"Cornwell, Bernard - Sharpe 08 - Sharpe's Christmas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cornwell Bernard)

Sharpe had posted a man wide of the line so that he could see past the smoke.

"They're running, sir! They're running!" the man shouted excitedly. "Running like hell!"

"Cease fire!" Sharpe bellowed. "Cease fire!"

And slowly the smoke cleared to show the horror on the winter grass. Blood and horror and broken men. A column had met a line. Sharpe turned away. "Mister d'Alembord."

"Sir?"

"Take a white flag and ride to the southern road. Find the garrison commander.

Tell him we broke a French brigade and that we'll break him in exactly the same manner if he doesn't surrender."

"Sir! Sir! Please sir!" That was Ensign Nicholls, jumping up and down beside d'Alembord. "Can I go with him, sir? Please, sir. I've never seen a Frog. Not close up, sir."

"They've got tails and horns," d'Alembord said, and smiled when Nicholls looked alarmed.

"If you can borrow a horse," Sharpe told the ensign, "you can go. But keep your mouth shut! Let Mister d'Alembord do the talking."

"Yes, sir," Nicholls said, and ran happily away while Sharpe turned back to the north. The French had broken and run, and he doubted they would be back, but he was not willing to care for their wounded. He had neither the men nor the supplies to do that, so someone would have to go down to the enemy under a flag of truce and offer them a chance to clear up the mess they had made.

Just in time for Christmas.

Colonel Caillou watched the two red-coated horsemen approach under their flag of truce and felt an immense rage surge inside him. Gudin would surrender, he knew it, and when that happened Caillou would lose the Eagle that the Emperor himself had presented to the 75th.

He would not let it happen, and so, in a blind fury, he drove back his spurs and galloped after Gudin.

Gudin heard him coming, turned and waved him back, but Caillou ignored him.

Instead he drew his pistol. "Go back!" he shouted in English to the approaching officers. "Go back!"

D'Alembord reined in his horse. "Do you command her, monsieur?" he asked Caillou in French.

"Go back!" Caillou shouted angrily. "We do not accept your flag. You hear me?

We do not accept it. Go!" He leveled the pistol at the younger officer who held the offending flag of truce, a white handkerchief tied to a musket's ramrod. "Go!" Caillou shouted, then spurred his horse away from Gudin who had moved to intervene.

"It's all right, Charlie," d'Alembord said. "He won't shoot. It's a flag of truce." He looked back to Caillou. "Monsieur? I insist upon knowing if you command here."

"Just go!" Caillou shouted, but at that moment Nicholls's horse stumbled a pace forward and Caillou, overwhelmed with rage for the anticipated shame of surrender, pulled the pistol's trigger.

The white flag toppled slowly. Nicholls stared at Caillou with a look of astonishment on his young face, then he turned in puzzlement to gaze at d'Alembord. D'Alembord reached out a hand, but Nicholls was already falling.

The bullet had broken through one of the gold laces his mother had sewn onto his jacket and then it had pierced his young heart.

Caillou seemed suddenly shocked, as if he had only just realized the enormity of his crime. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, a second pistol sounded and Caillou, just like Nicholls, toppled dead from his horse.

Colonel Gudin put his pistol back in its holster. "I command here," he told d'Alembord in English. "To my shame, sir. I command here. You have come to offer terms?"