bcornwell.sharpescompany-第51节

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　At　the　breach's　head　men　swung　the　great　axes；　the　chains　split；　and　the　Ckevaux　de　Prise　was　heaved　ahead　of　them　and　into　a　trench　the　defenders　had　dug　on　the　rubble　crest；　and　then　the　British　were　jumping　the　blades；　shrieking　murder；　and　sliding　down　the　broken　stones　to　the　city's　interior。　They　were　berserk　with　rage。　Hakeswill　could　feel　it；　the　madness；　and　nothing　would　stop　them　this　night。　Even　the　wounded　were　pulling　themselves　up　the　breach　ramps；　some　on　their　bellies；　trying　to　reach　the　city　and　asking　only　for　a　chance　to　hurt　as　they　had　been　hurt。　They　wanted　drink；　and　women；　and　deaths；　and　more　drink；　and　they　remembered　that　Spaniards　had　fired　at　them　from　the　city's　walls　and　that　made　every　living　person　in　Badajoz　an　enemy。　So　they　went；　a　dark；　scrabbling　stream；　over　the　breaches　and　up　into　the　alleyways　and　streets；　trampling　the　wounded　in　their　rush；　more　ing；　more；　the　breaches　living　with　the　mass　of　men　scuttling　into　the　city；　spreading　up　into　Badajoz；　revenge。
　
　Hakeswill　went　with　them　up　a　long　street　that　led　to　a　small　plaza。　He　knew　he　was　going　in　roughly　the　right　direction；　uphill　and　angling　left；　but　he　was　trusting　to　instinct　and　luck。　The　plaza　was　already　crowded　with　soldiers。　Muskets　sounded　as　door　locks　were　blasted　open；　the　first　screams　were　ing　from　the　city's　women　and　some；　not　wanting　to　be　trapped　in　their　houses；　tried　to　run　higher　up　the　hill。　Hakeswill　watched　one　caught。　Her　earrings　were　ripped　from　her　and　blood　sprayed　on　her　dress　as　that；　too；　was　torn　from　her　and　she　was　naked；　spinning　between　the　soldiers　who　pushed　her；　laughed　at　her；　and　then　leaped　on　her。　Hakeswill　skirted　the　group。　It　was　not　his　business；　and　he　guessed　that　the　woman　who　had　escaped　would　lead　him　to　the　cathedral。　He　followed。
　
　Captain　Robert　Knowles；　elated　and　tired；　leaned　briefly　on　the　castle　gateway。　Hooves　echoed　in　the　streets。　Philippon；　the　French　General；　with　a　handful　of　mounted　men　had　ridden　away；　escaping；　down　to　the　bridge　that　would　take　them　to　refuge　in　the　San　Cristobal　Fort。　They　had　lost　the　huge　fortress　and；　as　they　rode；　they　heard　the　dark　business　begin　behind　them。　They　whipped　the…horses；　raked　back　with　spurs；　clattered　on　to　the　bridge　and　behind　them；　running；　came　the　fleeing　French　infantry。　Philippon's　face　was　grief…stricken；　not　for　the　city；　but　for　his　failure。　He　had　done　all　that　could　be　done；　far　more　than　he　had　hoped；　yet　still　he　had　lost。　Wellington；　damned　Wellington；　had　won。
　
　Knowles's　men　crowded　into　the　gateway；　jeering　the　departing　enemy；　and　one　of　them　seized　a　torch　from　its　bracket。　'Permission　to　go；　sir？'　The　flames　lit　the　eager；　hungry　faces　that　watched　Knowles。　'Go！'
　
　They　cheered；　ran　whooping　into　the　streets　and　Knowles　laughed　for　them；　hefted　his　sabre；　and　followed　Teresa。　He　ran　into　the　dark　streets；　the　doors　bolted；　the　ground…floor　windows　covered　in　intricate　iron　bars　and　he　was　soon　lost；　alone；　in　the　tangle　of　streets。　He　stopped　at　a　crossroads；　listening　to　the　screams　up　and　down　the　hill；　and　then　guessed　that　he　should　follow　the　street　with　the　richest　houses。　A　man　pounded　past　him；　uphill；　and　he　saw　the　distinctive　crossbelt　of　a　French　soldier。　The　man　was　armed；　his　long　bayonet　gleaming；　but　he　did　not　stop；　just　kept　running；　his　breath　ing　in　rasping　heaves。　Knowles　ran　downhill；　his　boots　echoing　from　the　dark　houses；　and　then　the　street　stopped；　opened　into　a　big　plaza　and　there；　above　him；　was　the　cathedral。
　
　There　was　panic　in　the　plaza。　The　last　French　had　gone；　escaping　north；　but　the　people　of　Badajoz　had　not　gone　with　them。　Those　that　were　not　in　their　houses　were　here；　struggling　up　the　cathedral　steps；　crowding　its　doors；　hoping　for　sanctuary。　They　ran　past　Knowles；　barging　into　him；　ignoring　him；　and　he　looked　wildly　around　him。　There　were　so　many　streets！　And　then　he　saw；　dark　behind　the　cathedral；　a　small　alley　with　balconied　houses　and　he　ran；　staring　up　at　the　buildings　and　then　he　stopped；　turned；　and　he　saw　two　trees；　a　recessed　frontage；　and　he　pounded　on　the　closed　door。　Teresa！　Teresa！'
　
　Hakeswill　had　taken　the　right…hand　street　that　led　up　from　the　small　plaza　and；　sure　enough；　the　women　had　run　ahead　of　him　to　the　Cathedral。　He　slowed　to　a　walk；　chuckling　to　himself；　and　then　he　heard　the　shouts；　very　close；　and　his　first　instinct　was　that　Sharpe　had　reached　the　house　first。
　
　'Teresa！　Teresa！'　That　was　not　Sharpe's　voice！　An　officer；　by　the　sound　of　it；　but　not　Sharpe；　and　Hakeswill　flattened　himself　against　the　opposite　wall　and　watched　the　dark　shape　pounding　at　the　door。　'Teresa！　It's　me！　Robert　Knowles！'
　
　A　shutter　opened　on　the　first　floor；　seeping　dim　candlelight；　and　Hakeswill　saw　a　woman's　shape；　slim　and　longhaired。　It　must　be　her！　He　felt　the　excitement　inside　him；　shifting　restlessly；　uncoiling；　and　then　she　called　down。　'Who's　that？'
　
　'Robert！　Robert　Knowles！'
　
　'Robert？'
　
　'Yes！　Open　up！'
　
　'Where's　Richard？'
　
　'I　don't　know。　I　wasn't　with　him。'　Knowles　was　standing　back；　staring　up　at　the　narrow　balcony。　The　screams　were　ing　nearer；　the　musket　shots；　and　Teresa　looked　down　the　hill　at　the　first　flickerings　of　burning　houses。　'Wait！　I'll　open　up！'　She　banged　the　shutters　close；　latched　them；　and　opposite；　in　deep　shadow；　Hakeswill　grinned　to　himself。　He　could　rush　the　door　as　she　opened　it；　but　the　officer；　he　could　see；　was　carrying　a　drawn　sabre　and　he　remembered　that　the　bitch　herself　carried　weapons。　He　looked　up　to　the　balcony。　It　was　not　high　and；　beneath　it；　the　groundfloor　window　was　barred　with　a　lattice　of　black　iron。　He　waited。
　
　The　front　door　opened；　creaking　on　hinges；　and　he　saw　the　girl　silhouetted　in　the　gap　for　the　brief　instant　it　took　for　Knowles　to　enter。　The　door　shut　and　Hakeswill　moved；　surprisingly　fast　and　soft　for　such　a　man；　straight　to　the　barred　window　that　gave　such　easy　footholds；　up　till　he　could　reach　back　to　the　balcony's　base　and　then　the　strength　was　all　in　his　arms。　He　paused　briefly；　his　face　suddenly　twitching；　but　then　the　spasm　passed　and　he　pulled；　the　powerful　arms　making　it　easy；　hand　over　hand　till　his　feet　caught　on　the　balcony　and　he　climbed　over　the　rail。　The　shutter　was　wooden；　gapped　for　the　night　air　and　he　could　see　the　empty　room。　He　pushed　at　the　shutter。　It　was　locked；　but　he　pushed　again；　increasing　the　pressure；　and　the　wood　creaked；　bent；　and　then　splintered　inwards。　He　froze；　but　the　noise　of　the　city's　sack　was　covering　his　own　noise；　and　he　moved　again；　into　the　room；　and　the　bayonet　whispered　from　the　scabbard。
　
　A　cry：　he　turned；　and　there；　in　a　wooden　cot；　was　a　baby。　Sharpe's　bastard。　He　cackled　to　himself；　crossed　the　room　and　stared　down。　The　child　had　cried　in　its　sleep。　He　took　off　his　hat　and　held　the　hat　over　the　baby　and　talked　to　the　hat。　'Do　you　see？　There　it　is。　Like　I　was　once？　Is　that　right；　Mother？　Like　me。'　The　child　moved　and　Hakeswill　crooned。　'Sleepibubber；　sleepibubber。　You　remember　saying　that；　Mother；　to　your　Obadiah？'
　
　A　footstep　on　the　stairs；　another；　the　creak　of　wood；　and　voices　outside。　He　could　hear　the　girl　and　the　officer　and　he　dropped　the　hat；　on　to　the　baby；　and　pulled　the　pistol　from　within　his　jacket。　He　was　still；　listening　to　her　voice；　the　bayonet　in　his　left　hand；　pistol　in　his　right；　and　the　baby　cried　again；　in　her　sleep；　and　Teresa　opened　the　door　and　spoke　to　it　in　gentle　Spanish。
　
　And　stopped。
　
　'Hello；　missy！'　The　face　twitched；　yellow　in　the　candlelight；　the　mouth　grinning；　black　teeth　showing　on　rotten　gums；　and　the　raw　scar　on　the　ungainly　neck；　twitching　with　the　head。　Hakeswill　laughed。　'Hello！　Remember　me？'
　
　Teresa　looked　at　her　child　and　the　bayonet　was　just　above　Antonia's　cot　and　she　gasped。　Knowles　pushed　her　aside；　brought　up　the　sabre；　and　the　pistol　flared；　waking　the　child；　and　the　bullet　threw　Knowles　backward；　backward　through　the　door　to　fall　with　Hakeswill's　cackle　the　last　sound　in　his　life。
　
　Hakeswill　kept　the　bayonet　above　the　baby　and　pushed　the　pistol；　still　smoking；　back　into　his　jacket。　The　blue　eyes　turned　to　Teresa；　her　own　gaze　fixed　on　the　bayonet；　and　he　grinned　at　her。　'Didn't　need　him；　missy；　did　we？　Only　takes　two　to　do　what　we're　going　to　do。'　He　cackled；　a　mad　sound；　but　his　eyes　were　level　and　his　bayonet　steady。　'Shut　the　door；　missy。'
　
　She　swore　at　him；　and　he　laughed。　She　was　more　beautiful　than　he　remembered；　the　dark　hair　framing　the　fine　face；　and　he　bent　down　and　put　his　right　hand　beneath　the　baby。　It　was　crying。　She　moved　towards　it；　but　the　bayonet　flickered；　and　she　stopped。　Hakeswill　picked　the　child　up；　bedclothes　bundled；　and　he　held　it　awkwardly　in　his　right　arm　and　his　left　was　held　out　and　bent　back　so　that　the　needle…pointed　bayonet　was　at　the　tiny；　soft　throat。　'I　said　shut　the　door。'　His　voice　was　low；　very　low；　and　he　saw　the　fear　on　her　face　and　his　desire　was　heavy；　so　heavy。
　
　She　shut　the　door；　slamming　it　on　Knowles's　dead　feet；　and　Hakeswill　nodded　at　it。　'Bolt　it。'　The　bolt　slammed　home。
　
　The　hat　was　still　in　the　cot　and　Hakeswill　regretted　it　because　he　would　like　his　mother；　whose　likeness　was　in　the　crown；　to　see　this；　but　it　could　not　be　helped。