JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 11 из 242„It’s not a cherry, sir. It’s a Judas tree. The same kind that Iscariot used to hang himself on, sir, after he betrayed our Lord.”
Christopher still gazed at Sharpe, then seemed to realize that no slur had been intended. „So it’s not a cherry tree, eh?” he said, then licked the point of his pencil. „You are hereby ordered”-he spoke as he wrote-”to return south of the river forthwith-note that, Sharpe, forthwith-and report for duty to Captain Hogan of the Royal Engineers. Signed, Lieutenant Colonel James Christopher, on the forenoon of Wednesday, March the 29th in the year of our Lord, 1809.” He signed the order with a flourish, tore the page from the book, folded it in half and handed it to Sharpe. „I always thought thirty pieces of silver was a remarkably cheap price for the most famous betrayal in history. He probably hanged himself out of shame. Now go,” he said grandly, „and ‘stand not upon the order of your going.’ „He saw Sharpe’s puzzlement, „Macbeth, Lieutenant,” he explained as he spurred his horse toward the gate, „a play by Shakespeare. And I really would urge haste upon you, Lieutenant,” Christopher called back, „for the enemy will be here any moment.”
In that, at least, he was right. A great spume of dust and smoke was boiling out from the central redoubts of the city’s northern defenses. That was where the Portuguese had been putting up the strongest resistance, but the French artillery had managed to throw down the parapets and now their infantry assaulted the bastions, and the majority of the city’s defenders were fleeing. Sharpe watched Christopher and his servant gallop through the fugitives and turn into a street that led eastward. Christopher was not retreating south, but going to the rescue of the missing Savage girl, though it would be a close-run thing if he were to escape the city before the French entered it. „All right, lads,” Sharpe called, „time to bloody scarper. Sergeant! At the double! Down to the bridge!”
„About bloody time,” Williamson grumbled. Sharpe pretended not to have heard. He tended to ignore a lot of Williamson’s comments, thinking the man might improve but knowing that the longer he did nothing the more violent would be the solution. He just hoped Williamson knew the same thing.
„Two files!” Harper shouted. „Stay together!”
A cannonball rumbled above them as they ran out of the front garden and turned down the steep road that led to the Douro.
Christopher still gazed at Sharpe, then seemed to realize that no slur had been intended. „So it’s not a cherry tree, eh?” he said, then licked the point of his pencil. „You are hereby ordered”-he spoke as he wrote-”to return south of the river forthwith-note that, Sharpe, forthwith-and report for duty to Captain Hogan of the Royal Engineers. Signed, Lieutenant Colonel James Christopher, on the forenoon of Wednesday, March the 29th in the year of our Lord, 1809.” He signed the order with a flourish, tore the page from the book, folded it in half and handed it to Sharpe. „I always thought thirty pieces of silver was a remarkably cheap price for the most famous betrayal in history. He probably hanged himself out of shame. Now go,” he said grandly, „and ‘stand not upon the order of your going.’ „He saw Sharpe’s puzzlement, „Macbeth, Lieutenant,” he explained as he spurred his horse toward the gate, „a play by Shakespeare. And I really would urge haste upon you, Lieutenant,” Christopher called back, „for the enemy will be here any moment.”
In that, at least, he was right. A great spume of dust and smoke was boiling out from the central redoubts of the city’s northern defenses. That was where the Portuguese had been putting up the strongest resistance, but the French artillery had managed to throw down the parapets and now their infantry assaulted the bastions, and the majority of the city’s defenders were fleeing. Sharpe watched Christopher and his servant gallop through the fugitives and turn into a street that led eastward. Christopher was not retreating south, but going to the rescue of the missing Savage girl, though it would be a close-run thing if he were to escape the city before the French entered it. „All right, lads,” Sharpe called, „time to bloody scarper. Sergeant! At the double! Down to the bridge!”
„About bloody time,” Williamson grumbled. Sharpe pretended not to have heard. He tended to ignore a lot of Williamson’s comments, thinking the man might improve but knowing that the longer he did nothing the more violent would be the solution. He just hoped Williamson knew the same thing.
„Two files!” Harper shouted. „Stay together!”
A cannonball rumbled above them as they ran out of the front garden and turned down the steep road that led to the Douro.