JК
Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 34 из 283"
"You believe them?"
"I believe they are telling the truth as they know it," Hogan said, "and their orders were to make ready for an attack. What they don't know, of course, is whether Massena will change his mind."
"Monsieur Massena," Ferreira remarked acidly, "is too busy with his mistress to think sensibly about battle."
"His mistress?" Sharpe asked.
"Mademoiselle Henriette Leberton," Hogan said, amused, "who is eighteen years old, Richard, while Monsieur Massena is what? Fifty-one? No, fifty-two. Nothing distracts an old man so effectively as young flesh, which makes Mademoiselle Leberton one of our more valued allies. His Majesty's government should pay her an allowance. A guinea a night, perhaps?"
When the supper was eaten Ferreira insisted on showing Hogan and Sharpe the shrine where, as Clayton had said, wooden breasts lay on an altar. A score of small candles flickered around the weird objects and dozens of other candles had burned down to wax puddles. "Women bring the breasts," Ferreira explained, "to be cured of diseases. Women's diseases." He yawned, then pulled a watch from his waistcoat pocket. "I must get back to the ridge top," he said. "An early night, I think. Perhaps the enemy will come at dawn."
"Let's hope so," Hogan said.
Ferreira made the sign of the cross, bowed to the altar and left. Sharpe listened as the sound of the Major's spurred boots faded down the passage. "What the hell was that all about?" he asked Hogan.
"What was what about, Richard?"
"That supper!"
"He was being friendly. Showing you there are no hard feelings."
"But there are! He said his brother hadn't forgotten."
"Not forgotten, but persuaded to let the matter rest. And so should you."
"I wouldn't trust that bugger as far as I can spit," Sharpe said, then had to step back because the door had been pushed wide open and a noisily cheerful group of British officers stepped into the small room. One man alone was not in uniform, wearing instead a blue top coat and a white silk stock. It was Lord Wellington, who glanced at Sharpe, but appeared not to notice him.
Instead the General nodded to Hogan. "Come to worship, Major?" he asked.
"I was showing Mister Sharpe the sights, my lord."
"I doubt Mister Sharpe needs to see replications," Wellington said. "He probably sees more of the real article than most of us, eh?" He spoke genially enough, but with an edge of scorn, then looked directly at Sharpe. "I hear you did your duty three days ago, Mister Sharpe," he said.
"You believe them?"
"I believe they are telling the truth as they know it," Hogan said, "and their orders were to make ready for an attack. What they don't know, of course, is whether Massena will change his mind."
"Monsieur Massena," Ferreira remarked acidly, "is too busy with his mistress to think sensibly about battle."
"His mistress?" Sharpe asked.
"Mademoiselle Henriette Leberton," Hogan said, amused, "who is eighteen years old, Richard, while Monsieur Massena is what? Fifty-one? No, fifty-two. Nothing distracts an old man so effectively as young flesh, which makes Mademoiselle Leberton one of our more valued allies. His Majesty's government should pay her an allowance. A guinea a night, perhaps?"
When the supper was eaten Ferreira insisted on showing Hogan and Sharpe the shrine where, as Clayton had said, wooden breasts lay on an altar. A score of small candles flickered around the weird objects and dozens of other candles had burned down to wax puddles. "Women bring the breasts," Ferreira explained, "to be cured of diseases. Women's diseases." He yawned, then pulled a watch from his waistcoat pocket. "I must get back to the ridge top," he said. "An early night, I think. Perhaps the enemy will come at dawn."
"Let's hope so," Hogan said.
Ferreira made the sign of the cross, bowed to the altar and left. Sharpe listened as the sound of the Major's spurred boots faded down the passage. "What the hell was that all about?" he asked Hogan.
"What was what about, Richard?"
"That supper!"
"He was being friendly. Showing you there are no hard feelings."
"But there are! He said his brother hadn't forgotten."
"Not forgotten, but persuaded to let the matter rest. And so should you."
"I wouldn't trust that bugger as far as I can spit," Sharpe said, then had to step back because the door had been pushed wide open and a noisily cheerful group of British officers stepped into the small room. One man alone was not in uniform, wearing instead a blue top coat and a white silk stock. It was Lord Wellington, who glanced at Sharpe, but appeared not to notice him.
Instead the General nodded to Hogan. "Come to worship, Major?" he asked.
"I was showing Mister Sharpe the sights, my lord."
"I doubt Mister Sharpe needs to see replications," Wellington said. "He probably sees more of the real article than most of us, eh?" He spoke genially enough, but with an edge of scorn, then looked directly at Sharpe. "I hear you did your duty three days ago, Mister Sharpe," he said.