bcornwell.sharpstiger-第43节
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outed as he swung himself up into the saddle。 Captain Romet was one of Gudin's two deputies； but as both the junior French officers spent most of their lives in the city's most expensive brothel； Sharpe had yet to meet either of them。 He climbed gingerly onto the mare's back； then kicked back his heels and clung desperately to the horse's mane as she followed Gudin's gelding into the gateway。 'The British are attacking a wood just north of Sultanpetah；' the Colonel explained as he pushed his horse through the crowded archway。
Sharpe could hear the distant fight。 Muskets snapped and shells exploded dully to flicker red bursts of light far to the city's west。 It was very nearly night in the city。 The first house lamps had long been lit and flaming torches smoked in the archway of the Mysore Gate through which a stream of men was hurrying。 Some were infantry； others carried rockets。 Gudin bellowed at them for passage； used his gelding to force the slower rocketmen aside； and then； once through the gate； he sawed on his reins to turn westwards。
Sharpe followed； more intent on staying on the mare than watching the excitement that seethed around him。 A narrow bridge led across the South Cauvery just outside the gate and Gudin shouted at its guards to clear the roadway。 Rocketmen shrank back against the balustrades as Sharpe and Gudin hurried between the bridge's small forts and then over the shallow； shrunken river。 Once on the far bank they galloped hard across a stretch of muddy grass； then splashed through anodier small branch of the river。 Sharpe clung to the mare's neck as she lurched up out of the stream。 Rockets were flaring in the sky ahead which still glowed from the last rays of the invisible sun。
'Your old friends are trying to clear the tope；' Gudin explained； pointing at the thick wood that showed black against the eastern skyline。 He had slowed down； for now they were crossing more uneven ground and the Colonel didnot want to break a horse's leg by being too reckless。 'I want you to confuse them。'
'Me； sir？' Sharpe slipped half out of the saddle； gripped the pommel desperately and somehow dragged himself upright。 He could hear the snapping crack of muskets； and see the small muzzle flames flickering all across the land ahead。 It seemed to him like a major attack； especially when a British field gun fired in the distance and its muzzle flame lit the twilight like sheet lightning。
'Shout orders at them； Sharpe；' Gudin said； when the report of the gun had rolled past them。 'Confuse them！'
'Lawford would have done better； sir；' Sharpe said。 'He's got a voice like an officer。'
'Then you'll have to sound like a sergeant；' Gudin said； 'and if you do it right； Sharpe； I'll make you up to corporal。'
'Thank you； sir。'
Gudin had slowed his horse to a walk as they neared the wood。 It was too dark to trot now and there was a danger they could lose their way。 To Sharpe's north； where the field gun had fired； the musketry was regular； suggesting that the British soldiers or sepoys were steadily taking their objectives； but in the wood in front； there seemed to be nothing but confusion。 Muskets crackled irregularly； rockets streaked fire amongst the branches and smoke boiled from small brush fires。 Sharpe could hear men shouting； either in fear or triumph。 'I wouldn't mind a gun； sir；' he said to Gudin。
'You don't need one。 We're not here to fight； just to mix them up。 That's why I came back to get you。 Dismount here。' The Colonel tied both horses' reins to an abandoned handcart that must have been used to bring more rockets forward。 The two men were a hundred yards short of the tope now and Sharpe could hear officers shouting orders。 It was hard to tell who was giving the orders； for the Tippoo's army used English words of mand； but as Sharpe and Gudin hurried closer to the fight Sharpe could tell that it was Indian voices thatshouted the mands to fire； to advance and to kill。 Whatever British or Indian troops were trying to capture the wood were evidently in trouble； and it had been Gudin's inspiration to snatch the first Englishman he could find in the barracks and use him to sow even more confusion among the attackers。 Gudin drew a pistol。 'Sergeant Rothiere！' he called。
'Man Colonel！' The big Sergeant； who had first used Captain Romet's horse to reach the fight； materialized out of the gloom。 He gave Sharpe a suspicious glowering look； then cocked his musket。
'Let's enjoy ourselves；' Gudin said in English。
'Aye； sir；' Sharpe said and wondered what the hell he should do now。 In the dark； he reckoned； there should be no trouble in slipping away from the Colonel and Rothiere and joining the beleaguered attackers； but how would that leave Lieutenant Lawford？ The trick of it； Sharpe decided； was not to make it look as though he was deliberately trying to get back to the British； but rather to make it seem as though he was captured accidentally。 That still might make things very awkward for Lawford； but Sharpe knew that his overriding duty was to carry McCandless's warning to General Harris； just as he knew that he might never get another opportunity as good as this one that Gudin had dropped so unexpectedly into his lap。
Gudin paused at the edge of the tope。 Rocketmen were enthusiastically blasting their weapons through the trees where the missiles were being deflected off branches to tumble erratically through the leaves。 Muskets sounded deep inside the wood。 Wounded men lay at the trees' edge； and somewhere not far off a dying man alternately screamed and panted。 'So far；' Gudin said； 'we seem to be beating them。 Let's go forward。'
Sharpe followed the two Frenchmen。 Off to his right there was a sudden blast of gunfire and the sound of bayonets clashing； and Gudin swerved towards the sound； but the fightwas over before they even reached it。 The Tippoo's men had encountered a small group of redcoats and had killed one and chased the others deeper into the wood。 Gudin saw the redcoat's body in the fast…dying flame light of an exhausted rocket and knelt beside the man。 The Colonel took out a tinderbox； struck a spark； blew the charred linen in the box alight； then held the tiny flame down beside the redcoat's chest。 The man was not quite dead； but he was unconscious； blood was bubbling slow in his throat and his eyes were closed。 'Recognize the uniform？' Gudin asked Sharpe。 The tinderbox's flickering glow revealed that the redcoat's turnbacks and facings were scarlet piped with white。
'Bloody hell；' Sharpe said。 'Excuse me； sir；' he added； then he gently moved Gudin's hand up to the dying man's face。 Blood had poured out of the man's mouth to soak his powdered hair； but Sharpe recognized him all the same。 It was Jed Mallinson who usually paraded in the rearmost rank of Sharpe's file。 'I know the uniform and the man； sir；' Sharpe told Gudin。 'It's the 33rd； my old battalion。 West Riding； Yorkshire。'
'Good。' Gudin snapped the tinderbox shut； extinguishing the small flame。 'And you don't mind confusing them？'
'That's why I'm here； sir；' Sharpe said with a suitable bloodthirstiness。
'I think the British army lost a good man in you； Sharpe；' Gudin said； standing and guiding Sharpe deeper into the trees。 'If you don't want to stay in India you might think of ing home with me。'
'To France； sir？'
Gudin smiled at Sharpe's surprised tone。 'It isn't the devil's country； Sharpe； indeed I suspect it's the most blessed place on God's earth； and in the French army a good man can be very easily raised to officer rank。'
'Me； sir？ An officer？' Sharpe laughed。 'Like making a mule into a racehorse。'
'You underestimate yourself。' Gudin paused。 There were feet trampling to the right； and a sudden blast of musketry off to the left。 The musketry attracted an excited rush of the Tippoo's infantry who blundered through the trees。 Sergeant Rothiere bellowed at them in a mix of French and Kanarese； and his sudden authority calmed the men who gathered around Colonel Gudin。 Gudin smiled wolfishly。 'Let's see if we can mislead some of your old rades； Sharpe。 Shout at them to e this way。'
'Forward！' Sharpe obediently bellowed into the dark trees。 'Forward！' He paused； listening for an answer。 '33rd！ To me！ To me！'
No one responded。 'Try a name；' Gudin suggested。
Sharpe invented an officer's name。 'Captain Fellows！ This way！' He called it a dozen times； but there was no response。 'Hakeswill！' he finally shouted。 'Sergeant Hakeswill！'
Then； from maybe thirty paces away； the hated voice called back； 'Who's that？' The Sergeant sounded suspicious。
'e here； man！' Sharpe snapped。
Hakeswill ignored the order； but me fact that a man had replied at all cheered Gudin who had quiedy formed the stray unit of the Tippoo's infantry into a line that waited to kill whoever came in response to Sharpe's hailing。 Chaos reigned ahead。 Rockets banged into branches； musket flames flared in the drifting smoke； while bullets thumped into trees or crackled through the thick leaves。 A bloodthirsty cheer sounded a long way off； but whether it was Indian or British troops who cheered； Sharpe could not tell。
One thing was plain to Sharpe。 The 33rd was in trouble。 Poor Jed Mallinson should never have been abandoned to
