Read Online Sharpe 12 - Sharpe's Battle by Bernard Cornwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bernard Cornwell
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where they are positioned. It is important,
Brigadier."
Loup glanced at Juanita, suspecting that the Real Companïa Irlandesa was somehow connected with her mission, but her face gave nothing away. Never mind, Loup thought, the woman would tell him everything before the next two nights were done. He looked back to Ducos. “If a dog farts in the British lines, Major, you'll know about it.”
“Good!” Ducos said, ending the conversation. “I won't keep you, Brigadier. I'm sure you have plans for the evening.”
Loup, thus dismissed, picked up his helmet with its plume of wet grey hair.
“Dona,” he said as he reached the staircase door, “isn't that the title of a married woman?”
“My husband, General, is buried in South America.” Juanita shrugged. “The yellow fever, alas.”
“And my wife, madame,” Loup said, "is buried in her kitchen in Besançon.
Alas." He held a hand towards the door, offering to escort her down the winding stairs, but Ducos held the Spanish woman back.
“You're ready to go?” Ducos asked Juanita when Loup was gone out of earshot.
“So soon?” Juanita answered.
Ducos shrugged. "I suspect the Real Companïa Irlandesa will have reached the
British lines by now. Certainly by the month's end."
Juanita nodded. “I'm ready.” She paused. “And the British, Ducos, will surely suspect the Real Companïa Irlandesa's motives?”
“Of course they will. They would be fools not to. And I want them to be suspicious. Our task, madame, is to unsettle our enemy, so let them be wary of the Real Companïa Irlandesa and perhaps they will overlook the real threat?”
Ducos took off his spectacles and polished their lenses on the skirts of his plain jacket. “And Lord Kiely? You're sure of his affections?”
“He is a drunken fool, Major,” Juanita answered. “He will do whatever I tell him.”
“Don't make him jealous,” Ducos warned.
Juanita smiled. “You may lecture me on many things, Ducos, but when it comes to men and their moods, believe me, I know all there is to know. Do not worry about my Lord Kiely. He will be kept very sweet and very obedient. Is that all?”
Ducos looped his spectacles back into place. “That is all. May I wish you a good night's rest, madame?”
“I'm sure it will be a splendid night, Ducos.” The Dona Juanita smiled and walked from the room. Ducos listened as her spurs jangled down the steps, then heard her laugh as she encountered Loup who had been waiting at the foot of the steps. Ducos closed the door on the sound of their laughter and walked slowly back to the window. In the night the rain beat on, but in Ducos's busy mind there was nothing but the vision of glory. This did not just depend on
Juanita and Loup doing their duty, but rather on the clever scheme of a man whom even Ducos acknowledged as his equal, a man whose passion to defeat the
British equalled Ducos's passion to see France triumphant, and a man who was already behind the British lines where he would sow the mischief that would first rot the British army, then lead it into a trap beside a narrow ravine.
Ducos's thin body seemed to quiver as the vision unfolded in his imagination.
He saw an insolent British army eroded from within, then trapped and beaten.
He saw France triumphant. He saw a river gorge crammed to its rocky brim with bloody carcasses. He saw his Emperor ruling over all Europe and then, who could tell, over the whole known world. Alexander had done it, why not
Bonaparte?
And it would begin, with a little cunning from Ducos and his most secret agent, on the banks of the Coa near the fortress of Almeida.
"This is a chance, Sharpe, upon my soul it is a chance. A veritable chance.
Not many chances come in a man's life and a man must seize them. My father taught me that. He was a bishop, you see, and a fellow doesn't rise from being curate to bishop without seizing his chances. You comprehend me?"
“Yes, sir.”
Colonel Claud Runciman's massive buttocks
Brigadier."
Loup glanced at Juanita, suspecting that the Real Companïa Irlandesa was somehow connected with her mission, but her face gave nothing away. Never mind, Loup thought, the woman would tell him everything before the next two nights were done. He looked back to Ducos. “If a dog farts in the British lines, Major, you'll know about it.”
“Good!” Ducos said, ending the conversation. “I won't keep you, Brigadier. I'm sure you have plans for the evening.”
Loup, thus dismissed, picked up his helmet with its plume of wet grey hair.
“Dona,” he said as he reached the staircase door, “isn't that the title of a married woman?”
“My husband, General, is buried in South America.” Juanita shrugged. “The yellow fever, alas.”
“And my wife, madame,” Loup said, "is buried in her kitchen in Besançon.
Alas." He held a hand towards the door, offering to escort her down the winding stairs, but Ducos held the Spanish woman back.
“You're ready to go?” Ducos asked Juanita when Loup was gone out of earshot.
“So soon?” Juanita answered.
Ducos shrugged. "I suspect the Real Companïa Irlandesa will have reached the
British lines by now. Certainly by the month's end."
Juanita nodded. “I'm ready.” She paused. “And the British, Ducos, will surely suspect the Real Companïa Irlandesa's motives?”
“Of course they will. They would be fools not to. And I want them to be suspicious. Our task, madame, is to unsettle our enemy, so let them be wary of the Real Companïa Irlandesa and perhaps they will overlook the real threat?”
Ducos took off his spectacles and polished their lenses on the skirts of his plain jacket. “And Lord Kiely? You're sure of his affections?”
“He is a drunken fool, Major,” Juanita answered. “He will do whatever I tell him.”
“Don't make him jealous,” Ducos warned.
Juanita smiled. “You may lecture me on many things, Ducos, but when it comes to men and their moods, believe me, I know all there is to know. Do not worry about my Lord Kiely. He will be kept very sweet and very obedient. Is that all?”
Ducos looped his spectacles back into place. “That is all. May I wish you a good night's rest, madame?”
“I'm sure it will be a splendid night, Ducos.” The Dona Juanita smiled and walked from the room. Ducos listened as her spurs jangled down the steps, then heard her laugh as she encountered Loup who had been waiting at the foot of the steps. Ducos closed the door on the sound of their laughter and walked slowly back to the window. In the night the rain beat on, but in Ducos's busy mind there was nothing but the vision of glory. This did not just depend on
Juanita and Loup doing their duty, but rather on the clever scheme of a man whom even Ducos acknowledged as his equal, a man whose passion to defeat the
British equalled Ducos's passion to see France triumphant, and a man who was already behind the British lines where he would sow the mischief that would first rot the British army, then lead it into a trap beside a narrow ravine.
Ducos's thin body seemed to quiver as the vision unfolded in his imagination.
He saw an insolent British army eroded from within, then trapped and beaten.
He saw France triumphant. He saw a river gorge crammed to its rocky brim with bloody carcasses. He saw his Emperor ruling over all Europe and then, who could tell, over the whole known world. Alexander had done it, why not
Bonaparte?
And it would begin, with a little cunning from Ducos and his most secret agent, on the banks of the Coa near the fortress of Almeida.
"This is a chance, Sharpe, upon my soul it is a chance. A veritable chance.
Not many chances come in a man's life and a man must seize them. My father taught me that. He was a bishop, you see, and a fellow doesn't rise from being curate to bishop without seizing his chances. You comprehend me?"
“Yes, sir.”
Colonel Claud Runciman's massive buttocks
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