JК
Sharpes Devil :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 63 из 209The elegant Marquinez went pale.
"No!" the man screamed, then Bautista pushed the brand forward and the scream soared high and terrible. There was a sizzling sound, a flash of flame as the man's greasy hair briefly flared with fire, then the big room filled with the smell of burning flesh. Bautista held the brand on the man's skin even as the thief collapsed.
The iron was pushed back into the coals as the second man was hauled forward. That second man looked at Sharpe. "Senor, I beg you! It was not us! Not us!"
"Your Excellency!" Sharpe called.
"If I were in England," Bautista jiggled the iron in the fire, "would you think it proper for me to interfere with English justice? This is Chile, Mister Sharpe, not England. Justice here is what I say it is, and I treat thieves with the certain cure of pain. Exquisite pain!" He pulled the brand free, turned and aimed the bright letter at the second man.
"God save Ireland," Harper said softly beside Sharpe. Most of the audience looked shocked. One uniformed man had gone to a window and was leaning across the wide stone sill. Bautista, though, was enjoying himself. Sharpe could see it in the dark eyes. The second man screamed, and again there was the hiss of burning skin and the stink of flesh cooking, and then the second man, like the first, had the big L branded forever on his forehead.
"Take them away," Bautista commanded as he tossed the branding iron into the fireplace, then turned and stared defiantly at Sharpe. The Captain-General looked tired, as though all the joy of his morning had suddenly evaporated. "Your request to travel to Puerto Crucero and recover the body of Don Bias Vivar is granted. Captain Marquinez will issue you with the necessary permits, and you will leave Valdivia tomorrow. That finishes today's business. Good day."
The Captain-General, his morning display of efficiency and cruelty complete, turned on his heels and walked away.
"Who were they?" Sharpe challenged Marquinez.
"They?"
"Those two men."
"They were the thieves, of course."
"I don't believe it," Sharpe claimed angrily. "I didn't recognize either man."
"If they were not the thieves," Marquinez said very calmly, "then how do you explain their possession of your property?" He smiled as he waited for Sharpe's answer and, when none came, he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a sheaf of documents. "Your travel permits, Colonel. You will note they specify you must leave Valdivia tomorrow." He dealt the documents onto the desk one by one, as though they were playing cards.
"No!" the man screamed, then Bautista pushed the brand forward and the scream soared high and terrible. There was a sizzling sound, a flash of flame as the man's greasy hair briefly flared with fire, then the big room filled with the smell of burning flesh. Bautista held the brand on the man's skin even as the thief collapsed.
The iron was pushed back into the coals as the second man was hauled forward. That second man looked at Sharpe. "Senor, I beg you! It was not us! Not us!"
"Your Excellency!" Sharpe called.
"If I were in England," Bautista jiggled the iron in the fire, "would you think it proper for me to interfere with English justice? This is Chile, Mister Sharpe, not England. Justice here is what I say it is, and I treat thieves with the certain cure of pain. Exquisite pain!" He pulled the brand free, turned and aimed the bright letter at the second man.
"God save Ireland," Harper said softly beside Sharpe. Most of the audience looked shocked. One uniformed man had gone to a window and was leaning across the wide stone sill. Bautista, though, was enjoying himself. Sharpe could see it in the dark eyes. The second man screamed, and again there was the hiss of burning skin and the stink of flesh cooking, and then the second man, like the first, had the big L branded forever on his forehead.
"Take them away," Bautista commanded as he tossed the branding iron into the fireplace, then turned and stared defiantly at Sharpe. The Captain-General looked tired, as though all the joy of his morning had suddenly evaporated. "Your request to travel to Puerto Crucero and recover the body of Don Bias Vivar is granted. Captain Marquinez will issue you with the necessary permits, and you will leave Valdivia tomorrow. That finishes today's business. Good day."
The Captain-General, his morning display of efficiency and cruelty complete, turned on his heels and walked away.
"Who were they?" Sharpe challenged Marquinez.
"They?"
"Those two men."
"They were the thieves, of course."
"I don't believe it," Sharpe claimed angrily. "I didn't recognize either man."
"If they were not the thieves," Marquinez said very calmly, "then how do you explain their possession of your property?" He smiled as he waited for Sharpe's answer and, when none came, he opened a drawer of his desk and took out a sheaf of documents. "Your travel permits, Colonel. You will note they specify you must leave Valdivia tomorrow." He dealt the documents onto the desk one by one, as though they were playing cards.