Sharpes Battle   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

"Sergeant Major Noonan," the younger man shouted, evidently relaying the older man's command, "close order, now!"

The Real Companпa Irlandesa 's Sergeant Major obediently marched the men back into close order justas Hogan reached Sharpe's side. "There you are, my Lords" — Hogan was addressing both horsemen — "and how was your Lordships' luncheon?"

"It was shit, Hogan. I wouldn't feed it to a hound," the younger man, whom Sharpe assumed was Lord Kiely, said in a brittle voice that dripped with aloofness but was also touched by the faint slur of alcohol. His Lordship, Sharpe decided, had drunk well at lunch, well enough to loosen whatever inhibitions he might have possessed. "You know this creature, Hogan?" His Lordship now waved towards Sharpe.

"Indeed I do, my Lord. Allow me to name Captain Richard Sharpe of the South Essex, the man Wellington himself chose to be your tactical adviser. And Richard? I have the honour to present the Earl of Kiely, Colonel of the Real Companпa Irlandesa ."

Kiely looked grimly at the tattered rifleman. "So you're supposed to be our drillmaster?" He sounded dubious.

"I give lessons in killing too, my Lord," Sharpe said.

The older Spaniard in the yellow uniform scoffed at Sharpe's claim. "These men don't need lessons in killing," he said in his accented English. "They're soldiers of Spain and they know how to kill. They need lessons in dying."

Hogan interrupted. "Allow me to name His Excellency Don Luis Valverde," he said to Sharpe. "The General is Spain's most valued representative to our army." Hogan gave Sharpe a wink that neither horseman could see.

"Lessons in dying, my Lord?" Sharpe asked the General, puzzled by the man's statement and wondering whether it sprang from an incomplete mastery of English.

For answer the yellow-uniformed General touched his horse's flanks with the tips of his spurs to make the animal walk obediently along the line of the Real Companпa Irlandesa 's front rank and, superbly oblivious of whether Sharpe was following him or not, lectured the rifleman from his saddle. "These men are going to war, Captain Sharpe," General Valverde said in a voice loud enough for a good portion of the guard to hear him. "They are going to fight for Spain, for King Ferdinand and Saint James, and fighting means standing tall and straight in front of your enemy. Fighting means staring your enemy in the eye while he shoots at you, and the side that wins, Captain Sharpe, is the side that stands tallest, straightest and longest. So you don't teach men how to kill or how to fight, but rather how to stand still while all hell comes at them. That's what you teach them, Captain Sharpe. Teach them drill. Teach them obedience. Teach them to stand longer than the French.