bcornwell.sharpescompany-第48部分

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　The　girl　behind　Sharpe　moaned　and　Hakeswill's　head　twitched　towards　the　door。　'You　got　a　whore　there；　Sharpy？　You　have！　Bring　her　in！'　The　girl　stepped　over　Knowles's　body　and　into　the　room。　She　moved　slowly；　terrified　of　the　yellow…skinned；　belly…paunched　man　who　held　the　heaving；　sob…racked　baby。　She　went　to　stand　by　Harper；　her　foot　kicking　Hakeswill's　shako　mat　had　fallen　from　the　upset　cot。　The　hat　rolled　to　a　stop；　upended；　by　Harper's　hand。　Hakeswill　watched　her。　'Very　nice。　Pretty　little　missy。'　He　cackled。　'You　like　the　Irishman；　do　you；　dearie？'　She　was　shaking　at　the　sight　of　him；　and　Hakeswill　laughed。　'He's　a　pig。　They　all　are；　the　bloody　Irish；　dirty　great　pigs。　You're　better　off　with　me；　missy。'　The　blue　eyes　went　back　to　Sharpe。　'Shut　the　door；　Sharpy。　Gently　now。'
　
　Sharpe　shut　the　door；　careful　not　to　alarm　the　twitching　man　who　held　his　baby。　He　could　not　see　Antonia's　face；　just　the　great　saw…backed　bayonet　that　was　above　the　bundle　of　bed…clothes。　Hakeswill　laughed　at　him。　'Very　good。　You　can　watch　now；　Sharpy。'　He　looked　at　Harper；　frozen　grotesquely　where　he　had　tripped。　'And　you；　pig。　You　can　watch。　Stand　up。'
　
　Hakeswill　was　not　sure　how　he　would　do　this；　but　he　would　work　something　out　because　he　knew　that；　as　long　as　the　child　was　in　his　power；　then　all　these　people　were　in　it；　too。　He　liked　the　new　girl；　Harper's　girl　by　the　look　of　it；　and　he　could　take　her　with　him；　out　into　the　city；　but　he　would　have　to　kill　Sharpe　and　Harper　first　because　they　knew　he　had　killed
　
　Knowles。　He　shook　his　head。　He　would　kill　them　because　he　hated　them！　He　laughed；　then　saw　that　Harper　had　not　moved。　'I　told　you　to　stand　up；　you　Irish　bastard！　Stand！'
　
　Harper　stood　up；　his　heart　beating　at　the　risk；　and　in　his　hands　he　held　the　shako。　He　had　seen　the　picture　in　the　crown　and　he　had　no　real　idea　who　it　was；　but　he　stood　up；　one　hand　holding　the　hat；　the　other　reaching　inside　it。　He　saw　Hakeswill's　face　show　alarm。　The　bayonet　quivered。　'Give　it　to　me。　'　The　voice　had　bee　whining。　'Give　it　to　me！'
　
　'Put　the　baby　down。'
　
　No　one　else　moved。　Teresa　did　not　understand；　nor　did　Sharpe；　and　Harper　had　only　the　vaguest　idea；　a　hunch；　a　straw　that　was　the　only　thing　to　clutch　in　this　whirling　madness。　Hakeswill　shook；　his　face　jerking　spasmodically。　'Give　it　to　me！'　He　was　sobbing。　'My　Mammy！　My　Mammy！　Give　her　to　me！'
　
　The　Ulster　voice　was　soft；　growling　deep　from　the　massive　chest。　'I　have　my　nails　on　her　eyes；　Hakeswill；　soft　eyes；　soft　eyes；　and　I　will　claw　them　out；　Hakeswill；　claw　them　out；　and　your　Mammy　will　scream。'
　
　'No！　No！　No！'　Hakeswill　was　swaying；　crying；　cringing。　The　baby　was　crying　with　him。　The　yellow　face　looked　at　Harper；　the　voice　was　pleading。　'Don't　do　it。　Don't　do　it。　Not　to　my　Mammy。'
　
　'I　will；　so　I　will；　and　I　will；　unless　you　put　the　baby　down；　you　put　the　baby　down。'　He　spoke　in　a　rhythm；　as　to　a　child；　and　Hakeswill　swayed　with　the　rhythm。　The　head　went　into　violent　twitches　and；　suddenly；　the　fear　was　gone　and　he　looked　at　Harper。
　
　'You　think　I'm　a　fool？'
　
　'Mother's　hurting。'
　
　'No！'　The　madness　was　back；　instantly；　and　Sharpe　watched；　appalled；　as　the　great　shambling　man　retreated　into　the　insanity　that　had　always　seemed　close。　He　was　crouching　now；　knees　below　the　baby；　and　rocking　himself　as　he　wept；　though　the　bayonet　was　still　above　the　child　and　Sharpe　still　dared　not　move。
　
　'Your　Mother's　talking　to　me；　Obadiah。'　The　Ulster　voice　turned　Hakeswill's　head　back　to　Harper。　He　was　holding　the　hat　by　his　ear。　'She　wants　you　to　put　the　baby　down；　put　the　baby　down；　she　wants　you　to　help　her；　help　her；　because　she　likes　her　eyes。　They're　nice　eyes；　Obadiah；　Mother's　eyes。'
　
　The　Sergeant　was　breathing　in　short；　fast　gasps；　and　he　nodded　his　head。　'I　will；　I　will。　Give　me　my　Mother！'
　
　'She's　ing　to　you；　so　she　is；　but　put　the　baby　down；　down；　down。　'　Harper　took　one　gentle　step　towards　the　Sergeant　and　held　the　hat　out；　not　far　enough；　and　Hakeswill's　face　was　the　face　of　a　child　who　will　do　anything　not　to　be　whipped。　He　nodded　eagerly；　the　tears　coursing　down　his　cheeks。
　
　'I'm　putting　baby　down；　Mother；　putting　baby　down。　Obadiah　never　wanted　to　hurt　baby。'　And　the　great　blade　came　up　from　the　throat；　the　hat　was　inched　nearer；　and　then　Hakeswill；　still　crying　and　twitching；　put　the　baby　on　the　bed's　coverlet　and　turned；　bullet　fast；　to　snatch　at　the　hat。
　
　'You　bastard！'　Harper　pulled　the　hat　back　and　threw　a　huge　punch。　Teresa　snatched　the　child　to　safety；　at　the　head　of　the　bed；　and　then　turned；　the　rifle　in　her　hands　and　she　was　clawing　at　the　flint。　Sharpe　lunged　with　the　sword；　but　Hakeswill　was　going　back　from　the　punch　and　the　blade　missed。　Hakeswill　had　fallen；　still　without　the　hat；　and　he　reached　for　it　again。　The　rifle　fired；　the　range　less　than　a　yard；　but　he　was　still　going　for　the　hat　and　Harper　kicked　him；　sending　him　backwards；　and　Sharpe's　second　blow　missed　again。
　
　'Stop　him！'　Harper　threw　the　hat　behind　him　and　grabbed　at　Hakeswill。　Teresa；　not　believing　that　she　could　have　missed　with　the　rifle　bullet；　swung　the　empty　gun　at　the　Sergeant　and　the　barrel；　scything　through　the　air；　knocked　Harper's　arm　so　that　his　snatch　missed　and　all　he　could　touch　was　Hakeswill's　haversack。　He　gripped　it；　pulled　at　it；　and　Hakeswill　bellowed　at　them；　swung　his　own　fist；　pulled　away　so　that　the　haversack　straps　broke　and　it　was　left　in　Harper's　hand。　Hakeswill　looked　for　the　hat。　It　was　gone；　beyond　Sharpe　and　his　sword；　and　Hakeswill　gave　a　long；　low　moan　because　he　had　only　found　his　Mother　a　few　days　before；　and　now　she　was　gone。　His　Mother；　the　only　person　who　had　loved　him；　who　had　sent　her　brother　to　rescue　him　from　the　scaffold；　and　now　he　had　lost　her。　He　moaned　again；　slashing　with　the　bayonet；　and　then　jumped　for　the　shattered　window；　splintered　the　remains　of　the　shutter；　and　threw　a　leg　over　the　balcony。　Three　people　reached　for　him；　but　he　swung　the　bayonet；　raised　his　other　leg；　and　jumped。
　
　'Stop！'　Harper's　bellow　was　not　at　Hakeswill；　but　at　Sharpe　and　Teresa　who　were　blocking　him。　He　pushed　them　aside；　unslung　the　seven…barreled　gun　that　he　had　not　fired　in　the　breach；　and　put　it　to　his　shoulder。　Hakeswill　was　sprawling　in　the　roadway；　scrambling　to　his　feet；　and　it　was　a　shot　Harper　could　not　miss。　He　felt　his　lips　curl　into　a　smile；　he　pulled　the　trigger；　the　gun　smacked　into　his　shoulder　like　a　mule's　kick；　and　the　window　was　blotted　by　smoke。　'Got　the　bastard！'
　
　The　cackle　came　from　the　road；　the　jeering　cackle；　and　Harper　fanned　at　the　smoke；　leaned　from　the　balcony；　and　there；　in　the　shadows；　the　lumpen　figure　was　moving　away；　hatless　and　gross；　the　footsteps　lost　in　the　city's　screaming。　He　was　alive。　Harper　shook　his　head。　'You　can't　kill　that　bastard！'
　
　〃That's　what　he　always　says。'　Sharpe　dropped　the　sword；　turned　away；　and　Teresa　was　smiling　at　him；　offering　him　the　bundle；　and　he　began　crying；　he　did　not　know　why；　and　he　took　his　daughter　into　his　arms　and　held　her；　kissed　her；　tasting　the　blood　on　her　throat。　She　was　his。　A　baby；　a　daughter；　Antonia；　crying；　alive；　and　his。
　
　EPILOGUE
　
　They　were　married　the　next　day　by　a　priest　who　shook　with　fear　because　the　city　was　still　being　sacked　and　there　were　flames　over　the　rooftops　and　screams　in　the　streets。　Sharpe's　men；　those　who　had　e　to　the　house；　tidied　up　the　courtyard　and　threw　out　the　drunks。　It　seemed　a　strange　place　to　be　getting　married。　Clayton；　Peters　and　Gutteridge　guarded　the　main　gate　with　loaded　muskets；　acrid　smoke　drifted　into　the　court；　and　Sharpe　did　not　understand　a　word　of　the　ceremony。　Harper　and　Hogan；　their　faces；　in　Sharpe's　opinion；　stupidly　happy；　looked　on。　The　Sergeant　had　whooped　with　joy　when　Sharpe　told　him　that　he　and　Teresa　would　marry；　Harper　had　thumped　Sharpe's　back　as　if　they　were　the　same　rank；　and　claimed　that　he　and　Isabella　were　very　happy　for　them。
　
　'Isabella？'
　
　〃The　wee　girl；　sir。'
　
　'She's　still　here？'　Sharpe's　back　felt　as　if　it　had　been　struck　by　a　French　four…pounder。
　
　Harper　blushed。　'I　think　she　may　want　to　stay　on　with　me；　for　a　wee　bit；　you　understand。　That's　if　you　don't　mind；　sir。'
　
　'Mind？　Why　should　I　mind？　But　how　the　hell　do　you　know？　You　don't　speak　Spanish；　she　doesn't　speak　English。'
　
　'A　man　can　tell　these　things。'　Harper　said　the　words　mysteriously；　as　if　Sharpe　would　not　understand。　Then　he　smiled。　'But　I'm　glad　you're　doing　the　right　thing；　sir；　so　I　am。'
　
　Sharpe　had　laughed。　'Who　the　hell　are　you　to　tell　me　what　the　right　thing　is？'
　
　Harper　shrugged。　'I'm　the　true　faith；　so　I　am。　You'll　have　to　bring　the　wee　one　up　a　Catholic。'　'I　don't　intend　to　bring　the　wee　one　up。'　'Aye；　that's　true。　It's　woman's　work；　sure　enough。'　'I　don't　mean　that。'　He　meant　that　Teresa　would　not　stay　with　the　army；　nor　he　go　to　the　hills；　and　so　he　would　still　be　away　from　his　child　and　his　wife。　Not　for　a　while；　but　the　time　would　e　when　she　would　leave；　and　he　wondered　if　he　was　marrying　only　to　give　Antonia　a　name；　her　legitimacy；　something　he　had　never　had　himself。　He　was　embarrassed　by　the　ceremony；　if　a　frightened　priest　standing　among　grinning　soldiers　constituted　a　ceremony；　yet　he　felt　a　shy　joy；　was　touched　by　pride　because　Teresa　was　beside　him；　and　he　supposed　he　loved　her。　Jane　Gibbons　was　many　miles　and　more　impossibilities　away。　He　listened　to　the　words；　felt　awkward；　and　watched　the　happiness　on　Teresa's　aunt's　face。
　
　Man　and　wife；　father　of　a　child；　Captain　of　a　pany；　and　Sharpe　looked　up；　past　the　trees；　into　the　wide　sky　where　the　kestrels　hung；　and　then　Teresa　plucked　his　elbow；　spoke　something　in　Spanish　and　he　thought　he　knew　what　she　had　said。　He　looked　down　at　her；　at　the　slim　beauty；　the　dark；　strong　eyes；　and　he　felt　a　terrible　fool　because　Harper　was　grinning；　just　as　Hogan　and　the　pany　were　grinning；　and　the　girl；　Isabella；　was　crying　for　happiness。　Sharpe　smiled　at　his　wife。　'I　love　you。'　He　kissed　her；　remembering　that　first　kiss；　beneath　the　lances；　and　it　had　led　here。　He　smiled　at　the　thought；　because　he　was　glad；　and　Teresa；　happy　that　he　was　smiling；　clutched　his　arm。
　
　'I　can　kiss　the　bride；　Richard？'　Hogan　beamed　at　them　both；　clasped　Teresa；　and　planted　a　huge　kis