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'I can smell what the bucket's for；' Sharpe said。 He tookthe jug and drank。 Lawford was slumped against the far wall and there was a small open book face down on the floor beside the sleeping Lieutenant。 Sharpe grimaced。 'Glad the bugger's brought something useful；' he said to Mary。
'You mean this？' Lawford said； indicating the book。 He had not been asleep after all。
Sharpe wished he had not used the insult； but did not know how to retrieve it。 'What is it？' he asked instead。
'A Bible。'
'Bloody hell；' Sharpe said。
'You don't approve？' Lawford asked icily。
'I had a bellyful of the good book when I was in the foundlings' home；' Sharpe said。 'If they weren't reading it to us they were hitting us round the head with it； and it wasn't some litde book like that one； but a bloody great big thick thing。 Could have stunned an ox； that Bible。'
'Did they teach you to read it？' Lawford asked。
'We weren't reckoned good enough to read。 Good enough to pick hemp； we were； but not read。 No； they just read it to us at breakfast。 It was the same every morning： cold porridge； tin of water and an earful of Abraham and Isaac。'
'So you can't read？' Lawford asked。
'Of course I can't read！' Sharpe laughed scornfully。 'What the bloody hell's the use of reading？'
'Don't be a fool； Dick；' Lawford said patiently。 'Only a fool takes pride in pretending that a skill he doesn't possess is worthless。' For a second Lawford was tempted to launch himself on a panegyric of reading； how it would open a new world to Sharpe； a world of drama and story and information and poetry and timeless wisdom； then he thought better of it。 'You want your sergeant's stripes； don't you？' he asked instead。'A man doesn't have to read to be a sergeant；' Sharpe said stubbornly。
'No； but it helps； and you'll be a better sergeant if you can read。 Otherwise the pany clerks tell you what the reports say； and what the lists say； and what the punishment book says； and the quartermasters will rob you blind。 But if you can read then you'll know when they're lying to you。'
There was a long silence。 Somewhere in the palace a sentry's footsteps echoed off stone； then came a sound so familiar that it almost made Lawford weep for homesickness。 It was a clock striking the hour。 Twelve o'clock。 Midnight。 'Is it hard？' Sharpe finally asked。
'Learning to read？' Lawford said。 'Not really。'
'Then you and Mary had better teach me； Bill； hadn't you？'
'Yes；' Lawford said。 'Yes。 We had。'
They were taken out of the guardroom in the morning。 Four tiger…striped soldiers fetched them and pushed them down the arcade； then into a narrow corridor that seemed to run beside the kitchens； and afterwards through a shadowed tangle of stables and storerooms that led to a double gate which opened into a large courtyard where the bright sun made them blink。 Then Sharpe's eyes adjusted to the brilliant daylight and he saw what waited for them in the courtyard； and he swore。 There were six tigers； all of them huge beasts with yellow eyes and dirty teeth。 The animals stared at the three newers； then one of the tigers rose； arched its back； shook himself； and slowly padded towards them。 'Jesus Christ！' Sharpe said； but just then the tiger's chain lifted from the dusty ground； stretched taut； and the tiger； cheated of its breakfast； growled and went back to the shadows。 Another beast scratched itself； a third yawned。 'Look at the size of the bastards！' Shaipe said。
'Just big pussy cats；' Lawford said with an insouciance he did not entirely feel。
'Then you go and scratch their chins；' Sharpe said； 'andsee if they purr。 Bugger off； you。' This was to another curious beast that was straining towards him from the end of its chain。 'Need a big mouse to feed one of those bastards。'
'The tigers can't reach you。' A voice spoke in English from behind them。 'Unless their keepers release them from their chains。 Good morning。' Sharpe turned。 A tall； middle…aged officer with a black moustache had e into the courtyard。 He was a European and wore the blue uniform of France。 'I am Colonel Gudin；' the officer said； 'and you are？'
For a moment none of them spoke； then Lawford straightened to attention。 'William Lawford； sir。'
'His name's Bill；' Sharpe said。 'I'm called Dick； and this is my woman。' He put an arm round Mary's shoulder。
Gudin grimaced as he looked at Mary's swollen black eye and her filthy skirts。 'You have a name' … he paused … 'Mademoiselle？' He finally decided that was the most appropriate way to address Mary。
'Mary； sir。' She made a small curtsey and Gudin returned the courtesy with an inclination of his head。 'And your name？' he asked Sharpe。
'Sharpe； sir。 Dick Sharpe。'
'And you are deserters？' the Colonel asked with a measure of distaste。
'Yes； sir；' Lawford said。
'I am never certain that deserters are to be trusted；' Gudin said mildly。 He was acpanied by a burly French sergeant who kept giving the tigers nervous glances。 'If a man can betray one flag；' Gudin observed； 'why not another？'
'A man might have good reason to betray his flag； sir；' Sharpe said defiantly。
'And your reason； Sharpe？'
Sharpe turned round so that the blood on his back was visible。 He let Gudin stare at the stains； then turned back。 'Is that good enough； sir？'
Gudin shuddered。 'I never understand why the British flogtheir soldiers。 It is barbarism。' He waved irritably at the flies which buzzed about his face。 'Sheer barbarism。'
〃You don't flog in the French army； sir？'
'Of course not；' Gudin said scornfully。 He put a hand on Sharpe's shoulder and turned him around again。 'When was this done to you？'
'Couple of days ago； sir。'
'Have you changed the bandages？'
'No； sir。 Wetted them； though。'
'You'll still be dead in a week unless we do something；' Gudin said； then turned and spoke to the sergeant who walked briskly out of the courtyard。 Gudin turned Sharpe around again。 'So what had you done to deserve such barbarism； Private Sharpe？'
'Nothing； sir。'
'Beyond nothing；' Gudin said tiredly； as though he had heard every excuse imaginable。
'I hit a sergeant； sir。'
'And you？' Gudin challenged Lawford。 'Why did you run？'
'They were going to flog me； sir。' Lawford was nervous telling the lie； and the nervousness intrigued Gudin。
'For doing nothing？' Gudin asked with amusement。
'For stealing a watch； sir。' Lawford reddened as he spoke。 'Which I did steal；' he added； but most unconvincingly。 He had made no effort to hide the accent that betrayed his education； though whether Gudin's ear was sufficiently attuned to English to detect the nuance was another matter。
The Frenchman was certainly intrigued by Lawford。 'What did you say your name was？' the Colonel asked。
'Lawford； sir。'
Gudin gave Lawford a long scrutiny。 The Frenchman was tall and thin； with a lugubrious and tired face； but his eyes； Sharpe decided； were shrewd and kind。 Gudin； Sharpe reckoned； was a gentleman； a proper type of officer。 Like Lawford； really； and maybe that was the trouble。 MaybeGudin had already seen through Lawford's disguise。 'You do not seem to me； Private Lawford； to be a typical British soldier；' Gudin said； thus fulfilling Sharpe's fears。 Tn France； now； you would be nothing strange for we must insist that every young man serve his country； but in Britain； am I not right； you only accept the dregs of the streets？ Men from the gutter？'
'Men like me；' Sharpe said。
'Quiet；' Gudin reproved Sharpe with a sudden authority。 'I did not speak to you。' The Frenchman took one of Lawford's hands and mutely inspected the soft uncalloused fingers。 'How is it that you are in the army； Lawford？'
'Father went bankrupt； sir；' Lawford said； conjuring the worst disaster that he could ever imagine。
'But the son of a bankrupt father can take employment； can he not？' Gudin looked again at the soft fingers； then released Lawford's hand。 'And any job； surely； is better than the life of a British soldier？'
'I got drunk； sir；' Lawford said miserably； 'and I met a recruiting sergeant。' The Lieutenant's misery was not at the imagined memory； but at the difficulty he was having in telling the lie； but his demeanour impressed Gudin。 'It was in a pub； sir； in Sheffield；' Lawford went on。 'The Hawse in the Lake； sir。 In Sheffield； sir。 In Pond Lane； sir； on market day。' His voice tailed away as he suddenly realized he did not know which day of the week the market was held。
'In Sheffield？' Gudin asked。 'Is that not where they make iron？ And … what is the word？ … cutlery！ You don't look like a cutler； Lawford。'
'I was a lawyer's apprentice； sir。' Lawford was blushing violently。 He knew he had mixed up the name of the pub； though it was doubtful that Colonel Gudin would ever know the difference； but the Lieutenant was certain his lies were as transparent as a pane of glass。
'And your job in the army？' Gudin asked。'pany clerk； sir。'
Gudin smiled。 'No ink on your breeches； Lawford！ In our army the clerks spatter ink everywhere。'
For a moment it seemed as though Lawford was about to abandon his lie and； in his misery； confess the whole truth to the Frenchman； but then the Lieutenant had a sudden inspiration。 'I wear an apron； sir； when I'm writing。 I don't want to be punished for a dirty uniform； sir。'
Gudin laughed。 In truth he had never doubted Lawford's story； mistaking the Lieutenant's embarrassment for shame at his family's bankruptcy。 If anything； the Frenchman felt sorry for the tall； fair…haired and fastidious young man who should plainly never have bee a soldier； and that； to Gudin； was enough to explain Lawford's nervousness。 'You're a clerk； eh？ So does that mean you see paperwork？'
'A lot； sir。'
'So do you know how many guns the British are bringing here？' Gudin asked。 'How much ammunition？'
Lawford shook his head in consternation。 For a few seconds he was speechless； then managed to say that he never saw that sort of paperwork。 'It's just pany papers I see； sir。 Punishment books； that sort of thing。'
'Bloody thousands；' Sharpe interjected。 'Beg pardon for speaking； sir。'
'Thousands of what？' Gudin asked。
'Bullocks； sir。 Six eighteen…pounder shot strapped on apiece； sir； and some of the buggers have got eight。 But it's thousands of round shot。'
'Two thousand？ Three？' Gudin asked。
'More than that； sir。 I ain't seen a herd the size of it； not even when the Scots drive the beeves down from Scodand to London。'
Gudin shrugged。 He very much doubted whether these two could tell him anything useful； certainly nothing that the Tippoo's scouts and spies had not already discovered； but thequestions had to be asked。 Now； waving flies from his face； he told the two deserters what they might expect。 'His Majesty the Tippoo Sultan will decide your fate； and if he is merciful he will want you to serve in his forces。 I assume you are willing？'
'Yes； sir；' Sharpe said eagerly。 'It's why we came； sir。'
'Good；' Gudin said。 'The Tippoo might want you in one of his own cushoons。 That's the word they use for a regiment here； a cushoon。 They're all good soldiers and well trained； and you'll be made wele； but there is one disadvantage。 You will both have to be circumcised。'
Lawford went pale； while Sharpe just shrugged。 'Is that bad； sir？'
'You know what circumcision is； Private？'
'Something the army does to you； sir？ Like swear you in？'
Gudin smiled。 'Not quite； Sharpe。 The Tippoo is a Muslim and he likes his foreign volunteers to join his religion。 It means one of his holy men will cut your foreskin off。 It's quite quick； just like slicing the top from a soft…boiled egg； really。'
'My prick？' Sharpe was as aghast as Lawford now。
'It's over in seconds；' Gudin reassured them； 'though the bleeding can last for a while and you cannot； how shall I say。 。。 ？' He glanced at Mary； then back to Sharpe。 'You can't let the egg bee hard boiled for a few weeks。'
'Bloody hell； sir！' Sharpe said。 'For religion？ They do that？'
'We Christians sprinkle babies with water；' Gudin said； 'and the Muslims chop off foreskins。' The Frenchman paused； then smiled。 'However； I cannot think that a man with a bleeding prick will make a good soldier； and your armies will be here in a few days； so I will suggest to His Majesty that the two of you serve wit