Sharpes Siege   ::   Корнуэлл Бернард

Sharpe turned to the Comte then. The Rifleman had been distracted by his thoughts, but now he concentrated on the tall, pale aristocrat. “Why are you here?”

“Here, Monsieur?” de Maquerre was defensive. “For the same reason you are here. To bring liberty to France!”

Sharpe’s instincts were alert now. He was sensing that a new player had entered the game, a player who would confuse the issues of this expedition. “Why?” he persisted.

De Maquerre shrugged. “My family is from Bordeaux, Major, and a letter was smuggled to me in which they claim the citizens are prepared to rebel. I am ordered to discover the truth of the letter.”

God damn it, but his instincts were right. Sharpe was supposed to discover the mood of the French, but Wigram, knowing that Sharpe would return a gloomy answer, had sent this aristocrat at the very last moment. Doubtless de Maquerre would give Wigram the answer he wanted; the answer that would lead to madness. Sharpe laughed sourly. “You think two Companies of Riflemen can provoke Bordeaux into rebellion?”

“No, monsieur,” the Comte de Maquerre paused as a wave lurched the ship sideways. “I think two Companies of Riflemen, with the help of some Marines, can hold the fort at Arcachon until more men are carried north by chasse-maree. Isn’t that why the boats are being collected? To make an invasion? And where better to invade than at Arcachon?”

Sharpe did not reply. Elphinstone had ordered him to scotch Wigram’s desk-born ambitions, but now this foppish Frenchman would make that task difficult. It would be simpler, Sharpe thought, to tip the man overboard now.

“But if the city of Bordeaux is ready for rebellion,” de Maquerre was happily oblivious of Sharpe’s thoughts, “then we can topple the regime now, Major. We can raise insurrection in the streets, we can humble the tyrant. We can end the warf Again Sharpe made no reply, and the Comte stared at the tiny glimmer of light in the cold darkness. ”Of course,“ the Comte continued, ”if I do succeed in raising the city against the ogre I shall expect your troops to come to my aid immediately.“

Startled, Sharpe twisted to look at the pale profile of the Comte de Maquerre. “I have no such orders.”

The Comte also turned, showing Sharpe a pair of the palest, coldest eyes imaginable. “You have orders, Major, to offer me every assistance in your power. I carry a commission from your Prince Regent, and a commission from my King. When ordered, Major, you will obey.