'Yes, sir.

Major Forrest was waiting outside and he smiled nervously at Sharpe. 'Don't worry, Richard.

'Worry? Lieutenant Colonel the Honourable William Lawford was angry. 'He should damned well worry. He looked Sharpe up and down. 'Is that the best you can do?

Sharpe fingered the tear in his sleeve. 'It's all I've got, sir."

'All? What about that new uniform! Good Lord, Richard, you look like a tramp.

'Uniform's in Lisbon, sir. In store. Light Companies should travel light.

Lawford snorted. 'And they shouldn't threaten provosts with rifles either. Come on, we don't want to be late. He crammed the tricorne hat on to his head and returned the salute of the two sentries who had listened, amused, to his outburst.

Sharpe held up his hand. 'One moment, sir. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the gold regimental badge that the Colonel wore on his white diagonal sash. It was a new badge, commissioned by Lawford after Talavera, and showed an eagle in chains — a message to the world that the South Essex was the only regiment in the Peninsula that had captured a French standard. Sharpe stood back satisfied. 'That's better, sir.

Lawford took the hint, and smiled. 'You're a bastard, Sharpe. Just because you captured an Eagle doesn't mean you can do what you like.

'While just because some idiot is dressed up as a provost, I suppose, means that he can?

'Yes, Lawford said. 'It does. Come on.

It was strange, Sharpe thought, how Lawford was the sum of all he disliked about privilege and wealth, yet he liked Lawford and was content to serve him.