Sharpe 3-Book Collection 2: Sharpe’s Havoc, Sharpe’s Eagle, Sharpe’s Gold. Bernard Cornwell

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СКАЧАТЬ going to Oporto!’ Sharpe was astonished.

      ‘I told you, Sharpe, things are changing. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” So good night to you, Lieutenant.’

      Sharpe went out onto the driveway where Vicente was standing by the low wall that overlooked the valley. The Portuguese Lieutenant was gazing at the half-dark sky which was punctured by the first stars. He offered Sharpe a rough cigar and then his own to light it from. ‘I talked to Luis,’ Vicente said.

      ‘And?’ Sharpe rarely indulged and almost choked on the harsh smoke.

      ‘Christopher has been back north of the Douro for five days. He’s been in Porto talking to the French.’

      ‘But he did go south?’

      Vicente nodded. ‘They went to Coimbra, met General Cradock, then came back. Captain Argenton returned to Porto with him.’

      ‘So what the hell is going on?’

      Vicente blew smoke at the moon. ‘Maybe they do make peace. Luis does not know what they talked about.’

      So maybe it was peace. There had been just such a treaty after the battles at Rolica and Vimeiro and the defeated French had been taken home on British ships. So was a new treaty being made? Sharpe was at least reassured that Christopher had seen Cradock, and now Sharpe had definitive orders that took away much of the uncertainty.

      The Colonel left shortly after dawn. At sunrise there had been a stuttering crackle of musketry somewhere to the north and Christopher had joined Sharpe on the driveway and stared into the valley’s mist. Sharpe could see nothing with his telescope, but Christopher was impressed by the glass. ‘Who is AW?’ he asked Sharpe, reading the inscription.

      ‘Just someone I knew, sir.’

      ‘Not Arthur Wellesley?’ Christopher sounded amused.

      ‘Just someone I knew,’ Sharpe repeated stubbornly.

      ‘Fellow must have liked you,’ Christopher said, ‘because it’s a damned generous gift. Mind if I take it to the rooftop? I might see more from there and my own telescope’s an evil little thing.’

      Sharpe did not like relinquishing the glass, but Christopher gave him no chance to refuse, and just walked away. He evidently saw nothing to worry him for he ordered the gig harnessed and told Luis to collect the remaining cavalry horses that Sharpe had captured at Barca d’Avintas. ‘You can’t be bothered with horses, Sharpe,’ he said, ‘so I’ll take them off your hands. Tell me, what do your fellows do during the day?’

      ‘There isn’t much to do,’ Sharpe said. ‘We’re training Vicente’s men.’

      ‘Need it, do they?’

      ‘They could be quicker with their muskets, sir.’

      Christopher had brought a cup of coffee out of the house and now blew on it to cool the liquid. ‘If there’s peace,’ he said, ‘then they can go back to being cobblers or whatever it is they do when they ain’t shambling about the place in ill-fitting uniforms.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Speaking of which, Sharpe, it’s time you got yourself a new one.’

      ‘I’ll talk to my tailor,’ Sharpe said and then, before Christopher could react to his insolence, asked a serious question. ‘You think there will be peace, sir?’

      ‘Quite a few of the Frogs think Bonaparte’s bitten off more than he can chew,’ Christopher said airily, ‘and Spain, certainly, is probably indigestible.’

      ‘Portugal isn’t?’

      ‘Portugal’s a mess,’ Christopher said dismissively, ‘but France can’t hold Portugal if she can’t hold Spain.’ He turned to watch Luis leading the gig from the stable. ‘I think there’s the real prospect of radical change in the air,’ he said. ‘And you, Sharpe, won’t jeopardize it. Lie low here for a week or so and I’ll send word when you can take your fellows south. With a little luck you’ll be home by June.’

      ‘You mean back with the army?’

      ‘I mean home in England, of course,’ Christopher said, ‘proper ale, Sharpe, thatched roofs, cricket on the Artillery Ground, church bells, fat sheep, plump parsons, pliant women, good beef, England. Something to look forward to, eh, Sharpe?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ Sharpe said and wondered why he mistrusted Christopher most when the Colonel was trying to be pleasant.

      ‘There’s no point in you trying to leave anyway,’ Christopher said, ‘the French have burned every boat on the Douro, so keep your lads out of trouble and I’ll see you in a week or two’ – Christopher threw away the rest of his coffee and held his hand out to Sharpe – ‘and if not me, I shall send a message. I left your telescope on the hall table, by the way. You’ve got a key to the house, haven’t you? Keep your fellows out of it, there’s a good chap. Good day to you, Sharpe.’

      ‘And to you, sir,’ Sharpe said, and after he had shaken the Colonel’s hand he wiped his own on his French breeches. Luis locked the house, Kate smiled shyly at Sharpe and the Colonel took the gig’s reins. Luis collected the dragoons’ horses then followed the gig down the drive towards Vila Real de Zedes.

      Harper strolled over to Sharpe. ‘We’re to stay here while they make peace?’ The Irishman had evidently been eavesdropping.

      ‘That’s what the man said.’

      ‘And is that what you think?’

      Sharpe stared into the east, towards Spain. The sky there was white, not with cloud, but heat, and there was a thumping in that eastern distance, an irregular heartbeat, so far off as to be barely heard. It was cannon fire, proof that the French and the Portuguese were still fighting over the bridge at Amarante. ‘It doesn’t smell like peace to me, Pat.’

      ‘The folk here hate the French, sir. So do the Dons.’

      ‘Which doesn’t mean the politicians won’t make peace,’ Sharpe said.

      ‘Those slimy bastards will do anything that makes them rich,’ Harper agreed.

      ‘But Captain Hogan never smelt peace in the wind.’

      ‘And there ain’t much passes him by, sir.’

      ‘But we’ve got orders,’ Sharpe said, ‘directly from General Cradock.’

      Harper grimaced. ‘You’re a great man for obeying orders, sir, so you are.’

      ‘And the General wants us to stay here. God knows why. There’s something funny in the wind, Pat. Maybe it is peace. God knows what you and I will do then.’ He shrugged, then went to the house to fetch his telescope and it was not there. The hall table held nothing except a silver letter holder.

      Christopher had stolen the glass. The bastard, Sharpe thought, the utter goddamn bloody misbegotten bastard. Because the telescope was gone.

      ‘I never liked the name,’ Colonel Christopher said. ‘It isn’t even a beautiful house!’

      ‘My СКАЧАТЬ