“Is there going to be trouble, Sharpe?”

“Not if I can help it, sir. But you saw him, he’s got a pistol.” There were shouts to the left, a commotion. “Come on!”

He outpaced the other two; he was running fast, keeping the silver track of the stream to his left, holding the rifle in his right hand.

“What’s going on? Who the hell’s that?” In the light of a fire he saw an angry private. The man looked surprised when he saw Sharpe and threw a hasty salute. “You after them two, sir?”

“Was a girl with them?”

“That way, sir.” He pointed downstream, away from the fires of the Battalion, out into the black grassland. Sharpe ran on, Forrest and Hogan now close behind. In front he heard a ‘view-halloo’, a scream, they had caught the girl. He ran faster, ignoring the rough ground, fearing the sound of a shot, his eyes adjusting to the night. They had not gone far. Suddenly he saw them, Berry standing with a bottle and watching Gibbons, who had forced the girl to her knees and was trying to force the bag out of her hands. Sharpe heard Gibbons shouting at Josefma. “Let go, you bitch!”

Sharpe kept running. Gibbons looked up, startled, and then Sharpe hit him full tilt. The Lieutenant was thrown backwards, the pistol flew from his hand and splashed into the stream, and Sharpe saw the bag fall from Josefina’s hand and spill bright gold onto the dark grass. Gibbons tried to struggle to his feet but Sharpe pushed him with the rifle butt. “Don’t move.” There was enough moonlight for the Lieutenant to see the look on Sharpe’s face, and he sank back onto his elbows. Sharpe turned to Berry. “What’s going on?”

Berry licked his fat lips and grinned foolishly. Sharpe stepped one pace closer and raised his voice. “What’s going on?”

“The girl ran away, sir. Came to get her back.” Berry’s natural drawl was accentuated by drink, and when he turned to see Forrest and Hogan arrive he staggered slightly.

“Is she all right?” Forrest asked.

Sharpe turned to look at Josefina. He realised, irrelevantly, that it was the first time he had seen her not dressed in riding breeches, and his pulse quickened at the sight of her bare shoulders and the shadowed promise of the low-cut dress. Her head was down; at first he thought she was sobbing, but then he saw her desperately picking up the scattered gold coins. His mind registered that there was a small fortune on the ground, and then Forrest blocked his view as the Major knelt at the girl’s side.

“Are you all right?” Forrest’s voice was paternal, kindly.

The girl nodded, then shook her head, and Sharpe saw her shoulders heave as she seemed to sob. Her hands still scrabbled at the grass, at the gold pieces. The Major stood up. “What’s all this about?” He was trying to sound authoritative. No-one spoke.

Sharpe moved his rifle to his left hand, stepped close to Berry, took the bottle from him, and threw it into the stream.

“I say! Steady on!” Berry’s voice was slurred.

“What happened?”

“Just an argument. Nothing to worry about.” Berry blinked happily at Sharpe and flapped a hand genially around the small group. The Rifleman hit him, hard in the stomach, and Berry’s mouth gaped like a fish. He doubled over and retched onto the grass.

Sharpe hauled him upright. “What happened?”

Berry stared at him, astonished. “You hit me!”

„I’ll bloody crucify you if you don’t talk.“

Berry spat something from his mouth, looked round as if for help, but none was coming. “We were playing cards. I won.”

“So?”

The plump Lieutenant shrugged. “There was an argument.” Berry pushed a lank piece of black hair from his forehead, as though trying to rescue a shred of dignity. “She refused to pay her debt.”

“It’s not true!” The girl was angry. “You cheated! I was winning!” She had stood up, taken two steps towards Berry.

Hogan saw her face and knew that she would scratch the Lieutenant’s eyes out, given half a chance. He took her elbow, restrained her. He, at least, knew that the truth of who won, who lost, or who cheated would probably never be known. “So what happened?” The Irish voice was soft.

Josefina gestured at Berry. “He wanted to rape me! Christian hit me!”

Sharpe turned towards Gibbons. The blond Lieutenant had scrambled to his feet and watched Sharpe walk towards him. There was a bloodstain on his white shirt, and Sharpe remembered the knife; Josefina had evidently cut at him but done little damage. “Is it true?” Sharpe asked.

“Is what true?” Gibbons’ voice was touched with contempt.

“That you hit her and that Lieutenant Berry tried to rape her?”

Gibbons laughed. “Trying to rape Josefina Lacosta is like forcing money onto a beggar. If you follow my meaning.”

Hogan knew he should step forward, that the tension was too much, but Sharpe broke the silence that followed Gibbons’ sneering remark. “Say that again.” Sharpe’s voice was menacing.

Gibbons looked scornfully at the Rifleman, and when he spoke his voice was invested with all the contempt he had for the lower classes. “Try and understand. We were playing cards. Miss Lacosta lost her money and staked her body instead. She refused to pay up and instead decamped with our money. That is all.”

“It’s not true!” Josefina was crying. She left Hogan’s side and came up to Sharpe, looked at him with her eyes wet with tears, and clasped the bag between her hands. “It is not true. We were playing cards. I won. They tried to steal it from me! I thought they were gentlemen!”

Gibbons laughed. Sharpe turned on him. “You hit her?” He had seen a bruise on her cheek.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Gibbons sounded bored.

“What wouldn’t I understand?” Sharpe stepped closer to the Lieutenant.

Gibbons negligently brushed a blade of grass from his sleeve. “How gentlemen behave, Sharpe. You’ll believe her, because she’s a whore, and you’re used to whores. You’re not used to gentlemen.”

“Call me ”sir“.”

Anger flared in Gibbons’ face. “Go to hell.”

Sharpe hit him in the solar plexus, and as Gibbons’ face came forward Sharpe lowered his own and butted him between the eyes. Gibbons reeled, blood dripping from his nose, and Sharpe dropped the rifle to hit him again. Once, twice, and a final massive punch into the stomach. Like Berry, Gibbons folded up and vomited. He dropped to his knees, clutching his belly, and Sharpe contemptuously pushed him with his boot and the Lieutenant keeled over into the mud.

“Lieutenant Berry?”

“Sir?”

“Mr Gibbons is a little the worse for drink. Get him out of here and clean him up.”

“Yes, sir.” Berry was not going to argue with Sharpe. He helped Gibbons uncertainly to his feet. The Colonel’s nephew was gasping for breath, heaving from his stomach, and he pushed Berry away and turned to stammer at Forrest, between gasps. “You saw him. He hit me!”

Hogan stepped forward, his voice crisp and authoritative. “Nonsense, Lieutenant. You were drunk and fell over. Go home to bed.”

The two Lieutenants stumbled into the darkness. Sharpe watched them go. “Bastards! You can’t play cards over a woman.”

Hogan smiled sadly. “You know why they made you into an officer, Richard?”

“Why?”

“You’re far too much of a gentleman to have stayed in the ranks. Men have been playing cards over women since cards were invented, or women for that matter.” He turned to the girl. “And what are you going to do now?”

“Do?” She looked at Hogan and then at Sharpe. “I cannot go back. They tried to rape me!”

“Did they now.” Hogan’s voice was flat. The girl nodded, still clutching the bag, and moved closer to Sharpe.

“My clothes,” she said. “I must get my clothes. All my things! They are in that room.”

Forrest stepped forward, a concerned expression on his face. “Your clothes?”

“All my things! They’ll kill me!”

Hogan’s shrewd eyes flicked from the girl to Forrest. “If you go round the front, Major, and hurry, then you’ll be there before those two. It’ll take ten minutes for them to throw up all that liquor.”