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should

    you need help, which pray God you do not, here is all you're going to get.'
    He pushed a piece of paper over the table. Sharpe unfolded it. Captain Sharpe is

    directed by my orders and all Officers of the Allied Armies are requested and

    instructed to offer Captain Sharpe any assistance he may require. The signature was a

    simple Wellington.
    'There's no mention of gold?' Sharpe had expected elucidation at this meeting. He

    seemed to find only more mysteries.
    'We didn't think it wise to tell too many people about a great pile of gold that's looking

    for an owner. It sort of encourages greed, if you follow me.'
    A moth flew crazy circles round the candle flames. Sharpe heard dogs barking in the town,

    the tramping of horses in the stables behind the headquarters.
    'So how much gold?'
    'Kearsey will tell you. It can be carried.'
    'Christ Almighty! Can't you tell me anything?'
    Hogan smiled. 'Not much. I'll tell you this much, though.' He leaned back, locked his

    fingers behind his head. 'The war's going bad, Richard. It's not our fault. We need men,

    guns, horses, powder, everything. The enemy gets stronger. But there's only one thing can

    save us now, and that's this money.'
    'Why?'
    'I can't tell you.' Hogan sighed, pained by hiding something from a trusted friend. 'We

    have something that is secret, Richard, and it must stay that way.' He waved down an

    interruption. 'It's the biggest damned secret I've ever seen, and we don't want anyone to

    know – anyone. You'll know in the end, I promise you; everyone will. But for the moment,

    get the gold; pay for the secret.'
    They had marched at midnight. Hogan had waved them farewell, and now with the dawn

    bleaching the sky the Light Company was climbing the gorge of the river Coa towards the

    fortress town of Almeida. A shadowy picquet had waved them across the narrow, high bridge

    that spanned the river, and it had seemed to Sharpe, in that moment, that he was marching

    into the unknown. The road from the river zigzagged up the side of the gorge. Jagged rocks

    loomed over the path; the creeping dawn showed a savage landscape half hidden by mist from

    the water. The men were silent, saving their breath for the steep road.
    Almeida, a mile or so ahead, was like an island in French territory. It was a

    Portuguese fortress town, manned by the Portuguese army under British leaders, but the

    countryside around was in French hands. Soon, Sharpe knew, the French would have to take

    Almeida by siege, batter their way through its famous walls, storm the breach, drown the

    island in blood so they could march safely towards Lisbon. The sentries on the bridge had

    stamped their feet and waved at the dark hills. 'No patrols yesterday. You should be all

    right.'
    The Light Company were not worried by the French. If Richard Sharpe wanted to lead them

    to Paris they would go, blindly confident that he would see them through, and they had

    grinned when he had told them they were to march behind the enemy patrols, across the Coa,

    across the river Agueda – for Hogan had known that much – and then back again. But something

    in Sharpe's voice had been wrong; no one had said anything, but the knowledge was there that

    the Captain was worried. Harper had picked it up. He had marched alongside Sharpe as the

    road dropped towards the Coa, its surface still sticky from the rain.
    'What's the problem, sir?'
    'There isn't one.' Sharpe's tone had shut off the conversation, but he was remembering

    Hogan's final words. Sharpe had been pushing and probing, trying for information that

    Hogan was not giving. 'Why us? It sounds like a job for cavalry.'
    Hogan nodded. 'The cavalry tried, and failed. Kearsey says the country's not good for

    horses.'
    'But the French cavalry use it?'
    Another tired nod. 'Kearsey says you'll be all right.' There was something constrained

    about Hogan's voice.
    'You're worried about it."
    Hogan spread his hands. 'We should have fetched