Sharpes Battle   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

"Time to go, sir?" Hagman called, hinting that the riflemen would be cut off if Sharpe did not withdraw soon.

"Back we go," Sharpe said. "Run to that column." He pointed to some Portuguese infantry.

They ran, easily reaching the Portuguese before a half-hearted pursuit of vengeful chasseurs could get close to the riflemen, but the chasseurs' small charge attracted a flow of other cavalrymen, enough to make the Portuguese column shake itself into square. Sharpe and his men stayed in the square and watched as the cavalry streamed around the battalion. Brigadier General Craufurd had also taken shelter in the square and now observed the surrounding French from under the battalion's colours. He looked a proud man, and no wonder. His division, which he had disciplined into becoming the best in all the army, was performing magnificently. They were outnumbered, they were surrounded, yet no one had panicked, not one battalion had been caught deployed in column, and not one square had been rattled by the horsemen's proximity. The Light had saved the Seventh Division and now it was saving itself with a dazzling display of professional soldiering. Pure drill was defeating French verve, and Massйna's attack, which had swept around the British right flank with overwhelming force, had been rendered utterly impotent. "You like it, Sharpe?" Craufurd called from his horse.

"Wonderful, sir, just wonderful." Sharpe's compliment was heartfelt.

"They're scoundrels," Craufurd said of his men, "but the devils can fight, can't they?" His pride was understandable, and it had even persuaded the irascible Craufurd to unbend and indulge in conversation. It was even a friendly conversation. "I'll put a word in for you, Sharpe," Craufurd said, "because a man shouldn't be disciplined for killing the enemy, but I don't suppose my help will do you any good."

"It won't, sir?"

"Valverde's an awkward bugger," Craufurd said. "He don't like the British, and he won't want Wellington given a Spanish Generalisimo's hat. Valverde reckons he'd make a better Generalisimo himself, but the only time the bugger fought the French he pissed his yellow pants yellower and lost three good battalions doing it. But it ain't about soldiering, Sharpe, it's about politics, all about damned politics, and the one thing every soldier should know is not to get tangled up in politics. Slimy bastards, politicians, should all be killed. Every last damned one of them. I'd tie the whole bloody pack of lying bastards to cannon muzzles and blow them away, blow them away! Fertilize a field with the bastards, dung the world with the breed. Them and lawyers." The thought of the twin professions had put Craufurd into a bad mood.