bcornwell.sharpescompany-第15部分

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ecovered　his　consciousness；　but　never　his　senses；　and　Sharpe　had　been　a　witness。　He　had　tried　to　stop　the　hammering　and；　for　his　efforts；　was　accused　by　Morris　and　Hakeswill　of　the　beating。　He　had　been　tied　to　a　cart's　wheel　and　flogged。
　
　Now；　suddenly　face　to　face　with　his　enemy　after　all　these　years；　he　felt　an　uneasy　sense　of　helplessness。　Hakeswill　seemed　untouchable。　He　had　the　confidence　of　a　man　who　simply　did　not　care　what　happened　to　him；　because　he　knew　he　was　indestructible。　The　Sergeant　went　through　life　with　a　suppurating　hatred　of　other　men；　and；　from　behind　his　mask　of　military　conformity；　spread　poison　and　fear　throughout　the　panies　he　served。　Hakeswill；　Sharpe　knew；　would　not　have　changed；　any　more　than　his　appearance　had　changed。　The　same　great　belly；　perhaps　a　few　inches　bigger；　a　few　more　lines　on　the　face；　another　tooth　or　two　missing；　yet　still　the　same　yellow　skin　and　the　mad　stare；　and　Sharpe　remembered；　unfortably；　that　once　Hakeswill　had　told　him　they　were　alike。　Both　on　the　run；　both　without　family；　and　the　only　way　to　survive；　the　Sergeant　said；　was　to　hit　hard　and　hit　first。
　
　He　looked　at　the　recruits。　They　were　wary；　as　well　they　might　be；　cautious　of　this　new　pany。　Sharpe；　though　they　could　not　know　it；　shared　their　unease。　Hakeswill；　of　all　people；　in　his　pany？　Then　he　remembered　the　gazette；　and　knew　that　the　pany　might　not　be　his；　and　he　felt　his　thoughts　begin　their　profitless　descent　into　gloom　so　he　snapped　them　away。　'Sergeant　Harper？'
　
　'Sir？'
　
　'What's　happening　today？'
　
　'Football；　sir。　Grenadier　pany　playing　the　Portuguese。　Heavy　casualties　expected。'
　
　Sharpe　knew　that　Harper　was　trying　to　cheer　up　the　newers　and　so　he　dutifully　smiled。　'A　light　day；　then；　for　your　first　day。　Enjoy　it。　Tomorrow　we　work。'　Tomorrow　he　would　be　without　Teresa；　tomorrow　would　be　a　day　nearer　Badajoz　and　tomorrow　he　might　be　a　Lieutenant。　He　realized　the　recruits；　some　of　whom　he　had　found　himself；　were　waiting　for　him　to　continue。　He　forced　another　smile。　'Wele　to　the　South　Essex。　I'm　glad　you're　here。　This　is　a　good　pany　and　I'm　sure　it　will　stay　that　way。'　The　words　sounded　incredibly　lame；　even　to　himself；　as　if　he　knew　they　were　untrue。
　
　He　nodded　at　Harper。　'Carry　on；　Sergeant。'
　
　The　Irishman's　eyes　flicked　towards　Hakeswill；　still　facing　the　wall；　and　Sharpe　pretended　not　to　see。　Damn　Hakeswill；　he　could　stay　there；　but　then　he　relented。　'Sergeant　Hakeswill！'
　
　'Sir！'
　
　'Dismiss！'
　
　Sharpe　walked　into　the　street；　wanting　to　be　alone；　but　Leroy　was　leaning　on　the　gatepost　and　the　American　lifted　an　amused　eyebrow。　'Is　that　how　the　Hero　of　the　Field　of　Talavera　weles　recruits？　No　calls　to　glory？　No　bugles？'
　
　'They're　lucky　to　get　a　wele　at　all。'
　
　Leroy　drew　on　his　cigar　and　fell　into　step　beside　Sharpe。　'I　suppose　this　unhappiness　is　caused　by　your　lady　leaving　us？〃
　
　Sharpe　shrugged。　'I　suppose　so。'
　
　'Then　shall　I　share　other　news？'
　
　Leroy　had　stopped　and　his　dark　eyes　seemed　to　be　amused。
　
　'Napoleon's　dead？'
　
　'Alas；　no。　Our　Colonel　arrives　today。　You　don't　seem　surprised？'
　
　Sharpe　waited　for　a　priest；　mounted　on　a　drooping　mule；　to　go　past。　'Should　I　be　surprised？'
　
　'No。　'　Leroy　grinned　at　him。　'But　the　usual　reaction　is　to　say　〃who；　why；　what；　how　do　you　know？〃　Then　I　give　you　all　the　answers；　and　that's　called　a　conversation。'
　
　 Sharpe's　depression　was　dissipated　by　Leroy。　'So　tell　me。'
　
　The　thin；　laconic　American　looked　surprised。　'I　never　thought　you　would　ask。　Who　is　he？　His　name　is　Brian　Windham。　I've　never　liked　the　name　Brian；　it's　the　sort　of　name　a　woman　gives　to　a　boy　in　the　hope　he　will　grow　up　honest。'　He　tapped　ash　on　to　the　roadway。　'Why？　I　think　there　is　no　answer　to　that。　What　is　he？　He　is　a　mighty　hunter　of　foxes。　Do　you　hunt；　Sharpe？'
　
　'You　know　I　don't。'
　
　'Then　your　future　may　be　gloomy；　as　mine　may　be。　And　how　do　I　know？'
　
　He　paused。
　
　'How　do　you　know？'
　
　'Because　our　good　Colonel；　honest　Brian　Windham；　has　a　forerunner；　a　messenger；　a　John　the　Baptist　to　his　ing；　a　Paul　Revere；　no　less。'
　
　'Who？'
　
　Leroy　sighed；　he　was　being　unusually　loquacious。　'You've　never　heard　of　Paul　Revere？'
　
　'No。　'
　
　'Lucky　man；　Sharpe。　He　called　my　father　a　traitor；　and　our　family　called　Revere　a　traitor；　and　I　rather　think　we　lost　the　argument。　The　point　is；　my　dear　Sharpe；　that　he　was　a　forerunner；　an　agent　of　warning；　and　our　good　Colonel　has　sent　such　a　warning　of　his　arrival　in　the　shape　of　a　new　Major。'
　
　Sharpe　looked　at　Leroy；　the　American's　expression　had　not　changed。　'I'm　sorry；　Leroy。　I'm　sorry。'
　
　Leroy　shrugged。　As　the　senior　Captain　he　had　been　hoping　for　the　vacant　Majority　in　the　Battalion。　'One　should　expect　nothing　in　this　army。　His　name　is　Collett；　Jack　Collett；　another　honest　name　and　another　foxhunter。'
　
　'I'm　sorry。'
　
　Leroy　began　walking　again。　'There　is　something　else。'
　
　'What？'
　
　Leroy　pointed　with　his　cigar　into　the　courtyard　of　the　house　where　the　officers　were　billeted　and　Sharpe　looked　through　the　archway　and；　for　the　second　time　that　morning；　he　had　a　sudden；　unwele　shock。　A　young　man；　in　his　middle　twenties；　stood　next　to　a　pile　of　luggage　that　his　servant　was　unstrapping。　Sharpe　had　never　seen　the　officer　before　but　the　uniform　was　only　too　familiar。　It　was　the　uniform　of　the　South　Essex；　plete　even　to　the　silver　badge　of　the　Eagle　that　Sharpe　had　captured；　but　it　was　a　uniform　only　one　man　could　wear。　It　had　a　curved　sabre；　slung　on　chains；　and　a　silver　whistle　holstered　on　the　cross　belt。　The　insignias　of　rank；　denoting　a　Captain；　were　not　epaulettes；　but　wings　made　from　chains　and　decorated　with　a　bugle　horn。　Sharpe　was　looking　at　a　man　dressed　as　the　Captain　of　the　South　Essex　Light　pany。　He　swore。　Leroy　laughed。　'Join　the　downtrodden。'
　
　No　one　had　the　guts　to　tell　him；　except　Leroy！　The　bastards　had　brought　in　a　new　man；　over　his　head；　and　he　had　never　been　told！　He　felt　a　huge　anger；　a　depression；　and　a　helplessness　in　the　face　of　the　army's　cumbersome　machinery。　He　could　not　believe　it。　Hakeswill；　Teresa　going；　and　now　this？
　
　Major　Forrest　appeared　in　the　archway；　saw　Sharpe；　and　came　towards　him。　'Sharpe？'
　
　'Sir。　'
　
　'Don't　jump　to　conclusions。'　The　Major　sounded　miserable。
　
　'Conclusions；　sir？'
　
　'About　Captain　Rymer。'　Forrest　nodded　towards　the　new　Captain　who；　at　that　moment；　turned　and　caught　Sharpe's　eye。　He　bowed　briefly；　a　polite　acknowledgement；　and　Sharpe　forced　himself　to　respond。　He　looked　back　to　Forrest。
　
　'What　happened？'
　
　Forrest　shrugged。　'He　bought　Lennox's　mission。　'
　
　Lennox？　Sharpe's　predecessor　had　died　two　and　a　half　years　before。　'But　that　was。。。'
　
　'I　know；　Sharpe。　His　will　was　in　the　courts。　The　estate　has　only　just　released　the　mission　for　sale。'
　
　'I　didn't　even　know　it　was　for　sale！'　Not；　Sharpe　thought；　that　he　could　have　afforded　the　fifteen　hundred　pounds。
　
　Leroy　lit　a　new　cigar　from　the　butt　of　his　old。　'I　doubt　if　anyone　knew　it　was　for　sale。　Right；　Major？'
　
　Forrest　nodded　miserably。　An　open　sale　meant　that　the　legal　price　had　to　be　paid。　It　was　far　more　likely　that　Captain　Rymer　was　a　friend　of　one　of　the　lawyers　who　had　cut　out　the　petition；　sold　it　to　Rymer；　and　in　return　received　a　higher　price。　The　Major　spread　his　hands。　I'm　sorry；　Sharpe。'
　
　'So　what　happens？'　Sharpe's　voice　was　hard。
　
　'Nothing。'　Forrest　tried　to　sound　hopeful。　'Major　Collett；　you　haven't　met　him；　Sharpe；　agrees　with　me。　It's　a　mix　up。　So　you　stay　in　mand　till　Colonel　Windham　arrives。'
　
　'Later　today；　sir。'
　
　Forrest　nodded。　'Everything　will　be　all　right；　Sharpe。　You'll　see。　Everything。'
　
　Sharpe　saw　Teresa　walk　through　the　courtyard；　carrying　her　saddle；　but　she　did　not　see　him。　He　turned　away　and　stared　over　the　rooftops　of　Elvas；　pink　in　the　sunlight；　and　saw　that　a　cloudbank；　riding　the　north　wind；　had　bisected　the　landscape　with　its　shadow。　Spain　lay　in　shadow　and　Badajoz　was　a　dark　citadel　far　away。　He　swore　again；　foully　and　at　length；　as　if　the　curses　might　fight　for　him　against　the　ill　fortune。　He　knew　it　was　fanciful；　stupid　even；　but　it　seemed　as　if　the　fortress　that　barred　the　eastern　road；　its　walls　high　over　the　Guadiana；　was　at　the　centre　of　the　evil；　spreading　a　baleful　fate　over　all　who　came　near。　Hakeswill；　Rymer；　Teresa　going；　all　things　changing；　and　what　else；　he　wondered；　would　go　wrong　before　they　lanced　the　evil　in　Badajoz？
　
　CHAPTER　9
　
　Everything　about　Obadiah　Hakeswill　was　graceless　and　repulsive　to　the　point　of　fascination。　The　body　was　huge；　but　any　man　who　mistook　the　belly　for　a　sign　of　weakness　would　be　caught　by　the　arms　and　legs　that　had　massive　strength。　He　was　clumsy；　except　when　performing　a　drill　movement；　though　even　when　he　was　marching　there　was　a　hint　that；　at　any　moment；　he　might　bee　some　snarling；　shambling　beast；　half　wild；　half　man。　His　skin　was　yellowish；　a　legacy　of　the　Fever　Islands。　His　hair　was　blond；　going　grey；　and　stretched　thinly　over　his　scarred　scalp；　falling　lank　to　the　stretched；　tensed；　obscenely　mutilated　neck。
　
　Some　time　in　the　past；　even　before　the　hanging；　he　had　known　he　would　never　be　liked