'Back away,' Gudin muttered.

Sharpe bowed to the Tippoo and backed clumsily to his place in the line. The Tippoo spoke again, though this time no one bothered to translate for Sharpe, and then the small ceremony was over and the Tippoo turned and went back into his palace.

'You are now officially a hero of Mysore,' Gudin said dryly, 'one of the Tippoo's beloved tigers.'

'Don't deserve to be, sir,' Sharpe said, peering at the medallion. One side was patterned with an intricate design, while the other showed a tiger's face, though the face seemed to be cunningly constructed from the whorls of an intricate script. 'Does it say something, sir?' he asked Gudin.

'It says, Sharpe, "Assad Allah al-ghalib", which is Arabic and it means "The Lion of God is victorious."'

'Lion, not tiger?'

'It's a verse from the Koran, Sharpe, the Muslim Bible, and I suspect the holy book does not mention tigers. It can't, otherwise I'm sure the Tippoo would use the quotation.'

'Funny, isn't it?' Sharpe said, peering at the heavy gold medallion.

'What is?'

'The British beast is the lion, sir.' Sharpe chuckled, then hefted the gold in his hand. 'Is he a rich bugger, the Tippoo?'

'As rich as can be,' Gudin said dryly.

'And those are real stones? That ruby in his hat and the diamond in his dagger?'

'Both worth a king's ransom, Sharpe, but be careful. The diamond is called the Moonstone and is supposed to bring ill luck to anyone who steals it.'

'I wasn't thinking of thieving it, sir,' Sharpe said, though he had been thinking exactly that. 'But what about this?' He lifted the heavy medallion again. 'Do I get to keep it?'

'Of course you do. Though I might say you only received it because I somewhat exaggerated your exploits.'

Sharpe unlooped the medallion. 'You can have it, sir.' He pushed the heavy gold towards the Frenchman. 'Really, sir! Go on.'

Gudin backed away and held up his hands in horror. 'If the Tippoo discovered you had given it away, Sharpe, he would never forgive you! Never! That's a badge of honour. You must wear it always.' The Colonel pulled out a Breguet watch and clicked open its lid. 'I have duties, Sharpe, and that reminds me. Your woman will be waiting for you in the small temple beside Appah Rao's house. You know where that is?'

'No, sir.'

'Go to the north side of the big Hindu temple,' the Colonel said, 'and keep walking. You will come almost to the city wall. Turn left there and you will see the temple on your left. It has one of those cows over the gate.'

'Why do they put cows over the gates, sir?'

'For the same reason we put images of a tortured man in our churches. Religion. You ask too many questions, Sharpe.' The Colonel smiled. 'Your woman will meet you there, but remember, Corporal, guard duty at sundown!' With those words Gudin strode away and Sharpe, with one final glance at the somnolent tiger, followed.

It was not hard to find the small temple that lay opposite an old gateway that led through the western defences. It was these walls that McCandless had warned against, but Sharpe, staring at them from the temple entrance, could see nothing strange about them. A long ramp ran up to the firestep and a pair of soldiers were struggling to push a handcart loaded with rockets to the ramparts where a dozen great guns stood unattended in their embrasures, but he could see nothing sinister, no trap to destroy an army. One of the Tippoo's sun-blazoned flags flew on a tall staff above the gatehouse itself, flanked by two smaller green flags that showed a silver device. The wind lifted one of the flags and Sharpe saw it was the same calligraphic tiger head that was engraved on his medal. He grinned. That was something to show Mary.

He went into the temple, but Mary had not yet arrived. Sharpe found a patch of shade in a niche to one side of the open courtyard from where he watched a stark-naked man with a white stripe painted across his bald pate who was sitting cross-legged in front of an idol that had a man's body, a monkey's head and was painted red, green and yellow. Another god, this one with seven cobra heads, stood in a niche that was littered with fading flowers. The cross-legged man did not move, Sharpe could swear he did not even blink, not even when two other worshippers came to the temple. One was a tall slim woman in a pale-green sari with a small diamond glinting in the side of her nose. Her companion was a tall man dressed in the Tippoo's tiger-striped tunic with a musket slung on one shoulder and a silver-hilted sword hanging at his side. He was a fine-looking man, a fitting companion for the elegant woman who crossed to a third idol, this one a seated goddess with four sets of arms. The woman touched her joined hands to her forehead, bowed low, then reached forward and rang a tiny handbell to attract the goddess's attention. It was only then that Sharpe recognized her. 'Mary!' he called, and she turned in alarm to see Sharpe standing in the deep shadows at the side of the shrine. The look of terror on Mary's face checked Sharpe. The tall young soldier had put a hand on the hilt of his sword. 'Mary,' Sharpe called again, 'lass.'

'Brother!' Mary called aloud, and then, almost in a panic, she repeated the word. 'Brother!'

Sharpe grinned, disguising his confusion. Then he saw there were tears in Mary's eyes and he frowned. 'Are you all right, lass?'

'I'm very well,' she said deliberately, and then, in an even more stilted voice, 'Brother.'

Sharpe glanced at the Indian soldier and saw that the man had a fiercely protective look. 'Is that the General?' he asked Mary.

'No. It's Kunwar Singh,' Mary said, and she turned and gestured towards the soldier and Sharpe saw a look of tenderness on her face, and all at once he understood what was happening.

'Does he speak English?' Sharpe asked, and then, with a grin, 'sister?'

Mary threw him a look of pure relief. 'Some,' she said. 'How are you? How's your back?'

'Mending all right, it is. That Indian doctor does magic, he does. I still feel it now and then, but not like it was. No, I'm doing all right. I even won a medal, look!' He held the gold towards Mary. 'But I need to talk to you privately,' he added as she leaned close to peer at the medallion. 'It's urgent, love,' he hissed.

Mary fingered the gold, then looked up at Sharpe. 'I'm sorry, Richard,' she whispered.

'There's nothing to be sorry for, lass,' Sharpe said, and he spoke truthfully, for ever since he had seen Mary in her sari he had sensed that she was not for him. She looked too sophisticated, too elegant, and the wives of common soldiers were usually neither. 'You and him, eh?' he asked, glancing at the lean and handsome Kunwar Singh.

Mary gave a tiny nod.

'Good for you!' Sharpe called to the Indian and gave him a smile. 'Good girl, my sister!'

'Half-sister,' Mary hissed.

'Make up your bloody mind, lass.'

'And I've taken an Indian name,' she said. 'Aruna.'

'Sounds good. Aruna.' Sharpe smiled. 'I like it.'

'It was my mother's name,' Mary explained, then fell into an awkward silence. She glanced at the man with the white stripe on his head, then tentatively touched Sharpe's elbow and so led him back into the shaded niche where he had been waiting. A ledge ran round the niche and Mary sat on it, facing Sharpe with her hands held modestly on her lap. Kunwar Singh watched them, but did not try to come close.

For a second neither Sharpe nor Mary had anything to say. 'I've been watching that naked fellow,' Sharpe said, 'and he ain't moved an inch.'

'It's one way to worship,' Mary said softly.

'Bloody odd though. The whole thing's odd.' Sharpe gestured around the decorated shrine. 'Looks like a circus, don't it? Can't imagine it at home. Painted clowns in church, eh? Can you imagine that?' Then he remembered Mary had never seen England. 'It ain't the same,' he said weakly, then jerked his head towards the ever-watchful Kunwar Singh. 'You and him, eh?' Sharpe said again.