JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 202 из 244Artillery are looking after themselves. One wagon should do it, but it needs an escort, Sharpe. French cavalry are lively down there."
"Can we help?" Captain Donaju had overheard Tarrant's hurried explanation of Sharpe's errand.
"Might need you later, Captain," Tarrant said. "I have a feeling today's likely to be lively all round. Never seen the Frogs so uppity. Have you, Sharpe?"
"They've got their tails up today, Major," Sharpe agreed. He looked up at the wagon driver. "Are you ready?"
The driver nodded. His wagon was an English four-wheeled farm vehicle with high splayed sides to which were harnessed three Cleveland Bays in single file. "Had four beasts once," the driver remarked as Sharpe climbed up beside him, "but a Frenchie shell got Bess, so now I'm down to three." The driver had woven red and blue woollen braiding into the horses' manes and had decorated his wagon's flanks with discarded cap-plates and thrown horseshoes that he had nailed to the planking. "You know where we're going?" he asked Sharpe as Harper ordered the riflemen to climb onto the boxes of ammunition stacked on the wagon's bed.
"After them." Sharpe pointed to his right where the plateau offered a gentler slope down to the southern lowlands and where the Light Division was marching south beneath its banners. It was Sharpe's old division, made up of riflemen and light infantry, and it regarded itself as the army's elite division. Now it was marching to save the Seventh Division from annihilation.
A mile away, across the Dos Casas stream and close to the ruined barn that served as his headquarters, Marshal Andrй Massйna saw the fresh British troops leaving the plateau's protection to march south towards the beleaguered redcoats and Portuguese. "The fool," he said to himself, then louder in a gleeful voice, "the fool!"
"Your Majesty?" an aide inquired.
"The first rule of war, Jean," the Marshal said, "is never to reinforce failure. And what is our whore-free Englishman doing? He's sending more troops to be massacred by our cavalry!" The Marshal put the telescope back to his eye. He could see guns and cavalry going south with the new troops. "Or maybe he's withdrawing?" he mused aloud. "Maybe he's making sure he can get back to Portugal. Where's Loup's brigade?"
"Just north of here, Your Majesty," the aide answered.
"With his whore, no doubt?" Massena asked sourly. Juanita de Elia's flamboyant presence with the Loup Brigade had drawn the attention and jealousy of every Frenchman in the army.
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
Massena snapped the telescope shut. He disliked Loup.
"Can we help?" Captain Donaju had overheard Tarrant's hurried explanation of Sharpe's errand.
"Might need you later, Captain," Tarrant said. "I have a feeling today's likely to be lively all round. Never seen the Frogs so uppity. Have you, Sharpe?"
"They've got their tails up today, Major," Sharpe agreed. He looked up at the wagon driver. "Are you ready?"
The driver nodded. His wagon was an English four-wheeled farm vehicle with high splayed sides to which were harnessed three Cleveland Bays in single file. "Had four beasts once," the driver remarked as Sharpe climbed up beside him, "but a Frenchie shell got Bess, so now I'm down to three." The driver had woven red and blue woollen braiding into the horses' manes and had decorated his wagon's flanks with discarded cap-plates and thrown horseshoes that he had nailed to the planking. "You know where we're going?" he asked Sharpe as Harper ordered the riflemen to climb onto the boxes of ammunition stacked on the wagon's bed.
"After them." Sharpe pointed to his right where the plateau offered a gentler slope down to the southern lowlands and where the Light Division was marching south beneath its banners. It was Sharpe's old division, made up of riflemen and light infantry, and it regarded itself as the army's elite division. Now it was marching to save the Seventh Division from annihilation.
A mile away, across the Dos Casas stream and close to the ruined barn that served as his headquarters, Marshal Andrй Massйna saw the fresh British troops leaving the plateau's protection to march south towards the beleaguered redcoats and Portuguese. "The fool," he said to himself, then louder in a gleeful voice, "the fool!"
"Your Majesty?" an aide inquired.
"The first rule of war, Jean," the Marshal said, "is never to reinforce failure. And what is our whore-free Englishman doing? He's sending more troops to be massacred by our cavalry!" The Marshal put the telescope back to his eye. He could see guns and cavalry going south with the new troops. "Or maybe he's withdrawing?" he mused aloud. "Maybe he's making sure he can get back to Portugal. Where's Loup's brigade?"
"Just north of here, Your Majesty," the aide answered.
"With his whore, no doubt?" Massena asked sourly. Juanita de Elia's flamboyant presence with the Loup Brigade had drawn the attention and jealousy of every Frenchman in the army.
"Indeed, Your Majesty."
Massena snapped the telescope shut. He disliked Loup.