The floor was thick with slime. Each breath made Sharpe want to gag on the stench that was thicker than musket smoke. There was no window. He knew he was deep inside the rock on which Burgos' castle was built.He had been brought through the outer courtyard, past walls still scorched from the explosions of British howitzer shells fired in last year's siege, through the packed, loaded wagons of treasure that crammed the yard, past the roofless, burned out buildings, to the massively walled keep.He had been pushed down stairs, down a dank, cold corridor, and into this small, square room with its slimy floor and the incessant drip of water onto stone outside. The only light was a faint glow that come through a small hole carved in the thick door.He shouted that he was a British officer, that he wished to be treated accordingly, but there was no reply. He shouted it in Spanish and English, but his voice faded in the cold echoing corridor to silence.He touched his temple and winced with the pain.
What do You think about Sharpe 16 - Sharpe's Honour?
