JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 69 из 213”
“Christ! What’s a fit state? I’m drunk as an Archbishop, wits gone to the four winds.” Spears was, Sharpe could see, slightly unsteady. The cavalryman linked his free arm, the cigar clenched between his teeth, into Sharpe’s and steered the Rifleman into the courtyard. “Let’s have a look at you.” He stopped Sharpe in the light, turned him, and looked him up and down. “You should change your tailor, Richard, the man’s robbing you blind!” He grinned. “Bit of blood, that’s all. Come here!” He tossed the cigar into the pool and scooped water with his good hand, throwing it on Sharpe’s uniform and rubbing it down. “How was it out there?”
“Bloody.”
“So I see!” He was on one knee, slapping at Sharpe’s overalls. “It cost me a heavy purse.”
“How?”
Spears looked up and grinned. “I had a hundred on you getting into the fort before midnight. Lost it.”
“Dollars?”
Spears stood up and inspected his handiwork. “Spanish dollars, Richard? I’m a gentleman. Guineas, you fool.”
“You haven’t got a hundred guineas.”
Lord Spears shrugged. “Fellow has to keep up a decent appearance. If they knew I was as broke as a virgin whore they’d cut me dead.”
“Are you?”
Spears nodded. “I am, I am. And I don’t even have her remedy for making good the loss.” He cocked his head to one side, still inspecting Sharpe. “Not bad, Richard, not bad. The weapons add a touch of roughness to the ensemble, but I think we can improve you.” He looked round the courtyard and saw Sir Robin Callard, blind drunk, collapsed against a flower tub. Spears grinned. “Robin bloody Callard, ’pon my soul. He never could take his drink.“ He led the way towards the collapsed staff officer. ”I was at school with this poxy little swine. He used to wet his bed.“ Spears bent down and tugged at Callard. ”Robin? Sweet Robin?“
Callard gagged, threw himself forward, and Spears pushed his head down between his knees. Once he had him bent double he plucked the fur-trimmed cavalry pelisse from the shoulders, then tugged at the cravat. It was pinned. Callard’s head jerked and lolled, he made a drunken protest, but Spears banged the head down again, tugged harder, and the cravat came free. Spears came back to Sharpe. “Here. Wear these.”
“What about him?”
“He can roger the moon, for all I care. You wear ‘em, Richard, and throw them away tomorrow. If the little bastard wakes up and wants them back we’ll shove him head-first into the cess-pit. He’ll think he’s back home.
“Christ! What’s a fit state? I’m drunk as an Archbishop, wits gone to the four winds.” Spears was, Sharpe could see, slightly unsteady. The cavalryman linked his free arm, the cigar clenched between his teeth, into Sharpe’s and steered the Rifleman into the courtyard. “Let’s have a look at you.” He stopped Sharpe in the light, turned him, and looked him up and down. “You should change your tailor, Richard, the man’s robbing you blind!” He grinned. “Bit of blood, that’s all. Come here!” He tossed the cigar into the pool and scooped water with his good hand, throwing it on Sharpe’s uniform and rubbing it down. “How was it out there?”
“Bloody.”
“So I see!” He was on one knee, slapping at Sharpe’s overalls. “It cost me a heavy purse.”
“How?”
Spears looked up and grinned. “I had a hundred on you getting into the fort before midnight. Lost it.”
“Dollars?”
Spears stood up and inspected his handiwork. “Spanish dollars, Richard? I’m a gentleman. Guineas, you fool.”
“You haven’t got a hundred guineas.”
Lord Spears shrugged. “Fellow has to keep up a decent appearance. If they knew I was as broke as a virgin whore they’d cut me dead.”
“Are you?”
Spears nodded. “I am, I am. And I don’t even have her remedy for making good the loss.” He cocked his head to one side, still inspecting Sharpe. “Not bad, Richard, not bad. The weapons add a touch of roughness to the ensemble, but I think we can improve you.” He looked round the courtyard and saw Sir Robin Callard, blind drunk, collapsed against a flower tub. Spears grinned. “Robin bloody Callard, ’pon my soul. He never could take his drink.“ He led the way towards the collapsed staff officer. ”I was at school with this poxy little swine. He used to wet his bed.“ Spears bent down and tugged at Callard. ”Robin? Sweet Robin?“
Callard gagged, threw himself forward, and Spears pushed his head down between his knees. Once he had him bent double he plucked the fur-trimmed cavalry pelisse from the shoulders, then tugged at the cravat. It was pinned. Callard’s head jerked and lolled, he made a drunken protest, but Spears banged the head down again, tugged harder, and the cravat came free. Spears came back to Sharpe. “Here. Wear these.”
“What about him?”
“He can roger the moon, for all I care. You wear ‘em, Richard, and throw them away tomorrow. If the little bastard wakes up and wants them back we’ll shove him head-first into the cess-pit. He’ll think he’s back home.