'Major! Major Sharpe!

The voice hailed him from the inn door, then Dubreton stepped into the street and walked towards them. 'Major?

Sharpe put a hand on Teresa's shoulder, waited till the French Colonel was close. 'My wife, M'sieu. Teresa? This is Colonel Dubreton.

Dubreton bowed to her. 'La Aguja. You're as beautiful as you are dangerous, Ma'am. He gestured towards the inn. 'It would be my pleasure to have you join us. The ladies have withdrawn, but you would be welcome, I know.

Teresa, to Sharpe's surprise, spoke politely. 'I'm tired, Colonel. I would prefer to wait for my husband in the Castle.

'Of course, Madame. Dubreton paused. 'Your husband has done me a great service, Madame, a personal service. To him I owe my wife's safety. If it is ever in my power, then I will feel honoured to repay that debt.

Teresa smiled. 'You'll forgive me if I hope it is never in your power?

'I regret we are enemies.

'You can leave Spain, then we need not be.

'To be your friend, Madame, makes the idea of losing this war bearable.

She laughed, pleased with the compliment, and to Sharpe's utter astonishment held out her hand and let the Frenchman kiss it. 'Would you call my horse, Colonel? One of your men is holding it.

Dubreton obeyed, smiling at the odd chance that had brought him so close to a woman on whose head France had a high price. La Aguja, 'the needle', fought a bitter war against his men.

Harper brought the horse, helped Teresa into the saddle, and walked back with her towards the Castle. Dubreton watched them go and took a cigar from a leather case. He offered one to Sharpe and the Rifleman, who rarely smoked, wanted one now. He waited as Dubreton blew the spark on the charred linen inside his tinder-box into a flame, then bent down to light the cigar.

The hooves of the horse faded on the brittle, frosted earth. Dubreton lit his own cigar. 'She's very beautiful, Major.

'Yes.

The cigar smoke vanished into the mist. A small breeze was blowing now, a breeze to blow cannon smoke away from the guns' muzzles. The mist would clear soon, blown into scraps, and then what? Rain or snow.

Dubreton gestured Sharpe back towards the inn. 'Your Colonel demanded your presence. Not, I think, that he needs or wants your advice, I suspect he merely wanted to deprive you of your wife's company.

'As you deprived him?

Dubreton smiled. 'My wife, who is no fool, has even suggested that the beautiful Lady Farthingdale is not all she is supposed to be.

Sharpe laughed, made no reply, and stood aside to let Dubreton duck under the lintel of the inn door. Once inside, Sharpe pulled the curtain close, and found the room stuffy with the smoke of cigars, tense with serious talk. The Battalion of wine bottles had been destroyed, replaced with brandy that only the junior officers were drinking with enjoyment. Sir Augustus Farthingdale was frowning, Ducos was smiling his secret smile.

Dubreton looked at Ducos. 'I'm afraid you just missed La Aguja, Ducos. I invited her to join us, but she pleaded tiredness.

Ducos turned the smile on Sharpe and kept it on his face as he made an obscene gesture. He made a loop with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and thrust his right forefinger repeatedly into the loop. 'La Aguja, yes? The needle. We all know what we do with needles. We thread them.

The sword came from the scabbard so fast that even Dubreton, standing at Sharpe's elbow, could not have stopped the movement. The steel glittered in the candle light, swooped as Sharpe leaned far over the table, and the tip stopped one inch from the bridge of Ducos' nose. 'Do you wish to repeat that, Major?

The room was utterly still. Sir Augustus yelped his syllable. 'Sharpe!

Ducos did not move. A tiny pulse throbbed beneath the pox-scarred cheek. 'She is a foul enemy of France.

'I asked if you cared to repeat your statement? Or give me satisfaction.

Ducos smiled. 'You're a fool, Major Sharpe, if you think I'll fight a duel with you.

'Then you're a fool to provoke one. I'm waiting for your apology.

Dubreton spoke in quick French, and Sharpe guessed he ordered the apology for Ducos shrugged then looked back to Sharpe. 'I have no words base enough for La Aguja, but for the insult to you, M'sieu, I offer you my regrets. It was said grudgingly, scornfully.

Sharpe smiled. The apology had been graceless and insufficient and he moved the sword blade, fast, and this time Ducos did react for the steel tip had grazed his left eyebrow and struck the spectacles from his nose. He reached for them and stopped. The blade blocked his hand. 'How well do you see me now, Ducos? Ducos shrugged. He looked myopic and defenceless without the two, thick lenses. 'You've had my apology, M'sieu.’

’It's difficult to thread a needle when you're half blind, Ducos. The heavy steel rapped on one lens, shattering it. 'Remember me, your enemy. The sword blade struck on the second lens and then Sharpe leaned back, reversed the sword, and thrust it home.

'Sharpe! Farthingdale looked with disbelief at the broken glasses. It would take Ducos weeks to replace them.

'Bravo, sir! Harry Price was drunk, happily drunk. Even the French officers, disliking Ducos, grinned at Sharpe and thumped the table with approval.

Dubreton walked back to his chair and looked at the outraged Sir Augustus. 'Major Sharpe showed restraint, Sir Augustus. I must apologize if one of the officers under my command is both offensive and drunk.

Ducos smouldered. There had been two insults; that he was drunk, which he was not, and that he was under Dubreton's orders, which was equally untrue. A dangerous man, Sharpe knew, and a man whose emnity could stretch far into the future.

Dubreton sat, tapped ash onto a plate, and turned to Sir Augustus. 'Do I have your decision, Sir Augustus?

Farthingdale touched the white bandage that hid part of his silver hair. His voice was very precise. 'You wish us to leave the valley at nine tomorrow morning, yes?’

’Indeed.

'After which you have orders to destroy the watchtower?’

’Yes.

'Following which you will go home.’Precisely! Dubreton smiled, poured brandy and offered the bottle towards Sharpe.

Sharpe shook his head. He blew out a plume of smoke. 'Why do you want us to leave the valley before you destroy the watchtower? Couldn't we watch from the Castle?

Dubreton smiled, knowing the question to be as false as the information he had already given to Sir Augustus. 'Of course you can watch.

Farthingdale frowned at Sharpe. 'Your interest is laudable, Major, but Colonel Dubreton has already given us good reason why it would be sensible for us to leave.

Dubreton nodded. 'We have another three Battalions of Infantry in the next village. He shrugged, and swirled the brandy in his glass. 'They have come as a marching exercise, a hardening of young troops, and much as I appreciate your company, Major, I fear that too many troops in the valley might be explosive.

So Dubreton was willing to reveal part of his hand, Sharpe guessed because the Colonel had realized that Farthingdale could be scared off with numbers. Sharpe leaned back. 'You have orders to destroy the watchtower?

‘Yes.’

’Strange.

Dubreton smiled. 'It has been used in the past by Partisans. It is a danger to us, but not to you, I would suggest.

Sharpe tapped his own cigar ash onto the floor. He heard the laughter of the women in the next room. 'I thought these hills were little used by ourselves, yourselves, or the partisans. Four Battalions seem a strong force to destroy one small tower.

'Sharpe! Farthingdale had lit one of his own cigars, longer and fatter than Dubreton's. 'If the French want to make a fool of themselves by blowing up a useless tower, then it's none of our business.

'If the French want something, sir, then it's our business to deny it them. Sharpe's voice was harsh.