JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 48 из 213It had to be Leroux who was pulling Sharpe back towards the city. Leroux, his enemy, and the man who possessed the sword Sharpe wanted. He smiled..He would have it yet.
CHAPTER 6
Wellington was angry, the officers about him nervous of his irritability. They watched Sharpe walk up to the General and salute.
Wellington scowled from the saddle. “By God, you took your time, Mr. Sharpe.”
“I came as fast as I could, my lord.”
“Dammit! Don’t you have a horse?”
“I’m an infantryman, sir.” It was an insolent reply, one that made the aristocratic aides-de-camp that Wellington liked look sharply at the dishevelled, hot Rifleman with the scarred face and battered weapons. Sharpe was not worried. He knew his man. He had saved the General’s life in India and ever since there had been a strange bond between them. The bond was not of friendship, never that, but a bond of need. Sharpe needed a patron, however remote, and Wellington sometimes had reluctant need of a ruthless and efficient soldier. Each man had a respect for the other. The General looked sourly at Sharpe. “So they didn’t fight?”
“No, sir.”
“God damn his French soul.” He was talking of Marshal Marmont. “They march all this bloody way just to pose for us? God damn them! So you met Leroux?” He asked the question in exactly the same tone in which he had damned the French.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You’d recognise him again?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good.” Wellington sounded far from pleased. “He’s not to escape from us, d’you understand? You’re to capture him. Understand?”
Sharpe understood. He would be going back to Salamanca and his job, suddenly, was to trap the pale-eyed French Colonel who even had Wellington worried. “I understand, sir.”
“Thank God somebody does.” The General snapped. “I’m putting you under Major Hogan’s command. He seems to have the knack of making you to the line, God knows how. Good day, Mr. Sharpe.”
“My lord?” Sharpe raised his voice for the General was already wheeling away.
“What is it?”
“I have a whole Company that would recognise him, sir.”
“You do, do you?” Wellington’s bad mood had driven him into clumsy sarcasm. “You want me to strip the South Essex of a Light Company just to make your life easier?”
“There are three forts, my lord, a long perimeter, and one man can’t have eyes everywhere.”
“Why not? They expect it of me.
CHAPTER 6
Wellington was angry, the officers about him nervous of his irritability. They watched Sharpe walk up to the General and salute.
Wellington scowled from the saddle. “By God, you took your time, Mr. Sharpe.”
“I came as fast as I could, my lord.”
“Dammit! Don’t you have a horse?”
“I’m an infantryman, sir.” It was an insolent reply, one that made the aristocratic aides-de-camp that Wellington liked look sharply at the dishevelled, hot Rifleman with the scarred face and battered weapons. Sharpe was not worried. He knew his man. He had saved the General’s life in India and ever since there had been a strange bond between them. The bond was not of friendship, never that, but a bond of need. Sharpe needed a patron, however remote, and Wellington sometimes had reluctant need of a ruthless and efficient soldier. Each man had a respect for the other. The General looked sourly at Sharpe. “So they didn’t fight?”
“No, sir.”
“God damn his French soul.” He was talking of Marshal Marmont. “They march all this bloody way just to pose for us? God damn them! So you met Leroux?” He asked the question in exactly the same tone in which he had damned the French.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You’d recognise him again?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good.” Wellington sounded far from pleased. “He’s not to escape from us, d’you understand? You’re to capture him. Understand?”
Sharpe understood. He would be going back to Salamanca and his job, suddenly, was to trap the pale-eyed French Colonel who even had Wellington worried. “I understand, sir.”
“Thank God somebody does.” The General snapped. “I’m putting you under Major Hogan’s command. He seems to have the knack of making you to the line, God knows how. Good day, Mr. Sharpe.”
“My lord?” Sharpe raised his voice for the General was already wheeling away.
“What is it?”
“I have a whole Company that would recognise him, sir.”
“You do, do you?” Wellington’s bad mood had driven him into clumsy sarcasm. “You want me to strip the South Essex of a Light Company just to make your life easier?”
“There are three forts, my lord, a long perimeter, and one man can’t have eyes everywhere.”
“Why not? They expect it of me.