Read Online Sharpe's Gold by Bernard Cornwell - Free Book Online Page B

face. The black horse was cantering to the

    hills, its strength obvious, and the French would never catch El Catolico.
    Kearsey slid down from the skyline. 'That's how it's done.' Sharpe nodded. 'Impressive.

    Except for one thing.' The fierce eyebrow shot up. 'What?'
    'What are the French doing in the village?' Kearsey shrugged. 'Clearing out a hornet's

    nest.' He waved southwards. 'Remember their main road is down there. All the supplies for

    the siege of Almeida go through this area, and when they invade Portugal proper, then

    everything will come through here. They don't want Partisans in their rear. They're

    clearing them out, or trying to.'
    The answer made sense to Sharpe, but he was worried. 'And the gold, sir?'
    'It's hidden.'
    'And Hardy?'
    Kearsey was annoyed by the questions. 'He'll be somewhere, Sharpe; I don't know. At least

    El Catolico's here, so we're not friendless!' He gave his bark of a laugh and then pulled at

    his moustache. 'I think it would be sensible to let him know we've arrived.' He slid down

    the inner side of the gully. 'Keep your men here, Sharpe. I'll ride to El Catolico.'
    Knowles looked worried. 'Isn't that dangerous, sir?'
    Kearsey gave the Lieutenant a pitying look. 'I was not planning to go through the

    village, Lieutenant.' He gestured towards the north. 'I'll go round the back. I'll see you

    again tonight sometime, probably late. Don't light any fires!' He strode away, small legs

    urgent, and Harper waited till he was out of earshot.
    'What did he think we were going to do? Borrow a light from the French?' He looked at

    Sharpe and raised his eyebrows. 'Bloody muddle, sir.'
    'Yes.'
    But it was not too bad, Sharpe decided. The French could not stay forever; the

    Partisans would be back in the village, and then there was only the small problem of

    persuading El Catolico to let the British 'escort' the gold towards Lisbon. He turned

    back towards the Valley, watched as the Hussars walked their horses disconsolately

    towards the village, one of them bearing the bloody horror that had been one of the naked

    prisoners, then raised his eyes and looked at the hermitage. It was a pity it was the far

    side of the valley, beyond the village, or else he would have been tempted to search the

    place that night, Kearsey or no Kearsey. The idea refused to go away and he lay there, the sun

    hot on his back, and thought of a dozen reasons why he should not make the attempt, and one

    huge, overriding reason why he should.
    The valley settled in peace. The sun burned down on the grass, turning it a paler brown,

    and still, on the northern horizon, the great cloud bank loomed. There would be rain in a

    couple of days, Sharpe thought, and then he went back to the route he had planned in his head,

    down the slope to the road that led to the ford at San Anton, proceed to the big rock that

    would be a natural marker and then follow the edge of the barley field as far as the

    stunted fruit trees. Beyond the trees was another barley field that would give good cover

    and from there it was just fifty yards of open ground to the cemetery and the hermitage. And

    if the hermitage were locked? He dismissed the idea. A dozen men in the Company had once

    earned a living by opening up locks they had no right to be near; a lock was no problem, but

    then there was the task of finding the gold. Kearsey had said it was in the Moreno vault,

    which should be easy enough to find, and he let his imagination play with the idea of

    finding the gold in the middle of the night, just two hundred yards from a French regiment,

    and bringing it safely back to the gully by daybreak. Harper lay beside him, thinking

    the same thoughts.
    'They won't move out the village, sir. Not at night.'
    'No.'
    'Be a bit difficult finding our way.'
    Sharpe pointed to the route he had planned. 'Hagman will lead.'
    Harper nodded. Daniel Hagman had an uncanny ability to find his way in the darkness.

    Sharpe often wondered how