'The officers! The officers! Hakeswill spat his disgust at the answer. 'Officers are here to show us what we are fighting for. Gentlemen, they are. Proper gentlemen! Men of property and breeding, not broken potboys and scarlet-coated pickpockets like what you are. Sergeants give the orders. Sergeants is what the army is. Remember that, lads! You're about to go into battle against heathens and if you ignore me then you'll be dead men! The face twitched grotesquely, its jaw wrenched suddenly sideways, and Sharpe, watching the Sergeant's face, wondered if it was nervousness that had made Hakeswill so voluble. 'But keeps your eyes on me, lads, Hakeswill went on, 'and you'll be right as trivets. And you know why? He cried the last word out in a high dramatic tone as he stalked down the Light Company's front rank. 'You know why? he asked again, now sounding like some dissenting preacher ranting in a hedgerow. 'Because I cannot die, boys, I cannot die! He was suddenly intense, his voice hoarse and full of fervour as he spoke. It was a speech that all the Light Company had heard many times before, but it was remarkable for all that, though Sergeant Green, who was outranked by Hakeswill, turned away in disgust. Hakeswill jeered at Green, then tugged at the tight constriction of the leather stock that circled his neck, pulling it down so that an old dark scar was visible at his throat. 'The hangman's noose, boys! he cried. 'That's what marked me there, the hangman's noose! See it? See it? But I am alive, boys, alive and on two feet instead of being buried under the sod, proof as never was that you needs not die! His face twitched again as he released the stock. 'Marked by God, he finished, his voice gruff with emotion, 'that's what I am, marked by God!

'Mad as a hare, Tom Garrard muttered.

'Did you speak, Sharpie! Hakeswill whipped around to stare at Sharpe, but Sharpe was so palpably still and staring mutely ahead that his innocence was indisputable.