JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 117 из 242”
„What do you want us to do?” Sharpe asked. „Go down there? Rescue them? And while we’re there, what happens up here? Those bastards take the hill.” He pointed at the French voltigeurs who were still halfway up the hill, uncertain whether to keep climbing or to give up the attempt. „And when you get down there,” Sharpe went on, „what are you going to find? Dragoons. Hundreds of bloody dragoons. And when the last of your men are dead you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you tried to save the village.” He saw the stubbornness on Vicente’s face. „There’s nothing you can do.”
„We have to try,” Vicente insisted.
„You want to take some men on patrol? Then do it, but the rest of us stay up here. This place is our one chance of staying alive.”
Vicente shivered. „You will not keep going south?”
„We get off this hill,” Sharpe said, „and we’re going to have dragoons giving us haircuts with their bloody swords. We’re trapped, Lieutenant, we’re trapped.”
„You will let me take a patrol down to the village?”
„Three men,” Sharpe said. He was reluctant to let even three men go with Vicente, but he could see that the Portuguese lieutenant was desperate to know what was happening to his countrymen. „Stay in cover, Lieutenant,” Sharpe advised. „Stay in the trees. Go very carefully!”
Vicente was back three hours later. There were simply too many dragoons and blue-jacketed infantry around Vila Real de Zedes and he had got nowhere near the village. „But I heard screams,” he said.
„Aye,” Sharpe said, „you would have done.”
Beneath him, beyond the Quinta, the remnants of the village church burned out in the dark damp night. It was the only light he could see. There were no stars, no candles, no lamps, just the sullen red glow of the burning church.
And tomorrow, Sharpe knew, the French would come for him again.
In the morning the French officers had breakfast on the terrace of the tavern beneath a vine trellis. The village had proved to be full of food and there was newly baked bread, ham, eggs and coffee for breakfast. The rain had gone to leave a damp feel in the wind, but there were shadows in the fields and the promise of warm sunlight in the air. The smoke of the burned-out church drifted northwards, taking with it the stench of roasted flesh.
Maria, the red-headed girl, served Colonel Christopher his coffee. The Colonel was picking his teeth with a sliver of ivory, but he took it from his mouth to thank her. „Obrigado, Maria,” he said in a pleasant tone.
„What do you want us to do?” Sharpe asked. „Go down there? Rescue them? And while we’re there, what happens up here? Those bastards take the hill.” He pointed at the French voltigeurs who were still halfway up the hill, uncertain whether to keep climbing or to give up the attempt. „And when you get down there,” Sharpe went on, „what are you going to find? Dragoons. Hundreds of bloody dragoons. And when the last of your men are dead you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you tried to save the village.” He saw the stubbornness on Vicente’s face. „There’s nothing you can do.”
„We have to try,” Vicente insisted.
„You want to take some men on patrol? Then do it, but the rest of us stay up here. This place is our one chance of staying alive.”
Vicente shivered. „You will not keep going south?”
„We get off this hill,” Sharpe said, „and we’re going to have dragoons giving us haircuts with their bloody swords. We’re trapped, Lieutenant, we’re trapped.”
„You will let me take a patrol down to the village?”
„Three men,” Sharpe said. He was reluctant to let even three men go with Vicente, but he could see that the Portuguese lieutenant was desperate to know what was happening to his countrymen. „Stay in cover, Lieutenant,” Sharpe advised. „Stay in the trees. Go very carefully!”
Vicente was back three hours later. There were simply too many dragoons and blue-jacketed infantry around Vila Real de Zedes and he had got nowhere near the village. „But I heard screams,” he said.
„Aye,” Sharpe said, „you would have done.”
Beneath him, beyond the Quinta, the remnants of the village church burned out in the dark damp night. It was the only light he could see. There were no stars, no candles, no lamps, just the sullen red glow of the burning church.
And tomorrow, Sharpe knew, the French would come for him again.
In the morning the French officers had breakfast on the terrace of the tavern beneath a vine trellis. The village had proved to be full of food and there was newly baked bread, ham, eggs and coffee for breakfast. The rain had gone to leave a damp feel in the wind, but there were shadows in the fields and the promise of warm sunlight in the air. The smoke of the burned-out church drifted northwards, taking with it the stench of roasted flesh.
Maria, the red-headed girl, served Colonel Christopher his coffee. The Colonel was picking his teeth with a sliver of ivory, but he took it from his mouth to thank her. „Obrigado, Maria,” he said in a pleasant tone.