JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 209 из 213It seemed to hang for a second at the top of its arc, speared light at the three men, and then fell. It fell towards the Tormes’ deepest part, still turning, and then the sun left it so the steel was grey and then it struck the sheen of the water, broke it, and was gone.
Harper cleared his throat. “You’ll frighten the fishes.”
“That’s more than you ever did.”
Harper laughed. “I caught some.”
The goodbyes were said again, the hooves sounded on the bridge’s stones, and Sharpe walked slowly back to the town. He did not want this leave to be long. He wanted to be back with the South Essex, in the skirmish line where he belonged, but he would wait a week and eat his food and rest as he had been ordered.
He pushed open the door of the small courtyard of the house that was his new address, registered with the Town Major, and he stopped. She looked up. “I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were lost.” He had been right. Memory was the worst souvenir. Memory told him she had long dark hair, a face like a hawk, a body that was slim and muscled from the days of riding the high border hills. Memory forgot the movement of a face, the life of a person.
Teresa put the cat on the ground, smiled at her husband, and came towards him. “I’m sorry. I was far north. What happened?”
„I’ll tell you later.“ He kissed her, held her, kissed her again. There was guilt inside him.
She looked up at him, puzzled. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Where’s Antonia?”
“Inside.” She jerked her head towards the kitchen where Hogan’s ‘motherly old soul’ was singing. Teresa shrugged. “She’s found someone else who wants to look after her. I suppose I shouldn’t have brought her, but I thought she ought to be near her father’s grave.”
“Not yet.” They both laughed because they were embarrassed.
The sword scraped on the ground and he took it off, laid it on the table, then hugged her again. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Worrying you.”
“Did you think this marriage would be calm?” She smiled.
“No.” He kissed her again, and this time he let his relief pour out of him, and she held him tight so that the wound hurt, but it did not matter. Love mattered, but that was so hard to learn, and he kissed her again and again till she drew away.
She smiled up at him, happiness in her eyes. “Hello, Richard.”
“Hello, wife.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“So’m I.”
She laughed, then looked at the sword.
Harper cleared his throat. “You’ll frighten the fishes.”
“That’s more than you ever did.”
Harper laughed. “I caught some.”
The goodbyes were said again, the hooves sounded on the bridge’s stones, and Sharpe walked slowly back to the town. He did not want this leave to be long. He wanted to be back with the South Essex, in the skirmish line where he belonged, but he would wait a week and eat his food and rest as he had been ordered.
He pushed open the door of the small courtyard of the house that was his new address, registered with the Town Major, and he stopped. She looked up. “I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were lost.” He had been right. Memory was the worst souvenir. Memory told him she had long dark hair, a face like a hawk, a body that was slim and muscled from the days of riding the high border hills. Memory forgot the movement of a face, the life of a person.
Teresa put the cat on the ground, smiled at her husband, and came towards him. “I’m sorry. I was far north. What happened?”
„I’ll tell you later.“ He kissed her, held her, kissed her again. There was guilt inside him.
She looked up at him, puzzled. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Where’s Antonia?”
“Inside.” She jerked her head towards the kitchen where Hogan’s ‘motherly old soul’ was singing. Teresa shrugged. “She’s found someone else who wants to look after her. I suppose I shouldn’t have brought her, but I thought she ought to be near her father’s grave.”
“Not yet.” They both laughed because they were embarrassed.
The sword scraped on the ground and he took it off, laid it on the table, then hugged her again. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Worrying you.”
“Did you think this marriage would be calm?” She smiled.
“No.” He kissed her again, and this time he let his relief pour out of him, and she held him tight so that the wound hurt, but it did not matter. Love mattered, but that was so hard to learn, and he kissed her again and again till she drew away.
She smiled up at him, happiness in her eyes. “Hello, Richard.”
“Hello, wife.”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“So’m I.”
She laughed, then looked at the sword.