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bout a campaign's disforts。 She was a good mother too； and that was why Obadiah did not care that Flora Placket was as ugly as a haversack。 Mothers were sacred。 Mothers were not expected to be pretty。 Mothers were Obadiah Hakeswill's guardian angels； and Flora Placket reminded Obadiah of his own mother who was the only person in all his life who had shown him kindness。 Biddy Hakeswill was long dead now； she had died a year before the twelve…year…old Obadiah had dangled on a scaffold for the trumped…up charge of sheep stealing and； to amuse the crowd； the executioner had not let any of that day's victims drop from the gallows； but had instead hoisted them gently intothe air so that they choked slowly as their piss…soaked legs jerked in the death dance of the gibbet。 No one had taken much notice of the small boy at the scaffold's end and； when the heavens had opened and the rain e down in bucketfuls to scatter the crowd； no one had bothered when Biddy Hakes…will's brother had cut the boy down and set him loose。 'Did it for your mother；' his uncle had snarled。 'God rest her soul。 Now be off with you and don't ever show your face in the dale again。' Hakeswill had run south； joined the army as a drummer boy； had risen to sergeant and had never forgotten his dying mother's words。 'No one will ever get rid of Obadiah；' she had said； 'not my Obadiah。 Death's too good for him。' The gallows had proved that。 Touched by God； he was； indestructible！
A groan sounded near Hakeswill and the Sergeant snapped out of his reverie to see a tiger…striped Indian struggling to turn onto his belly。 Hakeswill scurried over； forced the man onto his back again and placed his halberd's spear point at the man's throat。 'Money？' Hakeswill snarled； then held out his left hand and motioned the counting of coins。 'Money？'
The man blinked slowly； then said something in his own language。
'I'II let you live； you bugger；' Hakeswill promised； leering at the wounded man。 'Not that you'll live long。 Got a goolie in your belly； see？' He pointed at the wound in the man's belly where the bullet had driven home。 'Now where's your money？ Money！ Pice？ Dan？ Pagodas？ Annas？ Rupees？'
The man must have understood for his hand fluttered weakly towards his chest。
'Good boy； now；' Hakeswill said； smiling again； then his face jerked in its involuntary spasms as he pushed the spear point home； but not too quickly for he liked to see the realization of death on a man's face。 'You're a stupid bugger； too；' Hakeswill said when the man's death throes had ended； then he cut open the tunic and found that the man had strappedsome coins to his chest with a cotton sash。 He undid the sash and pocketed the handful of copper change。 Not a big haul； but Hakeswill was not dependent on his own plundering to fill his purse。 He would take a cut from whatever the soldiers of the Light pany found。 They knew they would have to pay up or else face punishment。
He saw Sharpe kneeling beside a body and hurried across。 'Got a sword there； Sharpie？' Hakeswill asked。 'Stole it； did you？'
'I killed the man； Sergeant。' Sharpe looked up。
'Doesn't bleeding matter； does it； lad？ You ain't permitted to carry a sword。 Officer's weapon； a sword is。 Mustn't get above your station； Sharpie。 Get above yourself； boy； and you'll be cut down。 So I'll take the blade； I will。' Hakeswill half expected Sharpe to resist； but the Private did nothing as the Sergeant picked up the silver…hilled blade。 'Worth a few bob； I dare say；' Hakeswill said appreciatively； then he laid the sword's tip against the stock at Sharpe's neck。 'Which is more than you're worth； Sharpie。 Too clever for your own good； you are。'
Sharpe edged away from the sword and stood up。 'I ain't got a quarrel with you； Sergeant；' he said。
'But you do； boy； you do。' Hakeswill grimaced as his face went into spasm。 'And you know what the quarrel's about； don't you？'
Sharpe backed away from the sword。 T ain't got a quarrel with you；' he repeated stubbornly。
'I think our quarrel is called Mrs Bickerstaff；' Hakeswill said； and grinned when Sharpe said nothing。 'I almost got you with that flint； didn't I？ Would have had you flogged raw； boy； and you'd have died of a fever within a week。 A flogging does that in this climate。 Wears a man down； a flogging does。 But you got a friendly officer； don't you？ Mister Lawford。 He likes you； does he？' He prodded Sharpe's chest with the sword's tip。 'Is that what it is？ Officer's pet； are you？''Mister Lawford ain't nothing to me；' Sharpe said。
'That's what you say； but my eyes tell different。' Hakeswill giggled。 'Sweet on each other； are you？ You and Mister Lawford？ Ain't that nice； Sharpie； but it don't make you much use to Mrs Bickerstaff； does it？ Reckon she'd be better off with a real man。'
'She ain't your business；' Sharpe said。
'Ain't my business！ Oh； listen to it！' Hakeswill sneered； then prodded the sword forward again。 He wanted to provoke Sharpe into resisting； for then he could charge him with attacking a superior； but the tall young man just backed away from the blade。 'You listen； Sharpie；' Hakeswill said； 'and you listen well。 She's a sergeant's wife； not the whore of some mon ranker like you。'
'Sergeant Bickerstaff's dead；' Sharpe protested。
'So she needs a man！' Hakeswill said。 'And a sergeant's widow doesn't get rogered by a stinking bit of dirt like you。 It ain't right。 Ain't natural。 It's beneath her station； Sharpie； and it can't be allowed。 Says so in the scriptures。'
'She can choose who she wants；' Sharpe insisted。
'Choose； Sharpie？ Choose？' Hakeswill laughed。 'Women don't choose； you soft bugger。 Women get taken by the strongest。 Says so in the scriptures； and if you stand in my way； Sharpie' … he pushed the sword hard forward … 'then I'll have your spine laid open to the daylight。 A lost flint？ That would have been two hundred lashes； lad； but next time？ A thousand。 And laid on hard！ Real hard！ Be blood and bones； boy； bones and blood； and who'll look after your Mrs Bickerstaff then？ Eh？ Tell me that。 So you takes your filthy hands off her。 Leave her to me； Sharpie。' He leered at Sharpe； but still the younger man refused to be provoked and Hakeswill at last abandoned the attempt。 'Worth a few guineas； this sword；' the Sergeant said again as he backed away。 'Obliged to you； Sharpie。'
Sharpe swore uselessly at Hakeswill's back； then turned asa woman hailed him from among the heaped bodies that had been the leading ranks of the Tippoo's column。 Those bodies were now being dragged apart to be searched and Mary Bickerstaff was helping the work along。
He walked towards her and； as ever； was struck by the beauty of the girl。 She had black hair； a thin face and dark big eyes that could spark with mischief。 Now； though； she looked worried。 'What did Hakeswill want？' she asked。
'You。'
She spat； then crouched again to the body she was searching。 'He can't touch you； Richard；' she said； 'not if you do your duty。'
'The army's not like that。 And you know it。'
'You've just got to be clever；' Mary insisted。 She was a soldier's daughter who had grown up in the Calcutta barrack lines。 She had inherited her dark Indian beauty from her mother and learned the