JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 234 из 242Christopher saw him and turned to escape, but more men were already climbing the roadway and so there was no way off the bridge’s other side. „Kill him!” Christopher shouted at both Williamson and the hussar, and it was the Frenchman who obediently began to draw his saber, but Sharpe’s sword hissed in the rain and the man’s sword hand was almost cut off at the wrist and then Sharpe rammed the blade at the hussar’s chest and there was a scream as the cavalryman fell into the Misarella. The horse, terrified by the lightning and by the uncertain footing on the bridge, gave a great whinny and then bolted past Sharpe, almost knocking him off the roadway. Its horseshoes made sparks from the stones, then it was gone and Sharpe faced Christopher and Williamson on the Saltador’s thin crest.
Kate screamed at the sight of the long sword. „Get up the hill!” Sharpe shouted at her. „Move, Kate, move! And you, you bastard, give me my telescope!”
Christopher reached out to stop Kate, but Williamson darted past the Colonel and obstructed his hand, and Kate, seeing safety a few feet away, had the sense to run past Sharpe. Williamson tried to grab her, then saw Sharpe’s sword swinging toward him and he managed to parry the cut with his French musket. The clash of sword and gun drove Williamson back a pace and Sharpe was already following, snarling, the sword flickering out like a snake’s tongue to force Williamson another pace backward and then Christopher shoved the deserter forward again. „Kill him!” he screamed at Williamson and the deserter did his best, swinging the musket like a great club, but Sharpe stepped back from the wild blow, then came forward and the sword seared through the rain to catch Williamson on the side of his head, half severing his ear. Williamson staggered. The wide-brimmed leather hat had taken some of the blade’s sting, but the sheer force of the blow still sent Williamson lurching sideways toward the roadway’s ragged edge and Sharpe was still attacking, this time lunging, and the point of the blade pierced the deserter’s green jacket, jarred on a rib and sent Williamson over the edge. He screamed, then Christopher was alone with Sharpe on the high arched summit of the Saltador.
Christopher stared at his green-jacketed enemy. He did not believe what he saw.
Kate screamed at the sight of the long sword. „Get up the hill!” Sharpe shouted at her. „Move, Kate, move! And you, you bastard, give me my telescope!”
Christopher reached out to stop Kate, but Williamson darted past the Colonel and obstructed his hand, and Kate, seeing safety a few feet away, had the sense to run past Sharpe. Williamson tried to grab her, then saw Sharpe’s sword swinging toward him and he managed to parry the cut with his French musket. The clash of sword and gun drove Williamson back a pace and Sharpe was already following, snarling, the sword flickering out like a snake’s tongue to force Williamson another pace backward and then Christopher shoved the deserter forward again. „Kill him!” he screamed at Williamson and the deserter did his best, swinging the musket like a great club, but Sharpe stepped back from the wild blow, then came forward and the sword seared through the rain to catch Williamson on the side of his head, half severing his ear. Williamson staggered. The wide-brimmed leather hat had taken some of the blade’s sting, but the sheer force of the blow still sent Williamson lurching sideways toward the roadway’s ragged edge and Sharpe was still attacking, this time lunging, and the point of the blade pierced the deserter’s green jacket, jarred on a rib and sent Williamson over the edge. He screamed, then Christopher was alone with Sharpe on the high arched summit of the Saltador.
Christopher stared at his green-jacketed enemy. He did not believe what he saw.