JК
Sharpes Eagle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 156 из 203He remembered the girl, her terror, her pain, and herose to his feet, walked the few paces, and grabbed Berry’s collar. Frightened eyes turned on him.
“What’s happening?”
He pulled the Lieutenant with him, over the crest, down into the darkness of the slope. He could hear Berry babbling, asking what was happening, but he pulled him down until they were both well below the crest and hidden from the fires. Sharpe heard the last fugitives pound past on the summit, the crackle of musketry, the shouts diminishing as the men ran back. He let go of Berry’s collar. He saw the white face turn to him in the darkness, there was a gasp.
“My God. Captain Sharpe? Is that you?”
“Weren’t you expecting me?” Sharpe’s voice was as cold as a blade in winter. “I was looking for you.”
CHAPTER 19
A spent musket ball whirred over Sharpe’s head; the sounds of the battle were fainter now that he was below the crest and the only light came from the eerie reflections of the deserted fires on the undersides of the battle-smoke that drifted from the plateau of the Medellin.
“Sharpe!” Berry was still babbling. He lay on his back and tried to wriggle his way uphill away from the tall, dark shape of the Rifleman. “Shouldn’t we go, Sharpe, the French? They’re on the hill!”
“I know. I’ve killed at least two of them.” Sharpe held his blade at Berry’s breast and stopped the wriggling. “I’m going back to kill a few more soon.”
The talk of killing silenced Berry. Sharpe could see the face staring up at him but it was too dark to read the expression. Sharpe had to imagine the wet lips, the fleshy face, the look of fear.
“What did you do to the girl, Berry?”
The Lieutenant remained silent. Sharpe could see the slim sword lying forgotten on the grass; there was no fight in the man, no will to resist, just a pathetic hope that Sharpe could be placated.
“What did you do, Berry?” Sharpe stepped closer and the blade flickered at Berry’s throat. Sharpe saw the face twist to and fro, heard the breath gulping in the Lieutenant’s throat.
“Nothing, Sharpe, I swear it. Nothing.”
Sharpe flicked his wrist so that the blade nicked Berry’s chin. It was razor sharp and he heard the gasp.
“Let me go. Please! Let me go.”
“What did you do?” Sharpe heard the distinctive sound of the rifles firing to his right.
“What’s happening?”
He pulled the Lieutenant with him, over the crest, down into the darkness of the slope. He could hear Berry babbling, asking what was happening, but he pulled him down until they were both well below the crest and hidden from the fires. Sharpe heard the last fugitives pound past on the summit, the crackle of musketry, the shouts diminishing as the men ran back. He let go of Berry’s collar. He saw the white face turn to him in the darkness, there was a gasp.
“My God. Captain Sharpe? Is that you?”
“Weren’t you expecting me?” Sharpe’s voice was as cold as a blade in winter. “I was looking for you.”
CHAPTER 19
A spent musket ball whirred over Sharpe’s head; the sounds of the battle were fainter now that he was below the crest and the only light came from the eerie reflections of the deserted fires on the undersides of the battle-smoke that drifted from the plateau of the Medellin.
“Sharpe!” Berry was still babbling. He lay on his back and tried to wriggle his way uphill away from the tall, dark shape of the Rifleman. “Shouldn’t we go, Sharpe, the French? They’re on the hill!”
“I know. I’ve killed at least two of them.” Sharpe held his blade at Berry’s breast and stopped the wriggling. “I’m going back to kill a few more soon.”
The talk of killing silenced Berry. Sharpe could see the face staring up at him but it was too dark to read the expression. Sharpe had to imagine the wet lips, the fleshy face, the look of fear.
“What did you do to the girl, Berry?”
The Lieutenant remained silent. Sharpe could see the slim sword lying forgotten on the grass; there was no fight in the man, no will to resist, just a pathetic hope that Sharpe could be placated.
“What did you do, Berry?” Sharpe stepped closer and the blade flickered at Berry’s throat. Sharpe saw the face twist to and fro, heard the breath gulping in the Lieutenant’s throat.
“Nothing, Sharpe, I swear it. Nothing.”
Sharpe flicked his wrist so that the blade nicked Berry’s chin. It was razor sharp and he heard the gasp.
“Let me go. Please! Let me go.”
“What did you do?” Sharpe heard the distinctive sound of the rifles firing to his right.