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d lashed together so that thewhole thing stood two feet higher than a tall man。 The three halberd butts were sunk into the dry soil； then a fourth halberd was firmly lashed crosswise on one face of the tripod at the height of a man's armpits。
Sergeant Hakeswill personally selected two of the 33rd's drummer boys。 The drummer boys always administered the floggings； a small element of mercy in a bestial punishment； but Hakeswill made certain that the two biggest and strongest boys were given the task and then he collected the two whips from the Sergeant Major and made the boys practise on a tree trunk。 'Put your body into it； lads；' he told them； 'and keep the arm moving fast after the whip's landed。 Like this。' He took one of the whips and slashed it across the bark； then showed them how to keep the lash sliding across the target by following the stroke through。 'I did it often enough when I was a drummer；' he told them； 'and I always did a good job。 Best flogger in the battalion； I was。 Second to none。' Once he was sure their technique was sufficient for the task he warned them not to tire too quickly； and then； with a pocket knife； he nicked the edges of the leather lashes so that their abrasions would tear at the exposed flesh as they were dragged across Sharpe's back。 'Do it well； lads；' he promised them； 'and there's one of these for each of you。' He showed them one of the Tippoo's gold coins which had been part of the battle's loot。 'I don't want this bastard walking again；' he told them。 'Nor do you neither； for if Sharpie ever finds his feet he'll give you two a rare kicking； so make sure you finish the bastard off proper。 Whip him bloody then put him underground； like it says in the scriptures。'
Hakeswill coiled the two whips and hung them on the halberd that was mounted crosswise on the tripod； then went to find the surgeon。 Mister Micklewhite was in his tent where he was trying to tie his white silk stock in preparation for the punishment parade。 He grunted when he saw Hakeswill。 'You don't need more mercury； do you？' he snarled。'No； sir。 Cured； sir。 Thanks to your worship's skill； sir。 Clean as a whistle I am； sir。'
Micklewhite swore as the knot in the damned stock loosened。 He did not like Hakeswill； but like everyone else in the regiment he feared him。 There was a wildness in the back of Hakeswill's childlike eyes that spoke of terrible mischief； and； though the Sergeant was always punctilious in his dealings with officers； Micklewhite still felt obscurely threatened。 'So what do you want； Sergeant？'
'Major Shee asked me to say a word； sir。'
'Couldn't speak to me himself？'
'You know the Major； sir。 No doubt he's thirsty。 A hot day。' Hakeswill's face quivered in a series of tremors。 'It's about the prisoner； sir。'
'What about him？'
'Troublemaker； sir。 Known for it。 A thief； a liar and a cheat。'
'So he's a redcoat。 So？'
'So Major Shee ain't keen to see him back among the living； sir； if you follow my meaning。 Is this what I owe you for the mercury； sir？' Hakeswill held up a gold coin； a haideri； which was worth around two shillings and sixpence。 The coin was certainly not payment for the cure of his pox； for that cost had already been deducted from the Sergeant's pay； so Micklewhite knew it was a bribe。 Not a great bribe； but half a crown could still go a long way。 Micklewhite glanced at it； then nodded。 'Put it on the table； Sergeant。'
'Thank you； sir。'
Micklewhite tugged the silk stock tight； then waved Hakes…will off。 He pulled on his coat and pocketed the gold coin。 The bribe had not been necessary； for Micklewhite's opposition to the coddling of flogging victims was well enough known in the battalion。 Micklewhite hated caring for men who had been flogged； for in his experience they almost always died； and if he did stop a punishment then the recovering victim only cluttered up his sick cots。 And if； by some miracle； theman was restored to health； it was only so he could be strapped to the triangle to be given the rest of his punishment and that second dose almost always proved fatal and so； all things considered； it was more prudent to let a man die at the first flogging。 It saved money on medicine and； in Micklewhite's view； it was kinder too。 Micklewhite buttoned his coat and wondered just why Sergeant Hakeswill wanted this particular man dead。 Not that Micklewhite really cared； he just wanted the bloody business over and done。
The 33rd paraded under the afternoon's burning sun。 Four panies faced the tripod； while three were arrayed at either side so that the battalion's ten panies formed a hollow oblong with the tripod standing in the one empty long side。 The officers sat on their horses in front of their panies while Major Shee； his aides and the adjutant stood their horses just behind the tripod。 Mister Micklewhite； his head protected from the sun by a wide straw hat； stood to one side of the triangle。 Major Shee； fortified by arrack and satisfied that everything was in proper order； nodded to Bywaters。 'You will begin punishment； Sergeant Major。'
'Sir！' Bywaters acknowledged； then turned and bellowed for the prisoner to be fetched。 The two drummer boys stood nervously with their whips in hand。 They alone of the parading soldiers were in shirtsleeves； while everyone else was in full wool uniform。 Women and children peered between the pany intervals。 Mary Bickerstaff was not there。 Hakeswill had looked for her； wanting to enjoy her horror； but Mary had stayed away。 The women who had e for the spectacle； like their men； were silent and sullen。 Sharpe was a popular man； and Hakeswill knew that everyone here was hating him for engineering this flogging； but Obadiah Hakeswill had never been concerned by such enmity。 Power did not lie in being liked； but in being feared。
Sharpe was brought to the triangle。 He was bareheaded and already stripped to the waist。 The skin of his chest andback were as white as his powdered hair and contrasted oddly with his darkly tanned face。 He walked steadily； for though he had the best part of a pint of rum in his belly； the liquor had not seemed to have the slightest effect。 He did not look at either Hakeswill or Morris as he walked to the tripod。
'Arms up； lad；' the Sergeant Major said quietly。 'Stand against the triangle。 Feet apart。 There's a good lad。'
Sharpe obediently stepped up to the triangular face of the tripod。 Two corporals knelt at his feet and lashed his ankles to the halberds； then stood and pushed his arms over the crosswise halberd。 They pulled his hands down and tied them to the uprights； thus forcing his naked back up and outwards。 That way he could not sag between the triangle and so hope to exhaust some of the blows on the halberd staffs。 The corporals finished their knots； then stepped back。
The Sergeant Major went to the back of the triangle and brought from his pouch a folded piece of leather that was deeply marked by tooth prints。 'Open your mouth； lad；' he said softly。 He smelt the rum on the prisoner's breadi and hoped it would help him survive； then he pushed the leather between Sharpe's teeth。 The gag served a double purpose。 It would stifle any cries the victim might make and would stop him biting off his tongue。 'Be brave； boy；' Bywaters said quietly。 'Don't let the regiment down。'
Sharpe nodded。
Bywaters stepped smartly back and came to attention。 'Prisoner ready for punishment； sir！' he called to Major Shee。
The Major looked to the surgeon。 'Is the prisoner fit for punishment； Mister Micklewhite？'
Micklewhite did not even give Sharpe a glance。 'Hale and fit； sir。'
'Then carry on； Sergeant Major。'
'Right； boys；' the Sergeant Major said； 'do your duty！ Lay it on hard now； and keep the strokes high。 Above his trousers。 Drummer！ Begin。'A third drummer boy was standing behind the floggers。 He lifted his sticks； paused； then brought the first stick down。
The boy to the right brought his whip hard down on Sharpe's back。
'One！' Bywaters shouted。
The whip had left a red mark across Sharpe's shoulder blades。 Sharpe had flinched； but the rope fetters restricted his movement and only those close to the triangle saw the tremor run through his muscles。 He stared up at Major Shee who took good care to avoid the baleful gaze。
'Two！' Bywaters called and the drummer brought down his stick as the second boy planted a red mark crosswise on the first。
Hakeswill's face twitched uncontrollably； but he was smiling under the rictus。 For the drumbeat of death had begun。
Colonel McCandless stood alone in the centre of the courtyard of the Tippoo's Inner Palace inside Seringapatam。 The Scotsman was still in his full uniform： red…coated； tartan…kilted and with his feather…plumed cocked hat on his head。 Six tigers were chained to the courtyard's walls and those tigers sometimes strained to reach him； but they were always checked by the heavy chains that quivered taudy whenever one of the muscled beasts sprang towards the Scotsman。 McCandless did not move and the tigers； after one or two fruitless lunges； contented themselves with snarling at him。 The tigers' keepers； big men armed with long staves； watched from the courtyard entrance。 It was those men who might receive the orders to unleash the tigers and McCandless was determined to show them a calm face。
The courtyard was covered with sand； its lower walls were of dressed stone； but above the stone the palace's second storey was a riot of stuccoed teak that had been painted red； white； green and yellow。 That decorated second storey was posed of Moorish arches and McCandless knew justenough Arabic to guess that the writing incised above each arch was a surah from the Koran。 There were two entrances to the courtyard。 The one behind McCandless； through which he had entered and where the tigers' keepers now stood； was a plain double gateway that led to a tangle of stables and storehouses behind the palace； while in front of him； and evidendy leading into the palace's staterooms； was a brief marble staircase rising to a wide door of black wood that had been decorated with patterns of inlaid ivory。 Above that lavish door was a balcony that jutted out from three of the stuccoed arches。 A screen of intricately carved wood hid the balcony； but McCandless could see that there were men behind the screen。 He suspected the Tippoo was there and； the Scotsman trusted； so was the Frenchman who had first questioned him。 Colonel Gudin had struck him as an honest fellow and right now； McCandless hoped； Gudin was pleading to let him live； though McCandless had taken good care not to offer the Frenchman his real name。 He feared that the Tippoo would recognize it； and realize just what a prize his cavalry had taken； and so the Scotsman had given his name as Ross instead。
McCandless was right。 Colonel Gudin and the Tippoo were both staring down through the screen。 'This Colonel Ross；' the Tippoo asked； 'he says he was looking for forage？'
'Yes； sir；' Gudin replied through the interpreter。
'You believe him？' It was plain from his tone that the Tippoo was sceptical。
Gudin shrugged。 'Their horses are thin。'
The Tippoo grunted。 He had done his best to deny the advancing enemy any food； but the British had taken to making sudden marches north or south of their approach to enter territory where his horsemen had not yet destroyed the villagers' supplies。 Not only that； but they had brought a vast amount of food with them。 Yet even so the Tippoo's spies reported that the enemy was going hungry。 Their horses andoxen were especially ill fed； so it was not unlikely that this British officer had been searching for forage。 But why would a full colonel be sent on such an errand？ The Tippoo could find ho answer to that； and the question fed his suspicions。 'Could he have been spying？'
'Scouting； maybe；' Gudin said； 'but not spying。 Spies do not ride in uniform； Your Majesty。'
The Tippoo grunted when the answer was translated into Persian。 He was a naturally suspicious man； as any ruler should be； but he consoled himself with the observation that whatever this Britisher had been doing； he must have failed。 The Tippoo turned to his entourage and saw the tall； dark…faced Appah Rao。 'You think this Colonel Ross was looking for food； General？'
Appah Rao knew exactly who Co