bcornwell.sharpstiger-第72节

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　listening；　he　became　aware　of　the　shouts　and　volleys。　The　men　of　the　I2th　were　pouring　musket　fire　into　the　Tippoo's　bodyguard　and　those　men　were　staying　close　to　their　monarch　and　returning　the　fire。　Redcoats　attacked　from　the　west　and　more　fired　from　me　Sultan　Battery。　The　attempt　to　recapture　the　battery　had　failed；　and　a　mix　of　sepoys　and　redcoats　were　now　forcing　their　way　along　the　outer　northern　wall。　The　ferocity　of　theirfire　had　forced　the　Tippoo's　bodyguard　to　crouch　close　about　their　monarch；　and　Sharpe　had　been　given　precious　seconds　in　which　to　load　his　muskets。　He　had　three　charged　guns　now。　Three　bullets；　and　he　wanted　one　of　them　for　the　heathen　bastard　who　had　poured　salt　on　his　back；　the　bastard　who　wore　a　great　ruby　in　his　hat。　He　again　crept　forward　through　the　smoke；　willing　the　Tippoo　to　e　into　the　tunnel。
　But　the　Tippoo　was　once　again　fighting　off　the　encroaching　infidels。　Allah　had　given　him　this　last　chance　to　kill　redcoats；　and　so　he　was　taking　the　jewelled　hunting　rifles　from　his　aides　and　calmly　shooting　at　the　men　who　had　so　nearly　captured　the　inner　Water　Gate。　His　aides　were　shouting　at　him　to　flee　through　the　tunnel　and　find　a　horse；　but　the　Tippoo　had　been　granted　this　final　moment　of　battle　and　it　seemed　to　him　that　he　could　not　miss　with　any　of　his　shots；　and　with　each　redcoat　thrown　back　he　felt　a　fierce　joy。　Then　a　new　rush　of　sepoys　and　redcoats　burst　along　the　outer　wall　and　those　men　came　swarming　down　the　ramp　by　the　outer　Water　Gate　to　add　their　muskets　to　those　threatening　the　Tippoo's　shrinking　bodyguard。
　And　as　those　new　enemies　appeared；　the　Tippoo's　charmed　luck　turned。　One　bullet　struck　his　thigh　and　another　punched　his　left　arm　to　leave　a　splash　of　blood　bright　on　the　white　linen　sleeve。　He　staggered；　but　kept　his　balance。　It　seemed　that　not　a　man　of　his　bodyguard　was　left　unwounded；　but　a　score　of　them　still　lived　and　could　walk。　In　a　moment；　though；　the　enemy　must　triumph　and　the　Tippoo　knew　it　was　time　to　bid　his　city　farewell。　'We　go；'　he　told　his　relieved　aides；　and　limped　towards　the　tunnel。　His　left　arm　was　numb；　as　though　it　had　been　hit　by　a　giant　hammer；　and　there　was　a　horrid　pain　in　his　left　leg。
　A　shot　crashed　out　of　the　Water　Gate's　smoky　gloom　and　the　man　leading　the　Tippoo's　escape　was　snatched　backwards　from　the　tunnel　entrance　with　blood　misting　up　from　his　shattered　skull。　Against　the　bright　sunlight　that　glowed　at　theend　of　the　tunnel　the　fine　droplets　of　blood　looked　like　powdered　rubies。　The　man　fell；　screamed　and　thrashed。　The　Tippoo；　stunned　by　the　suddenness　of　the　bodyguard's　unexpected　death；　paused；　and　behind　him　a　terrible　roar　sounded　as　the　assaulting　redcoats　closed　in　on　the　mouth　of　the　tunnel。　The　bodyguard　turned　back　to　face　their　attackers　with　fixed　bayonets。
　'Go；　Your　Majesty！'　A　wounded　aide　thrust　a　rifle　into　the　Tippoo's　hands；　then　dared　to　push　his　monarch　into　the　tunnel。　The　Tippoo　allowed　himself　to　be　pushed　into　the　shadows；　but　stopped　close　to　the　mouth　of　the　tunnel　and　from　there　he　stared　into　the　vaporous　darkness。　Was　an　enemy　there？　He　could　not　see　because　of　the　smoke。　Behind　him　were　the　harsh　sounds　of　volleys　and　curses　as　his　bodyguard　died；　and　as　they　died　their　bodies　were　making　a　terrible　barricade　that　protected　the　Tippoo；　but　what　waited　in　front　of　him？　He　peered；　reluctant　to　go　forward　into　the　shit…stinking　gloom；　but　then　the　aide　snatched　at　the　Tippoo's　elbow　and　dragged　him　deeper　into　the　darkness。　The　few　surviving　bodyguards　were　defending　the　tunnel　with　bayonets；　stabbing　at　the　crazed　redcoats　who　tried　to　scramble　across　the　bloody　pile　of　corpses。
　'Open　the　gate！'　the　aide　shouted；　then　he　saw　the　shadow　within　the　shadow　at　the　end　of　the　tunnel　and　he　dropped　to　one　knee　and　took　aim　with　his　jewelled　rifle。　He　fired；　and　the　golden　tiger…mask　doghead　snapped　forward　onto　the　fiizzen。　Sharpe　threw　himself　to　one　side　just　as　the　gun　fired；　heard　the　bullet　snick　the　wall　and　ricochet　into　the　teak　door；　then　he　saw　the　aide　pull　a　long　pistol　from　his　sash。　Sharpe　fired　first；　the　boom　of　his　musket　echoing　in　the　tunnel　like　doom's　diunder。　The　ball　hurled　the　aide　back　into　a　deep　pool；　and　suddenly　there　was　only　the　Tippoo　and　Sharpe　left。
　Sharpe　stood　and　grinned　at　the　Tippoo。　'Bastard；'　he　said；　seeing　the　glint　of　light　reflected　from　the　ruby　in　his　enemy'shelmet。　'Bastard；'　he　said　again。　He　had　one　loaded　musket　left。　The　Tippoo　was　holding　a　rifle。　Sharpe　stepped　forward。
　The　Tippoo　recognized　the　hard；　bloody　face　in　the　gloom。　He　smiled。　Fate　was　most　strange；　he　thought。　Why　had　he　not　killed　this　man　when　he　had　the　chance？　Behind　him　his　bodyguard　was　dying　and　the　victorious　redcoats　were　plundering　their　bodies；　while　in　front　of　him　was　freedom　and　life；　except　for　one　man　to　whom　the　Tippoo　had　shown　mercy。　Just　one　man。
　'Bastard；'　Sharpe　said　again。　He　wanted　to　be　close　when　he　killed　the　Tippoo；　close　enough　to　make　certain　of　the　man's　death。
　Behind　the　Tippoo　the　bright　daylight　was　dulled　by　the　swirling　gunsmoke　where　dying　men　gasped　and　victorious　men　looted。　'Mercy　is　God's　prerogative；　not　man's；'　the　Tippoo　said　in　Persian；　'and　I　should　never　have　been　merciful　to　you。'　He　aimed　the　rifle　at　Sharpe　and　pulled　the　trigger；　but　the　gun　did　not　fire。　In　the　panic　of　the　last　seconds　the　aide　had　handed　the　Tippoo　an　unloaded　rifle　and　the　flint　had　sparked　on　an　empty　pan。　The　Tippoo　smiled；　tossed　the　gun　aside　and　unsheathed　his　tiger…hilted　sword。　There　was　blood　on　his　arm；　and　more　on　his　chintz　trousers；　but　he　showed　no　fear；　he　even　seemed　to　relish　the　moment。　'How　I　do　hate　your　cursed　race；'　he　said　calmly；　giving　the　sword　a　cut　through　the　smoky　air。
　Sharpe　did　not　understand　the　Tippoo　any　more　than　the　Tippoo　understood　Sharpe。　'You're　a　fat　little　bastard；'　Sharpe　said；　'and　you　took　away　my　medal。　I　wanted　that。　It's　the　only　medal　I've　ever　got。'
　The　Tippoo　just　smiled。　His　helmet　had　been　dipped　in　the　fountain　of　life；　but　it　had　not　worked。　The　magic　had　failed　and　only　Allah　was　left。　He　waited　for　the　snarling　redcoat　to　shoot；　then　a　shout　sounded　in　the　mouth　of　the　tunnel　and　the　Tippoo　turned；　hoping　that　one　last　bodyguard　would　e　to　save　him。But　no　bodyguard　appeared　and　the　Tippoo　turned　back　to　face　Sharpe。　'I　dreamed　of　death　last　night；'　he　said　in　Persian　as　he　limped　forward　and　raised　the　curved　blade　to　strike　at　the　redcoat。　'I　dreamed　of　monkeys；　and　monkeys　mean　death。　I　should　have　killed　you。'
　Sharpe　fired。　The　bullet　went　higher　than　he　intended。　He　had　thought　to　put　it　through　the　Tippoo's　heart；　but　instead　it　struck　the　King　in　the　temple。　For　a　second　the　Tippoo　wavered。　His　head　had　been　whipped　back　by　the　bullet's　force　and　blood　was　soaking　into　his　cloth…padded　helmet；　but　he　forced　his　head　forward　and　stared　into　Sharpe's　eyes。　The　sword　fell　from　his　nerveless　hand；　he　seemed　to　smile　a　last　time；　then　he　just　slumped　down。
　The　booming　echo　of　the　musket　shot　still　battered　Sharpe's　ears　so　he　was　not　aware　that　he　was　talking　as　he　crouched　beside　the　Tippoo。　'It's　your　ruby　I　want；'　Sharpe　said；　'that　bloody　great　ruby。　I　wanted　it　from　the　very　first　moment　I　saw　you。　Colonel　McCandless　told　me；　he　did；　that　it's　wealth　that　makes　the　world　turn　and　I　want　my　share。'　The　Tippoo　still　lived；　but　he　could　not　move。　His　expressionless　eyes　stared　up　at　Sharpe；　who　thought　the　Tippoo　was　dead；　but　then　the　dying　man　blinked。　'Still　here；　are　you？'　Sharpe　said。　He　patted　the　Tippoo's　bloodied　cheek。　'You're　a　brave　fat　bastard；　I　will　say　that　for　you。'　He　wrenched　the　huge　ruby　off　the　blood…spattered　feather　plume；　then　stripped　the　dying　man　of　every　jewel　he　could　find。　He　took　the　pearls　from　the　Tippoo's　neck；　twisted　off　an　armlet　bright　with　gems；　tugged　off　the　diamond　rings　and　unlatched　the　silver…hung　necklace　of　emeralds。　He　pulled　on　the　Tippoo's　sash　to　see　if　the　dagger　with　the　great　diamond　called　the　Moonstone　in　its　hilt　was　there；　but　the　sash　held　nothing　except　the　sword　scabbard。　Sharpe　took　that；　but　left　the　tiger…hilted　sword。　He　lifted　the　blade　from　a　puddle　of　sewage　and　placed　it　in　the　Tippoo's　hand。　'You　can　keep　your　sword；'　he　told　the　dying　man；　'for　you　foughtproper。　Lake　a　proper　soldier。'　He　stood　up　and　then；　awkwardly；　because　of　his　burden　of　jewels　and　because　he　was　suddenly　conscious　of　the　dying　King's　gaze；　he　saluted　the　Tippoo。　'Take　your　blade　to　paradise；'　he　said；　'and　tell　them　you　were　killed　by　another　proper　soldier。'
　The　Tippoo's　eyes　closed　and　he　thought　of　the　prayer　that　he　had　copied　into　his　notebook　that　very　morning。　'I　am　full　of　sin；'　the　Tippoo　had　written　in　his　beautiful　Arabic　script；　'and　Thou；　Allah；　art　a　sea　of　mercy。　Where　Thy　mercy　is；　where　is　my　sin？'　That　was　a　fort。　There　was　no　pain　now；　not　even　in　his　leg；　and　that　was　a　fort　too；　but　still　he　could　not　move。　It　was　like　one　of　the　dreams　he　copied　each　morning　into　his　dream…book　and　he　wondered　at　how　peaceful　everything　suddenly　seemed；　as　peaceful　as　though　he　was　floating　on　a　gilded　barge　down　a　warm　river　beneath　a　blessed　sun。　This　must　be　the　way　to　paradise；　he　thought；　and　he　weled　it。　Paradise。
　Sharpe　felt　a　pang　of　sorrow　for