bcornwell.sharpescompany-第44部分
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iven precious minutes to work on the defences。 Then there was a stir in the darkness。 Orders； at last； and there would be no delay。
Go； go； go； go； go。 The ranks moved with the clinking of metal and thumping of rifle and musket stocks。 There was a sense of relief to be moving in the darkness； in the bleak； total darkness； and the six thousand five hundred men； English； Irish； Scottish； Welsh and Portuguese moved against the city。 The guides ordered quiet and the orders went back； but they were moving at last and no one could silence the thousands of boots that scraped and scuffed by the road that led between the flood and the Pardaleras Fort。 Far to the north； the Third Division filed over the bridge by the broken mill that spanned the Rivillas and the air was filled with the croaking of frogs and the fears of men。 The city waited in darkness。 Silence in Badajoz。
The Lieutenant who was leading the Forlorn Hope touched Sharpe's elbow。 'Are we too far to the left？'
They had lost all touch with the Fourth Division。 It was dark； utterly dark； and there was no sound from the fort or from the city。 Sharpe whispered back。 'We're all right。'
Still there was no firing； no sound from the city or from the Pardaleras that was now behind them。 Silence。 Sharpe wondered if the attack would be a surprise to the French。 He wondered if perhaps the enemy had been fooled by the delay； perhaps the troops had relaxed； were waiting for another day and if the greatest gift the gods can give a soldier； surprise； had been given to the British。 They were close now。 The dim； dark shadow of the fortress blotted out half the sky。 It was huge in the night； vast； unimaginably strong； and the slope of the glacis was beneath Sharpe's feet and he paused as the sixty men of the Forlorn Hope aligned themselves and thrust their ladders and hay…bags to the front。 The Lieutenant scraped his sword from the scabbard。 'Ready。'
There was firing from the right； far off； where the Third Division had been spotted。 It sounded miles away； like someone else's battle； and it was difficult to believe that the sound had anything to do with the dark glacis leading to the fortress in front。 Yet the sound would alert all the French sentries and Sharpe hurried up the slope； angling to his left； and still there was no sound from walls or bastions。 He tried to make sense of the shadows； to recognize the shapes he had seen just three nights before； and his footsteps sounded loud on the grass and he could hear the panting of men behind him。 Surely the French would hear！ At any moment； he almost cringed at the reality of the imagination； the grapeshot would stab down from the walls。 He saw the corner of a bastion； recognized the Santa Maria； and a relief went through him as he knew he had brought the Hope to the right place。
Sharpe turned to the Lieutenant。 〃This is it。' He wished he was going with him； that he was leading the Hope； but it was not to be。 The glory belonged to the Lieutenant who made no reply。 Tonight he was a god； tonight he could do no wrong； because tonight he was leading a Forlorn Hope against the biggest citadel the British army had ever attacked。 He turned to his men。
They went。 Silent。 The ladders scraped over the stone lip of the glacis； down into the ditch； and the men scrambled down； slithering on the rungs； falling on to the thrown hay…bags。 It had begun。
Sharpe watched the walls。 They were dark and silent。 Behind him； at the foot of the glacis； he could hear the tramp of feet as the battalions approached and then； ahead； he heard the Lieutenant shout at his men and the first scrambling of boots on the breach。 It had started。 Hell had e to Badajoz。
CHAPTER 24
In the cathedral that day the prayers had been unceasing； muttered； sometimes hysterical； the words had acpanied the beads as the women of Badajoz feared for the dead who would e to their streets that night。 Just as the British army knew the assault was ing； so； too； did the defenders and inhabitants of Badajoz。 A host of candles flickered before the saints as if the tiny flames could keep at bay the evil that surrounded the city and came pressing closer as the night gloom filled the cathedral。
Rafael Moreno； merchant； trickled powder into his pistols and hid them； loaded and primed； beneath the lid of his writing desk。 He wished his wife were with him； but she had insisted enjoining the nuns in the cathedral； foolish woman； and praying。 Prayers would not deflect the soldiers； bullets might； but it was more likely they could be bribed by the cheap red wine he had put in his courtyard。 Moreno shrugged。 The most valuable possessions were hidden； well hidden； and his niece insisted she had friends among the British。 He could hear Teresa upstairs； talking to her child； and doubtless she had the heathen rifle loaded and ready。 He liked his niece； of course； but there were times when he thought that his brother Cesar's family were more than a little too wild。 Downright irresponsible even。 He poured himself wine。 That child upstairs； improving in health； God be praised； but a bastard！ And in his house！ Moreno sipped the wine。 The neighbors did not know； he had seen to that。 They thought she was a widow whose husband had died in last year's battles between the French and the disintegrating Spanish armies。 He heard the clock in the cathedral tower begin wheezing as it wound itself up to strike the bell。 Ten o'clock in Badajoz。 He emptied his glass and called for a servant to refill it。
The bell sounded； and below； in the cathedral； beneath the vaulted ceiling and the gold ledges； below the huge； dark chandelier； and beneath the sad eyes of the Virgin； the women heard the crackle of muskets begin far away。 They looked up； over the glow of the candles； at the Mother of God。 Be with us now and in the hour of our need。
Sharpe heard the first toll of the hour； and then no more。 As it sounded； so the first fireball rose from the battlements； arced its spark…path in the blackness； and then plummeted to the ditch。 It was the first of a storm； the tight packed balls flaming and falling as the carcasses were rolled on to the breach； and suddenly the breaches； the ditch； the ravelin； the obstacles； and the tiny figures of the Forlorn Hope were swamped in light； light poured from above； by flames that caught on the obstacles in the ditch； and the Hope began to climb as the fire was bright on their bayonets。
The battalions behind cheered。 Silence was done。 The front ranks reached the ditch and the ladders scraped over。 Men hurled themselves after the hay…bags and scrambled down ladders； a flow of men in desperate haste to cross the ditch and climb the huge ramps of the breaches。 They were cheering； urging themselves on； even as the first tongues of quicksilver flame raced down the breaches of the Santa Maria and Trinidad。
Sharpe dropped as the mines exploded。 Not one or two； but tons of powder packed in the ditch； on the lower slopes of the ramps； was ignited and exploded outwards； and the Forlorn Hope was gone。 Taken in an instant； ground into fragments of wet horror； all dead； as the first files of the first battalions were hurled backwards by the flame and flying stone。
The French cheered。 They lined the parapets； the bastions； and the guns that had been handled round to fire down into the ditch； guns which had been double shotted with canister； were unmasked。 Muskets spat； were drowned by the cannon flames。 The enemy cheered and shouted obscenities； and all the time the carcasses were thrown； lighting the targets； and the ditch was slopping with fire； a container of flames that would only be drowned in blood； and still the men went down the ladders and into the ditch。
The third breach was silent； the new breach。 It lay between the bastions； a huge fresh scar that could lead into the city； but Sharpe saw the French had worked well。 The ditch in front of the wall was huge； as wide as a parade ground； but filled with the squat； half…finished ravelin。 The ravelin was twenty feet high； shaped like a diamond； and the only way to the new breach was to go round it。 The way was blocked。 Carts had been tipped over in the approach ditches； then covered with timbers； and the fireballs had lit the obstacles so that they flamed huge and fierce； and no attacker could get close。 Only the breaches in the bastions； the Santa Maria and the Trinidad； could be approached； and those were dominated by the enemy guns。 They fired again and again； the ammunition hoarded against this night； and still the British tried； and still they died yards from the breaches' base。
Sharpe went back down the glacis； into the shadows； and turned once to see the high； great walls of the battle lit by fire。 Flames jetted from the embrasures； writhing smoke into the maelstrom below； and in the light of the fires he saw strange patterns at the top of the breaches。 He stopped and stared； trying to make sense of the shapes glimpsed through the harrowing fire and smoke； and saw that the French had crowned each breach with Ckevaux de Prise。 Each one was a timber； thick as a battleship's main mast； and from each chained timber there sprang a thousand sabre blade
