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'I can kiss the bride； Richard？' Hogan beamed at them both； clasped Teresa； and planted a huge kiss on her that made Sharpe's men cheer。 The aunt clapped them； spoke in quick…fire Spanish at Sharpe； and then brushed at the remains of dirt and blood on his uniform。 Then Lieutenant Price insisted on kissing the bride； and the bride insisted on kissing Patrick Harper； and Sharpe tried to hide his happiness because he believed that to show an emotion； any emotion； was to expose a weakness。
'Here。' Hogan held up a cup of wine。 〃With the pliments of the bride's uncle。 Your health； Richard。'
'It's a funny way to get married。'
They're all funny ways； whichever way you do it。' Hogan beckoned to the servant who was holding Antonia； made the girl hold the baby up and he trickled red wine into its mouth。 'There； my love。 It's not every wee girl who gets to go to her parents' wedding。'
At least the child was well。 The illness； whatever it was； had gone and the doctors； thanking God because they had done nothing； said it was a malady that went with growing。 They had shrugged； pocketed their fee； and wondered why God spared the bastards。
They left the city that afternoon； an armed group that could defend itself against the violence that still ravaged Badajoz。 The dead lay on the streets。 They climbed out through the Santa Maria breach and the ditch was still full； thick with bodies； so thick that heat came from the hundreds and hundreds of dead。 Some men searched in the carnage； looking for brothers； sons； or friends。 Others stood at the ditch's edge and wept for an army； as Wellington had wept when he stood on the glacis； and the great heap steamed in the April chill。 Teresa； seeing the breaches for the first time； muttered in Spanish and Sharpe saw her eyes go up to the walls； to the silent guns； and he knew she was imagining their power。
Colonel Windham was on the glacis； staring down to where his friend Collett had died； and he turned as Sharpe and his party climbed the ladders from the ditch。 'Sharpe？'
'Sir？'
Windham saluted him； strangely formal amongst so much death。 'You're a brave man； Sharpe。'
Sharpe was embarrassed。 He shrugged。 'Thank you。 And you； sir。 I saw the attack。' He stopped； out of words； and then remembered the portrait。 He took it from inside his jacket and handed over the wrinkled； stained picture of the Colonel's wife。 'I thought you'd like this； sir。'
Windham looked at it； turned it over； back again； and then looked at Sharpe。 'How on earth did you find it？〃
'It was in the hat； sir； of a man called Obadiah Hakeswill； who stole it。 He also stole my telescope。' The glass had been in Hakeswill's haversack； and was now in Sharpe's。 He jerked a head towards Harper； standing with Isabella。 'Sergeant Harper； sir； did not steal a thing。；
Windham nodded。 The breeze tugged at the tassel on his hat。 'You've given him back his Sergeantcy？' The Colonel smiled in resignation。
'Yes； sir。 And I'll give him his rifle and green jacket next。 If you have no objection。'
'No； Sharpe。 The pany is yours。' Windham smiled briefly at Sharpe； perhaps remembering the conversations about humility； then looked at Harper。 'Sergeant！'
'Sir？' Harper stepped forward； stood to attention。
'I owe you an apology。' Windham was obviously embarrassed deeply by the need to speak so to a Sergeant。
'No apology needed； sir！' Harper's face was straight； his bearing formal。 'A striped back is very attractive to the ladies； sir。'
'Blood and hounds！' Windham was relieved to be off the hook。 He nodded at Sharpe。 'Carry on； Captain Sharpe。'
They walked back to the camp； leaving the stench of the dead behind them； and the sounds of the city faded as they walked。 They passed the trenches and the batteries； and Sharpe saw where a gunner had planted spring flowers on a parapet。 The weather was turning； warming to a dry summer； and he knew that the army would be marching soon； north and east； going into the heart of Spain。
Badajoz was done。
That night； two miles down the Seville road； a twitching figure scrabbled down beneath a field marker； muttering to himself； knowing he could not be killed； and pulled out the oilcloth bundle of stolen goods。 Hakeswill was deserting。 He knew he could not go back。 There was a witness to the death of Knowles； the portrait had been in the Sergeant's hat； and he understood that only a firing squad awaited him。 He sniffed the night air and was not worried。 He would go somewhere and find something； as he always did； and this was not the first night that he had been utterly alone； homeless； and his dark shape loped into the night； seeking mischief。
A man went into a breach for one thing only； pride； and Sharpe had been there。 He had stood at the top of a breach； fear defeated； and gone down into a horror that tarnished victory as blood tarnished a sword。 He lay awake and thought of streets running with wine； silver； madness and blood。
He had hoped for so much； for a Captaincy； for revenge on a clerk； for a pany； for a woman he loved and a child he had never seen； and the hopes had been won at Badajoz。 He lay in Leroy's tent； its owner in hospital with a terrible wound； the night was quiet； dark； silent for the first time in weeks； and a great victory had been won。 The gates of Spain had been burst open。 He looked at his woman； beautiful in the firelight that seeped through the canvas； and he marveled that he was married。 Then he looked at the child； dark hair and snub nosed； that slept between them and the love welled up； inprehensible； uncontrollable。 He kissed his daughter； Antonia； and in the flame light she seemed terribly small and vulnerable。 Yet she was alive； and his； his only relative by blood。 She was his； to be protected as he must protect all those other souls who liked him； were proud of him； and proud to be in his ranks … Sharpe's pany。
HISTORICAL NOTE
On the morning of 7 April 1812； Philippon and the survivors of the city garrison surrendered in the Fort of San Cristobal； thus sealing one of the British Army's most famous victories； the storming of Badajoz。
The next day； around mid…day； Wellington ordered a gallows erected in the plaza by the Cathedral and； though there is no evidence that the gallows were used； the threat was sufficient to bring order to the city's streets。 Thus ended one of the British Army's most notorious episodes； the sack of Badajoz。
I have tried； in this story； to offer some reasons why the sack was so pitiless。 The rules of war condoned it； and the instincts of soldiers who had survived such a horrific fight demanded it。 Those soldiers also suspected； with some justification； that the inhabitants of Badajoz were pro…French。 None of this； perhaps； excuses their behavior； many of the soldiers who ransacked the city had taken no part in the assault； but they were reason enough for the ordinary soldier on that climactic April night。 Some historians suggest； diffidently； that Wellington allowed the sack； and let it continue beyond the first day； as a warning to other towns that harbored French garrisons。 If true the warning did not work； as the British were to discover one year later at San Sebastian。 The fight there was just as hard； and the sack afterwards just as horrific。
The sack of Badajoz was not without one famous love story。 A Lieutenant of the 95th Rifles； Harry Smith； met and married a fourteen…year…old Spanish girl； Juana Maria de los Dolores de Leon； who was fleeing from the horror。 She was not pletely unscathed； her ear…rings had been torn bloodily from her lobes； but Lieutenant Smith found and protected her。 Years later； after her husband had been knighted； a town was named after her in South Africa that was itself to see a famous siege； Ladysmith。
I have tried to be faithful to the events of the campaign。 Thus； for instance； the guns sunk into the wall at Ciudad Rodrigo existed； and the story of the Nottinghamshire Battalion charging across the planks is true。 Each battle described in the story happened； though the attack on the dam was not made at battalion strength； nor was it made as early in