bcornwell.sharpescompany-第54部分

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；　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　kiss　on　her　that　made　Sharpe's　men　cheer。　The　aunt　clapped　them；　spoke　in　quick…fire　Spanish　at　Sharpe；　and　then　brushed　at　the　remains　of　dirt　and　blood　on　his　uniform。　Then　Lieutenant　Price　insisted　on　kissing　the　bride；　and　the　bride　insisted　on　kissing　Patrick　Harper；　and　Sharpe　tried　to　hide　his　happiness　because　he　believed　that　to　show　an　emotion；　any　emotion；　was　to　expose　a　weakness。
　
　'Here。'　Hogan　held　up　a　cup　of　wine。　〃With　the　pliments　of　the　bride's　uncle。　Your　health；　Richard。'
　
　'It's　a　funny　way　to　get　married。'
　
　They're　all　funny　ways；　whichever　way　you　do　it。'　Hogan　beckoned　to　the　servant　who　was　holding　Antonia；　made　the　girl　hold　the　baby　up　and　he　trickled　red　wine　into　its　mouth。　'There；　my　love。　It's　not　every　wee　girl　who　gets　to　go　to　her　parents'　wedding。'
　
　At　least　the　child　was　well。　The　illness；　whatever　it　was；　had　gone　and　the　doctors；　thanking　God　because　they　had　done　nothing；　said　it　was　a　malady　that　went　with　growing。　They　had　shrugged；　pocketed　their　fee；　and　wondered　why　God　spared　the　bastards。
　
　They　left　the　city　that　afternoon；　an　armed　group　that　could　defend　itself　against　the　violence　that　still　ravaged　Badajoz。　The　dead　lay　on　the　streets。　They　climbed　out　through　the　Santa　Maria　breach　and　the　ditch　was　still　full；　thick　with　bodies；　so　thick　that　heat　came　from　the　hundreds　and　hundreds　of　dead。　Some　men　searched　in　the　carnage；　looking　for　brothers；　sons；　or　friends。　Others　stood　at　the　ditch's　edge　and　wept　for　an　army；　as　Wellington　had　wept　when　he　stood　on　the　glacis；　and　the　great　heap　steamed　in　the　April　chill。　Teresa；　seeing　the　breaches　for　the　first　time；　muttered　in　Spanish　and　Sharpe　saw　her　eyes　go　up　to　the　walls；　to　the　silent　guns；　and　he　knew　she　was　imagining　their　power。
　
　Colonel　Windham　was　on　the　glacis；　staring　down　to　where　his　friend　Collett　had　died；　and　he　turned　as　Sharpe　and　his　party　climbed　the　ladders　from　the　ditch。　'Sharpe？'
　
　'Sir？'
　
　Windham　saluted　him；　strangely　formal　amongst　so　much　death。　'You're　a　brave　man；　Sharpe。'
　
　Sharpe　was　embarrassed。　He　shrugged。　'Thank　you。　And　you；　sir。　I　saw　the　attack。'　He　stopped；　out　of　words；　and　then　remembered　the　portrait。　He　took　it　from　inside　his　jacket　and　handed　over　the　wrinkled；　stained　picture　of　the　Colonel's　wife。　'I　thought　you'd　like　this；　sir。'
　
　Windham　looked　at　it；　turned　it　over；　back　again；　and　then　looked　at　Sharpe。　'How　on　earth　did　you　find　it？〃
　
　'It　was　in　the　hat；　sir；　of　a　man　called　Obadiah　Hakeswill；　who　stole　it。　He　also　stole　my　telescope。'　The　glass　had　been　in　Hakeswill's　haversack；　and　was　now　in　Sharpe's。　He　jerked　a　head　towards　Harper；　standing　with　Isabella。　'Sergeant　Harper；　sir；　did　not　steal　a　thing。；
　
　Windham　nodded。　The　breeze　tugged　at　the　tassel　on　his　hat。　'You've　given　him　back　his　Sergeantcy？'　The　Colonel　smiled　in　resignation。
　
　'Yes；　sir。　And　I'll　give　him　his　rifle　and　green　jacket　next。　If　you　have　no　objection。'
　
　'No；　Sharpe。　The　pany　is　yours。'　Windham　smiled　briefly　at　Sharpe；　perhaps　remembering　the　conversations　about　humility；　then　looked　at　Harper。　'Sergeant！'
　
　'Sir？'　Harper　stepped　forward；　stood　to　attention。
　
　'I　owe　you　an　apology。'　Windham　was　obviously　embarrassed　deeply　by　the　need　to　speak　so　to　a　Sergeant。
　
　'No　apology　needed；　sir！'　Harper's　face　was　straight；　his　bearing　formal。　'A　striped　back　is　very　attractive　to　the　ladies；　sir。'
　
　'Blood　and　hounds！'　Windham　was　relieved　to　be　off　the　hook。　He　nodded　at　Sharpe。　'Carry　on；　Captain　Sharpe。'
　
　They　walked　back　to　the　camp；　leaving　the　stench　of　the　dead　behind　them；　and　the　sounds　of　the　city　faded　as　they　walked。　They　passed　the　trenches　and　the　batteries；　and　Sharpe　saw　where　a　gunner　had　planted　spring　flowers　on　a　parapet。　The　weather　was　turning；　warming　to　a　dry　summer；　and　he　knew　that　the　army　would　be　marching　soon；　north　and　east；　going　into　the　heart　of　Spain。
　
　Badajoz　was　done。
　
　That　night；　two　miles　down　the　Seville　road；　a　twitching　figure　scrabbled　down　beneath　a　field　marker；　muttering　to　himself；　knowing　he　could　not　be　killed；　and　pulled　out　the　oilcloth　bundle　of　stolen　goods。　Hakeswill　was　deserting。　He　knew　he　could　not　go　back。　There　was　a　witness　to　the　death　of　Knowles；　the　portrait　had　been　in　the　Sergeant's　hat；　and　he　understood　that　only　a　firing　squad　awaited　him。　He　sniffed　the　night　air　and　was　not　worried。　He　would　go　somewhere　and　find　something；　as　he　always　did；　and　this　was　not　the　first　night　that　he　had　been　utterly　alone；　homeless；　and　his　dark　shape　loped　into　the　night；　seeking　mischief。
　
　A　man　went　into　a　breach　for　one　thing　only；　pride；　and　Sharpe　had　been　there。　He　had　stood　at　the　top　of　a　breach；　fear　defeated；　and　gone　down　into　a　horror　that　tarnished　victory　as　blood　tarnished　a　sword。　He　lay　awake　and　thought　of　streets　running　with　wine；　silver；　madness　and　blood。
　
　He　had　hoped　for　so　much；　for　a　Captaincy；　for　revenge　on　a　clerk；　for　a　pany；　for　a　woman　he　loved　and　a　child　he　had　never　seen；　and　the　hopes　had　been　won　at　Badajoz。　He　lay　in　Leroy's　tent；　its　owner　in　hospital　with　a　terrible　wound；　the　night　was　quiet；　dark；　silent　for　the　first　time　in　weeks；　and　a　great　victory　had　been　won。　The　gates　of　Spain　had　been　burst　open。　He　looked　at　his　woman；　beautiful　in　the　firelight　that　seeped　through　the　canvas；　and　he　marveled　that　he　was　married。　Then　he　looked　at　the　child；　dark　hair　and　snub　nosed；　that　slept　between　them　and　the　love　welled　up；　inprehensible；　uncontrollable。　He　kissed　his　daughter；　Antonia；　and　in　the　flame　light　she　seemed　terribly　small　and　vulnerable。　Yet　she　was　alive；　and　his；　his　only　relative　by　blood。　She　was　his；　to　be　protected　as　he　must　protect　all　those　other　souls　who　liked　him；　were　proud　of　him；　and　proud　to　be　in　his　ranks　…　Sharpe's　pany。
　
　HISTORICAL　NOTE
　
　On　the　morning　of　7　April　1812；　Philippon　and　the　survivors　of　the　city　garrison　surrendered　in　the　Fort　of　San　Cristobal；　thus　sealing　one　of　the　British　Army's　most　famous　victories；　the　storming　of　Badajoz。
　
　Th