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SHARPE’S Justice
Richard Sharpe and the
Peace of the Congress of Vienna
Screenplay Written by Patrick Harbinson and Bernard Cornwell.
Novel Adapted by Paul Kaster
PART TWO
1814 DECEMBER 18th
Chapter 7
YORKSHIRE
With a good meal in them, they saddle the horses and head north.
As they ride out of Sheffield they note the mills and shops that make steel and silver products. Sheffield has grown a lot since twenty years ago.
Sharpe grows quieter than he has been. Harper raised a good question. What reception will he receive when he gets to Keighley? Why would they send him here, if it was only to arrest and hang him? Did anyone at Horse Guards know that he had killed at Keighley?
Outside Denholme, from the top of a hill, they saw a troop of soldiers approach them. They stopped to let the soldiers come to them.
These troops wear uniforms similar to what Harper and Sharpe had seen on King’s German Legion Light Dragoons in the Peninsula. White trousers tucked inside knee-high boots with tassles and waist-length jackets with full red front panel that is closed diagonally from the shoulders with two rows of buttons. What is unlike the KGL uniforms is that the jacket color is green instead of deep blue and that they wear the Tarleton helmet, like the Horse Artillery, instead of the light dragoon shako. Each trooper had a regulation saber at their hip and a carbine in a holster attached to the saddle.
Harper mockingly comments to Sharpe, “They look handsome, don’t they now? Maybe we should just surrender.”
“Aye, Pat. Our cavalry are almost always the prettiest on the field.”
“Maybe those French Hussars of the Guard are a might prettier.”
“But, the ugliest are those damn French dragoons with their pigtails.”
“Aye. But we could always smell them before we had to look at ‘em.” Harper reminded Sharpe that the French took poor care of their horses. Most of the animals had sores that gave odours well in advance of seeing or hearing them.
Soon the troop arrives in front of them. They make a turn into line that is parade ground precise. The officer commanding approaches Sharpe. “Major Sharpe?”
“Yes?”
“Welcome to Yorkshire”
“Captain George Wickham. At your service.”
Wickham is a handsome man with ginger hair. He appears to be about five feet ten inches. He is dressed in the uniform of an officer of yeomanry. The uniform clearly has been tailored for him. He sits the saddle as someone who has ridden since he was young either racing or hunting.
“At yours, sir”
“That was pretty horsemanship.”
“Scarsdale Yeomanry trains hard.”
Wickham turns to Harper, “And you are sir?”
“I am the former Sergeant Major Harper. Now just a horse trader looking for suppliers of good horse flesh that I may sell in London.”
“And you travel with Major Sharpe?”
“Aye.”
“Welcome to Yorkshire, Mr. Harper.”
Wickham returns to Sharpe. “We would be honored to escort you the last few miles gentlemen.”
Wickham nods to the other officer. “This is Lieutenant Fosdyke.”
Fosdyke nods at both Sharpe and Harper who return the nod.
“Keighley is only twenty minutes off.”
“You’ll have time to bathe and change into your best for dinner with Sir Willoughby.”
“I am wearing my best.”
Wickham makes a face.
“It’s no matter I’m sure.”
Fosdyke signals the troop to turn and return the way they came.
Wickham, Sharpe and Harper follow them. The yeomanry ride in pairs in front and behind them. Wickham rides next to Sharpe. Ahead, the road enters a copse of trees. Sharpe notices that the yeomanry have taken a more cautious pace in the woods. Before he may ask why the need for caution, Harper speaks from behind them.
“How did you know we were coming?”
“Scouts Mr. Harper.”
“Prerequisite of any effective force. Wouldn’t you say Major Sharpe.”
Harper has been looking to the sides since they entered the woods. “Would they be the same that have been following us for the past two miles then?”
“What?” Wickham is caught off guard by this. He looks to his troopers and to the woods.
Sharpe reins back to be adjacent to Harper. “How many?”
“Two on either side of us and one ahead.”
Wickham still sees nothing. “What are you talking about?”
Ignoring Wickham, Harper nods, “Musket in the broken oak tree branch at sixty yards.”
Sharpe looks in that direction. “Got him.”
He scans around to see if there are more than what Harper has seen. “To the right Pat.”
Wickham listens but does not comprehend what is going on. He has never had to serve as a real soldier. Around them, none of the yeomanry detects that people are in the woods around them waiting to ambush them.
Harper knows what Sharpe intended. He turns his horse to pursue a man to their right in the bushes.
When the man bolts, Sharpe rides to cut him off. Sharpe wants to capture the man to find out why they are there. Before he reaches the man, a shot hits Sharpe’s horse. Sharpe turns to the sound of the shot. He sees a man with blonde hair and about his size who has fired a pistol at him. This man looks familiar. But before he can get a better look, the man turns and runs into the woods.
Harper and the yeomanry fire at the fleeing ambushers. Half the troopers fire while the others aim at the ready. They hit only one.
Sharpe is watching the action when he hears his horse start to breathe very hard. He looks down at the horse’s nose. He sees blood flowing from the nostrils. Quickly, his horse stumbles and falls. He clears the saddle without being hurt. As he falls, he sees the man who fired the shot.
Sharpe looks at his horse. He will not be able to ride her again. He pulls a pistol from the saddle, places the muzzle to the horse’s head, and then pulls the trigger to finish the horse.
The yeomanry have dispersed to try to cut off those escaping. The man Sharpe and Harper was trying to cut off climbs the hill to get away. He turns to watch his pursuers, but does not stay long.
Sharpe leaves the yeomanry to round up any that may have stayed behind. He walks over to the one that they shot. He rolls the body over. It is a boy that isn’t much more than twelve years old. The boy is dressed in rags and looks like he could use many good meals.
Wickham rides up to Sharpe.
Sharpe asks, “No luck”
Wickham thinks that he has been criticized.
“Woods are too damn thick.”
Sharpe looks up at Wickham and says annoyingly, “I take he isn’t one of your scouts, Wickham.”
Wickham sneers, “They were brigands. Highwaymen.”
“The country’s full of them. So you see your time in Yorkshire will not all spent hunting and fishing. Major Sharpe.”
It is Sharpe’s turn to feel rebuked. So far, things are not going well with Wickham.
“Is THAT right? Is this why we needed you to escort us?”
Sharpe wonders if Wickham is telling him the truth. Why would they have singled him out of all the riders? The yeomanry outnumbered the ambushers. And, the yeomanry would not have had money on them to take. Something else happened here.
“They’re not very successful highwaymen judging by the looks of this one.” “Whatever.”, Wickham nonchalantly replies
“Tis One less to hang.”
Sharpe glares at him.
Wickham turns away first, “We should continue. Sir Willoughby does not like to be kept waiting.”
“I need to get my things. May I borrow a horse?”
“Of course, trooper Burns, give Major Sharpe your horse.”
To Sharpe, “Will that do?”
“Yes.”
Sharpe removes all the tack from his horse and distributes it with his borrowed horse and Harper’s. With Burns riding double with another trooper they ride off to Keighley.
They enter the town from South Street. Sharpe asks Harper to find an inn for them. Wickham recommends the King’s Crown Inn. Sharpe is happy that it is not the coaching inn.
“You’ll find nine rooms, kitchen, bar and tables. Not TOO tawdry.” George would never be found there. But, given what he has assessed of Sharpe and Harper, it will be fine for them.
“Ask for Ben Arnold.”
“Aye, Ben Arnold.”
“Think I will explore the village while you are gone. Who are the horse people here?”
George recommends, “Go to market square. People will be trading there.”
“Market square, aye.”
Harper trots off.
Sharpe and the yeomanry ride north towards Skipton.
PARFITT’S ESTATE
About three miles outside of Keighley Wickham and Sharpe turn down a lane that leads to a large estate home several hundred yards ahead. Sharpe notes gardeners working on the trees and bushes even though it is winter. In the distance, there are flocks of sheep, and fields hold the stalks of flax that had been harvested in the Fall.
George sends the other yeomanry off.. Sharpe and he alight in front of Willoughby.
Parfitt had grown up in Sheffield. His father had died when Parfitt was eight. He went to work to support his mother and him. He made his own work around the iron mills. After four years, he had grown the business that he was hiring other boys to help.
By the time he was twenty, he had built the scrap business so that he could consider other businesses. From clients he met, he heard about the steel looms being build in Sheffield and being installed in the more open, cleaner villages to the north. He traveled north until he found a village with land near water for sale.
In 1805, when the government called to raise more yeomanry regiments to be ready if Napoleon invaded, Parfitt, decided to use this as a way to spend his money and be accepted by the gentry that had been here. By the end of 1805, he had raised a full battalion.
In 1809, when the army started to go to Portugal, Parfill ‘encouraged several of his officers and their men to ‘volunteer’ to serve in other regiments in the peninsula. By 1811, he had provided so many replacements to others that he was noticed by Horse Guards. He was invited to London to meet the Prince of Wales and be made Knight Bachelor Of The Bath. Since then, he used the title Sir Willoughby.
As Wickham and Sharpe ride up to Parfitt’s front door, two men come out and descend the steps. They wait at the bottom step until Wickham and Sharpe dismount. Then, take the reins of the horses and lead them away.
They ascend the steps where a butler opens the door so they may enter the foyer. As they remove their coats, a man descends the stairs.
Sir Willoughby Parfitt is a short, stocky man of forty-six years. He wears a fine wool suit with waist coat. His hair is thin on the top, but he has a full set of whiskers that curl from his ears into a mustache.
George walks towards him, “Sir Willoughby, may I introduce….”
Sir Willoughby steps past George take Sharpe’s hand.
“I know who it is. Sharpe the worst dressed bugger in England.”
He beams at Sharpe to show he intends no slight. “That’s what they told me.”
“And I thanked em for it.”
“What’s the point of having a fancy uniform if you don’t have a man inside of it.”
Behind Willoughby, Wickham, who wears a fancy uniform, contributes, “What indeed Sir Willoughby?”
Sir Willoughby turns on George. Slightly annoyed, “What indeed Sir Willoughby. How do you manage to be so damn polite and so damn rude at the same time. Must be all that blue blood, eh Sharpe?”
Sharpe says flatly, “Indeed, Sir Willoughby.”
“Touché. Sharpe Touché.”
“I heard you had a skirmish already. Is that right Wickham?”
“If it weren’t for Major Sharpe, I doubt I would be here now.”
“Mixed blessing eh Sharpe, mixed blessing.”
“No offense George, no offense.”
Parfitt claps George on both shoulders.
Wickham looks blankly at Sir Willoughby. After several years, he has learned that Parfitt likes to let those from the long-time gentrified families that he has moved up and replaced some of them. He’s making the point that Sharpe, a trumped up gutter rat, is Wickham’s superior.
“Nice to have a real soldier with us at last eh.”
“Someone to put the fear of God into that thieving scum, eh Sharpe?”
Parfitt claps Sharpe on the shoulder. With his hand Sharpe’s neck, he leads him to the dining room. As they walk he says,
“Welcome to my humble home. I built it meself and regretted it since. It cost a fortune to build and even more to heat. Laughs.”
In the dining room, they are met by three others.
“Gentlemen, you all know George.”
“Let me introduce Major Richard Sharpe who will join us to command our Yeomanry.”
The first of the Parfitt’s guests is about fifty years old, short and gray-haired. His face is very broad with wide set eyes, a nose that looks like it has been broken more than once. While his clothes are modern style, they show the wear of many uses. He extends a hand, “I’m Mr. Parker, I own and operate the coach service between here and London. Pleased to meet you.”
“My pleasure Mr. Parker.” Sharpe wonders if he knows that Sharpe had one time worked for the service he now owns.
The second man appears also to be in his fifties. He is almost as stocky as Parfitt, but slightly taller. He steps forward, “Major Sharpe, I’m Mr. Stills. I have the tannery outside Halifax. Make leather for your army. Pleased to meet you.”
“My pleasure Mr. Stills. When we were in Galicia with Sir John Moore, I may have eaten some of your leather as we had no rations for weeks.”
Mr. Stills asks, “Well man, how did it taste? Didn’t know I needed to make my products with a flavour.” He chuckles.
“When you are hungry, EVERYTHING tastes good.” Sharpe says with a smile.
All of them laugh at the statement.
The third man has been quiet. He is older than Parfitt, but also dressed as a gentleman. He is almost as tall as Sharpe. His face is narrow and he is bald from his forehead to the crown of his head. So far, he has been content to listen.
“Lord Percival Stanwyck, Major Sharpe.” He offers his hand.
“At your service, my Lord.”
Lord Stanwyck is the Earl of Harden.
Percy’s estate is ~30 acres with a stone-built mansion, a coach house, two barns, three stables, outbuildings and a dog kennel. Also to the east is another 350 acres of pasture and 97 acres of land that could be pasture.
After the introductions, Parfitt leads them to the table. Parfitt sits at the head of the table opposite the fireplace.
“Gentlemen, shall we eat? I promise you that we will NOT serve any leather today.”
George is shown to the opposite end. Sir Percy is to Parfitt’s right, Mr. Stills is to his left. Sharpe is to Wickham’s right and Mr. Parker to his left.
As the maid and butler serve the courses, the talk at the table is about the food.
After the dishes from the courses are removed and dessert and port are served, Parfitt returns to the skirmish and the local labor problems
“The war spoiled them. Wages went up and up. They grew fat and idle.”
“Cost of demand you see. Uniforms for you soldier boys.”
“Etc.”
“Now we’re all struggling to keep our heads above water. But instead of buckling down, they’re fighting us.”
Wickham asks, “Have you heard of the machine breakers major Sharpe.”
“I have not.”
“Machine breakers mill burners.”
“They believe that the machines will destroy their livelihoods therefore they destroy the machines.”
“Lord Stanwyck has already suffered several attacks.”
To Parfitt, Lord Percy says. “Ah, they’ll not drive me under yet. I’ll outsmart them I have a steam engine coming from Bolton. Does the work of sixty horses. Give you a bit of competition eh Parfitt.” Lord Stanwyck’s estate is east of Keighley near Bingley.
“I welcome competition Percy. I welcome it.”
“Machines mean progress. Mean we can make cheaper cotton.”
“Produce more export more. Wealth through progress
“Not thru burning my mills and sir Percy’s”
“Keep the mills safe Sharpe. Keep Sir Percy in business.”
Now that’s your job
And whenever we get the chance teach the scum a lesson.
Mr. Stills asks Sharpe, “Major Sharpe, do I hear a Yorkshire accent. Are you a local?”
“No Mr. Stills. I was born and raised in London until I was sixteen. I came to Yorkshire to find work.” Sharpe hopes that the questions about his time in Yorkshire will be brief.
“London?”
Came to Yorkshire when I was fifteen to seek work.”
“After six months here, I found an army recruiting party for the 33rd Foot. For the next nine years, most of the voices I had around me were Yorkshire accents. So, unless six months counts me as a local, no I am not.”
“At fifteen. Alone?”
“I m an orphan.
Parfitt feels left out of the conversation. And he has something to add. “Don’t apologize for it Richard”
“I don’t.”
“I’m glad to hear so son. Harldly your doing. Was it?”
“I might have been one meself.”
“Oh lord not this again.Willoughby!”
“I speak as I find.Percy.”
Them streets raised me. Richard. Not any parents
“Age of 8 I was selling scrap from a barrow. “
Willoughby was born and raised in Sheffield to a poor working class family. His father had die when Percy was seven. To support his mother, he found and fixed a broken wheelbarrow. With the barrow, he would go to the mills to collect and haul their waste to a man who would buy it for flocking. .
“Age 14 I had 12 barrows and was paying me mother a respectable wage to push one for herself.
As he built up the barrow business, he dreamed of bigger things. He knew that the real money was in the fabric mills. England was at war again. The army and navy would need uniforms, blankets, tents and other kit made from bolts of fabric. By the time he was twenty-two, he bought first mill at Keithley. “Look at me now. Rattling around in this drafty pile. Like a pea in a piss pot. and look at yourself Richard. Orphan boy became a major and took the froggy eagle at Vitoria. Now that is what I call progress.”
Wickham corrects Parfitt. “Talavera, Major Sharpe took the eagle at Talavera.”
Talavera, then. Foreign doings. , it’s all the same to me
It’s not all one to me Parfitt. I lost a son at Talavera. Died of wounds received. Both legs shot off. He wrote to me after the battle. He didn’t talk about himself. He talked about Sharpe. Apple of me eye. To you Sharpe.”
“Thank you sir.”
At this, Sir Percy says to Parfitt.
“Sir Willoughby, thank you for the dinner and bringing Major Sharpe here. I look to seeing how a REAL soldier can deal with the brigands who have been raiding our mills.”
Parfitt escorts them all to the door. The butler and grooms bring coats, horses and carriages.
As they watch them go, Parfitt asks Wickham,
“What do you think of him George?”
“Rides like a peasant. Dresses like a peasant. Eats like a peasant.”
Pauses before offering.
“Fights like the devil.”
“So he’s a match for you then, is he?”
“He’s rough. But rough’s what’s needed.”
Parfitt finishes, “He can be cock of his own dung heap.”
Wickham is not happy that he must report to Sharpe. For nearly three years now, he has commanded the Scarsdale Yeomanry.
Wickham’s father was a trader of fabric who sold product from Parfitt’s mills. His family earned enough money to be considered ‘new money’ to the local gentry, but not be accepted. His father wanted him to have a chance to enter society so he sent George away to school. He learned to read, write, fence, shoot, hunt, dance and other ‘gentlemanly’ skills.
When he was fifteen, his father became sick. George was brought home to help with the trading business. Before a year was gone, his father died. At sixteen, George now ran the business, although he did not care to. His father had other workers to manage the books and sell to their customers. George chose to focus on the buying side with Parfitt and other mill owners.
Parfitt continued to be a good supplier of fabric and in less than a year after his father died, Parfitt started to show interest in his widowed mother connected to Parfitt. Since both the Wickham’s and Parfitt’s didn’t belong to the old gentry, Willoughby would learn from George’s schooling while teaching him the wiles of business. George’s mother didn’t care for Willoughby. After many months of trying to win her affection, Willoughby gave up. But George and he continued their relationship.
When Parfitt decided to have his own Yeomanry, he offered George a chance to be a Coronet, as an Ensign was called in a cavalry regiment. George liked the idea of being in uniform and the chance to be again with other men and boys of the gentry. He quickly took to learning how to be a ‘parade ground’ soldier. The reports from his troop commander led to him being promoted to lieutenant when the first opening was available.
However, young Percy Stanwyck never accepted him as one of the officers. Percy was older than George and as the older gentry boys at school often did, picked on George to find fault with the things he didn’t know about being a gentleman. George persisted and learned.
Percy had tried to humble him when Percy chose to join the Light Dragoons to fight in Spain. George was happy to stay home in England. As the gentry soldiers went off to fight, there were fewer men for the local girls. George found many who would coo and cuddle with him when he was dressed up in his uniform. As the Yeormanry trained in many villages other than Skipton, he was able to ‘entice’ girls from far and wide with the cut of his uniform, his handsome looks and a smile.
Once the threat that the French would invade England was gone, the need to keep the Yeomanry went away. But, Sir Willoughby liked to know that he had his own, private army to do as he wished when he needed them.
The number of the Yeomanry continued to reduce as men chose to seek to serve regular army regiments or to resign so that they may work their land.
They return into the house.
THE ROAD TO KEIGHLEY
Sharpe rides alone and is wary on his way back to town. He finds Harper waiting about a half mile from Parfitt’s home.
“Nothing to do Pat?”
“Just enjoying the night air.”
It is a dark night and the air is heavy with moisture. There may be fog before a few hours. “On a cold December night?”
“Well you never know what you might find.” Harper in recent years has a more philosophical view of things.
Which is Harper’s way of letting him know that he has scouted the road for them and all is clear.
As they ride, Sharpe asks, “So how do you find Yorkshire Pat?”
“Well they do have an awful way of massacring the English language.”
Sharpe chuckles and rides on. He is ready to rest at the inn.
KING’S CROWN INN
The clientele are enjoying the evening. The noise is loud as many voices try to talk over that of others. One man in the corner saws on a fiddle with a quiet tune. When Sharpe enters the room, as a wave, the crowd stops talking and looks at him.
Ben Arnold has owned and operated this inn for ten years. Although he is not from Keighley, he is well know and popular. The food is good and the prices are fair. He watches Sharpe and Harper after him to advance towards him.
Sharpe asks him, “Ben Arnold?”
“Aye.”
I’m Major Sharpe. Formerly of the Prince of Wales Own Volunteers. Now with the Scarsdale Yeomanry. This is Mr. Harper. We have the honour of being billeted with you.” He decides to try to have both of them covered under the billet money.
Arnold is as tall as both of them, so he is not intimidated by them.
“Ain’t I lucky.”
He places both hands on the bar, then leans towards Sharpe.
“Who pays for your beds?”
Sharpe stands his ground. “King George of England.”
“The mad one or the fat one?”
Harper joins the conversation.
“Whichever takes your fancy.”
Arnold makes it clear he doesn’t want them there. “Neither does. And neither do you.”
Harper steps up to Arnold and grabs his jacket. “Bed, board and beer. And a bit of respect You piece of English arse.”
Arnold knows to yield on this. “Bed, board and beer, aye. Take the two rooms at the top of the stairs.” He points to the stairs behind him.
Harper grins, “Thank you kind sir, you have been most kind.”
With that Sharpe and Harper carry their things upstairs. “Pat, you to the right, me to left?”
“Tis fine with me.”
“I’ll start the ale for us. Meet downstairs.” He knows Sharpe has eaten, He has not. While Sharpe unpacks, he’ll eat.
Sharpe unpacks his bags. Since meeting Wickham and Parfitt, he has been wondering where to start with the Yeomanry. Wickham’s troop is not enough to justify a major to command. At one time, the Scarsdale Yeomanry was a full regiment which would have up to five squadrons of 500 men. Each squadron would have two troops of maybe 50 men each. Today he saw less than half a troop. He thinks on where he can get the answers. “Tomorrow, I’ll start with Wickham to get regimental records.”
Downstairs, Harper has finished a plate of meat and potatoes and one beer. He also has the barmaid flirting with him and he with her. Sharpe isn’t ready to sit and drink.
“I’m off for a breath of fresh air then Pat.”
“Well, I’m going to stay here and make sure no harm comes to this young lady.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you Pat.”
“Miss, why don’t you sit down.”
OUTSIDE
Sharpe steps out the door. It is a dark night. The street is lighted only from the buildings either side. There are more shadows than light. Sharpe thinks about walking to the coaching inn alone, but before he takes more than a few steps, he is attacked from behind. He reacts quickly and counterattacks with his fists and knee.
He can’t see his opponent, but he is about Sharpe’s size. The other throws punches that Sharpe deflects. Sharpe grabs his arm when it is extended in a punch and throws the other into the wall. The opponent pushes off the wall to come at Sharpe, but he is ready, he trips the charging man who sprawls on the stones of the street. .
Sharpe pins him with his boot. His opponent turns to look up at Sharpe. Sharpe thinks that he knows this man.
“Matt Truman?”
Truman smiles at Sharpe.
“Hello Dick. Friends eh?”
Sharpe releases the pressure on Truman, then reaches down to help him up. While Truman is rising, he punches Sharpe solidly in his middle, then pulls a knife.
As he is about to use the knife on Sharpe, from the dark behind Truman a man steps up to put a pistol to Truman’s head. He hooks an arm around Truman’s neck to secure him.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. Let it go.”
Truman is surprised. He is unable to do anything but drop the knife.
“Good evening Major.”
Sharpe is startled at being attacked by Truman, rescued by this unknown man and that this stranger knows him. “Good evening? Do I know you?” “
Yes sir, we served together a long time ago in India. Nathaniel Crowley.”
“You want I blow a little hole in him?”
Sharpe has to think. Nathaniel Crowley? We served in the 33rd Foot. Last Time I saw him was at Gawilghur? “Nathaniel Crowley? Nate, did we call you? Thank you for stepping in Nate.”
“What are you doing here, Nate?”
“I followed you from the King’s Head.”
“No what are you doing here in Yorkshire?”
“Looking for work. Like the rest of Wellington’s army. But there ain’t none. Then I heard as you were up here.”
Matt Truman is still being held by Crowley while he talks with Sharpe.
“Aye, riding around with fat gentlemen. Murdering the poor.”
Sharpe introduces Truman. He signals to Nate to free him, but keep Truman covered with the pistol. “Meet Matthew Truman. Nate, My childhood friend.”
Truman takes offense at being referred to as Sharpe’s friend.
“Maybe fate threw us together. But you were no friend of mine. You were some troublesome runt then. Same as you are now.”
“Here is where I learned how to live on my own, Nate. Where Matthew Truman helped me practice fighting by fighting with me almost all the time. Skills I used in the army. When you stepped in, we were picking up where we last left off.”
Truman says, “Aye, my mistake. Otherwise you might have died there, then you wouldn’t be taking Judas silver.to keep down the people you came from.”
Sharpe ignores Truman’s comments. To Nate, he asks, “You want work Nate. I’ll find you a place with the yeomanry.”
“No sir. nineteen years I fought. King and country. For what, eh? I’m done with bloody uniforms.”
“As you will.”
“Go on bugger off.”
Truman remains angry with Sharpe, even though he is releasing him when he could have turned Truman into Parfitt for the reward. “You think this makes us even?”
Sharpe spits back at him, “No. You killed my horse you bastard. and I still owe you for that.”
Truman ignores this. He turns to Crowley, “Ere, Raggedy man. You want honest work? Come with me.”
Crowley looks to Sharpe for guidance. He fears he is being asked to choose sides. If he goes with Truman, will he be seen as choosing against Sharpe. Sharpe answers the question for him. “Well go on. You’re not in the bloody army now.”
Crowley turns to go with Truman. Before they disappear into the dark, Truman stops to give Sharpe one last warning.
“Go back to London Dick Sharpe. Back to your lords and ladies.”
“You cause no but grief here.”
“For yourself and for others. Go back.”
Sharpe watches them disappear into the night. He brushes his clothes, then returns to the inn.
Harper is waiting. The barmaid is sitting on Harper’s lap. As Sharpe sits down, Harper notices the red marks on his face and his bruised knuckles.
“So did you find some entertainment for yourself?
“No, Pat, just two unexpected reunions.”
“Miss, will you bring me an ale?” While she goes off for the drink, he briefly tells Harper what happened outside, but that he will wait until the next day to share more.
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