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Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
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Sharpe grimaced. „The French have a day’s start on us.”
„No, they don’t. Like fools they went toward Amarante which means they didn’t know that the Portuguese had recaptured it. By now they’ll have discovered their predicament, but I doubt they’ll start north till dawn. If we hurry, we beat them.” He frowned, looking down at the map. „There’s only one real problem I can see, other than finding Mister Christopher when we get there.”
„A problem?”
„I can find my way to Ponte Nova from Braga,” Hogan said, „but what if the French are already on the Braga road? We’ll have to take to the hills and it’s wild country, Richard, an easy place to get lost. We need a guide and we need to find him fast.”
Sharpe grinned. „If you don’t mind traveling with a Portuguese officer who thinks he’s a philosopher and a poet then I think I know just the man.”
„I’m Irish,” Hogan said, „there’s nothing we love more than philosophy and poetry.”
„He’s a lawyer too.”
„If he gets us to Ponte Nova,” Hogan said, „then God will doubtless forgive him for that.”
The women’s laughter was loud, but it was time to end the party. It was time for a dozen of Sharpe’s best men to mend their boots and fill their cartridge boxes.
It was time for revenge.
CHAPTER 10
Kate sat in a corner of the carriage and wept. The carriage was going nowhere. It was not even a proper carriage, not half as comfortable as the Quinta’s fragile gig that had been abandoned in Oporto and nothing like as substantial as the one her mother had taken south across the river in March, and how Kate now wished she had gone with her mother, but instead she had been stricken by romance and certain that love’s fulfillment would bring her golden skies, clear horizons and endless joy.
Instead she was in a two-wheeled Oporto hackney with a leaking leather roof, cracked springs and a broken-down gelding between its shafts, and the carriage was going nowhere because the fleeing French army was stuck on the road to Amarante. Rain seethed on the roof, streaked the windows and dripped onto Kate’s lap and she did not care, she just hunched in the corner and wept.
The door was tugged open and Christopher put his head in. „There are going to be some bangs,” he told her, „but there’s no need to be alarmed.” He paused, decided he could not cope with her sobbing, so just closed the door. Then he jerked it open again.
Sharpe grimaced. „The French have a day’s start on us.”
„No, they don’t. Like fools they went toward Amarante which means they didn’t know that the Portuguese had recaptured it. By now they’ll have discovered their predicament, but I doubt they’ll start north till dawn. If we hurry, we beat them.” He frowned, looking down at the map. „There’s only one real problem I can see, other than finding Mister Christopher when we get there.”
„A problem?”
„I can find my way to Ponte Nova from Braga,” Hogan said, „but what if the French are already on the Braga road? We’ll have to take to the hills and it’s wild country, Richard, an easy place to get lost. We need a guide and we need to find him fast.”
Sharpe grinned. „If you don’t mind traveling with a Portuguese officer who thinks he’s a philosopher and a poet then I think I know just the man.”
„I’m Irish,” Hogan said, „there’s nothing we love more than philosophy and poetry.”
„He’s a lawyer too.”
„If he gets us to Ponte Nova,” Hogan said, „then God will doubtless forgive him for that.”
The women’s laughter was loud, but it was time to end the party. It was time for a dozen of Sharpe’s best men to mend their boots and fill their cartridge boxes.
It was time for revenge.
CHAPTER 10
Kate sat in a corner of the carriage and wept. The carriage was going nowhere. It was not even a proper carriage, not half as comfortable as the Quinta’s fragile gig that had been abandoned in Oporto and nothing like as substantial as the one her mother had taken south across the river in March, and how Kate now wished she had gone with her mother, but instead she had been stricken by romance and certain that love’s fulfillment would bring her golden skies, clear horizons and endless joy.
Instead she was in a two-wheeled Oporto hackney with a leaking leather roof, cracked springs and a broken-down gelding between its shafts, and the carriage was going nowhere because the fleeing French army was stuck on the road to Amarante. Rain seethed on the roof, streaked the windows and dripped onto Kate’s lap and she did not care, she just hunched in the corner and wept.
The door was tugged open and Christopher put his head in. „There are going to be some bangs,” he told her, „but there’s no need to be alarmed.” He paused, decided he could not cope with her sobbing, so just closed the door. Then he jerked it open again.