JК
Sharpes Havoc :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 44 из 242„It is only a uniform, Luis! It is not a sign of a changed allegiance!”
„A French uniform,” Luis had complained.
„You wish Portugal to be free of the French?” Christopher snapped. „Then behave respectfully and forget this uniform.”
Now Christopher paced the terrace, picking at his teeth and constantly watching the road that led across the hill. The clock in the farm’s elegant parlor struck three and no sooner had the last chime faded than a large column of cavalry appeared across the far crest. They were dragoons and they came in force to make sure that no partisans or fugitive Portuguese troops gave trouble to the officer who rode to meet Christopher.
The dragoons, all from the 18th regiment, wheeled away into the ields beneath the farmhouse where a stream offered water for their lorses. The cavalrymen’s rose-fronted green coats were white with dust. Some, seeing Christopher in his French hussar’s uniform, offered a hasty salute, but most ignored him and just led their horses toward the stream is the Englishman turned to greet his visitor.
His name was Argenton and he was a captain and the Adjutant of the 18th Dragoons and it was plain from his smile that he knew and liked colonel Christopher. „The uniform becomes you,” Argenton said.
„I found it in Oporto,” Christopher said. „It belonged to a poor fellow who was a prisoner and died of the fever and a tailor trimmed it to size for me.”
„He did well,” Argenton said admiringly. „Now all you need are the cadenettes.”
„The cadenettes?”
„The pigtails,” Argenton explained, touching his temples where the French hussars grew their hair long to mark themselves as elite cavalrymen. „Some men go bald and have wigmakers attach false cadenettes to their shakoes or colbacks.”
„I’m not sure I want to grow pigtails,” Christopher said, amused, „but perhaps I can find some girl with black hair and cut off a pair of tails, eh?”
„A good idea,” Argenton said. He watched approvingly as his escort set picquets, then smiled his thanks as a very sullen-looking Luis brought him and Christopher glasses of vinho verde, the golden white wine of the Douro valley. Argenton sipped the wine cautiously and was surprised that it was so good. He was a slight man with a frank, open face and red hair that was damp with sweat and marked where his helmet had been. He smiled easily, a reflection of his trusting nature. Christopher rather despised the Frenchman, but knew he would be useful.
Argenton drained the wine. „Did you hear about the drownings in Oporto?” he asked.
„A French uniform,” Luis had complained.
„You wish Portugal to be free of the French?” Christopher snapped. „Then behave respectfully and forget this uniform.”
Now Christopher paced the terrace, picking at his teeth and constantly watching the road that led across the hill. The clock in the farm’s elegant parlor struck three and no sooner had the last chime faded than a large column of cavalry appeared across the far crest. They were dragoons and they came in force to make sure that no partisans or fugitive Portuguese troops gave trouble to the officer who rode to meet Christopher.
The dragoons, all from the 18th regiment, wheeled away into the ields beneath the farmhouse where a stream offered water for their lorses. The cavalrymen’s rose-fronted green coats were white with dust. Some, seeing Christopher in his French hussar’s uniform, offered a hasty salute, but most ignored him and just led their horses toward the stream is the Englishman turned to greet his visitor.
His name was Argenton and he was a captain and the Adjutant of the 18th Dragoons and it was plain from his smile that he knew and liked colonel Christopher. „The uniform becomes you,” Argenton said.
„I found it in Oporto,” Christopher said. „It belonged to a poor fellow who was a prisoner and died of the fever and a tailor trimmed it to size for me.”
„He did well,” Argenton said admiringly. „Now all you need are the cadenettes.”
„The cadenettes?”
„The pigtails,” Argenton explained, touching his temples where the French hussars grew their hair long to mark themselves as elite cavalrymen. „Some men go bald and have wigmakers attach false cadenettes to their shakoes or colbacks.”
„I’m not sure I want to grow pigtails,” Christopher said, amused, „but perhaps I can find some girl with black hair and cut off a pair of tails, eh?”
„A good idea,” Argenton said. He watched approvingly as his escort set picquets, then smiled his thanks as a very sullen-looking Luis brought him and Christopher glasses of vinho verde, the golden white wine of the Douro valley. Argenton sipped the wine cautiously and was surprised that it was so good. He was a slight man with a frank, open face and red hair that was damp with sweat and marked where his helmet had been. He smiled easily, a reflection of his trusting nature. Christopher rather despised the Frenchman, but knew he would be useful.
Argenton drained the wine. „Did you hear about the drownings in Oporto?” he asked.