JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 139 из 213“Itwould be a little obvious, Richard, wouldn’t it? If I rode out here with an armed man riding beside me? Stop worrying.”
The next evening Lord Spears came with her and they could not hide in the small shelter. They walked in the garden, chatting, and Sharpe had to pretend, though he guessed Spears knew otherwise, that he hardly knew La Marquesa, that she had plucked him from the hospital as an object of charity, and he said ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Milady’ and felt tongue-tied and clumsy, just as he had at their first meeting. At one moment in the evening, when the sun was a glorious crimson in the west, La Marquesa went to the low wall beside the river and threw bread scraps to the ducks. Sharpe was alone with Spears. The Rifleman remembered how the cavalryman had so desperately wanted to know the identity of El Mirador; how he had quizzed Sharpe in the Plaza Mayor on the morning after the first assault on the three fortresses. Sharpe grinned at Spears. “So you found out?”
“About you and Helena? You were hardly discreet, my dear Richard, coming here to her lair.”
Sharpe shook his head. “No. I meant about El Mirador.”
An extraordinary look of alarm crossed Spears’ face. It was followed by anger and a question that was almost hissed at Sharpe. “You know?”
Sharpe nodded. “Yes.”
“What the hell do you know?”
Sharpe tried to talk calmly, to quieten Spears’ anger. “I know that we’ve put a guard on El Mirador, and I presumed that you were doing that.“
“How did you know?”
“Hogan wrote to me.” It was not the whole truth. Hogan had written that El Mirador was guarded, but he had not named names. The rest had been Sharpe’s deduction and he had not expected this near violent reaction. He tried to calm Spears again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No, no offence.” Spears pushed his hair back. “Christ! We’re told this is the biggest bloody secret since turning water into wine and then Hogan has to write to you! How many more people know?” Spears glanced towards La Marquesa, then back at Sharpe. “Yes I am, but for God’s sake don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m hardly likely to.”
“No, no I suppose not.”
Sharpe wished he had not mentioned it. He had traduced Hogan by suggesting that the Irish Major had written everything in his letter, but Spears’ anger had made Sharpe decide not to launch himself on a convoluted explanation.
La Marquesa came back and looked at Spears. “You’re looking positively flustered, Jack.
The next evening Lord Spears came with her and they could not hide in the small shelter. They walked in the garden, chatting, and Sharpe had to pretend, though he guessed Spears knew otherwise, that he hardly knew La Marquesa, that she had plucked him from the hospital as an object of charity, and he said ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Milady’ and felt tongue-tied and clumsy, just as he had at their first meeting. At one moment in the evening, when the sun was a glorious crimson in the west, La Marquesa went to the low wall beside the river and threw bread scraps to the ducks. Sharpe was alone with Spears. The Rifleman remembered how the cavalryman had so desperately wanted to know the identity of El Mirador; how he had quizzed Sharpe in the Plaza Mayor on the morning after the first assault on the three fortresses. Sharpe grinned at Spears. “So you found out?”
“About you and Helena? You were hardly discreet, my dear Richard, coming here to her lair.”
Sharpe shook his head. “No. I meant about El Mirador.”
An extraordinary look of alarm crossed Spears’ face. It was followed by anger and a question that was almost hissed at Sharpe. “You know?”
Sharpe nodded. “Yes.”
“What the hell do you know?”
Sharpe tried to talk calmly, to quieten Spears’ anger. “I know that we’ve put a guard on El Mirador, and I presumed that you were doing that.“
“How did you know?”
“Hogan wrote to me.” It was not the whole truth. Hogan had written that El Mirador was guarded, but he had not named names. The rest had been Sharpe’s deduction and he had not expected this near violent reaction. He tried to calm Spears again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No, no offence.” Spears pushed his hair back. “Christ! We’re told this is the biggest bloody secret since turning water into wine and then Hogan has to write to you! How many more people know?” Spears glanced towards La Marquesa, then back at Sharpe. “Yes I am, but for God’s sake don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m hardly likely to.”
“No, no I suppose not.”
Sharpe wished he had not mentioned it. He had traduced Hogan by suggesting that the Irish Major had written everything in his letter, but Spears’ anger had made Sharpe decide not to launch himself on a convoluted explanation.
La Marquesa came back and looked at Spears. “You’re looking positively flustered, Jack.