JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 40 из 213”
“Tell me again what you found. Tell me everything.”
Sharpe shrugged. He took off his shako to let the small breeze cool his forehead. He spoke of that day in the wood, of the prisoner’s seeming arrogance. He mentioned the sword, he spoke of his suspicion that Leroux pretended not to understand English. Hogan smiled at that. “You were right. He speaks English like a bloody native. Go on.”
“There isn’t any more. I’ve told you everything!” Sharpe looked behind the ridge to see where the aide-de-camp had ridden, and an urgency suddenly came over him. “Look! We’re moving! Christ!” He crammed his shako back on.
The South Essex, together with another Battalion, had been stirred into activity. They had stood up, dressed their ranks, and now they were climbing the hill in companies. They were going to attack! Sharpe looked north, at the small knoll, and he knew that Wellington was meeting the French move with a move of his own. The French would be pushed offthe small hill, and the South Essex was to be one of the two Battalions that did the pushing. “I must go!”
“Richard!” Hogan held his elbow. “For God’s sake. Nothing else? No papers? No books? Nothing hidden in his helmet, I mean, God, he must have had something!”
Sharpe was impatient. He wanted to be with his men. The Light Company would be first into the attack and Sharpe would lead them. Already he was forgetting Leroux and thinking only of the enemy skirmishers he would face in a few minutes. He snapped his fingers. “No, yes. Yes. There was one thing. Jesus! A piece of paper, he said it was horse dealers or something. It was just a list!”
“You have it?”
“It’s in my pack. Down there.” He pointed to the place the South Essex had left. The Battalion was halfway up the slope now, the Light Company already stretching ahead. “I must go, sir!”
“Can I look for the paper?”
“Yes!” Sharpe was running now, released by Hogan, and his scabbard and rifle thumped as he hurried towards his men. The leather casings were being stripped from the colours so that the flags, unfurled, spread in the small breeze, their tassels bright yellow against the Union Flag. He felt the surge of emotion because the Colours were a soldier’s pride. They were going to fight!
“Are they going to fight?” La Marquesa de Casares el Grande y Melida Sadaba had come to San Christobal hoping for a battle. Lord Spears was with her, his horse close to the elegant barouche, while La Marquesa herself was chaperoned by a dowdy, middle-aged woman who was wilting of the heat in a thick serge dress.
“Tell me again what you found. Tell me everything.”
Sharpe shrugged. He took off his shako to let the small breeze cool his forehead. He spoke of that day in the wood, of the prisoner’s seeming arrogance. He mentioned the sword, he spoke of his suspicion that Leroux pretended not to understand English. Hogan smiled at that. “You were right. He speaks English like a bloody native. Go on.”
“There isn’t any more. I’ve told you everything!” Sharpe looked behind the ridge to see where the aide-de-camp had ridden, and an urgency suddenly came over him. “Look! We’re moving! Christ!” He crammed his shako back on.
The South Essex, together with another Battalion, had been stirred into activity. They had stood up, dressed their ranks, and now they were climbing the hill in companies. They were going to attack! Sharpe looked north, at the small knoll, and he knew that Wellington was meeting the French move with a move of his own. The French would be pushed offthe small hill, and the South Essex was to be one of the two Battalions that did the pushing. “I must go!”
“Richard!” Hogan held his elbow. “For God’s sake. Nothing else? No papers? No books? Nothing hidden in his helmet, I mean, God, he must have had something!”
Sharpe was impatient. He wanted to be with his men. The Light Company would be first into the attack and Sharpe would lead them. Already he was forgetting Leroux and thinking only of the enemy skirmishers he would face in a few minutes. He snapped his fingers. “No, yes. Yes. There was one thing. Jesus! A piece of paper, he said it was horse dealers or something. It was just a list!”
“You have it?”
“It’s in my pack. Down there.” He pointed to the place the South Essex had left. The Battalion was halfway up the slope now, the Light Company already stretching ahead. “I must go, sir!”
“Can I look for the paper?”
“Yes!” Sharpe was running now, released by Hogan, and his scabbard and rifle thumped as he hurried towards his men. The leather casings were being stripped from the colours so that the flags, unfurled, spread in the small breeze, their tassels bright yellow against the Union Flag. He felt the surge of emotion because the Colours were a soldier’s pride. They were going to fight!
“Are they going to fight?” La Marquesa de Casares el Grande y Melida Sadaba had come to San Christobal hoping for a battle. Lord Spears was with her, his horse close to the elegant barouche, while La Marquesa herself was chaperoned by a dowdy, middle-aged woman who was wilting of the heat in a thick serge dress.