bcornwell.sharpstiger-第12部分

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…　'has　been　rebuilt；　refortified　and　given　cannon　and　rockets。'
　'We　have　cannon　too；'　McCandless　said。
　Appah　Rao　ignored　the　ment。　Instead　he　tapped　the　knife　against　the　western　ramparts　that　overlooked　the　Cauvery's　smaller　channel。　'At　this　time　of　year；　McCandless；　the　river　here　is　shallow。　The　crocodiles　have　gone　to　the　deeper　pools　and　a　man　can　walk　across　the　river　with　dry　knees。　And　when　your　army　reaches　Seringapatam　they　will　see　that　these　walls'　…　he　tapped　the　western　fortifications　again　…　'have　not　been　rebuilt。　They　are　made　of　mud　bricks　and　the　rains　have　crumbled　the　rampart。　It　looks　like　a　weak　place　and　you　will　be　tempted　to　attack　there。　Do　not；　for　that　is　where　the　Tippoo　wants　you　to　attack。'　A　beetle　flew　onto　the　map　and　crawled　along　the　line　marking　the　western　walls。　Appah　Rao　gently　swept　the　insect　aside。　'There　is　another　wall　there；　a　new　wall；　hidden　behind　that　rampart；　McCandless；　and　when　your　men　get　through　the　first　wall　they　will　be　in　a　trap。　Here'　…　he　pointed　to　a　bastion　that　connected　the　outer　and　inner　walls　…　'that　used　to　be　a　water　gate；　but　it's　been　blocked　up　and　there　are　hundreds　of　pounds　of　gunpowder　inside。　Once　your　men　are　trapped　between　the　two　walls　the　Tippoo　plans　to　blow　the　mine。'Appah　Rao　shrugged。　'Hundreds　of　pounds　of　powder；　McCandless；　just　waiting　for　you。　And　when　that　attack　has　failed　you　will　have　no　time　to　make　another　before　the　monsoon　es；　and　when　the　rains　do　e　the　river　will　rise　and　the　roads　will　turn　to　mud　and　you　will　be　forced　to　retreat；　and　every　foot　of　your　way　back　to　Madras　will　be　dogged　by　the　Tippoo's　cavalry。　That　is　how　he　plans　to　beat　you。'
　'So　we　must　attack　anywhere　but　in　the　west？'
　'Anywhere　but　from　the　west；'　Appah　Rao　said。　'The　new　inner　wall'　…　he　demonstrated　on　the　map　with　the　tip　of　his　knife　…　'extends　all　the　way　round　the　north。　These　other　walls'　…　he　tapped　the　southern　and　eastern　ramparts　…　'look　stronger；　but　don't　be　deceived。　The　west　wall　is　a　trap；　and　if　you　fall　into　it；　it　will　be　your　death。'　He　moved　the　weights　off　the　corners　of　the　map　and　let　it　roll　itself　up。　Then　he　unshielded　McCandless's　lantern　and　held　one　end　of　the　scroll　in　the　candle　flame。　The　paper　blazed；　lighting　the　intricate　carvings　of　the　shrine。　The　three　men　watched　as　the　paper　burned　to　ash。　'Anywhere　but　from　the　west；'　Appah　Rao　said；　then；　after　a　moment's　hesitation；　he　lifted　the　bag　of　gold　coins　from　beside　the　lantern。　'All　this　will　go　to　my　Rajah；'　he　said。　'I　shall　keep　none。'
　'I　never　expected　you　to；'　McCandless　said。　'You　have　my　thanks；　General。〃
　'I　don't　want　your　thanks。　I　want　my　Rajah　back。　That　is　why　I　came。　And　if　you　disappoint　me；　then　you　English　will　have　a　new　enemy。'
　Tm　a　Scot。'
　'But　you　would　still　be　my　enemy；'　Appah　Rao　said；　then　turned　away；　but　paused　and　looked　back　from　the　inner　shrine's　threshold。　'Tell　your　General　that　his　men　should　be　gentle　with　the　people　of　the　city。'
　'I　will　tell　General　Harris。'
　'Then　I　shall　look　to　see　you　in　Seringapatam；'　Appah　Rao　said　heavily。'Me　and　thousands　of　others；'　McCandless　said。
　'Thousands！'　Appah　Rao's　tone　mocked　the　claim。　'You　may　have　thousands；　Colonel；　but　the　Tippoo　has　tigers。'　He　turned　and　walked　to　the　temple's　outer　gateway；　followed　by　Kunwar　Singh。
　McCandless　burned　the　copy　of　Bonaparte's　letter；　waited　another　half…hour　and　then；　as　silently　as　he　had　e　to　the　temple；　he　left　it。　He　would　join　his　escort；　sleep　a　few　hours；　then　ride　with　his　precious　secret　to　the　wailing　army。
　Few　men　of　the　33rd　slept　that　night　for　the　excitement　of　fighting　and　beating　the　Tippoo's　vaunted　troops　had　filled　them　with　a　nervous　energy。　Some　spent　their　loot　on　arrack；　and　those　fell　asleep　soon　enough；　but　the　others　stayed　around　their　fires　and　relived　the　day's　brief　excitement。　For　most　of　the　troops　it　had　been　their　first　battle；　and　on　its　slim　evidence　they　built　a　picture　of　war　and　their　own　valour。
　Mary　Bickerstaff　sat　with　Sharpe　and　listened　patiently　to　the　tales。　She　was　accustomed　to　soldiers'　stories　and　shrewd　enough　to　know　which　men　exaggerated　their　prowess　and　which　pretended　not　to　have　been　nauseated　by　the　horrors　of　the　dead　and　wounded。　Sharpe；　after　he　returned　from　Captain　Morris's　tent　with　the　news　that　the　Captain　would　ask　Major　Shee's　permission　for　them　to　marry；　was　silent　and　Mary　sensed　he　was　not　really　listening　to　the　tales；　not　even　when　he　pretended　to　be　amused　or　amazed。　'What　is　it？'　she　asked　him　after　a　long　while。
　'Nothing；　lass。'
　'Are　you　worried　about　Captain　Morris？'
　'If　he　says　no；　we　just　ask　Major　Shee；'　Sharpe　said　with　a　confidence　he　did　not　entirely　feel。　Morris　was　a　bastard；　but　Shee　was　a　drunk；　and　in　truth　there　was　litde　to　choose　between　them。　Sharpe　had　an　idea　that　Lieutenant　Colonel　Arthur　Wellesley；　the　33rd's　real　manding　officer；　was　a　man　who　might　be　reasonable；　but　Wellesley　had　beentemporarily　appointed　as　one　of　the　army's　two　deputy　manders　and　had　thus　shrugged　off　all　regimental　business。　'We'll　get　our　permission；'　he　told　Mary。
　'So　what's　worrying　you？'
　'I　told　you。　Nothing。'
　'You're　miles　away；　Richard。'
　He　hesitated。　'Wish　I　was。'
　Mary　tightened　the　grip　of　her　hand　on　his　fingers；　then　lowered　her　voice　to　something　scarce　above　a　whisper。　'Are　you　thinking　of　running；　Richard　Sharpe？'
　He　leaned　away　from　the　fire；　trying　to　make　a　small　private　space　where　they　could　talk　without　being　overheard。　'Got　to　be　a　better　life　than　this；　love；'　he　said。
　'Don't　do　it！'　Mary　said　fiercely；　but　laying　a　hand　on　his　cheek　as　she　spoke。　Some　of　the　men　on　the　other　side　of　the　fire　saw　the　tender　gesture　and　greeted　it　with　a　chorus　of　jeers　and　whistles。　Mary　ignored　them。　'They'll　catch　you；　Richard；'　she　insisted；　'catch　you　and　shoot　you。'
　'Not　if　we　run　far　enough。'
　'We？'　she　asked　cautiously。
　Td　want　you；　lass。'
　Mary　took　hold　of　one　of　his　hands　and　squeezed　it。　'Listen；'　she　hissed。　'Work　to　bee　a　sergeant！　Once　you're　a　sergeant；　you're　made。　You　could　even　bee　an　officer！　Don't　laugh；　Richard！　Mister　Lambert　in　Calcutta；　he　was　a　sergeant　once；　and　he　was　a　private　before　that。　They　made　him　up　to　ensign。'
　Sharpe　smiled　and　traced　a　finger　down　her　cheek。　'You're　mad；　Mary。　I　love　you；　but　you're　mad。　I　couldn't　be　an　officer！　You　have　to　know　how　to　read！''I　can　teach　you；'　Mary　said。
　Sharpe　glanced　at　her　with　some　surprise。　He　had　never　known　she　could　read　and　the　knowledge　made　him　somewhat　nervous　of　her。　'I　wouldn't　want　to　be　an　officer　anyway；'　he　said　scathingly。　'Stuck…up　bastards；　all　of　them。'
　'But　you　can　be　a　sergeant；'　Mary　insisted；　'and　a　good　one。　But　don't　run；　love。　Whatever　you　do；　don't　run。'
　'Is　that　the　lovebirds？'　Sergeant　Hakeswill's　mocking　voice　cut　through　their　conversation。　'Ah；　it's　sweet；　isn't　it？　Good　to　see　a　couple　in　love。　Restores　a　man's　faith　in　human　nature　it　does。'
　Sharpe　and　Mary　sat　up　and　disentangled　their　fingers　as　the　Sergeant　stalked　through　the　ring　of　men　beside　the　fire。　'I　want　you；　Sharpie；'　Hakeswill　said　when　he　reached　their　side。　'Got　a　message　for　you；　I　have。'　He　touched　his　hat　to　Mary。　'Not　you；　Ma'am；'　he　said　as　she　stood　to　acpany　Sharpe。　'This　is　men's　business；　Mrs　Bickerstaff。　Soldiers'　business。　No　business　for　bibbis。　e　on；　Sharpie！　Ain't　got　all　night！　Look　lively　now！'　He　strode　away；　thumping　the　ground　with　the　butt　of　his　halberd　as　he　threaded　his　way　between　the　fires。　'Got　news　for　you；　Sharpie；'　he　called　over　his　shoulder；　'good　news；　lad；　good　news。'
　'I　can　marry？'　Sharpe　asked　eagerly。
　Hakeswill　threw　a　sly　glance　over　his　shoulder　as　he　led　Sharpe　towards　the　picketed　lines　of　officers'　horses。　'Now　why　would　a　lad　like　you　want　to　marry？　Why　throw　all　your　spunk　away　on　one　bibbi；　eh？　And　that　one　used　goods；　too？　Another　man's　leavings；　that's　all　Mary　Bickerstaff　is。　You　should　spread　it　about；　boy。　Enjoy　yourself　when　you're　still　young。'　Hakeswill　pushed　his　way　between　the　horses　to　reach　the　dark　space　between　the　two　picketed　lines　where　he　turned　and　faced　Sharpe。　'Good　news；　Sharpe。　You　can't　marry。　Permission　is　refused。　You　want　to　know　why；　boy？'
　Sharpe　felt　his　hopes　crumbling。　At　that　moment　he　hated　Hakeswill　more　than　ever；　but　his　pride　forced　him　not　to　show　that　hate；　nor　his　disappointment。　'Why？'　he　asked。
　'I'll　tell　you　why；　Sharpie；'　Hakeswill　said。　'And　stand　still；　boy！　When　a　sergeant　condescends　to　talk　to　you；　you　standstill！　'Tenshun！　That's　better；　lad。　Bit　of　respect；　like　what　is　proper　to　show　to　a　sergeant。'　His　face　twitched　as　he　grinned。　'You　want　to　know　why；　boy？　Because　I　don't　want　you　to　marry　her；　Sharpie；　that　is　why。　I　don't　want　little　Mrs　Bickerstaff　married　to　anyone。　Not　to　you；　not　to　me；　not　even　to　the　King　of　England　himself；　God　bless　him。'　He　was　circling　Sharpe　as　he　talked。　'And　do　you　know　why；　boy？'　He　stopped　in　front　of　Sharpe　and　pushed　his　face　up　towards　the　younger　man。　'Because　that　Mrs　Bickerstaff　is　a　bibbi；　Sharpie；　with　possibilities。　Possibibbibilities！'　He　giggled　at　his　joke。　'Got　a　future；　she　has。'　He　grinned　again；　and　the　grin　was　suddenly　twisted　as　his　face　shuddered　with　its　distorting　rictus。　'You　familiar　with　Naig？　Nasty　Naig？　Answer　me；　boy'
　'I've　heard　of　him；'　Sharpe　said。
　'Fat　bugger；　Sharpie；　he　is。　Fat　and　rich。　Rides　a　helephant；　he　does；　and　he's　got　a　dozen　green　tents。　One　of　the　army's　followers；　Sharpie；　and　rich　as　a　rich　man　can　be。　Richer　than　you'll　ever　be；　Sharpie；　and　you　know　why？　'Cos　Nasty　Naig　provides　the　officers　with　their　women；　that's　why。　And　I'm　not　talking　about　those　rancid　slags　the　other　heathens　hires　out　to　you　nasty　mon　soldiers；　I'm　talking　about　the　desirable　women；　Sharpie。　Desirable。'　He　lingered　on　the　word。　'Nasty's　got　a　whole　herd　of　expensive　whores；　Sharpie；　he　does；　all　riding　in　those　closed　wagons　with　the　coloured　curtains。　Full　of　officers'　meat；　those　wagons　are；　fat　ones；　skinny　ones；　dark　ones；　light　ones；　dirty　ones；　clean　ones；　tall　ones；　short　ones；　all　sorts　of　ones；　and　all　of　'em　are　prettier　than　you　could　ever　dream　of；　but　there　ain't　one　of　them　as　pretty　as　little　Mrs　Bickerstaff；　and　there　ain't　one　who　looks　as