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Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 136 из 213“Say that all again.”
She said it again, and this time she wanted to know where he had been. He had missed La Marquesa, the most gracious person Isabella had ever met, a Queen! Well, almost a Queen, and Harper missed her, and tomorrow they were all moving to a house by the river and they were to have servants! And by the way the Captain is much better.
“What do you mean, better?”
“I changed the bandage, si? She was here! I thought she might visit us. She visit everyone. So I change the bandage and no muck? Patrick! No muck!”
“No pus?”
“No nothing. No muck, no blood.”
“Where is he now?”
She opened her eyes wide because her tale was dramatic. “He sit up in bed, si? Up! He very happy that La Marquesa see him!.” She punched Harper. “And you do not see her! Four horses! And your friend was here.”
“My friend?”
“The English Lord. Lord Spears.” She sighed. “He has a blue and silver uniform, all shining, and no arm any more! The bandage is off!”
“You mean his arm is out of the sling?”
“That’s what I say.” She smiled at him. “You would look good in blue and silver.”
“Aye. It would make a change from black and blue.” He grinned at her. “Would you stay here, woman? I want to talk to him.”
He pushed open the door of Sharpe’s room and, as Isabella had said, Sharpe was sitting up. There was an expression of wonderment on Sharpe’s face as if he expected the clenching pain to come back at any moment. He looked up at Harper and smiled. “It’s better than it was. I don’t understand it.”
“The doctors said it might happen.”
“The doctors said I would die.” He saw the sword in Harper’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Just an old sword, sir.” Harper tried to keep his voice matter of fact, but he could not hide his grin. He shrugged. “I thought you might be wanting it.”
“Show me.” Sharpe held out a hand and Harper saw how desperately thin his Captain’s wrist was. Harper reversed the sword, held it out, and Sharpe grasped the handle. Harper pulled the scabbard away, the sword was in Sharpe’s hand, and the weight pulled it down, almost to the floor, and Sharpe had to use all his feeble strength to bring the long, clumsy blade up again. It shone in the small light from the window. Sharpe’s eyes stayed on the blade and his face was all that Harper could want. The blade turned over, slowly, the arm horribly weak as it rehearsed the twist that the sword needed as it lunged into an enemy.
She said it again, and this time she wanted to know where he had been. He had missed La Marquesa, the most gracious person Isabella had ever met, a Queen! Well, almost a Queen, and Harper missed her, and tomorrow they were all moving to a house by the river and they were to have servants! And by the way the Captain is much better.
“What do you mean, better?”
“I changed the bandage, si? She was here! I thought she might visit us. She visit everyone. So I change the bandage and no muck? Patrick! No muck!”
“No pus?”
“No nothing. No muck, no blood.”
“Where is he now?”
She opened her eyes wide because her tale was dramatic. “He sit up in bed, si? Up! He very happy that La Marquesa see him!.” She punched Harper. “And you do not see her! Four horses! And your friend was here.”
“My friend?”
“The English Lord. Lord Spears.” She sighed. “He has a blue and silver uniform, all shining, and no arm any more! The bandage is off!”
“You mean his arm is out of the sling?”
“That’s what I say.” She smiled at him. “You would look good in blue and silver.”
“Aye. It would make a change from black and blue.” He grinned at her. “Would you stay here, woman? I want to talk to him.”
He pushed open the door of Sharpe’s room and, as Isabella had said, Sharpe was sitting up. There was an expression of wonderment on Sharpe’s face as if he expected the clenching pain to come back at any moment. He looked up at Harper and smiled. “It’s better than it was. I don’t understand it.”
“The doctors said it might happen.”
“The doctors said I would die.” He saw the sword in Harper’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Just an old sword, sir.” Harper tried to keep his voice matter of fact, but he could not hide his grin. He shrugged. “I thought you might be wanting it.”
“Show me.” Sharpe held out a hand and Harper saw how desperately thin his Captain’s wrist was. Harper reversed the sword, held it out, and Sharpe grasped the handle. Harper pulled the scabbard away, the sword was in Sharpe’s hand, and the weight pulled it down, almost to the floor, and Sharpe had to use all his feeble strength to bring the long, clumsy blade up again. It shone in the small light from the window. Sharpe’s eyes stayed on the blade and his face was all that Harper could want. The blade turned over, slowly, the arm horribly weak as it rehearsed the twist that the sword needed as it lunged into an enemy.