled　over　the　partition；　the　bayonet　bright　in　his　hand；　and　grabbed　her　hair　and　pulled　her　down　with　his　lumbering　weight。　She　lashed　at　him；　hopelessly　falling；　and　then　he　had　the　needle…point　of　the　slim　bayonet　at　her　throat　and　was　kneeling　at　her　head。　'Hello；　missy。'　She　said　nothing。　She　was　flat　on　her　back；　beside　the　horse；　and　his　face　was　upside　down　above　her。　Hakeswill　licked　his　lips。　'Portuguese；　are　we？'
　
　The　Sergeant　laughed。　This　was　a　gift　from　the　gods；　a　present　on　his　first　day　with　his　new　pany。　He　kept　the　bayonet　at　her　throat　and　edged　his　way　round　so　he　could　see　her　properly。　The　horse　stirred；　but　he　was　not　afraid　of　horses；　and　then　his　knees　were　beside　her　waist　and　he　laughed　aloud。　This　one　was　beautiful；　even　more　beautiful　than　she　had　looked　through　the　gap　in　the　stalls。　This　one　he　would　remember　for　ever。　'Speak　English？'　The　girl　said　nothing。　He　pressed　with　the　bayonet；　the　slightest　fraction；　not　breaking　the　skin。　'D'you　speak　English；　missy？'
　
　Probably　not；　which　did　not　matter　much；　because　there　was　no　chance　that　she　would　live　to　tell　any　tales；　in　any　language。　The　provosts　would　hang　a　man　for　rape　so　the　girl　would　have　to　die；　unless　she　liked　him；　of　course；　which　he　conceded　was　not　likely。　It　was　not　impossible。　There　had　been　that　bitch　in　the　Fever　Islands；　the　blind　girl；　but　there　was　no　sign　that　this　little　beauty　was　exactly　weling　his　attentions。
　
　She　did　not　seem　frightened　either；　which　was　puzzling　and　distressing。　He　expected　them　to　scream；　they　usually　did；　but　she　was　watching　him　calmly　with　big；　dark；　long…lashed　eyes。　The　scream　might　e　later；　but　he　was　ready　for　it。　In　a　moment　he　would　hold　her　throat　and　move　the　bayonet　into　her　mouth。　He　would　force　the　blade　down　till　she　was　on　the　point　of　gagging；　so　all　she　could　see　was　the　seventeen　inches　of　edged　metal　protruding　from　her　mouth；　gripped　in　his　fist　and；　in　that　position；　Hakeswill　knew；　they　neither　moved；　nor　screamed；　and　it　was　so　easy　to　kill　them　at　the　end　with　one　brief；　convulsive　plunge。　Her　body　could　be　pushed　under　straw　at　the　back　of　the　stable　and；　even　if　she　was　found；　no　one　would　know　it　was　him。　He　cackled。　'Obadiah　Hakeswill；　missy；　at　your　service。'
　
　She　smiled　at　him；　t