over； there would be a stir in the ditch。 Men would try to rush the breaches； be restrained by other men； and the guns would fire again and the screaming would start again。 Some men went mad； the agony too much； and one man thought the guns were the sound of God hawking and spitting and he knelt in the ditch and prayed until a lump of God's spittle took off his head； but Hakeswill was safe。 He sat with his back to the ditch scarp； his front protected by the dead； and he talked into his hat。 'Not tonight。 I can't do it tonight。 The pretty lady will have to wait； yes she will。' He wheedled into the； hat； and then listened to the fight with a professional's ear。 He shook his head。 'Not tonight。 Tonight we lose。'
He did not know how long he was in the ditch； or how long it took the dying to die； or how many times the lifeless flesh quivered around him as the canister pulverized the pile。 Time was measured by sobs； by guns； by the passing of hopes； and it ended； unexpectedly； with the great shout。 'Sharpe！ Sharpe！ Sharpe！' Hakeswill's face twitched over his parapet and watched as the living climbed from the spaces between the bodies and they were going away from him； over the ravelin； and to his right another attack clawed up the Trinidad。
'Sharpe！ Sharpe！ Sharpe！' The two men； he thought； must die； and he cackled at them； willing the canister to shred them； but they kept climbing and the shout went on。 'Sharpe！ Sharpe！ Sharpe！'
Hakeswill saw Sharpe slip almost at the top of the ramp and the Sergeant's heart leaped for joy； he was shot！ But no； the bastard was pushed on by Harper； reached up for a chain； and there he stood； high on the central breach； lit by flames； and the Irishman was beside him； blades in their hands； and Hakeswill watched as they turned once to gesture a great triumph towards the British。 Then they had gone； down to the city； and Hakeswill pushed the bodies aside； rammed his shako on his head； and kicked his way through the crowd that was flooding towards the Trinidad。
At the breach's head men swung the great axes； the chains split； and the Ckevaux de Prise was heaved ahead of them and into a trench the defenders had dug on the rubble crest； and then the British were jumping the blades； shrieking murder； and sliding down the broken stones to the city's interior。 They were berserk with rage。 Hakeswill could feel it； the madness； and nothing would stop them this night。 Even the wounded were pulling themselves up the breach ramps； some on their bellies； trying to reach the city and asking only for a chance to hurt as they had been hurt。 They wanted drink； and women； and deaths； and more drink； and they remembered that Spaniards had fired at them from the city's walls and that made every living person in Badajoz an enemy。 So they went； a dark； scrabbling stream； over the breaches and up into the alleyways and streets； trampling the wounded in their rush； more ing； more； the breaches living with the mass of men scuttling into the city； spreading up into Badajoz； revenge。
Hakeswill went with them up a long street that led to a small plaza。 He knew he was going in roughly the right direction； uphill and angling left； but he was trusting to instinct and luck。 The plaza was already crowded with soldiers。 Muskets sounded as door locks were blasted open； the first screams were ing from the city's women and some； not wanting to be trapped in their houses； tried to run higher up the hill。 Hakeswill watched one caught。 Her earrings were ripped from her and blood sprayed on her dress as that； too； was torn from her and she was naked； spinning between the soldiers who pushed her； laughed at her； and then leaped on her。 Hakeswill skirted the group。 It was not his business； and he guessed that the woman who had escaped would lead him to the cathedral。 He followed。
Captain Robert Knowles； elated and tired； leaned briefly on the castle gateway。 Hooves echoed in the streets。 Philippon； the French General； with a handful of mounted men had ridden away； escaping； down to the bridge that would take them to refuge in the San Cristobal Fort。 They had lost the huge fortress and； as they rode； they heard the dark business begin behind them。 They whipped the…horses； raked back with spurs； clattered on to the bridge and behind them； running； came the fleeing French infantry。 Philippon's face was grief…stricken； not for the city； but for his failure。 He had done all that could be done； far more than he had hoped； yet still he had lost。 Wellington； damned Wellington； had won。
Knowles's men crowded into the gateway； jeering the departing enemy； and one of them seized a torch from its bracket。 'Permission to go； sir？' The flames lit the eager； hungry faces that watched Knowles。 'Go！'
They cheered； ran whooping into the streets and Knowles laughed for them； hefted his sabre； and followed Teresa。 He ran into the dark streets； the doors bolted； the ground…floor windows covered in intricate iron bars and he was soon lost； alone； in the tangle of streets。 He stopped at a crossroads； listening to the screams up and down the hill； and then guessed that he should follow the street with the richest houses。 A man pounded past him； uphill； and he saw the distinctive crossbelt of a French soldier。 The man was armed； his long bayonet gleaming； but he did not stop； just kept running； his breath ing in rasping heaves。 Knowles ran downhill； his boots echoing from the dark houses； and then the street stopped； opened into a big plaza and there； above him； was the cathedral。
There was panic in the plaza。 The last French had gone； escaping north； but the people of Badajoz had not gone with them。 Those that were not in their houses were here； struggling up the cathedral steps； crowding its doors； hoping for sanctuary。 They ran past Knowles； barging into him； ignoring him； and he looked wildly around him。 There were so many streets！ And then he saw； dark behind the cathedral； a small alley with balconied houses and he ran； staring up at the buildings and then he stopped； turned； and he saw two trees； a recessed frontage； and he pounded on the closed door。 Teresa！ Teresa！'
Hakeswill had taken the right…hand street that led up from the small plaza and； sure enough； the women had run ahead of him to the Cathedral。 He slowed to a walk； chuckling to himself； and then he heard the shouts； very close； and his first instinct was that Sharpe had reached the house first。
'Teresa！ Teresa！' That was not Sharpe's voice！ An officer； by the sound of it； but not Sharpe； and Hakeswill flattened himself against the opposite wall and watched the dark shape pounding at the door。 'Teresa！ It's me！ Robert Knowles！'
A shutter opened on the first floor； seeping dim candlelight； and Hakeswill saw a woman's shape； slim and longhaired。 It must be her！ He felt the excitement inside him； shifting restlessly； uncoiling； and then she called down。 'Who's that？'
'Robert！ Robert Knowles！'
'Robert？'
'Yes！ Open up！'
'Where's Richard？'
'I don't know。 I wasn't with him。' Knowles was standing back； staring up at the narrow balcony。 The screams were ing nearer； the musket shots； and Teresa looked down the hill at the first flickerings of burning houses。 'Wait！ I'll open up！' She banged the shutters close； latched them； and opposite； in deep shadow； Hakeswill grinned to himself。 He could rush the door as she opened it； but the officer； he could see； was carrying a drawn sabre and he remembered that the bitch herself carried weapons。 He looked up to the balcony。 It was not high and； beneath it； the groundfloor window was barred with a lattice of black iron。 He waited。
The front door opened； creaking on hinges； and he saw the girl silhouetted in the gap for the brief instant it took for Knowles to enter。 The door shut and Hakeswill moved； surprisingly fast and soft for such a man； straight to the barred window that gave such easy footholds； up till he could reach back to the balcony's base and then the strength was all in his arms。 He paused briefly； his face suddenly twitching； but then the spasm passed and he pulled； the powerful arms making it easy； hand over hand till his feet caught on