JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 119 из 242I think we shall let les belles filles have their wicked way with them first, yes?”
„Les belles filles?” Christopher asked, wondering why on earth Vuillard would send girlsup to the watchtower.
„The Emperor’s name for his cannon,” Vuillard explained. „Les belles filles. There’s a battery at Valengo and they must have a brace of howitzers. I’m sure the gunners will be pleased to lend us their toys, aren’t you? A day of target practice and those idiots on the hill will be as broken as your redhead.” The Brigadier watched as the girls brought out the food. „I shall look at their target after we’ve eaten. Perhaps you will do me the honor of lending me your telescope?”
„Of course,” Christopher pushed the glass across the table. „But take care of it, my dear Vuillard. It’s rather precious to me.”
Vuillard examined the brass plate and knew just enough English to decipher its meaning. „Who is this AW?”
„Sir Arthur Wellesley, of course.”
„And why would he be grateful to you?”
„You couldn’t possibly expect a gentleman to answer a question like that, my dear Vuillard. It would be boasting. Suffice it to say that I did not merely black his boots.” Christopher smiled modestly, then helped himself to eggs and bread.
Two hundred dragoons rode the short journey back to Valengo. They escorted an officer who carried a request for a pair of howitzers, and the officer and the dragoons returned that same morning.
With one howitzer only. But that, Vuillard was certain, would be enough. The riflemen were doomed.
CHAPTER 6
„What you really wanted,” Lieutenant Pelletieu said, „was a mortar.”
„A mortar?” Brigadier General Vuillard was astonished at the Lieutenant’s self-confidence. „You are telling me what I want?”
„What you want,” Pelletieu said confidently, „is a mortar. It’s a question of elevation, sir.”
„It is a question, Lieutenant”-Vuillard put a deal of stress on Pelletieu’s lowly rank-”of pouring death, shit, horror and damnation on those impudent bastards on that goddamned hilltop.” He pointed to the watchtower. He was standing at the edge of the wood where he had invited Lieutenant Pelletieu to unlimber his howitzer and start slaughtering. „Don’t talk to me of elevation! Talk to me of killing.”
„Killing is our business, sir,” the Lieutenant said, quite unmoved by the Brigadier’s anger, „but I do have to get closer to the impudent bastards.” He was a very young man, so young that Vuillard wondered whether Pelletieu had even begun to shave.
„Les belles filles?” Christopher asked, wondering why on earth Vuillard would send girlsup to the watchtower.
„The Emperor’s name for his cannon,” Vuillard explained. „Les belles filles. There’s a battery at Valengo and they must have a brace of howitzers. I’m sure the gunners will be pleased to lend us their toys, aren’t you? A day of target practice and those idiots on the hill will be as broken as your redhead.” The Brigadier watched as the girls brought out the food. „I shall look at their target after we’ve eaten. Perhaps you will do me the honor of lending me your telescope?”
„Of course,” Christopher pushed the glass across the table. „But take care of it, my dear Vuillard. It’s rather precious to me.”
Vuillard examined the brass plate and knew just enough English to decipher its meaning. „Who is this AW?”
„Sir Arthur Wellesley, of course.”
„And why would he be grateful to you?”
„You couldn’t possibly expect a gentleman to answer a question like that, my dear Vuillard. It would be boasting. Suffice it to say that I did not merely black his boots.” Christopher smiled modestly, then helped himself to eggs and bread.
Two hundred dragoons rode the short journey back to Valengo. They escorted an officer who carried a request for a pair of howitzers, and the officer and the dragoons returned that same morning.
With one howitzer only. But that, Vuillard was certain, would be enough. The riflemen were doomed.
CHAPTER 6
„What you really wanted,” Lieutenant Pelletieu said, „was a mortar.”
„A mortar?” Brigadier General Vuillard was astonished at the Lieutenant’s self-confidence. „You are telling me what I want?”
„What you want,” Pelletieu said confidently, „is a mortar. It’s a question of elevation, sir.”
„It is a question, Lieutenant”-Vuillard put a deal of stress on Pelletieu’s lowly rank-”of pouring death, shit, horror and damnation on those impudent bastards on that goddamned hilltop.” He pointed to the watchtower. He was standing at the edge of the wood where he had invited Lieutenant Pelletieu to unlimber his howitzer and start slaughtering. „Don’t talk to me of elevation! Talk to me of killing.”
„Killing is our business, sir,” the Lieutenant said, quite unmoved by the Brigadier’s anger, „but I do have to get closer to the impudent bastards.” He was a very young man, so young that Vuillard wondered whether Pelletieu had even begun to shave.