Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Not written for profit, simply for fun. The characters of Richard Sharpe, Hakeswill, Tom Garrard, Hawthorne, Morris, Hughes and Hicks are not mine. All other characters are my own creation. Warnings: Rating R18+. M/M sex scenes, rape, violence, [some of which involve under aged characters] blasphemy and bad language. If any of these elements may upset or offend you then heed the warnings and DO NOT read this story. Special Thanks to Heather, Sarah and Patti for all their helpful comments and suggestions. Thanks to Julie for her help with Hull and the local area. Constructive comments always welcome to [email protected] This is a sequel to Sharpe�s Choice. Something Wicked This Way Comes Part 1 Sheffield March 1794 "Quit yer whining Josh, at least we are out of the rain!" Dick Sharpe leaned back in the dank straw and closed his eyes. "But Dick, it smells! Surely that Sergeant can�t expect us to sleep in here too? " Sharpe and Smith had spent most of the day in a dilapidated stable at the back of �The Hawle in the Pond� in the company of Corporal Halsey who stood guard beside the door. The Corporal had obeyed Sergeant Hakeswill�s orders and left the two boys alone but it hadn�t stopped him leering at them from time to time. Josh Smith scratched uncomfortably. "I think there�s something crawling on me,� he grumbled. "Inside my clothes!" "Probably lice," Sharpe replied without opening his eyes. "Lice?" Smith asked, horrified. "Might be worms too," Halsey added "Does yer arse itch?" Smith gave the Corporal a frightened look and shook his head. "Come over here and I�ll have a look for yer. You can see the little buggers crawling in and out." Halsey continued with a smirk. "No thank you," Smith replied as he tried to stop his itching. Suddenly the barn door was thrown open allowing a gust of rain to enter along with the round-faced Corporal who had offered Sharpe the oatcakes that morning. Beside him was another young man with mousy brown hair and broad features. He carried a small bundle tied in a faded piece of cloth. "Get yerself comfortable lad. You may as well have a good rest because we have a long march ahead of us tomorrow." The newcomer looked at Sharpe and Smith and sat down a little apart. Smith smiled politely and nodded. "Hello, have you joined this Regiment too?" "Aye," was the shy answer. "Well I�m Josh Smith and this is Dick Sharpe." He indicated towards Sharpe who still rested in the straw, eyes closed. "Sam Rawlings� me name." The lad replied. He frowned as he looked closely at Smith, noting the bruises that darkened his face. "You have a bit of trouble did yer? Been fighting?" Smith touched his face, suddenly self-conscious as he remembered the narrow escape he and Sharpe had the night before. "Just a little. It was last night you see. We�d just arrived and we didn�t know our way around and we somehow found ourselves in the wrong part of town." Rawlings nodded knowingly. "Aye, me Ma told me to stay north of the St Mary�s and not to venture out at night. I wish I could get word to her that I joined up without any bother. She�ll worry. I know it." "Do you come from around here then?" Smith asked politely. "Oh aye, just a days walk away. My Pa works a farm, but it�s not big enough for us all and so now that I�m turned sixteen I�m making me own way. It�s only fair. I don�t want to be a burden." Dick Sharpe peered at Rawlings from under his fair lashes. Bloody Hell! Was the bloody army full of lost sheep and babies? He glanced at Halsey who was leering at them from the door way again. Lost sheep and hungry dogs might be a better description. "What about you Josh?" Rawlings asked in his quaint voice. "Why did you take the Kings shilling?" "Oh well you see I ran away from home to become an actor, but I couldn�t find work." At least Smith was learning not to be so open about himself. A few lies never hurt particularly if you were on the run. The barn door banged open again and two more men walked in accompanied by Sergeant Hakeswill. His bayonet was fitted to the end of his long musket and it was this weapon that he used to direct the men across the stable. "Sit right down there lads! I�m not going to tie yer because if yer run, you hang! Yer lucky we was recruiting here today else you would be dancing on the end of the hangman�s noose by tomorrow." Hakeswill turned and looked at the shocked faces of the younger men. Even Sharpe sat up to pay attention. "Yes lads, have a good look. They broke the commandments, they did and they hang yer for that! Says so in the scriptures." Hakeswill scuttled out the door again and an uneasy silence descended on the barn. Sharpe closed his eyes again and tried to sleep but Smith and Rawlings stared at the two criminals in open curiosity. "Yer�d like ta know what we did, wouldn�t yer lads." One asked, his voice deep and gruff. There was no answer. "Rape and murder, although we wouldn�t er had to choke her if she hadn�t started screamin." The two lads looked shocked at the man�s confession and Halsey started laughing to himself. "Maybe my company wont seem so bad now, eh lads." Part Two As the evening wore on and it grew dark, the tension in the barn grew. Sharpe was awake now, alert, the small knife hidden but in easy reach. Their supper was a thin watery stew but hunger made it palatable. Corporal Halsey had made himself comfortable on a pile of straw near the door and had started a game of dice with the two ex-criminals. They whispered among themselves as they rolled the dice, glancing every now and again to where the three younger men sat together in silence. The barn door opened, causing the lantern to almost blow out as a strong draught of cold wind blew in. "You, Sharpie, come with me." Hakeswill demanded as he stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his shako. Sharpe hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to do. He was worried why the Sergeant wanted him, but he was also worried about leaving Josh Smith alone in the barn. "Come on or I�ll flog the skin off yer back, yer lazy little whore. It�s time to earn yer keep." Sharpe knew it was useless to protest when he saw Halsey fix his bayonet to the end of his rifle. "Here, keep this handy and use it if yer have to." Sharpe quickly shoved the small knife into Smith�s cold hand and stood up. Once outside Hakeswill led the way across the small courtyard and back into the inn. The front room was noisy and crowded but Hakeswill led Sharpe up the stairs to a room on the first floor. He knocked lightly. "I have him yer Honour, a little something for all yer trouble today." The door was opened and Hakeswill gripped Sharpe roughly by the arm, his breath hot in Sharpe�s ear. "You do exactly what the gentleman tells yer to do or I�ll cut yer balls off with my bayonet like the heathens do to whores like you." He pushed Sharpe into the darkened room and closed the door. The magistrate who had sworn then in that morning stood before him. He was clad only in his white shirt. His scrawny bowed legs, which poked out below looked almost comical. Sharpe glanced around, surveying the scene, desperately hoping for a way to avoid this. He spied an empty wine bottle beside the bed and wondered if perhaps the man might be too drunk by this stage. But a strong hand gripped his arm, and a voice too steady for a drunken man said "Over here boy," as he was dragged to the bed. It was the cold that made him shiver, he told himself as Hakeswill led him back to the barn, just the cold. The wind was fierce but the rain had let up. Sharpe looked up at the stars that peeked out from behind the scattering clouds as Hakeswill unbolted the barn door. He didn�t want to go inside, afraid of what he might find, afraid of what might have happened while he had been gone. He had promised Josh Smith that he would look after him, that everything would be all right. But he�d been proved wrong again. He couldn�t even look after himself so what hope had he of keeping Smith safe. The army was not the haven that James Cavanagh had made it out to be. It worked just like everything else. Use or be used. The strong preying on the weak. Cavanagh had lied. "Get inside yer dirty little whore. Don�t want yer catching cold now do I. You�ll be useful to me yer will!" Hakeswill pushed him inside and shut the door behind him. Sharpe reluctantly looked about him. The scene was much as it had been when he had left except Sam Rawlings now had the knife held tightly in front of him and Josh Smith was asleep in the straw beside him. Sharpe crossed to sit with them, waking the young dark-haired boy. "Oh Dick, I was so worried. Are you all right?" he reached up and wiped at Sharpe face, his fingers coming away wet. "It�s just the rain," Sharpe said as he settled down into the straw. "They give yer any trouble?" Smith shook his head. "Just a lot of talk," Rawlings added. "Thought it best if one of us stayed awake though." He frowned a little and asked in a whisper, "What did the Sergeant want yer for? Is it true what the Corporal�s been telling those other two? That yer�.that yer a whore?" "Well if he was he�d hardly be here now would he!" Josh answered indignantly. "Dick wants to be a soldier, just like you and I. It�s not his fault that he had no one to look after him and tell him what was right and wrong. I don�t know where I�d be today if it wasn�t for Dick looking after me." The words warmed Sharpe�s heart and he smiled back at the younger boy. "I�ll tell yer this much Sam. I didn�t want to do what Hakeswill made me do tonight with that bloody magistrate." The words clearly shocked Rawlings. He stared open mouthed for a moment before speaking. "But that�s not right. He can�t make yer do things like that, can he?" Sharpe shrugged, "I don�t think he�s supposed to, but I don�t see as how I have much choice, him being the Sergeant and all." "Aye, yer right there, Sharpie!" Halsey shouted from across the room. They had been speaking quietly and were unaware the others could hear. "Yer don�t want to cross Hakeswill. He�s a right mad bastard! Why I seen him have men near flogged to death for crossing him. If yer want to live yer�ll do as he says." As if on cue, Obadiah Hakeswill stepped back into the barn accompanied by a gust of chilling wind. His cold blue eyes looked around assessing what had been happening in his absence. "You been messing with those lads Halsey?" he asked "I�ll have the skin off yer back if yer do! Yer got unnatural vices Halsey, unnatural vices!" "Not me Sarge. Yer told me once, yer don�t have to tell me again. They�s safe as babes with their mother Sarge." Hakeswill smiled at those words and turned his attention to the two ex-criminals. "And you two would do well to remember that too. Keep yer hands to yerself while yer in my charge. Once we get to Cork the Officers will listen to what I have to tell them about you lot. Yer don�t want me putting in a bad report or they might send yer back!" The two men looked at each other nervously. "And don�t you think of running once we�re away from here. You�ll be caught and hanged till yer dead, or shot in the back like deserters deserve! Now turn that lantern out Halsey and stop yer nattering." Sleep was long in coming to Sharpe that night. He searched for a way out of their situation, but Hakeswill�s words about desertion echoed in his head. Bloody Cavanagh! This was all his fault. All his talk about the army being the place for Josh! Did he really not know what went on in the ranks? Maybe he didn�t since he was an Officer. Were all Officers like that? Like him? Smooth words and soft eyes so they could get what they wanted? In his pocket was the slip of paper Cavanagh had given him and Sharpe thought about throwing it away, but something held his hand; he still had no idea what was actually written there. Cavanagh had said it was his name and regiment, but what if there was more? Sharpe let himself dream then that Cavanagh had left him a message, something about how he had enjoyed their time together and how he would miss him. They were pleasant dreams that finally led him into sleep. Part 3 They were up before dawn, fed and ready to march. The day was bleak and cold, but it promised to be dry. "Where are we going?" Sharpe asked Yeats, the round faced Corporal with the kindly smile, as they proceeded through Sheffield behind four privates and two drummer boys who beat out a timely march. "Cork!" Yeats said with a grin as if he thought it a great joke. "Oh really? Ireland is lovely. I�ve visited there several times, you know." Josh Smith remarked with pleasure and Sharpe wondered if it were possible to keep the boy�s natural exuberance at bay. "Are we marching to Liverpool?" It was Sam Rawlings who answered, his local knowledge of the area showing. "Doubt it, there was heavy snow on the Pennines this winter and it was still falling a month ago. We�d not make it through I reckon." "Aye, smart lad you are." Halsey interrupted with a wink at Rawlings. "So that�s why we�re heading to Hull." Josh Smith frowned. "That will make the sea voyage a lot longer. We have to go all the way south then around the coast.� "Sea voyage?" Sharpe asked "yer mean we have to go by boat?" No one had said anything about a boat before! "Aye, it�s the only way to get to bloody Ireland now ain�t it yer daft bugger!" Halsey scowled. "Well why don�t they recruit in Ireland then? Why come all the way here if we have to go to Ireland?" It sounded like the end of the world. "Don�t rightly know but I suspect it�s that the King, His Majesty don�t want his bleeding army full of bloody Irish bastards! Either that or Colonel Wellesley fancies Yorkshire lads." Halsey cast a glance at Sharpe and Smith and smirked. "He�ll be disappointed with you two though if that�s what he�s after." The march was hard and by the end of the day it was all that Sharpe and Smith could do to stay in line and put one foot after the other. They were billeted in another barn at the back of an Inn. Josh Smith was asleep the minute he hit the straw and Dick Sharpe felt like doing the same. Even the two convicts looked tired and listless. "Bloody soft bastards," Hakeswill sneered from the doorway where he stood with a glass of ale in his hand. "But yer won�t be so soft by the time we reach Hull." At each town they passed through, Hakeswill set about recruiting more men. At least with the increase in numbers Sharp, Smith and Rawlings who seemed to have attached himself to them, felt safer at night. They no longer set one to watch as the other two slept. The majority of the newer recruits seemed decent fellows who, just like themselves, were trying to adjust to their new life. After the first week of marching Sharpe, Rawlings and the rest of their company slowly found that they were not so tired by the day�s end. Their feet hardened, their stamina increased and by evening they were ready to eat the most tasteless of stews. It was only Josh Smith who seemed to pale and weaken as the days went by. Never in his sheltered life had he been forced to endure such hardship. This coupled with the fact that he was the smallest, made keeping up with the other men almost impossible. Slowly the light that usually lit up his eyes dimmed to be replaced by dark shadows. Despite being hungry, he rarely finished the meager supper that was supplied each night and Sharpe suspected that he was just too tired to bother eating the tough stringy mutton that was their usual fare. By the end of the second week it became obvious the younger boy was loosing weight. Sharpe helped Smith as much as he could each day and tried to coax him to eat at night. He spent his small hoard of coins on buying fresh bread and mugs of milk to supplement their rations, but it did little good. Smith seemed to weaken daily. Besides caring for Smith, Sharpe had his own problems. With each new batch of recruits Obadiah Hakeswill needed to hire a magistrate and a doctor to swear them in and check them out. The Regiment had provided funds to pay for this but in Dick Sharpe, Hakeswill saw a way to keep the money in his own pocket. "You�re my little pot of gold Sharpie," Hakeswill cackled softly as they stood outside yet another inn room door. "I only wish I could keep yer with me when I go recruiting again. Would yer like that Sharpie." There wasn�t time to reply for the door opened and Hakeswill pushed him inside to face yet another stranger intent on taking his pleasure. Sharpe began to worry at the Sergeant�s words. Was this all that his future held? When he returned to the barn that night, he found Smith�s plate still untouched. The younger boy looked pale and listless. "Good night sweet prince; and flights of angles sing thee to thy rest!" Smith murmured when Sharpe sat down beside him. "He�s addled." Rawlings said by way of explanation. "Been babbling away like that for the last hour." Halsey walked across and squatted down to get a better look at Smith. He shook his head. "No hope for him I reckon. We�ll have to leave him here tomorrow." "Yer got to do something," Sharpe said desperately. He still felt responsible for Smith and wasn�t about to abandon him with out a fight. "I won�t just leave him." John Halsey looked at Sharpe and a sly smile crept onto his face. "What he needs is some nourishment. Something easy to eat that he doesn�t have to chew." From out of his pocket he produced three small brown eggs. "These would be just the thing. Mix �em into a glass of ale and they�d slide down like mothers milk." He paused, savouring the hope that suddenly flooded Sharpe�s eyes. "Of course, you�d have to pay me for �em. I�m not giving �em away." With the last off his coins long gone, Sharpe knew Halsey could be referring to only one form of payment but it was a bargain that Dick Sharpe didn�t think twice about accepting. "Whatever yer want Halsey. Just get the ale and mix it up." Halsey hurried away to the inn and Sharpe helped Smith sit up. The younger boy felt cold to the touch, his hands lifeless. "Listen Joshy," Sharpe began as he rubbed the small cold hands. "I�ve got something for you and yer have to drink it. It�ll do yer good." Smith shook his head. "I just want to sleep Dick. I�m tired. Nanny will be in to turn the lamp out soon. Mother will be cross if I stay up too late." Sharpe pulled the small body into his arms and held him closer. "Joshy please." He whispered, "Don�t give up, now. I couldn�t bare it without you. Please." Halsey returned with a large frothy mug of ale and cracked the eggs into it, stirring them in with his finger. It looked far from appetizing and at first Smith refused to drink. But Sharpe whispered into his ear, "Please Joshy, don�t let them beat you. If they win with you, then I�ll give in too." Slowly Smith opened his mouth and took a small sip. He grimaced, but drank another mouthful of the sour brew. "I would have preferred milk," he said when he was half way through and Sharpe let out a long sigh of relief. "Come on then, we haven�t got all night and Hakeswill will be over soon." Halsey stood up, gestured for Sharpe to follow him and led the way to a stall used for storing hay. It was hardly private but at least they would be out of sight of the rest of the men. Sharpe wondered why Halsey simply didn�t take him outside but suspected it was too cold or the Corporal was worried about Hakeswill. Sharpe took one last look at the shocked and disgusted faces of the other recruits who watched from the shadows of the barn before he followed Halsey out of sight. The sound of laughter followed him and one of the convicts called out, "Can we have a go too, Corporal?" Halsey loosened his trousers enough to pull them down, exposing his erection. "Make it quick, I don�t want to get caught. Come one, just suck it!" Sharpe closed his eyes and tried to listen for the sounds of the Sergeant�s return. A punishment from Hakeswill was the last thing he wanted to earn. Outside, Sharpe could hear the murmurs and mumbling of the other recruits. Then, through the quiet whisperings, Sharpe heard Josh Smith�s clear voice. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes!" The barn door crashed open and Halsey pulled away. "Oh shit," he muttered under his breath as he hastily tried to fasten his trousers. As if drawn by a lodestone, Hakeswill went straight to where Sharpe and Halsey were hidden, hell and damnation in his mad blue eyes. "Abomination!" he screamed. "That�s what you are Halsey, a bloody abomination! And you, you little whore, if I didn�t already know that Halsey had a weakness for bloody sinning, I�d swear you tempted him like the whore of Babylon." With one swift blow he struck Halsey in the jaw. Hakeswill dragged the reluctant Corporal out and threw him onto the barn floor in front of the recruits "I warned yer Halsey, time and again I warned yer. Dawn tomorrow yer get a flogging." He turned to look at the stunned silent faces around him. "And let this be a warning to the rest of you bastards! Keep yer fucking hands and pricks to yerselves or I�ll cut them off." The recruits looked away not wanting to catch the Sergeants mad eyes. "As for you Sharpie," Hakeswill whispered as he turned back to Sharpe who had followed them out. "The only thing saving yer from Halsey�s fate is that yer wouldn�t be any good to me with yer back all raw. Count yer blessings!" Part 4 Hakeswill was true to his word. At dawn the next morning Corporal John Halsey was tied to a cart in the village square and flogged. It was a sight the burned itself into Dick Sharpe�s mind as he stood with the other recruits, sickened and disgusted by the cruelty before him. By the time the two convicts had administered twenty five lashes, most of the men present felt ill and Josh Smith had fainted. Hakeswill ordered Sharpe to untie the Corporal and care for him for the rest of the day as punishment for his part in the incident. Halsey�s back was torn and bleeding. He staggered as Sharpe released him. His face was wet from tears or sweat and his lips were bleeding. With careful fingers Sharpe pulled out the wad of old leather that Halsey had clutched between his teeth and he took a gasping breath. "What should I do?" Sharpe asked as he helped Halsey walk but the older man just shook his head unable to speak. They stopped at the trough where the carriage horses were watered and Sharpe attempted to wash the blood away. He thought the wounds should be bandaged, but didn�t know where to get what was needed. It was round faced Corporal Yeats, who came to the rescue. "Here, tip this on him lad," he said handing Sharpe a bottle of rum and a yellowed scrap of cotton.. "Wrap him in this old shirt." Yeats must have seen the scared looked on Sharpe�s face because he added. "Don�t fret now, he�ll be all right. It�s not as bad as it looks." Sharpe knew this to be a lie. Halsey struggled all day to keep up and by mid afternoon, Hakeswill ordered Sharpe to help the Corporal walk. They spoke very little; there wasn�t much to say. But when they stopped for the evening and Sharpe settled Halsey into yet another barn, the Corporal gripped his hand when he would have left. "Don�t ever cross him lad," he whispered. "Don�t ever cross him." It came as a welcome relief when the party of recruits finally arrived in Hull after traveling for five weeks and over 100miles since leaving Sheffield. They had stopped along the way in many towns, large and small, and the new recruits now numbered 83. The smell of salt was sharp in the air and Dick Sharpe stared in amazement at the vast expanse of water that stretched out like a huge river, interspersed with sand-banks. Small fishing boats were anchored here and there and nets were stretched out drying on the mud flats. "It�s so big," he exclaimed, for he had never seen a body of water this large before. "That�s the Humber estuary. Wait till we get to the sea Dick, then you�ll really see something." Josh Smith replied with the first real smile he�d shown in days. He was still weak, but had forced himself eat each night whilst Sharpe or Rawlings sat beside him. Corporal Halsey had also provided an egg every now again and even the occasional cup of milk and had not once mentioned payment. Sharpe couldn�t understand Halsey�s change of heart but accepted the kindness gratefully. "Yer mean this ain�t the sea?" Sharpe asked as he tried to imagine something even larger. "Oh no, it�s far greater. You�ll see." Smith replied with a grin. Sharpe did see two days later as they sailed aboard the �Meranda� a small transport ship. Despite Sharpe�s seasickness, Josh Smith dragged him up on deck to get his first look at the North Sea. It was a sight that did nothing to lift Sharpe�s spirits. He clutched the rails and sank to his knees moaning. We�re going to die, we�re all going to die!" He heaved again, as he had been doing all morning, but there was little left in his stomach to bring up. "There�s no end to it," he added weakly. Josh wasn�t sure if his friend was referring to the sea itself or his seasickness. He gently patted Sharpe�s back. "Just look at the horizon Dick, it�s that line where the sea meets the sky. Look at that and take deep breaths. You�ll get used to it soon." Sharpe spent the rest of the afternoon huddled on the deck staring into the distance. Josh Smith brought him water laced with rum and made him drink, despite the refusal of his stomach. By the time twilight was falling and the first stars were beginning to show, Sharpe found that he was beginning to feel a little better and was finally able to stand up. "You see Dick, it�s not so bad, is it." Smith said as they stood quietly side by side in the cool evening air. "It�s like the end of the world Josh, like we�re all alone and there�s no one else here but us." The deck was empty of the other recruits and the few seamen that were on duty were either up in the rigging or on the forecastle deck. He looked out at the endless sea, black now that night had descended. "No one would know if someone fell overboard would they Joshy. No one would see, no one would care." "I�d care Dick." Smith said and he placed his arm around Sharpe�s waist. "Don�t give up, Dick. That�s what you told me, isn�t it?" He leaned in closer. "Things will be better when we get to Cork." "Yeah, maybe we�ll get away from Hakeswill." There was a wry smile on Sharpe�s lips as he raised his eyes to look at the night sky. The vast panorama of stars seemed to engulf him and he stood there mouth open gazing at the sheer brilliance above him. "It�s beautiful, isn�t it Joshy," he whispered almost reverently. "It makes you believe almost anything is possible." Seasickness proved to be a blessing in disguise for Dick Sharpe. Despite Hakeswill�s repeated attempts to sell him to various members of the ship�s crew, a well placed heave was usually enough to discourage even the roughest looking seaman. "Don�t think you�ll get off so easily when we get to Cork, Sharpie." Hakeswill threatened as he dragged Sharpe back to the hold where the recruits were housed. "I�ve got plans for you, so I have." Part 5 Cork, May 1794. The Meranda arrived at Cork in the middle of May and the recruits were marched through the busy town to the barracks that was home to the 33rd Regiment. There were stares and teasing from the red coated infantrymen as the newcomers were lined up and issued with dull white training uniforms before being led off to the wash rooms where they were told to strip and wash. "And empty yer pockets cause we�re burning yer clothes." Hakeswill decreed eliciting a series of shocked responses from the men. "Lice and vermin!" Hakeswill ranted, his facing twitching violently. "Can�t have the likes of you spreading yer plagues to the rest of the lads. Yer filth, that�s what yer are and yer need to be cleaned and trained before yer fit to mix with the Kings men!" Slowly the discarded clothes were heaped into a pile. Most of the other recruits had small bundles of belongings they had brought with them that they guarded protectively. Even between them, Sharpe and Smith had precious little of value. Sharpe looked at the small knife, picklock, battered flask and crumpled slip of paper that made up the sum total of all he possessed in the world and hid them away in the pocket of his new training uniform before anyone else saw. He watched Josh Smith clutching the now grubby lace handkerchief, wistfully. It was the last thing that Smith had left from his former life. Even the little ivory handled knife now seemed to be constantly in Sharpe�s possession. Smith let the handkerchief flutter down to join the pile of tattered clothes. "No Joshy, keep it." Sharpe picked up the small piece of cloth and fingered the embroidered initials. "You might be glad you did one day." He handed it back to Smith who looked away. "I doubt it Dick," the younger boy replied as they made their way to the washrooms. "Bloody Hell, I hope they don�t make us do this too often." Sharpe cursed as he stood shivering amongst the other naked men. "Why don�t they warm the water for us Dick. It�s COLD! I think we should complain!" Josh Smith said indignantly. Dressed in their uncomfortable white uniforms, the recruits were led to a small barracks room away from the main areas. It was here that Sharpe, Smith and their fellow recruits would spend the next two weeks when they were not on the training field. The barracks room held about twenty bunks and even doubled up, some men were forced to sleep on the floor. Not that this proved a problem. By the end of the day, they were all so exhausted that they had no trouble falling to sleep anywhere. So began the harrowing process of making the newcomers into well trained infantrymen. The men were shouted at, bullied and at times even beaten by the Sergeants, as they learned marching, manoeuvres and how to look after, load and fire their muskets. Marching in step provided simple for Dick. In fact the mindless routine of marching back and forth became something of a refuge for him. He could do it without thinking and so was afforded a brief respite from the constant browbeating that Hakeswill and the other Sergeants kept up. Josh Smith was not so lucky. Before the recruits had even moved onto the harder tasks of cleaning and loading a musket, Smith was already in trouble for failing to keep his uniform and belts clean. The first night, he had simply stared at the chalk pot and then at his white belt as if he could not imagine what one had to do with the other. "Yer got to keep it clean Josh, like this!" Sharpe proceeded to demonstrate, but still the younger boy hesitated. "But this is work for servants Dick. Why do we have to do it? Surely we don�t have to clean our boots too?" The other men around broke out in laughter and there were more than a few nasty comments. "Yer think yer bloody better than us, don�t yer," sneered one of the two convicts, who�s name they had finally learnt was Pike. "Well yer�ll change yer tune soon enough, little Lord Muck" "What did he call me?" Smith asked, horrified. But Dick Sharpe simply thrust the cloth and some chalk into this hands. "Just do it Josh or Hakeswill will flog yer." The threat of flogging was with them constantly. Within days, three recruits had been given ten lashes each for speaking back to the Sergeants. It was a lesson the others quickly learnt from. Sharpe was still wary of Hakeswill. Since arriving at the barracks, the Sergeant had not attempted to use him as he had on the match from Sheffield, but Sharpe hadn�t forgotten Hakeswill�s words on board the Meranda. He was therefore not surprised when Hakeswill called him over and told him to stand to attention for inspection by as a young fair-haired Lieutenant. Up to this point, none of the Regimental Officers had shown any interest in the new recruits, content to let the Sergeants do their work of training the men. "I think you�ll find him more than satisfying Mr. Morris, Sir." Hakeswill said softly, a crooked smile on his lips. "Knows a lot he does and I had him checked by a doctor in Hull and he gave me this paper that say�s he ain�t got the pox, not like the last one." Hakeswill produced a dirty, crumpled sheet and handed it to the Lieutenant. The sandy eyebrows pulled together as he read the letter. "He�d better not! Took me two doses of mercury to cure the last lot I got from one of your boys! " Sharpe held his tongue and fought down his anger. The repeated warnings that an Officer could have you flogged for so much as looking at them made Sharpe cautious. The vision of Halsey�s back still haunted him and Sharpe wasn�t prepared to risk that. It was better to wait and see what Hakeswill and this Lieutenant were planning. Morris looked Sharpe up and down before turning back to Hakeswill. "And he�s the only one?" Hakeswill pursed his lips, clearly annoyed by Morris�s lack of enthusiasm. It made Sharpe grin. "Insolent." Hakeswill shouted and struck Sharpe across the face. "Keep yer bloody eyes down." He turned back to Morris, his manner changing again. "There�s one or two others, Sir, that yer might find interesting but none as good as this one. He�s a professional, he is, and they�re hard to find. But he�ll do what I tell him to Sir, we�re like that, him and me." Hakeswill held up his two fingers twined together, one on top of the other. "He could be yours Sir, all yours and seeing as how yer been such a good customer in the past, I�ll let you have him at a good price." "Hmmm, well I�ll have to think about it. I usually like them a little fresher, Sergeant. It sounds like he�s been well used!" Morris walked off and Hakeswill turned back to Sharpe and smiled, a smile that sent shivers down Sharpe�s spine. "You�d do well to remember that Sharpie. Yer mine and you�ll go to whoever I say! Yer understand?" "Yes Sergeant!" Sharpe answered and snapped to attention. But in his own mind he told himself that one day he�d make Hakeswill pay for this. Finally, the new recruits were given muskets with real powder and shot and they prepared to fire for the first time. After much fumbling on the part of the men and shouting on the part of the Sergeants, the muskets were fired. There were screams, there were curses and one of the recruits somehow managed to shoot the man next to him in the foot. Josh Smith was knocked backwards and even Dick Sharpe was unprepared for the violent kick as his musket discharged spewing forth foul black smoke. "Bloody hell!" he muttered thinking that either end of this strange contraption was rather dangerous. "All right lad, lets do it again!" shouted Sergeant Walker. "You don�t have much time left and you�ve got to get it right." Part 6 Cork Barracks, 31st May 1794 "See anything you like John?" asked Lieutenant Charles Morris with a sneer. John Hughes, Captain of the Light Company of His Majesty�s 33rd Light Foot Regiment, ignored the double meaning of his Lieutenants words, frowned slightly, and let his gaze rake through the new recruits in their dull white uniforms who were performing drill on the parade ground. �There seem to be several men who show promise. Quite a lot of troublemakers too by the look of them. Hakeswill probably emptied every gaol he passed on the way here.� He paused and nodded towards a pretty dark-haired boy. �I think that one must be underage. It�s a wonder the magistrate approved him. He looks like he would be more at home with the drummer boys!� �I�m sure you could find a place for him John.� Hughes ignored the jibe and continued watching the recruits, his mind already deciding which he would choose for the Light Company tomorrow. Hughes had a good eye for men. Too good, if you believed the rumours that circulated through the officers mess from time to time. But the dark-haired Captain of the Light Company never let his private preferences interfere with his duty. He was discreet, above reproach, a model Officer who took his commission seriously. In the four years since he had taken over the Light Company he had formed them into a well-trained unit. He was slowly weeding out the troublemakers and those too dimwitted to ever be able to think for themselves. He wanted his men to be the best, the best in the Regiment and the best Light Company in the whole of the Kings Army. �That�s him, over there! Hakeswill says he is a whore. Says he caught him soliciting Corporal Halsey one night in Sheffield and took pity on him. Goes by the name of Richard Sharpe.� Captain Fox of the fifth Company pointed towards the recruits. �That one? The pretty one with the dark hair who couldn�t keep in step?� asked his lieutenant, a man by the name of Bellows. �No, the lad next to him. Blonde, perfect rhythm.� The other Officers broke out in laughter and ribald comments but John Hughes simply stared, too stunned to react. Ghosts from his past called softly to him, wisps of memories from long ago clouded his mind as he watched to young blonde recruit go through his paces. He was striking in looks, not pretty like his small dark-haired companion, but with a rugged masculine beauty. He carried himself with a natural grace, his step lithe and in perfect time as the Sergeants barked out their commands. But it was not these things that drew John Hughes like a magnet. This young man shared a remarkable resemblance to someone from his past; Davey Hopkirk, loved and lost so long ago, who lived only as a bittersweet memory of what might have been. Now, here was another young man, in Davey�s shape and form. I�ve been too long alone, Hughes told himself as he watched unable to take his eyes from the young man, it�s simply a physical reaction. And yet John Hughes knew it to be something more. He�d had a few casual affairs in the intervening years, but none had struck this deep seated sense of longing that had him contemplating breaking not only Regimental regulations, but his own personal set of rules. The men had stopped their drilling and were standing waiting for dismissal. Hughes watched as Sergeant Hakeswill threaded his way through the disassembling ranks until he stood in front of Sharpe and the dark-haired boy. He whispered something then hit the younger lad across the shoulders with his baton. The boy yelped, a sound that could be heard clear across the parade ground. But Hakeswill kept at him, his baton now swiping at the boy�s legs, in the steady rhythm of the march. �Left, Right, Left!� Hakeswill�s voice screeched out, all the while continuing his beating. Hughes saw Sharpe frown, saw him grab his partner and pull him behind him, saw Sharpe�s hand come up to intercept the baton as it struck out at him now. �Sergeant Hakeswill!� he called out as he strode onto the parade ground. The three men froze and Hakeswill snapped to attention, quicker than the other two. The boy was sobbing quietly, trying to stand to attention as Hughes walked up. Sharpe stood straight and tall, but there was a look in his eyes. A look that spoke of a deep-seated hatred between himself and Hakeswill. A look that said he trusted no one and expected more trouble. �I think that will be enough Sergeant. I doubt this man will be able to march any better if you beat him so hard that he can not stand!� �Oh yes he will Sir. You�ve got to beat it into them or they won�t learn it Sir. It says so in the Scriptures, "Use the rod or spoil the child" and this here lot of lads is just like children! They don�t know any better Sir. It�s for their own good.� Hughes looked back to the two new recruits. �What�s your name Private?" he asked the boy who was hastily wiping tears from his eyes. �Smith Sir,� he replied with the smallest smile. �The trouble is these boots. You see they don�t fit properly and they have rubbed my feet..� he never finished as Hakeswill�s hand struck him across the face. A blow so hard that he fell over backwards and lay in the dirt dazed, his lip cut and bleeding. �Filth! Don�t yer go answering back to the Officers! They�s yer betters boy! It�s right there in the good book. One of the commandments, "Honour yer Officers and yer Mother and yer Sergeants!"� Hakeswill was quite mad. Hughes knew from previous altercations that it was useless arguing with him. �You�re dismissed Sergeant. I�ll handle this now.� As Hakeswill marched away muttering to himself, Hughes knelt down to where Sharpe was bent over the sprawled body of Smith. �Is he all right?� Hughes asked as he watched Sharpe dab at the blood on Smith�s lips.� �Aye Sir, just stunned a little.� There was a curious gentleness in the way Sharpe handled Smith and Hughes wondered at the relationship between the two. He looked at Sharpe. Now that he was up close the resemblance to Davey wasn�t as strong as he had first thought. There was a rougher edge to Sharpe, a hardness that Davey had lacked. Sharpe�s eyes were almost brittle, as if he would break at any moment. What hardships had this young man experienced? Hughes wondered. Was he really a whore? He looked too young to be involved in such things. �Why wont he leave us alone Dick?� Hughes looked back at Smith wondering if the boy was talking about him, but then he understood that the words were directed at Hakeswill. �Are you saying that Sergeant Hakeswill has been unnecessarily hard on you?� Fear showed clearly in the young men�s eyes. �Go on, speak up.� He directed that request to Sharpe. �I know what the Sergeant can be like. I�ve heard�.� Hughes paused, not sure of how to go on and yet wanting to know more about Sharpe. He had an unexplainable urge to reach out and brush the strands of loose golden hair back from the young man�s eyes. �He�s had it in for us all right Sir. Don�t know why�� Sharpe�s green eyes clouded a little at that. �We just wanted to join up, be soldiers, that�s all.� �And what did you do before hand?� Hughes asked, trying to make the question sound casual. �Bit of this and that. I had a job in a coaching inn for a while, seeing to the horses and baggage and such.� Sharpe looked away suddenly and Hughes nodded then turned his questioning gaze towards Smith. �Me?� squeaked the younger boy. �Oh I just�I ran away to join the theatre �but �well�I ended up on the streets in London and then Dick found me and then we got into some trouble and there was this man and he�" Sharpe clipped him lightly around the ear. �He�s dazed Sir,� he said by way of explanation. �Yes, I see.� Hughes said quietly. It was clear from Smith�s voice that he was well educated. That he had run away was probably true too. But as to his age, well Hughes doubted he was old enough to enlist and if he wasn�t yet sixteen, then it was Hughes duty to return him to wherever he came from. Perhaps it was better if he didn�t know too much about Smith. He was loath to get involved in something that was clearly between Smith and his family. It was none of his business. �Josh has had a bit of trouble settling in, yer see Sir.� Sharpe said softly, �It�s all a bit different to what he�s used to, that�s all. He�ll be fine once he gets the hang of it.� The green eyes watched him warily trying to judge what sort of a man Hughes was. �Well you wont have to worry about Hakeswill anymore. I�m choosing you both for my Light Company.� Hughes stood up then, aware that he hadn�t even introduced himself. �My name is John Hughes and I�ll be your new Captain.� Sharpe and Smith struggled to their feet and stood to attention. �Thank you Sir.� Sharpe said quietly. Hughes looked into the green eyes again and felt his stomach clench. It was madness, but he couldn�t help his next words. �I�m in need of someone to clean my boots and make sure my belts and kit are in good order. Would you like the job Sharpe?� �Me Sir?� the wariness was back again, an unspoken question in the green eyes. �I�ve heard rumours about you Sharpe, and if I have heard them then I dare say that the rest of the Regiment has heard them too.� A look close to panic flashed through Sharpe�s eyes. �You are going to have a hard time being accepted by the other men.� �I just want to be a soldier Sir. That�s all. I know what yer heard and it�s true, but I haven�t been doing it here so I don�t know how anyone found out.� �You can thank Sergeant Hakeswill for that little service no doubt. The thing is,� and again Hughes paused, bit his lip slightly and wondered for who�s benefit he was really making the offer. �The thing is there are those who will think that you are loose, that you are here for the taking. If the other men see that you �have my�.patronage�.they will leave you alone. Do you understand Sharpe?� The green eyes stared at him long and hard. �Aye� was the sullen answer and John Hughes blushed when he realised what Sharpe was thinking. �It�s just the boots Sharpe! I don�t expect anything else. I don�t use my position to take advantage of my men.� Hughes stopped suddenly, wondering if he had protested a little too much. �I�ll admit that a man can get lonely. I am not married and I do seek out "company" from time to time. But I would never force anyone, do you understand?� There was a different look in Sharpe�s eyes now, still wary, but almost hopeful. �Yes Sir.� Came the soft reply. Hughes glanced again at Smith and wondered what the boy made of all this. He probably knew too much already if he had been hanging around Sharpe for any length of time. But the boy would still need someone to watch out for him too. Hughes wasn�t blind to the fact that there were men in the Regiment who preyed on the younger boys. As if Sharpe could read Hughes� mind he said "Don�t worry about Josh sir. I�ve been looking after him for a while now and I�ll keep doing it. No one will get their hands on him.� Hughes looked away, a little embarrassed, �Good Sharpe. I�ll expect you this evening after mess. Carry on.� �Why did you say you�d go Dick? He might just want to �you know!� Dick Sharpe scratched his head and tugged at the irritating leather stock around his neck. �Bloody Hell Joshy. Better him than half the bloody barracks. He�s right yer know! I know how the bloody army works by now. Hakeswill�s showed us that much.� They left the parade ground and made for the wash rooms where Smith washed the blood from his face. �I still don�t think you should trust him. Don�t trust anyone! That�s what you told me!� Smith said sullenly as he smoothed his hair back into place again and brushed the dirt from his recruits uniform. Sharpe couldn�t help smiling. He�d been trying to instill that fact into Smith since they had first met. It was true of course, a good axiom to live by and yet for some reason Sharpe felt otherwise about Captain Hughes. Perhaps his encounter with James Cavanagh had done away with all his common sense. No, Hughes didn�t remind him of Cavanagh, not at all. True, both men were from the upper classes, but there all similarities ended. Hughes was a small compact man, unassuming in his dress and manner. He wasn�t a dandy like Cavanagh and so many of the other officers Sharpe had seen at the parade ground. His hair was cut short in a rather unfashionable way. His uniform lacked much of the ornate braiding that the other Officers went in for. But there was something about him that spoke of gentleness, kindness. Perhaps it was his eyes. �I�ll be all right Josh. He won�t risk anything too rough in his rooms. Something quick and I�ll be on my way. Wonder if I really have to clean his boots? Hope he bloody pays me!� Part 7 Hughes was waiting for him at the front door of the large building that was home to the Officers. �Good to see you are on time Sharpe. In the future I will leave word that you are to be allowed up, but I thought I�d better show you the way this time.� They climbed a large wooden staircase and made their way along the first floor. The place was deserted, most of the other Officers were still in the Officers mess at that time of the evening. As Hughes opened the heavy door Sharpe was a little surprised to find himself in an office. He had expected a bedroom or maybe a parlor. Perhaps he had been mistaken about what Hughes wanted of him after all. He looked around at the rows of books as Hughes made himself busy at the sideboard. �Would you like a drink Richard?� Hughes asked, taking Sharpe unawares, the use of his first name confusing him more. �It�s Dick.� He replied as he reached out to take the offered glass. �Where are yer boots?� Hughes blinked for a moment then smiled �In here, sorry.� He opened a second door and led the way through to a small neat bedroom. Sharpe looked from Hughes to the bed then back to Hughes again. The Captain blushed slightly. �My boots are over there,� he nodded in the direction of a small wardrobe. �But do finish your brandy first, Dick.� An uncomfortable silence descended on the room. Sharpe swallowed his brandy in three gulps and watched as Hughes walked to a chest of draws, picked up a book, nervously flipped through it. He�s never picked up a whore before, Sharpe surmised, he doesn�t know what to do. Christ, how did he get himself into these situations? He walked up to Hughes and held out the glass. �What do you want me to use Sir?� he asked vaguely. �What? Oh, for the boots? There�s a box of brushes under the�bed.� The Captain�s blue eyes wavered slightly and he took a large mouthful of his brandy. �Are yer sure yer want me to clean yer boots Sir? I thought perhaps yer wanted a bit of company, like yer said.� Sharpe asked hesitantly. He wondered if he should mention payment? �Dick, I want you to know that I didn�t ask you up here to�You see it�s just that you remind me of someone I knew once. A friend, a good friend. I don�t expect anything from you, that is unless you want to..� Hughes put his glass down and turned to face Sharpe. He was not that much taller and it was easy for their eyes to meet. Sharpe saw loneliness there, loneliness and a terrible longing. It made him pause. �But yes, you were right. I was hoping for a little�company. I do get lonely sometimes.� Hughes continued as he reached out his hand and gently fingered Sharpe�s hair. � What do you say Dick? Perhaps we could keep each other company. If you don�t mind, that is?� Sharpe knew then, knew that for Hughes this was to be more than a quick physical release. The Captain had somehow confused Sharpe with someone from his past. Someone whom he had been close to and now Hughes was hoping to find that same closeness with Sharpe. �I get lonely too sometimes.� It was the truth. Sharpe thought he could almost understand Hughes sense of longing. He had felt the same himself these last few months. Hughes mouth descended on his then, a soft, almost chaste, kiss. Sharpe kissed him back gently, sensing the Captains nervousness and wondering how far he wanted things to go. They pulled apart and Hughes took Sharpe by the hand and led him over to the bed. He turned down the cover before crossing to he door and shutting it. Finally he returned to the chest of drawers and turned the lamp down low. He�s shy, thought Sharpe as he began to undress in the semi-dark. He suddenly wondered where he should put his clothes and settled for dropping them where he stood. Hughes was over by the wardrobe now, hanging up his clothes as he undressed, his back turned discretely and Sharpe was a little worried that if he spoke he might frighten the dark-haired man. He sat on the bed and waited. Finally Hughes joined him on the bed. Sharpe tried not to stare at the man in front of him. He looked away, not wanting to unnerve him. But it was Hughes who spoke to reassure. He took Sharpe�s hand gently. �Have you done this before?� The question was so bizarre that Sharpe almost burst out laughing, but he sensed that Hughes was serious and he was touched by the thought. He smiled slowly. �Yes,� he replied reaching out to run his fingers through the dark hairs on Hughes chest. �I know what it�s about. I�ve done it before.� Hughes bit his lip, unsure again. �All of it?� he asked again and Sharpe nodded. �It�s just that you seem so young, I wondered how much you knew? Are you sure you�ve made love before?� The words were unfamiliar, but Sharpe knew what the Captain meant. There were other ways to say it, coarser words that were probably a more accurate way to describe most of Sharpe�s experiences, but he thought of James Cavanagh again and what they had shared together. �Yes,� he whispered, almost shyly. Hughes pulled the covers back and motioned for Sharpe to get in. He lay down close beside him and tentatively reached out to run one hand down Sharpe�s chest as if he couldn�t quite believe that he was here. What followed was unlike anything Sharpe had experienced before. It was not the heady lust filled encounter that he had enjoyed with Cavanagh. Nor was it the innocent play he had shared with Josh Smith. Hughes was clearly rather inexperienced but he treated Sharpe as if he were something precious. There was no rushing, no striving for self-fulfillment, rather a slow hesitant exploration as Hughes accustomed himself with Sharpe�s body, intent on making this a sharing of mutual pleasure. As their passion built, Sharpe rolled onto his back remembering the way Cavanagh had taken him. Perhaps that was how Gentlemen liked to do it. He was pleased when Hughes didn�t object, but gazed down at him in appreciation and knelt between his legs. �I�m sorry, I forgot to get any oil or..� Hughes whispered apologetically, his breathing uneven. �It�s been a while since I�ve done this.� Sharpe smiled up at him �A bit of spit�ll do. Don�t worry.� �Spit?� Hughes asked as if the thought had never occurred to him. It was taking too long and Sharpe didn�t want to have to give instructions. Instead he raised himself enough to swallow Hughes erection and coat it liberally with saliva. �There that�ll do. Go on now.� The act seemed to break whatever control Hughes had been keeping on his passion. He fell on Sharpe and groaned aloud as he pushed hard, a sound that Sharpe echoed as he felt Hughes invade him. But he was used to roughness and he realised that Hughes was probably unaware he had hurt him. He had been more than careful up to this point. �Oh I�m sorry.� Hughes panted, halting his movements, suddenly. �That was too fast , I forgot that I had to�.are you all right Dick?� Sharpe looked up into the blue eyes full of concern. �It�s all right. No harm done. Keep going.� Hughes did, with all the care and gentleness he had shown before. Perhaps this was the only way Hughes knew how to do it. Perhaps he had only done this with his lovers, never whores. Sharpe closed his eyes as Hughes whispered his name over and over again, content to bask in the illusion of love. He knew it would end all too soon when Hughes had achieved his pleasure. But Hughes strove to give as much as he took, looking for the telltale signs that betrayed Sharpe�s weaknesses. �Yes,� Sharpe sobbed and clutched Hughes to him, for once happy to let his partner know that he was enjoying this too. It was impossible to tell which of them came first, for they both cried out and held each other tighter as their bodies shivered in ecstasy. Sharpe closed his eyes and listened to the hard breathing, content to feel Hughes weight pressing him into the mattress. All too soon the captain rolled over and Sharpe prepared himself for dismissal. But Hughes gathered him onto his shoulder, holding him tightly in his arms and brushed a kiss across the top of his head. �Stay a while. There is no need to go yet.� Hughes said simply and Sharpe settled down onto the strong chest and listened to the steady beating of Hughes heart. �We are heading for Flanders soon, did you know that Dick?� Sharpe shook his head. �It�s in Europe, we�ll travel by boat. Do you like boats, Dick? I do, I grew up around the water when I was a boy.� Sharpe listened to Hughes quiet voice talking about his boyhood, the soft drone lulling him into an easy sleep. He awoke sometime later with a start, still in Hughes embrace. �Shh, it�s all right.� Hughes soothed, his voice heavy with sleep. �I should be going. They�ll notice me gone if the check the barracks.� Sharpe said nervously. He didn�t know if this sort of thing was allowed between Officers and enlisted men but imagined it would be against some regulation or other. As to whether the Sergeants turned a blind eye and kept matters to themselves, remained to be seen. Whilst it was unlikely they would cause trouble for an Officer, Sharpe wasn�t so sure he would escape as lightly. Hughes loosened his hold and Sharpe slipped out of bed and went in search of his clothes. �I�m sorry the water isn�t warm,� Hughes had risen and was filling a wash basin. He frowned when he saw Sharpe already pulling on his trousers. �You�ll want to wash won�t you?� he asked. �Oh, aye, thank you.� Sharpe felt out of his depth. There had been no mention of payment, he realised suddenly, but for some reason it didn�t worry him. To put a price on what they had done seemed wrong. I�m getting bloody soft, Sharpe thought to himself as he took the offered wash cloth and hastily cleaned himself. Warm breath on his shoulder caused Sharpe to shiver involuntarily. Hughes was standing close behind him. �Will you come again tomorrow night?� the captain asked softly. Sharpe turned and gave him a cheeky grin, throwing all caution to the wind, wanting to see if he could lighten Hughes� serious exterior. �If yer let me?� he purred, his hand caressing Hughes intimately. �I�ll make sure of it.� Hughes whispered smiling back, his eyes suddenly playful. �Now go before we both get into trouble,� and he gave Sharpe a gentle slap on the rump. �Aye Sir.� Sharpe replied smiling. Part 8 �But it�s too big!� Josh Smith pleaded, his eyes imploring the quartermaster to relent. �It�s the smallest one I have so stop your whining and put it on. You can stitch up the sleeves or something and it will fit better.� Dick Sharpe bit his lip to stop himself laughing as Josh Smith followed the quartermaster�s directions and put on the new red jacket. The shoulders of the jacket stuck out at a strange angle and the younger mans hands were completely hidden by the sleeves. To make matter worse, Smiths new white trousers were so loose they looked in danger of sliding off. �Pull yer belt tighter,� the quartermaster grumbled but it soon became obvious that there were simply not enough holes in the belt. "Bodkin!" The quartermaster declared and produced a rather nasty looking tool that he handed to Sharpe. "Don�t prick me with that thing, Dick." Smith muttered nervously. Sharpe gave him a wicked grin and winked causing Smith to blush and start giggling. "Well you can do it if yer like Joshy, but I don�t think yer�ll be able to find yer hands in the coat!" Eventually the sleeves were rolled up and the belt was drawn in and Quartermaster surveyed the results. �That�s a little better," he finally conceded. "Now try this,� he placed a tall black Shako on Smith�s head. The hat promptly slipped down to over the young mans eyes. �Bloody Hell.� The Quartermaster cursed and Sharpe could hold back his laughter no longer. �Oh Joshy, you look like a little boy dressing up!� he said as the quartermaster exchanged the hat for a smaller one. �Maybe that�s all he is,� came a hissing voice. Sharpe turned to face the man who had spoken. He was tall and solid with a craggy face that told of one too many fights. �Is that it, eh? Yer want to play with the big boys? Yer can come play with me, if yer like. Both of yer can.� �Piss off!� Sharpe replied and turned away. He had been expecting this sort of thing but hadn�t thought it would start so soon. That morning he and Smith along with several of the other new recruits had been collected by Sergeant Hawthorne from the Light Company and were now being outfitted with new uniforms by the Quartermaster. �That�s enough Hawkins. I�ll have none of that in my Stores. Get on with your sweeping.� Frank Hawkins turned away, broom in hand whispering, �We�ll see tonight in the barracks, eh luv?� Sharpe made a mental note to watch out for the big man. Sergeant Hawthorne walked up then, shaking his head at the sight Smith presented. �Christ they�ll be sending me bloody babies with their wet nurses next!� He turned his attention to Sharpe and nodded apparently pleased with what he saw. �Come on then lads, I�ll show you the barracks.� The barracks was a huge stone building, with a massive double door in the centre. Sharpe and Smith stood five paces in from that door and looked right and left along the aisles that ran between the rows of bunks. "This way you three" Sergeant Hawthorne indicated Sharpe, Smith and Sam Rawlings who had also been selected for the Light Company. "Married men�s bunks are down the far end there," he said pointing towards the right hand aisle. "And because we are the light Company, we get the pick of the barracks and that�s down here," he gestured to the left, "as far away from the crying of babies as you can get." He led them down the aisle on the left, past neatly made bunks, each with a set of wooden pegs on the wall beside it for hanging clothes. Hawthorne showed them to an empty bunk at the very end of the aisle. "It�s two to a berth so you can work out who sleeps with who. One of yer will be on his own until the next lot of recruits comes in. Now get yer stuff put away, there�s a box under the bunk for that but make sure it�s neat and tidy or you�ll get extra duties." Hawthorne waddled away and the three young men looked at each other. "I�ll take the top bunk." Rawlings declared settling the sleeping arrangements. Smith smiled "Oh that will be nice Dick, we can cuddle each other at night." Rawlings looked away embarrassed and Sharpe rolled his eyes. "Christ Joshy, I don�t think they�ll like that much here. Have a bit of sense!" "Hello there lads," the words sounded pleasant enough, but Dick Sharpe felt a tingling run up his spine as he turned to face the newcomers. "My name�s Henry Wardell and this is Jake Curtis and Cam Crocker. We share the bunk next to you." Wardell was a big man with a nasty scar that ran down his cheek. He smiled at the three boys. "Sergeant Hawthorne wants us to show you around a bit, help you settle in. We�re like that in the Light Company, we all watch out for each other�s arses. " The other two men smiled and laughed a little which only made Sharpe more uneasy. "Oh that is very considerate of you, thank you. It is all a bit new to us." Josh Smith piped up, his face beaming. "My name is Josh Smith and this is my friend Dick Sharpe and that," he pointed up to Rawlings who had perched himself on the top bunk, "is Sam Rawlings. We met him in Sheffield. Dick and I come from London. We�d been traveling, you see." "Really, that�s sounds like an interesting tale you have to tell Josh. Why don�t you sit with us in the mess hall tonight and you can tell us all about it." Wardell smiled back at Smith, the scar puckering his face. "Oh thank you, we�d love to, wouldn�t we Dick?" Dick Sharpe just grunted. The mess hall was crowded and noisy when they stepped inside that evening and Dick Sharpe was suddenly glad they had accepted Wardell�s invitation. But what appeared at first to be an utter chaos of men and women and children soon began to form patterns and take on clearly defined boundaries. Each company seemed to have it�s own area of the mess hall. Married men with their wives and children all seemed to congregate at one table while the rest of the company broke up into smaller groups. Smith spied Wardell and they slowly began to make their way across the big room. As they passed table after table, Sharpe became aware of the surreptitious looks and whispered comments that followed them. He began to wonder if Captain Hughes prediction had indeed been right. Had Hakeswill had made sure that his reputation was known to the Regiment? Perhaps not, perhaps this was just the usual reception for all new recruits particularly those chosen for the prestigious light company. Sharpe sat silently through the meal, content to let Josh Smith do the talking. And talk he did. Smith seemed to take great delight in telling the most outrageous story about how he had run away from home to join a theatre group. However on opening night when he had stood up on stage ready to deliver his lines, he had simply frozen. The men at the table laughed and laughed and Sharpe relaxed a little. Certainly Wardell and his friends hadn�t done anything to indicate that Sharpe shouldn�t trust them and what could possibly happen in a crowded barracks surrounded by almost 900 other men. Maybe things would be different now that he was away from Hakeswill. He downed the last of his ration of cheap rum and bid farewell to Obadiah Hakeswill. With any luck they would never meet again. His thoughts turned to Captain Hughes. Perhaps that was what he should be worried about. What would happen when word eventually got around that Sharpe was doing more than cleaning Hughes boots? He was a soldier now, not a whore. But then Hughes had hardly treated him as a whore, far from it indeed. Sharpe smiled as his thoughts turned back to last night and he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of being in Hughes arms again. Perhaps if they were discreet, no one else need ever know. "I�ll be off now Joshy," Sharpe whispered to Smith as they stood outside later in the crisp night air. "Just be careful and remember what I told you, don�t trust anyone." Smith smiled up at Sharpe "Oh Dick, they seem all right to me. Henry asked if I wanted to play cards with them. It�s a game I don�t know called Strip Jack Naked but he said he�d teach me. They don�t turn the lamps out for another hour or so. You might be back by then anyway." "Maybe," Sharpe whispered "Here, take this and tuck it into yer boot. It�s better to be safe than sorry." He handed the small knife to Smith before turning and walking to the Officers quarters. Part 9 A young ensign showed him up to Hughes rooms where Sharpe tapped hesitantly on the door and waited. "Oh there you are Dick, just in time, come in." Hughes smiled as he answered the door �Through here, I have a surprise for you." Sharpe followed the Captain through the darkened office into the small bedroom to be confronted by a large bath tube full of water. He looked at Hughes hesitantly. "It�s for you Dick, I thought you might like to bathe. I know the washrooms are rather cold this time of year and you probably didn�t get much of a chance for regular washing on the journey here. I can see that your hair needs a wash too." It took a moment for the words to sink in and another for Sharpe to find an appropriate reply. He felt like swearing and telling Hughes that he didn�t need a bath and he didn�t like water, but the Captain was looking at him so expectantly that the words died on his lips. "Aye Sir," he finally whispered as he reluctantly began undressing. To his surprise the water was deliciously hot and as he lounged in the tub up to his armpits, Sharpe decided that maybe this wasn�t so bad after all. He looked over to where Hughes was searching through one of the dresser drawers. Hughes had removed his jacket and now had his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Finally he found what he was looking for. "Here�s some soap too, nothing fancy I�m afraid, but it will get you clean." Hughes dipped the soap into the water and ran it down Sharpe�s arm. "I can wash your back if you like." Hughes offered. Perhaps this was some sort of game, Sharpe wondered as he bent forward to give Hughes access to his back. The long, strong fingers stroked up and down his spine, the palms spread across the back and around to his ribs, the soap making his skin slippery. It felt good, very good. Sharpe relaxed and let the nimble fingers wander where they would. Hughes massaged his shoulders, stoked gently around the raw red mark on his neck left by the leather stock, dipped down over his chest, then trailed lazily down his legs. "Wait there and I�ll get a jug." Hughes handed the soap to Sharpe who suddenly felt disappointed that the touches had stopped. He set about washing his feet, bending forward to peer at his grimy toenails. Perhaps he did need a bath. His knees and elbows also showed signs of deeply in-ground dirt and he scrubbed at them watching the water slowly turn a murky brown. "Now close your eyes and shut your mouth." Hughes was back with a steaming jug of water. Where had that come from, Sharpe asked himself as he followed Hughes instructions. He gasped and spluttered as the water streamed down his face. "Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed, rubbing at his eyes and shaking his head. "You are getting me wet Dick, keep still." There was no anger in Hughes voice, just mild amusement. "Well take yer shirt off then." Sharpe exclaimed as he set about scrubbing at his hair with the soap. To his surprise Hughes followed the direction. "Go easy there Dick, you�ll tangle your hair." Hughes hands took over kneading and massaging his scalp, pulling gently through the long strands of hair. Sharpe closed his eyes and held his breath. He felt like purring but thought it might be inappropriate. Surely it wasn�t right to enjoy bathing this much. "I�ll get some more water to rinse it with." Hughes whispered close to his ear and then was gone again, out the door in a faint gust of cold air that raised goose bumps on Sharpe�s sensitized skin. He lounged back again in the warm water, his soapy hands running lightly over his skin. Just washing, he told himself with a wicked smile but he closed his eyes and imagined it was Hughes hands teasing and caressing. The door opened and closed again and Sharpe didn�t move or try to hide his arousal. "Are you ready?" Hughes soft voice asked at his ear. "Oh yessssss��" Sharpe whispered back, eyes still closed, waiting for Hughes to touch him again. "Oh Shit!" Water streamed into his mouth and noses and he coughed and spluttered, floundering upright. "You should have closed your mouth Dick." Hughes tutted. �Here now, it�s not so bad as all that." "I thought you were going to bloody well kiss me." Sharpe whined, but smiled when he saw that the captain was on the verge of laughing. "Would you like that Dick?" he asked slowly. Sharpe replied by leaning forward to meet the soft lips half way. Hughes hands sort him out, one grasping him around the waist, pulling him closer in a slippery embrace. The other, sliding down his chest, moving lower, causing Sharpe to catch his breath and reach out in a desperate attempt to feel Hughes naked chest against his own. The bath tipped sideways, water splashing everywhere. Sharpe found his feet and surged upward out of the tub, his mouth still locked to Hughes. Together they staggered across the wet floor, neither one willing to relinquish his hold, their skin, wet and slippery making it difficult. They hit the bed, Sharpe falling backwards, knees coming up even as he landed, Hughes standing between his thighs frantically trying to free himself from his trousers that were soaked through. "Wait, I haven�t got�" "Soap!" Sharpe gasped out, the cake still clasped in his hand and he applied it to Hughes erection before wrapping his legs around Hughes waist and pulling him closer in a vice like grip. It was rough, it was frantic, it was exhilarating and afterwards both men lay exhausted on the damp sheets, the silence stretching between them. Have I gone too far, Sharpe wondered suddenly, unsure of his actions. But Hughes hand reached out and captured Sharpe�s fingers, holding them gently in his own. "Sleep for a while Dick," he whispered and Shape closed his eyes, a smile on his lips. "If you don�t comb it, it will become even more knotted." Hughes declared as he pulled the tortoiseshell comb through the long dark blond locks. Sharpe frowned "Yer too rough!" he grimaced. The tugging stopped and gentle lips kissed the side of his jaw. "Sorry," The lips moved downwards following his jaw line, then hesitated. "You need a shave Dick." Hughes straightened up and ran his hand along Sharpe�s cheek feeling the downy hair as it went. "When was the last time you had a shave?" Green eyes blinked then looked away. "I don�t need a shave, I don�t shave!" he grumbled. "Well you should. You�ll start to look scruffy and then one of the Sergeants will put you on report. Wait here. " Dick Sharpe lay back on the rumpled bed and wondered how late it was. Surely Hughes wasn�t going to shave him in the middle of the night? But then his captain did have strange ways, Sharpe decided with a smile that quickly turned into a grin and made him feel hot all over again. "You�ll have to sit over here on the chair and keep very still. I wouldn�t want to cut you Dick." Hughes had returned with more warm water, which he poured into a crockery wash basin on the stand beside the bed. He opened a small leather case and brought forth a shaving brush, more soap and a sharp looking razor. Dick Sharpe frowned, said goodbye to his boyhood and looked up at Hughes. "Will it hurt?" he asked innocently. Part 10 Sharpe was still smiling some time later as he made his way across the darkened parade ground and into the barracks. There was one small oil lamp glowing at the doorway, but the rest of the room was in darkness. As Sharpe made his way down the narrow aisle between the rows of bunks he listened to the faint noises of the sleeping men; the creaking of the bunk frames, soft snoring but nothing to indicate that anyone was awake and watching for him. He hadn�t been challenged about his late return, but then Sergeant Hawthorne hadn�t been in his bunk by the door. Perhaps he was checking the sentries. As he neared the far wall, his eyes had adjusted enough to make out a cluster of huge shapes near the bunk he shared with Josh Smith. "Ah here he is," hissed a voice in the darkness "We�ve been waiting for you Sharpie." "Joshy?" Sharpe asked in alarm, but a large hand clamped over his mouth and drew him down onto the bunk, holding him firm. �Your little friend�s all right Sharpie and he�ll stay that way as long as you play nice, you hear me?" Sharpe nodded looking around at the faces of the men who had been waiting for him in the shadows. Crocker, Curtis, Wardell; the latter holding Josh Smith , one hand covering his mouth the other slipped up under his shirt. Sharpe didn�t have to guess what had been happening, Smith�s frightened and tearstained face told the story. "Now if I let you go, I don�t want any trouble you understand or I just might let Wardell there have his way with your pretty little friend." Sharpe recognised the voice of the man who held him. Frank Hawkins! Trouble. He nodded vigorously again and the large dirty hand moved away from his mouth. Where was Sam Rawlings, Sharpe suddenly thought in alarm. Surely he wasn�t asleep on the top bunk while this was happening below. His thoughts were interrupted when Hawkins big hand brushed across his hair. "Well well now, looks like the Captain�s even cleaned him up a bit for us, lads. He smells like a one of those nice fresh young girls they get in at the Golden Shamrock from time to time." Hawkins ran his tongue along Sharpe�s throat, "Tastes as fresh too. I suppose the Captain wanted to get Hakeswill�s stink off yer before he fucked yer did he?" Sharpe struggled suddenly "No, he never.." but Hawkins flung him backward onto the bed and pressed himself on top, covering Sharpe�s mouth with his own. "All right, lads, what�s going on here." Sergeant Hawthorne�s voice broke through Sharpe�s panic as he was suddenly released. "It�s all right Thornie, nothing going on. We�re just getting to know the lads that�s all." Hawkins smiled at the Sergeant who stood by the bunks. Sam Rawlings, white faced and fearful stood at his elbow. "He tried to.." Sharpe began, but Hawthorne grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him off the bed. "I�m not speaking to you, yer little whore!" he said shaking Sharpe angrily and turning to the other men. "Now young Samuel here says that you lads were causing some trouble down and bothering our little Josh. Is that true Frank?" Hawthorne�s eyes peered at each man in the darkness coming at last to rest on Josh Smith, still held by Wardell. Smith struggled and gurgled something unintelligible. Hawthorne looked away. "I never touched him Thornie, but I think Henry might have," the men all guffawed with laughter until Hawthorne quieted them. "Well yer to keep yer hands off that one," he said nodding towards Smith, "He�s trouble if you ask me. Too young by far and if yer hurt him I�ll have to tell the Captain." He looked back at Dick Sharpe and smiled. "Beside, you�ve got the Captain�s little whore to keep you amused and I doubt yer can do anything to him that hasn�t been done to him before." Sharpe opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again, the situation suddenly becoming very clear. "But, that�s not right." It was Sam Rawlings who spoke, his innocence no match for the corruption arrayed before him. Frank Hawkins gave a grunting laugh. "That�s what they say about most things that feel good." He pulled Sharpe back down onto the bunk beside him. "Why don�t you come with me lad," Hawthorne whispered, taking Rawlings by the arm. "I�m sure you don�t want to stay here and play with the likes of them. You can sleep in my bunk if yer like. I won�t expect too much of yer. A farm lad like you�s got good strong hands, that�s all I�m after, none of the other if yer don�t want it," and without another word he led Rawlings away. "So it�s just us now Sharpie," Hawkins continued, his hands busy with Sharpe�s clothes. Sharpe cast a worried glance back to Josh Smith and Wardell. The big dark-haired infantryman still had his hands all over Smith who was breathlessly sobbing now. "Tell him to let Josh go first, then I�ll do what ever you want, no trouble, I swear." "Get yer hands off him Henry but don�t let him out of yer sight. Yer can have next go of Sharpie." "Aw Frank, come on. There�s lots we can get this one to do that won�t leave any marks. He�s got the prettiest little mouth and Hawthorne will never know." Wardell sat down on the bunk opposite and pulled Smith onto his lap. "Feel that luv? That�s for you, it is." Hawkins looked across at Wardell. "I said leave him be, yer bloody fool. Sergeant bloody Hawthorne doesn�t care a damn what we do with him as long as he has something to warm his bed. But Smith here is our insurance that Sharpie doesn�t go running to the Captain." He looked back at Sharpe, " Ain�t that right Sharpie? I make sure pretty little Josh isn�t hurt too much and you won�t tell Captain Hughes what we do at night. And don�t think of crossing me either Sharpie, because I killed the last bastard who did that." Dick Sharpe looked at the men around him, then at Josh Smith sobbing in Henry Wardell�s grasp and nodded his head. He briefly wondered that the elation he had felt earlier with Hughes could change so rapidly to this dark despair; despair he hadn�t felt since his very first days lost and alone in London. But it had been that long since he was in a situation like this, at the hands of men like this. The memories came rushing back confusing themselves with what was happening here and now and making him struggle when he felt Hawkins hands on him again. He knew it was useless and dangerous to do so but he couldn�t help it. Afterwards Sharpe lay face down on the bunk as they had left him. He pulled out the sheet that Wardell or Curtis had shoved in his mouth to keep him quiet, but was too weary and sore to do anymore. But someone pulled the blanket up over him and wiped at his wet cheeks with cold fingers. "Don�t cry Dick." Smith�s shaking voice pleaded as crawled under the blanket and gathered Sharpe into his arms. "It�s over now, I�ll look after you." The small hands patted and rocked in an attempt at comfort. Sharpe reached out and pulled Smith closer and the two young men lay side by side sobbing quietly. "Did that bastard hurt you Joshy?" Sharpe finally asked when he could speak with a steady voice. He could smell the sharp odor of vomit on Smith�s breath. "Not much, he just touched me, that�s all. But I saw what they all did to you, Dick. Are you all right?" When Sharpe didn�t answer, Smith held him tighter. "What should I do Dick? Should I get someone or tell someone?" the frantic voice asked. "What yer should do is forget yer ever met me and go find someone else to look after yer, because I cant do it anymore. I can�t even bloody well look after myself. The rules here are different Joshy. I�m just working them out. But I do know this, unless you want to end up being a whore for one of those bastards, yer going to have to find some one else to stick up for yer. Someone �.good. Someone who wont want yer arse in payment." Sharpe rolled away then and wrapped his arms around himself. He was dimly aware that Smith was sniffling again but was unprepared for the soft words that caused his own eyes to fill with tears again. "Someone like YOU Dick!" Part 11 Dawn came too quickly and with it Sergeant Hawthorne�s gruff order to Sharpe to get to the washroom and clean himself up before morning parade. The night had been filled with dreams. Dreams of things Sharpe had tried hard to forget but which lurked in the dark corners of his soul. They woke him repeatedly, breathless and fighting the desire to scream out, knowing it would do no good. Sharpe obeyed Hawthorne�s orders with mechanical movements, saying nothing as he pulled on his clothes that were still lying discarded on the floor. He walked past the other infantrymen in silence, his eyes hard and brittle. How could they have lain in their beds last night knowing what was taking place and yet doing nothing to stop it? "Wait Dick, you were bleeding. You should tell someone what they did." Josh Smith cried out as he hurried after Sharpe like a small shadow. "It�s nothing Joshy, nothing." Sharpe replied flatly. "Just forget about it." The Regiment was drilled relentlessly that day in an effort to incorporate the new recruits into their Companies before their forthcoming engagement in Flanders. It was common knowledge throughout the ranks that they would be sailing soon although no formal announcement had been made. Throughout the day Sharpe found it became increasingly hard to keep his mind on what his was doing as he desperately looked for a way to escape the fate that awaited him at the hands of Hawkins and his friends. By evening he was tired, his body aching, but with desperate hope he set about putting into action the slim plan he had conceived. The stares and whispers were there again as Sharpe and Smith entered the mess hall that evening, but this time Sharpe glared back, angry and hostile. During the day he had been ignored by the rest of the Light Company. Even Samuel Rawlings had replied shortly when Sharpe asked how he was. "I�m fine, no thanks to you!" the young man had spat out before turning his back and walking away. As he slowly looked around for somewhere to sit, Shape became aware of what was being said by the men watching him. "That�s him, Captain Hughes whore." "Sells his arse to the highest bidder, so Hakeswill said." "I hear he�s set Frank Hawkins up to pimp for him, dirty bastard!" Dick Sharpe gritted his teeth, glared back at the hostile faces and suddenly turned sharply to Josh Smith who was following behind as usual. "Quit following me yer little bastard, piss off!" he shouted. Smith jumped and almost dropped his bowl of stew. "What?" he asked looking at Sharpe, disbelief in his big dark eyes. "I said piss off and stop following me like a bloody little sheep. Go sit with Sam and the Sergeant cause yer look like yer need a baby sitter!" He jerked his head to where Rawlings was sitting with Sergeant Hawthorne, well away from the table occupied by Hawkins and his cronies. Josh Smith blinked, his eyes filling with tears and simply stood there looking lost. Sharpe bent closer and he dropped his voice to a whisper "Go on Josh, it�s the only way. The Sarge won�t let them hurt you. Here," he reached out and slipped the scrap of paper with Cavanagh�s name and Regiment written on it into Smith�s hand. "Tell Hawthorne yer know him or something, it might be enough to scare him and keep the others off. Go one." He pushed Smith away from him with a hard shove causing the bowl of stew to slosh everywhere. "Piss OFF!" he shouted again. Sharpe turned his back and walked away. There was even more talking now as Sharpe looked around for somewhere to sit. He was loath to go over and join Hawkins and looked away when the big man beckoned to him. Instead he perched himself on the very end of a long bench that was only half full. The young red-headed youth who sat further up looked at him with frank curiosity but dropped his eyes and began eating his stew when Sharpe glared back. Sharpe looked at his own supper and felt his stomach turn. He pushed the bowl away and slowly sipped his ration of rum. He wondered how Josh Smith was, but wouldn�t allow himself to look over at his young friend. It was better this way, better that the rest of these men didn�t think that he and Smith were friends and so label Smith as a whore too. At least if he was with Hawthorne and Rawlings, Smith might stand some chance of avoiding abuse. "Don�t stare too hard at him Percy or yer likely to catch the pox!" Sharpe looked up in time to catch the red-headed youth�s blush before he looked away again. The rest of the men at the other end of the table laughed. "Bloody little whore!" the curly-haired man who had spoken before, continued. "We don�t want yer at our table. Sit somewhere else tomorrow night!" "Harry, he�s just a lad." From the far end of the table, someone had spoken up, a soft quiet voice. Sharpe leaned forward a little to see who it was but the big curly-haired man leaned forward at the same time, blocking his view. "You a too bloody soft Tom! He�s just a bloody whore." Sharpe drank down the rest of his rum and left the table. He�d heard enough. Part 12 The lamp in Hughes bedroom gave off a soft warm glow, comforting Sharpe. Perhaps if he told Hughes what had happened, the Captain would believe him and make everything all right before Hawkins and Wardell could get their hands on Smith? He undressed slowly, delaying what was to come. Hughes turned the bed back in invitation. But Sharpe hesitated. "What�s wrong Dick?" Hughes voice held a note of unease. "I can�t do what yer want tonight. I�m too sore." Sharpe waited to see Hughes response, but the Captain remained silent. "Last night, back in the barracks�I" "There�s no need to explain Dick," Hughes interrupted quickly. "What you do is your own business. You don�t have to explain your actions to me. I don�t care, do you understand." Hughes looked away, his eyes hidden. Dick Sharpe felt his heart sink. Hughes didn�t care! Would the Captain ask him to leave now? Sharpe hoped not and thought about what his fate would be if Hawkins knew that the Captain didn�t care about what others did to him. The thought was not a pleasant one. "I can do other stuff though. You�ll like it. I swear." Sharpe knew his voice sounded desperate, but he couldn�t bare the thought of leaving the Captain�s rooms. The covers were drawn back again and Sharpe slid in beside Hughes this time, happy to be pulled into a gentle embrace. "I�m content just to hold you Dick." Hughes whispered as he gently caressed Sharpe, the light touches igniting his passion despite his heavy heart. He eventually left Hughes sleeping, exhausted amid the untidy bed. On the way out Sharpe poured himself a glass of Hughes� brandy. Just to rinse his mouth a little, he reasoned. But the brandy hit his empty stomach and flowed straight to his head and he poured himself another and another. Finally he upended the decanter and let the burning liquid flow down his throat and cloud his brain. It was a desperate attempt to dull what he knew was to come when he returned to the barracks. In the next few days, Sharpe struggled to toughen himself once more and come to terms with what his life had become. He also began to look for ways to lessen his treatment at the hands of Hawkins and pointed out that if he allowed the others to get too rough, Captain Hughes would eventually start questioning Sharpe as to why he was unable to perform the services he required of him. Hawkins was no fool. He saw the sense in what Sharpe told him but more than that, he quickly realised that in Sharpe he had an easy way to make money. Rather than sharing Sharpe with his friends, he sold his favours or used them to bargain with the other infantrymen. The nights were hard, but with the help of Captain Hughes brandy which he liberally helped himself to and a bottle of cheap rum that Hawkins was more than happy to provide, Dick Sharpe made it through each night and slept in a drunken stupor untroubled by bad dreams. But he felt like death itself each morning, as he dragged himself to the washrooms in a pathetic attempt to make himself clean again. He deliberately avoided Josh Smith. The younger man had taken to sharing a bunk with Sam Rawlings, down next to Sergeant Hawthorne. Whenever Smith tried to approach, Sharpe walked away, telling himself that Smith would come to understand in time. It was better this way. Within a week everything had changed once more and the 33rd Regiment was herded aboard transport ships and set sail for Ostend in Belgium. Despite his initial seasickness, Dick Sharpe felt remarkably better when he realised that the overcrowded hold of the transport ship offered a haven from the unwelcome advances of Hawkins and his friends. Apart from the fact that Frank Hawkins also succumbed to seasickness, the hold was simply too crowded to allow for any sort of intimacy. The men were piled in like sardines, their hammocks touching when they were strung up. The stuffiness of the hold made them lethargic and many preferred to sleep the time away rather than make the frightful trip onto the deck and be confronted by the vastness of the sea. In the two weeks aboard ship, Sharpe didn�t once see Captain Hughes and he reluctantly came to realise that he missed Hughes� company. Despite the hell of his time in the Cork barracks, Sharpe had begun to look forward to his visits with Hughes. Not because of the intimacy they shared, Sharpe had become too jaded to appreciate Hughes gentle touch. Rather it was the time they spent afterwards, lying together, when Hughes would whisper softly to him, telling stories of his boyhood, recounting tales he had heard in his youth, and once even reading to him from a book. It was these times, when nothing more was required of him than to listen, that Sharpe cherished and now longed for again. Part 13 Ostend Belgium, 26th June 1794 Why are we here, Dick Sharpe wondered to himself, as he was rowed ashore in a foreign country where he was expected to kill the French. But why? He knew the frogs were their enemy, but why were they here and why were the frogs here? This wasn�t France. It all seemed too complicated. But Dick Sharpe suddenly had a horrid fear of being shot and killed in this strange land and buried here without ever really understanding the reasons. The 33rd Regiment along with the 44th Regiment made camp on the coast and waited for further orders. It wasn�t long before rumours started circulating through the camp. "Bloody Frogs have turned tail and run as soon as they heard we�d landed!" Frank Hawkins declared to his friends around their small campfire as they cooked their evening meal. It was summer and the oppressive heat was broken only by the breeze that drifted in from the sea. "They�re scared of us brave English lads!" "No, that�s not the case unfortunately," John Hughes corrected later that night as he held Dick Sharpe close while they lay on his small camp stretcher. "Lord Moira arrived five days ago with 5000 men. They�ve marched off to find the Hungarians and the Austrians, although where they are now is anybody�s guess." Hughes brushed Sharpe�s sweaty hair back from his face and pulled the blanket over them. They were both naked and now that their lovemaking was over, the cool evening air was making itself felt. "We are on our own here Dick and the French are very likely close by." "So will we go home then Sir?" Sharpe asked hopefully. There was a bitter little laugh from Hughes and he stroked Sharpe�s hair, somehow sensing the younger man�s confusion. "No, we are at war with France now and whilst they continue to try to annex parts of Belgium and Holland we have to view them as a threat. Besides, we are committed to helping our allies." The meaning of the words were lost on Sharpe, but he thought he understood what his Captain was saying. "So what will we do then? Fight the French?" Their was an uneasiness in Sharpe�s voice and Hughes pulled him closer. "We�re isolated Dick. Cut off from the main forces. I doubt that even with our battery of artillery we will be able to hold on here for long. No, I think we�ll withdraw and try to meet up with the rest of our lads." Hughes was correct. Four days after landing, the small force was withdrawn. The Light Company of the 33rd was set as rear guard in the sand dunes to the west whilst the rest of the Regiments organised the evacuation of the port. Around ten in the morning, whilst Dick Sharpe waited in the hot sun, reports came in that French cavalry patrols had been sighted. A murmur spread through the ranks as men anticipated a possible confrontation. Reinforcements were sent up from Ostend, delaying the retreat. Time passed and the infantrymen waited. Finally it was announced that the French cavalry had ridden eastwards, content to let the British withdraw. It was five in the afternoon when the light company was finally given the order to return to the port. The men were weary from spending the day in the harsh sun. Sharpe was towards the back of the ranks, not by design, but because the stronger and bigger men found it far easier to move through the soft sand of the sloping dunes. It was hard going with a laden pack on your back and a heavy musket to carry. Suddenly in the growing twilight he heard a small voice calling for help. Joshy! Immediately Sharpe turned back to help, suddenly fearful that Smith would be forgotten and left behind in this strange land. But as he spied Smith way back behind the lines he saw he was not the only man to return. Henry Wardell and his friend Cam Crocker were already there. Smith was leaning on his musket, favouring his left leg. "I�ve hurt my ankle," he explained with a sob. "Come on lad, it�ll be quicker this way." Wardell picked up Smith and slung him over his shoulder, much like a sack of potatoes. "Couldn�t leave you behind little Joshy, now could we!" Sharpe picked up Smith�s musket and Crocker took his pack and they made their way back to the beach where the row boats waited. Sharpe�s mind was full of fear. He was worried about what Wardell and Crocker would do to Josh, worried that they would all be left behind, forgotten in the darkness, the row boats leaving without them. But his fears were unfounded. Wardell deposited Smith on his feet when they reached the shore where Captain Hughes and a few remaining infantrymen were standing. "Ah, I was just about to send some of the lads back to look for you four. Come on, get in. The munitions men are waiting to destroy our stores and cannon. We don�t have time to load them if we want to catch the tide." Captain Hughes was the last man into the rowboat ensuring that all his men were accounted for. Dick Sharpe sat at his feet, taking comfort just from the closeness. Hughes strong fingers slipped down to rub Sharpe�s shoulder as if he were aware of his fears. "It�s all right now Dick," he whispered quietly. "Thank you for waiting for me, Sir" Sharpe whispered back. "I would have waited for any of the lads Dick. I don�t abandon my men." Part 14 The coast near Antwerp, July 1794 Another landing at another coastline however this time the 33rd didn�t make camp but set off towards the Duke of York�s army who were in retreat from the French and headed across the Dutch boarder. And so the pattern was set for the next two months. Each day Sharpe and the Light Company would march through the unfamiliar countryside until they were ordered to stop and make camp and prepare their evening meal. Most nights, Captain Hughes sent for Sharpe and the two would spend a comfortable hour or two together in his tent. Before leaving Sharpe would help himself to Hughes brandy and it was this that helped him make it through the rest of the night after he left the haven of Hughes tent. Hawkins had found a ready market for Sharpe�s services. Usually when troops were sent away, the battalion wives accompanied their men. It was not the case this time. With their women still back at Cork and only a handful of foreign whores tagging along, many of the men were quickly reaching the point where they were ready to consider other options. With a little more of the cheap rum that Hawkins supplied him with, Dick Sharpe was ready to lie down for anyone. When morning came again, Sharpe would wake up with a sore head, an aching body and only vague recollections of who he�d been with the night before. Frank Hawkins would have his pack and blanket ready for him and after another drink of the rum, he�d set off to spend the day marching until evening fell and it started all over again. Each day Sharpe would see Josh Smith from a distance, tagging along behind Sergeant Hawthorne and Sam Rawlings. A few times he took the opportunity to speak to him when they were unobserved. Smith always reported that yes, he was all right and no, no one was bothering him too much. "I don�t think Sergeant Hawthorne will let them." Smith said quietly one day when they were both on early sentry duty. It was the first real opportunity for the two young men to do more then exchange a sentence or two. "I showed him James�s paper like you said and I also mentioned George, Major George Seymour," Smith smiled, looking like small boy caught up in a game of deception. "He�d heard of Seymour, and was more than a little curious about how I knew them both, but it was enough to warn him off. I think he thinks I�m either related to them or I�m sort of owned by them and I ran away. He probably thinks they�ll come looking for me before too long. Did you know their Regiment is over here too?" "I�d like to bloody well see James bloody Cavanagh again!" Sharpe muttered under his breath and he thought about what he�d like to do, what he�d like to say, to the man whom he held responsible for his situation. "Is it still bad for you Dick?" Smith asked and Sharpe couldn�t stand the sound of pity in the small voice. "Nah, it�s nothing. Hawkins is looking after me, making sure I have enough food and rum. I got plenty of rum. Do you want some?" But the false bravados didn�t fool Smith. "You should tell Captain Hughes Dick! He�d do something about it." Sharpe shook his head. "He�s made it plain that he doesn�t care what I do outside of his tent. Told me so himself." With a weary gesture Sharpe rubbed at his eyes. "Besides I can look after myself Josh. I don�t need anyone to do it for me." As summer passed and the weather turned cold, the British army looked for a place to hold up for the winter. It was an unspoken rule of war that hostilities were set aside and both armies found secure lodgings during winter. It was hoped that the complex river and estuaries of southern Holland, North of the Maas river, would slow down the French advance and provide secure quarters for the British in the adjacent villages. The rivers, swollen by heavy winter and autumn rains were a formidable obstacle. So far, despite the French pursuit, the 33rd had seen no fighting and Dick Sharpe began to wonder why they had spent so much time drilling with their muskets if all they did was drag the bloody things along behind them as they ran from the French. Sharpe was not the only man becoming frustrated by the continuing retreat. But a surprise attack by the French on Boxtell saw the town and surrounding outposts fall, thus threatening the retreating British army. The Duke of York ordered the town to be recaptured and the 33rd Regiment was placed in reserve. Part 15 Boxtell, 15th September 1794 The force sent to recapture Boxtell proved to be inadequate and they were forced to withdraw. As the retreating British forces made for safety, the 33rd Regiment waited to cover the retreat. Dick Sharpe along with the rest of the light company waited nervously for the final order to be given that would allow them to turn their backs and follow the rest of the Regiments north west towards the Maas River. Pursuit by the French was not expected and it came as a surprise when Captain Hughes rode up ordering the Company to form two lines and prepare to repel the French. The Sergeants began shouting, pushing men here and there to form up the ranks. Somewhere in the distance the sound of horses could be heard. Cavalry! This isn�t happening, Dick Sharpe told himself, this isn�t real. But he could see the ordered lines of mounted French Cavalry coming nearer, at first walking, slowly gaining speed as they built up momentum. They looked liked ghosts in the wisps of mist that wafted in the damp air. The ground began to vibrate with the thud of hooves. "Load Muskets!" Hawthorne shouted, and the air was filled with the rhythmic sound of well-trained men following orders. Dick Sharpe froze, his cold fingers fumbled, his mind went blank. He didn�t hear the next order for the front row to kneel and was roughly pushed to his knees by the man behind him. "Wait for the order, lads," Hawthorne shouted, "Wait till they�re closer." The order came too quickly, and Sharpe fired off late, seconds behind the rest of his line. He jumped, breathless and terrified as the rank behind him fired in unison, almost deafening his already sensitive ears. Billows of acrid black smoke from the muskets burned his eyes. Rubbing them brought no relief, but simply added to the irritation by rubbing in more powder from his hands and face. He was dimly aware that the Sergeants were yelling at the men, ordering them to reload. But Sharpe was behind again, fumbling with the cartridge and forgetting to prime the musket so that when he did eventually shoot, the musket misfired. In all of this, Sharpe kept his eyes down and when he did look up he was unable to see the French for the mist and the musket smoke. When he finally managed once more to load his musket and shoot with the others the veil of fog parted to show the French cavalry in chaos. Horses were rearing, their riders trying bravely to steady them. Several Frenchmen huddled on the ground, unable to scramble to safety from the flaying hooves that surrounded them. But one man, either brave or foolhardy, checked his horse and rode again towards the British ranks. A lone rider facing the ninety muskets of the Light Company. "Hold your fire!" The order took them by surprise and Sharpe looked up to see Captain Hughes ride out to meet the enemy with drawn sword. They met with a clang of steel, the sun choosing that moment to break through the treacherous fog and glance off the two swords, almost blinding the men that watched. The two riders circled each other, no time for fancy sword work, content to simply look for an opportunity to cut at each other. Luck was on Hughes side. With a sweeping blow he cut under the Frenchman�s guard and sliced through his belly. Blood gushed, warm and steaming in the cold air as the man toppled from his horse to lay on the marshy ground, his insides spilling forth in an untidy mess. Hughes turned his horse and rode back to his cheering men. Dick Sharpe stared at the prone figure of the French rider, fighting hard to stop the gore that was rising in his throat. He licked his dry lips, clutched his rifle tighter with hands that were shaking and let out a deep breath as he watched the remaining French cavalry ride away. He had survived his first battle. Part 16 In the aftermath of their small victory, the men of the 33rd made camp that evening and promptly commenced upon a wild and foolhardy celebration. As if from nowhere various bottles of wine or spirits were produced. This was augmented by a double ration of rum that had already been ordered by the Duke of York as part of his commendation for their steadiness in checking the French advance. The Sergeants turned a blind eye as spirits rose and restraint gave way. Sharpe found Josh Smith wandering aimlessly around the perimeter of the camp. The boy appeared dazed but uninjured. "Joshy are you all right?" Sharpe asked, concerned. Why wasn�t Smith with Rawlings or even Sergeant Hawthorne? "Oh Dick, it was horrible. Did you see the man get shot through the head? He was right next to me." "Who?" Sharpe asked, worried it might have been Rawlings. But Josh looked at him with teary eyes and shook his head. "I don�t even know his name, but he�s dead. And then Captain Hughes cut that man open." The boy bent double and vomited. As Sharpe helped him up, he noticed that Smith�s face was still clear of the telltale powder signs. His hands appeared clean too. "What happened Joshy?" Sharpe asked as he sat the boy down and produced a bottle of cheap rum from his pack. "Tell me from the beginning." Smith took a mouthful of the strong liquor, grimaced, then took another. "When I saw the French coming at us like that, I panicked. I dropped my rifle and I couldn�t pick it up. Someone kept hitting me in the back, telling me to stand up and fire, but I couldn�t." He looked to Sharpe with eyes that begged for understanding. "I was just so frightened Dick," The dark eyes looked down. "I wet my trousers." "Oh Joshy," Sharpe put his arm around the slim shoulders. "I was bloody scared myself. Loaded the bloody rifle all wrong. I nearly spewed when I saw the Frog die." "I did!" Smith muttered dejectedly and drank more rum. Sharpe retrieved the bottle and took a large mouthful for himself. "We�ll we�re both still alive, that�s the main thing. I�m sure we�re not the only ones who were shit-scared." He looked around at the men celebrating around the campfires and wondered. As the night wore on, Dick Sharpe and Josh Smith huddled together on the edge of the camp�s firelight and watched the revelry get louder and rougher. They shared the bottle of rum and tried to forget the fear they had felt and the horror they had witnessed earlier. But soon a new fear began to manifest itself as Sharpe watched Frank Hawkins getting steadily drunk across the campfire. A man like Hawkins was dangerous when sober, when drunk he would be capable of anything. Around them the other infantrymen were laughing, drinking and brawling over the few whores who had followed the Regiment from Boxtell. There were not enough women to go around and Sharpe surmised that eventually the some of the men would start looking for other sport. Desperately he searched the vicinity for the Sergeants, and saw Sam Rawlings was over with Hawthorne who was singing loudly whilst he stoked the younger man�s hair. Any moment now Sharpe knew that Hawkins would come looking for him and Smith would be left alone at the mercy of whoever found him. The younger boy was already a little drunk, his eyes still red from his earlier crying. "Listen Joshy, when I go, try to find someone. Someone quiet. You know the others now, you know who to avoid. There�s going to be trouble tonight Joshy." Smith looked back at him with his big dark eyes. "Yer drunk Dick," he slurred. "The fighting�s over now, we�re safe!" Sharpe shook his head, "Not the bloody French! These bastards!" He tried again, wanting so badly to pass on some information that would somehow help Smith. "Listen Joshy, if they get yer, then don�t put up a fight. You�ll just get hurt worse. Just close yer eyes and try not to think about what�s happening." "That�s what I did today," Smith laughed and lay back on the damp ground, the empty bottle of rum beside him. Oh God, how could I have been so stupid to get him drunk like this, Sharpe chided himself. But he had never imagined that the well disciplined army could dissolve so easily into such a riot. Perhaps it would be better this way, Sharpe thought dispassionately. Perhaps if Smith were drunk enough he wouldn�t remember what happened to him. He saw Frank Hawkins stagger to his feet and rose to meet him half way. Better if Hawkins didn�t see Smith in his present state. It was all the protection Sharpe could offer the younger man now. "Go on Josh, get away from here and find somewhere safe, go on." Sharpe called over his shoulder and he watched as Smith stood unsteadily and wandered off into the shadows. "We�ll have a little fun tonight Sharpie," Hawkins hissed in his ear as he wrapped his big arm around Sharpe�s shoulder. But before he could do any more they were interrupted. "Private Sharpe? The Captain wants you in his tent." It was young Ensign Hicks, who delivered the message then stood nervously looking around at the disorderly conduct taking place around the camp. Sharpe smiled, "Maybe later Frank," he taunted as he sauntered away. Part 17 Josh Smith leaned against the big trunk of a tree, shivering in the darkness. Even here, away from the camp the noise of the boisterous infantrymen filtered through the cold still night. Perhaps this is what Hell is like, Smith thought to himself. Hell, but much colder. Suddenly the whole day seemed unreal. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the carnage he had witnessed that morning as his head spun from the alcohol he had consumed. Suddenly a big hand grabbed him and pushed him roughly to the ground, covering his mouth as they landed heavily. "If I can�t have Sharpie I might as well have you little Joshy," Hawkins hissed closed to his face, the stink of rum almost taking his breath away. Don�t fight them, Sharpe had said, but Josh Smith had no intention of submitting quietly. If anything, the rum gave him courage and he struggled relentlessly when he felt Hawkins begin fumbling with his trousers. "Keep still, " Hawkins gasped out and struck him across the face, but in doing so the big man released Smith�s mouth. He screamed, loud and high and then quickly turned and bit the side of Hawkins� hand as it came back to gag him again. "Jesus Christ!" Hawkins screeched and grabbed Smith round the throat. But someone had heard the commotion and a dark figure rushed up, hauling Hawkins off and punching him in the face. "Let him up you bloody bastard!" Hawkins staggered to his feet and swung at the newcomer, but the man was faster, or perhaps not as drunk. He sidestepped the blow easily before answering it with one of his own. Hawkins doubled over clutching his belly, groaning as he dropped to his knees. "Bastard," the man spat, kicking Hawkins several times, until he lay prostrate on the wet ground. A large hand reached down to pull Josh Smith to his feet. "Are you all right lad? Did he..did he?" Smith saw his rescuer eyeing the trousers that were pulled down his thighs. "No, you saved me before he could." Smith stuttered out. He looked at Frank Hawkins gasping on the ground and up at his rescuer. The man wasn�t quite Hawkins size, but they looked to be well matched in physical strength. But the similarities ended there. The face that looked down at him was full of concern and kindness. Josh Smith promptly burst into tears. "Come on now lad, you�re all right then, no harm down." The man patted Smith�s back and shepherded him back to camp. He led Josh Smith to where several small campfires were lit off to the side a little and the men were sitting around quietly. "There now you�ll be all right here. Your Smith, aren�t you? Josh Smith?" Smith nodded and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. "Well I�m Bill Hanson and this is Abraham Avery." He indicated another man sitting nearby with a bandage around his head. Avery raised his eyebrows in question. "I thought you were going for a piss?" "I was but I ran into a bit of trouble. Here give me that rum, Abraham." Avery frowned but surrendered up his bottle. "Bill saved me." Smith hiccupped, looking at Hanson with eyes full of admiration. He felt like he was floating in a dream now that the danger was past. "Hawkins had him," Hanson offered by way of explanation and handed Smith the bottle. "There get that into you Josh, it will settle you down a bit." Smith took the bottle and took several big gulps before Hanson pulled it away. Smith tottered unsteadily on his feet. "Whoa up, steady there, lad." He handed the bottle back to Avery and helped Smith sit down. �You�d better stay here tonight. It might be safer. You can have my blanket, you look cold." Hanson moved away to sit with Avery and the two men watched Smith curl up and close his eyes. "Bloody hell Bill," Avery whispered when Smith appeared to be asleep. "You�ll get yerself into trouble if you go messing with the likes of Hawkins." Hanson took a swig of the rum. "Well I couldn�t just stand there and watch him rape the lad could I. I only gave him what he deserved." "You should have called the sentries or something, let them take care of it. You�re too quick to jump in with yer temper and yer fists." Hanson snorted and ignored Avery�s chastisement, handing the bottle back to his friend. "If I had waited for the sentries it would have been too late. Poor lad didn�t stand a chance." Avery eyed Smith critically. "He�s a bit on the small side, isn�t he. How old do you reckon he is?" Hanson shrugged, "Not sixteen, that�s for sure, but he wouldn�t be the first lad that�s joined up before he should." "I heard he was mixed up with that little whore that Hughes has got for himself, Sharpe." Avery sipped at the rum and rubbed at his head. During the fighting he�d been hit by a spent musket ball and while the wound was not deep, it was rather painful. "I thought Sergeant Hawthorne was supposed to be looking after the younger lads, but he�s not doing a very good job of it." Hanson reached for the bottle and took another mouthful. He was a steady man, in his late twenties. He�d been hoping to make Sergeant for a while now and it frustrated him that most of the men who held that position had little concern for the well being of their charges. "I doubt any of the Sergeants are doing their jobs tonight. Sounds like all hell is breaking loose in the camp." "It is! You�d never believe some of the things I saw going on out there." Hanson waved his hand towards the darkness. As they spoke quietly Smith commenced tossing in his sleep and suddenly sat up screaming, his eyes wild, his breath coming in gasps. "Here now, it�s all right, lad." Hanson knelt down beside him, patting the small shoulder. "I saw men die! With blood and their insides all falling out!" Smith sobbed. "Shhh now, we all saw it too. It will pass. Why, many of us saw worse than that when we were posted in Cork and were called out to keep the Irish in line. You�ll forget about it soon enough." "I wont. I�ll never forget it!" Smith declared and started crying again. With a resigned look at his friend, Bill Hanson gathered Josh Smith to him and lay down. "Shh, you�ll be all right now, come on. Soldiers aren�t supposed to cry." Part 18 Captain John Hughes was waiting when Dick Sharpe stepped into the darkened interior of his tent. The lamp was out and Hughes wasted no time in drawing Sharpe into a rough embrace. "Oh Dick, I was so worried about you today." The Captain exclaimed as he hurriedly commenced undressing the younger man. "Me?" Sharpe asked. "YOU were worried about ME?" He could smell brandy on Hughes breath and knew the Captain had been drinking. Perhaps that explained his strange words. "Yes Dick, you." Their clothes were rapidly dropped to the floor and Hughes sat down on the camp stretcher to pull off his boots. He pulled Sharpe down beside him. "I want you so much, Dick," He rolled, trapping Sharpe beneath him, laying claim to his body in such a frenzied show of passion that it left Dick Sharpe dazed and wondering at the Captain�s uncharacteristic behaviour. Perhaps Hughes was possessed by the same demons that had taken hold of the rest of the camp and driven quiet men to act so wildly. Sharpe remembered his owns fears from the morning and the wash of relief that had swept over him afterwards when he realised it was over, making him almost light headed in the aftermath. He remembered suddenly how Hughes had ridden into battle with the French horseman, his sword brandished, showing no fear. He saw again the blood and terror, felt again the joyous release of glory and life. Something shone in Hughes eyes, a crazed light that was witness to the narrow line between life and death. Sharpe knew the same light was mirrored in his own. He reached out and pulled Hughes closer. "I want yer too," Sharpe growled as he let go of his restraint. Part. 19 There was silence in the camp when Josh Smith woke again, but this time it wasn�t from bad dreams. This dream had been welcome. He had dreamt that he was back with Dick Sharpe in the bed in Leicester and they were holding each other and touching each other. It had felt so good. It felt good to be held like this too, Smith decided as he settled further into Bill Hanson�s arms. Hanson was much older than Dick, older even than James Cavanagh, Smith surmised as he studied the sleeping profile. Hair so black that even a liberal dusting of regulation flour could not hide it. Fair skin, tinged pink where his cheek had lain against Smith�s head. Strong muscles, Smith discovered as he ran his hand down Hanson�s arm. He looked up as Hanson�s blue eyes opened and blinked at him sleepily. "What�s wrong Josh?" Hanson whispered. "I don�t know." Josh replied and it was true. He felt strangely undone by the day�s events. "It�s just the fighting," Hanson pulled him closer. "You�ll see. We all feel like that after a battle. That�s why there was so much foolishness going on last night. That�s why Hawkins tried to.." Hanson hesitated then brought his hand up to brush at Smith�s dark curls that would not stay in their queue. "Has he ever done that to you before?" "No," Smith whispered. "That�s the way it effects men sometimes." Hanson concluded and closed his eyes again. "Does it effect you like that Bill?" Smith asked. He was suddenly very aware of his own arousal and hoped that Hanson felt the same. "Umm well," The older man�s hesitation was quite clear. It was Josh Smith who took the initiative and rubbed himself again Hanson�s leg leaving no doubt as to his own needs. There was another slight hesitation before Hanson adjusted his position so that Smith could feel the answer to his question. It was wrong, Hanson told himself, as he pulled Smith closer so their bodies could rub together. Wrong, because he had a wife at home and he didn�t really know this lad or anything about him. But Smith seemed to want this, Hanson decided as he felt Smith�s little hands work their way into his trousers and the least Hanson could do was to return the favour. After all it wasn�t much different from what he and Abraham had done together a few times. They both missed their wives and they were mates. It was just a case of helping each other out. But Hanson was unprepared for his own reactions when Josh Smith reached up and kissed him, the small lips opening and inviting him in. He rolled Smith beneath him and ravaged his mouth, unable to stop, unable to think of anything but the fact that it was all too easy to pretend that this lad was a young girl, because he felt so fine and fragile in his arms. He pulled open Smith�s jacket and shirt and feasted on his neck aware now that Smith was moaning in his high little voice, his heart beating so rapidly that Hanson could hear it as he kissed along the slender collarbone and down his chest. Smith�s breath caught suddenly, his body arching up, taking Hanson by surprise. His hand was flooded with the hot sticky proof of Smith�s pleasure which in turn fuelled his own sharp orgasm. "Shit," Hanson murmured as he rolled onto his back, head spinning, confused by what had taken place, trying desperately to find some reason for the way Smith had affected him. "Oh Bill, " Smith whispered rolling into his arms and sounding for all the world like his wife Jean. "I love you Bill." Bill Hanson closed his eyes and prayed to God that he had not just damned his immortal soul. Part 20 Dick Sharpe sat up on the narrow stretcher and fought down the urge to scream. Where was he and who was that beside him? His stomach heaved as memories of other nights surfaced and he leaned over and vomited onto the floor. Hughes cursed and scrambled up, searching for his tinderbox. In the dim candlelight he found Dick Sharpe standing in the middle of the tent staring around. "It�s all right Dick. Everything�s all right" Hughes reached out but Sharpe flinched away. He could see that the younger man was trembling. "I�m sorry I�ll clean it up and go," Sharpe said breathlessly as he looked around for his clothes. "Shh, it�s all right." Hughes tried, reaching out again. This time Sharpe didn�t pull away but allowed Hughes to embrace him. "I know what it�s like Dick. You never really get over seeing men die." He gently helped Sharpe back to his cot. "Sometimes it�s worse than others. There was a young Ensign assigned to me in Cork, about your age. We were called out to keep the peace at a protest gathering. Nothing unusual really, rather quiet in fact. I gave Harry command of thirty infantrymen and sent him to the back of the crowd. But it suddenly changed and the mob turned angry. They started throwing things." Hughes stood up, his thoughts obviously far away. He knelt down to a small chest, opened it and took out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. "Harry was hit in the head by a rock. It killed him. Barely a mark on him but he was dead on the ground, his eyes staring at nothing. For some reason I remember that more clearly than all the blood and death I saw today." Sharpe didn�t know what to say. How could he tell his Captain that it wasn�t the memory of dead men that had awoken him? How could he tell Hughes that he�d seen more than his share of death before he even joined the army? No, it was the memories of hands in the darkness, hands that belonged to faceless men, hands that� He closed his eyes and fought the memories away. "Here, have some brandy," Hughes held out the glass and Sharpe took it with shaking hands, drinking it too quickly, but not caring any more. "I should go," he whispered, knowing he had stayed too long already and that Hawkins would be angry. But Hughes lay down beside him again and gathered Sharpe back into his arms. "Stay here with me tonight. I�ll keep you safe from your nightmares," Hughes whispered. Dick Sharpe settled down into the safe embrace knowing that for one night at least he would be safe from Hawkins. Part 21 "So what was all that about last night?" Abraham Avery asked Bill Hanson the next morning as they sat bleary eyed drinking tea. "What was what about?" Hanson replied pleading ignorance. Smith was still asleep and Hanson was loath to wake him, not yet ready to face the pretty dark eyes. "You and Smith! You just about work the whole bloody camp!" Avery persisted. "He woke up, probably had another dream and I was comforting him." Hanson hoped he wasn�t blushing. "Comforting him?" Avery raised his eyebrows and waited, not an easy task for a man with a bandage on his head. "Nothing different to what we do for each other sometimes, Abraham." Hanson replied with a mild frown. He felt guilty enough without his friend�s censure. "A lot bloody different if you ask me. For one thing you don�t kiss me like that." "I don�t bloody kiss you at all!" Hanson said indignantly. "Exactly! It isn�t natural Bill. God knows what you�ll be wanting to do to him next!" "Shut yer filthy mouth Abraham, what do you think I am? It was the battle and all, nothing more. And Josh started the kissing thing. You said it yerself, he�s been hanging around with Sharpe. That�s probably where he picked it up." They sipped their tea in silence for a while longer and Hanson began to think that the interrogation was over. But Avery had one more question. "So did he tell you how old he was?" There was silence for a moment before Hanson replied. "No, it didn�t come up." A loud snort was Avery�s response. "Well it must have been the only bloody thing that didn�t!" Josh Smith chose that moment to sit up with a small groan, his hands going straight to his head. Hanson wandered over and squatted down. "How do you feel?" he asked offering the young man his own cup of tea. "A bit sick." Smith said with a small smile but he gratefully accepted the tea and sipped away. "It�s to be expected," Hanson replied as he watched him drink. "You were pretty drunk last night." He paused and looked away. "I suppose you don�t remember much of what happened," he added quietly. "I remember the important part." Smith whispered and Hanson looked back in time to catch Smith�s cheeky grin. Even hung over Smith looked far too pretty. "And are yer all right with that then?" Hanson asked hesitantly. The dark eyes looked up into his, full of longing. "Oh yes Bill, more than all right. It was wonderful." Hanson knew he was blushing like a teenager. He glanced over his shoulder to see if he was observed, but Avery had wandered off. Quickly he bent down and brushed a small kiss across Smiths lips. "Aye, it was at that, lad. It was at that!" Part 22 Dick Sharpe woke that morning with his head pounding and his arm asleep. He was balanced on the edge of the narrow camp cot, Hughes laying half across him, squashing his arm. "Good morning Dick," Hughes muttered sleepily as Sharpe struggled up and started dressing. Sharpe grunted a reply. The morning felt far from good. His head ached and his stomach felt queasy and there�d be hell to pay when Frank Hawkins found him. But that wasn�t the only trouble waiting. As Sharpe turned to go, the tent flap was thrown back and without warning Lieutenant Charles Morris entered. "Well this is lovely John," he declared, one eyebrow raised and a sneer on his thin lips. John Hughes sat up and stared his Lieutenant down. "He was cleaning my boots Charles, nothing more. You�d do well to remember that." Morris� gaze dropped to the boots that lay in abandon on the ground with the rest of his Captain�s clothes. They were still muddied from yesterday. "He didn�t do a very good job, by the look of it John. Perhaps you should supervise him more closely instead of lounging in bed." John Hughes narrowed his eyes and Sharpe could feel the tension in the tent between the two men. "You interrupted him Charles, he was just about to start." Hughes turned to Sharpe. "You can do it later, Private, Lieutenant Morris obviously has something important to tell me." It was a dismissal, plain and simple and Sharpe was happy to leave. But as he stepped passed Morris, the Lieutenant whispered "Whore," and fixed him with a look of such vehemence that Sharpe dropped his gaze. Once outside, Sharpe�s thoughts turned back to Josh Smith. Had he let Smith down last night? What had happened to the younger boy whilst he lay with Hughes? Sharpe wandered the camp, looking here and there for Smith but not finding him. Everywhere were signs of the aftermath of what had taken place last night. Many infantrymen were still unconscious, others sat around looking ill. "There you are you little bastard." Dick spun around but Hawkins big hand grabbed him and struck him hard in the face. "Ruined my fun you did and yer going to pay for it now." Hawkins hit him again and Sharpe tasted blood in his mouth. "Stop it Frank, the Captain will want to know what happened if yer hurt me. He�ll start asking questions." Sharpe gasped out before Hawkins could hit him again. Suddenly Sharpe noticed bruising on the big man�s face. "Get in a fight did yer Frank?" he asked, trying to keep the pleasure he felt from showing on his face. It wouldn�t do well to get Hawkins any angrier. "None of yer bloody business." Hawkins muttered as he threw Sharpe to the ground. "You wait! Tonight yer mine!" Dick Sharpe picked himself up wearily and wondered what had happened to his pack last night. He could really do with a drink this morning but was loath to follow Hawkins and ask if he had it. It wasn�t until that evening when the Regiment once again made camp that Dick finally found Josh Smith. He was not where Sharpe had expected to find him, with Sergeant Hawthorne and Sam Rawlings. Rather, Josh Smith seemed to have attached himself to another group of infantrymen. He watched from a distance as Smith shared their small fire, readily accepted by the group. He looked at their faces, but none were familiar; none were Hawkins friends or customers. Suddenly Smith looked up and Sharpe edged back out of sight not wanting to be seen. But Josh Smith had spied him and began to make his way towards his friend. Sharpe turned to go but Smith�s small voice called out to him and Sharpe stopped reluctantly and waited. "How are you Joshy?" Smith�s dark eyes took in the fresh bruises on his face. "Oh Dick, I�m fine, but you don�t look so good." "It�s nothing, " Sharpe said with a shrug. He looked closely at Smith and noticed the bruises on his face as well. "What about you, are you sure you�re all right? What happened last night." Smith�s eyes wandered back to the campfire and he nodded towards a dark-haired man stirring the big Flanders kettle. "That�s Bill Hanson, he saved me from Hawkins last night." Shock showed in Sharpe�s green eyes, but Smith smiled again. "He gave that bastard a right good beating too!" So it was Hanson who was responsible for Hawkins bruises. Sharpe smiled. "Bill took me back to his campfire and held me all night long. It was lovely Dick," "Bloody Hell Josh! Did he�?" Sharpe asked in alarm. Perhaps this Hanson was no better than Hawkins after all. "Fuck me?" Smith asked and Sharpe winced at the way the words sounded coming from Smith�s lips. "No, he didn�t. He didn�t even ask. But I kissed him and we, well, you remember what we did in Leicester? We did that." Sharpe ran his hand over his face. If that was all that had happened then Smith had probably been lucky. "Oh Dick, don�t look so sad," Smith continued, his small hand going to Sharpe�s shoulder and patting gently. "It wasn�t like that! Bill saved me Dick, he�s my savior. He wouldn�t hurt me." Smith bit his lip and tried to look into Sharpe�s green eyes, "I�m worried about you Dick." "I�m all right Joshy, I�m all right." Sharpe murmured sadly, knowing he should go because Hawkins was waiting. He turned to leave but Smith held on, for once assertive. "You�re not all right, Dick. You�re far from all right. You need someone to look after you Dick. Someone like Bill," Smith implored. "You need a savior too." Dick Sharpe looked into the dark brown eyes and knew that Josh Smith was right. He did need a savior, but where was he to find one? Was there someone out there who would care for him too? Dick Sharpe looked up at the stars that were just beginning to show in the indigo sky then closed his eyes and made a wish. The End August 1999.