bcornwell.sharpescompany-第36章

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ed　for　a　live　husband　on　the　morrow；　and　the　children　were　silent；　awed　by　the　expectancy；　while　in　the　doctors'　tents　the　instrument　cases　were　opened　and　the　scalpels　honed。　The　guns　fired　on。
　
　Seven　o'clock。　A　half…hour　only　left　and　Sharpe　and　the　other　guides　…　all　except　the　Rifleman　were　Engineers　…joined　their　battalions。　The　Forlorn　Hope　of　the　Light　Division　was　half　posed　of　Riflemen；　hoping　for　the　laurel…wreath　badge。　They　grinned　at　Sharpe　and　joked　with　him。　They　wanted　the　thing　done　and　over　in　the　way　that　a　man　facing　the　surgeon's　knife　hastened　the　fatal　clock。　They　would　move　at　half…past　seven　and　by　half…past　nine　the　issue　would　be　decided。　Those　that　lived　would　be　drunk　by　ten　and　the　wine　would　be　free。　They　waited；　sitting　on　the　ground　with　their　rifles　between　their　knees；　and　prayed　the　clock　on。　Let　it　be　over；　let　it　be　over；　and　darkness　came　and　the　guns　boomed　on；　and　the　orders　had　to　e。
　
　Half…past　seven；　and　the　orders　still　not　given。　There　was　a　delay　and　no　one　knew　why。　The　troops　fidgeted；　grew　angry　against　unseen　staff　officers；　cursed　the　bloody　army　and　the　bloody　Generals　because　in　the　darkness　the　French　would　be　swarming　on　the　breaches；　preparing　traps　for　the　British！　The　guns　stopped　firing；　as　they　should　have　done；　but　there　were　still　no　orders　and　the　men　waited　and　imagined　the　French　working　on　the　new　breach。　Eight　o'clock　sounded；　and　then　the　half；　and　horses　galloped　in　the　darkness。　Men　shouted　for　information。　There　were　still　no　orders；　but　rumored　explanations。　The　ladders　had　been　lost。　The　hay　bags　were　missing　and　they　cursed　the　Engineers；　the　lousy　army；　and　the　French　worked　on。
　
　Nine　o'clock；　and　murder　was　being　prepared　in　the　breaches。　Delay　it；　Sharpe　thought；　let　it　be　tomorrow！　The　attack　should　go　in　on　the　heels　of　the　guns；　in　the　minutes　of　darkness　when　there　was　a　trace　of　light　so　that　the　battalions　would　not　get　lost　on　the　glacis。　Still　the　time　ticked　away　and　still　they　waited　and　still　the　enemy　were　given　precious　minutes　to　work　on　the　defences。　Then　there　was　a　stir　in　the　darkness。　Orders；　at　last；　and　there　would　be　no　delay。
　
　Go；　go；　go；　go；　go。　The　ranks　moved　with　the　clinking　of　metal　and　thumping　of　rifle　and　musket　stocks。　There　was　a　sense　of　relief　to　be　moving　in　the　darkness；　in　the　bleak；　total　darkness；　and　the　six　thousand　five　hundred　men；　English；　Irish；　Scottish；　Welsh　and　Portuguese　moved　against　the　city。　The　guides　ordered　quiet　and　the　orders　went　back；　but　they　were　moving　at　last　and　no　one　could　silence　the　thousands　of　boots　that　scraped　and　scuffed　by　the　road　that　led　between　the　flood　and　the　Pardaleras　Fort。　Far　to　the　north；　the　Third　Division　filed　over　the　bridge　by　the　broken　mill　that　spanned　the　Rivillas　and　the　air　was　filled　with　the　croaking　of　frogs　and　the　fears　of　men。　The　city　waited　in　darkness。　Silence　in　Badajoz。
　
　The　Lieutenant　who　was　leading　the　Forlorn　Hope　touched　Sharpe's　elbow。　'Are　we　too　far　to　the　left？'
　
　They　had　lost　all　touch　with　the　Fourth　Division。　It　was　dark；　utterly　dark；　and　there　was　no　sound　from　the　fort　or　from　the　city。　Sharpe　whispered　back。　'We're　all　right。'
　
　Still　there　was　no　firing；　no　sound　from　the　city　or　from　the　Pardaleras　that　was　now　behind　them。　Silence。　Sharpe　wondered　if　the　attack　would　be　a　surprise　to　the　French。　He　wondered　if　perhaps　the　enemy　had　been　fooled　by　the　delay；　perhaps　the　troops　had　relaxed；　were　waiting　for　another　day　and　if　the　greatest　gift　the　gods　can　give　a　soldier；　surprise；　had　been　given　to　the　British。　They　were　close　now。　The　dim；　dark　shadow　of　the　fortress　blotted　out　half　the　sky。　It　was　huge　in　the　night；　vast；　unimaginably　strong；　and　the　slope　of　the　glacis　was　beneath　Sharpe's　feet　and　he　paused　as　the　sixty　men　of　the　Forlorn　Hope　aligned　themselves　and　thrust　their　ladders　and　hay…bags　to　the　front。　The　Lieutenant　scraped　his　sword　from　the　scabbard。　'Ready。'
　
　There　was　firing　from　the　right；　far　off；　where　the　Third　Division　had　been　spotted。　It　sounded　miles　away；　like　someone　else's　battle；　and　it　was　difficult　to　believe　that　the　sound　had　anything　to　do　with　the　dark　glacis　leading　to　the　fortress　in　front。　Yet　the　sound　would　alert　all　the　French　sentries　and　Sharpe　hurried　up　the　slope；　angling　to　his　left；　and　still　there　was　no　sound　from　walls　or　bastions。　He　tried　to　make　sense　of　the　shadows；　to　recognize　the　shapes　he　had　seen　just　three　nights　before；　and　his　footsteps　sounded　loud　on　the　grass　and　he　could　hear　the　panting　of　men　behind　him。　Surely　the　French　would　hear！　At　any　moment；　he　almost　cringed　at　the　reality　of　the　imagination；　the　grapeshot　would　stab　down　from　the　walls。　He　saw　the　corner　of　a　bastion；　recognized　the　Santa　Maria；　and　a　relief　went　through　him　as　he　knew　he　had　brought　the　Hope　to　the　right　place。
　
　Sharpe　turned　to　the　Lieutenant。　〃This　is　it。'　He　wished　he　was　going　with　him；　that　he　was　leading　the　Hope；　but　it　was　not　to　be。　The　glory　belonged　to　the　Lieutenant　who　made　no　reply。　Tonight　he　was　a　god；　tonight　he　could　do　no　wrong；　because　tonight　he　was　leading　a　Forlorn　Hope　against　the　biggest　citadel　the　British　army　had　ever　attacked。　He　turned　to　his　men。
　
　They　went。　Silent。　The　ladders　scraped　over　the　stone　lip　of　the　glacis；　down　into　the　ditch；　and　the　men　scrambled　down；　slithering　on　the　rungs；　falling　on　to　the　thrown　hay…bags。　It　had　begun。
　
　Sharpe　watched　the　walls。　They　were　dark　and　silent。　Behind　him；　at　the　foot　of　the　glacis；　he　could　hear　the　tramp　of　feet　as　the　battalions　approached　and　then；　ahead；　he　heard　the　Lieutenant　shout　at　his　men　and　the　first　scrambling　of　boots　on　the　breach。　It　had　started。　Hell　had　e　to　Badajoz。
　
　CHAPTER　24
　
　In　the　cathedral　that　day　the　prayers　had　been　unceasing；　muttered；　sometimes　hysterical；　the　words　had　acpanied　the　beads　as　the　women　of　Badajoz　feared　for　the　dead　who　would　e　to　their　streets　that　night。　Just　as　the　British　army　knew　the　assault　was　ing；　so；　too；　did　the　defenders　and　inhabitants　of　Badajoz。　A　host　of　candles　flickered　before　the　saints　as　if　the　tiny　flames　could　keep　at　bay　the　evil　that　surrounded　the　city　and　came　pressing　closer　as　the　night　gloom　filled　the　cathedral。
　
　Rafael　Moreno；　merchant；　trickled　powder　into　his　pistols　and　hid　them；　loaded　and　primed；　beneath　the　lid　of　his　writing　desk。　He　wished　his　wife　were　with　him；　but　she　had　insisted　enjoining　the　nuns　in　the　cathedral；　foolish　woman；　and　praying。　Prayers　would　not　deflect　the　soldiers；　bullets　might；　but　it　was　more　likely　they　could　be　bribed　by　the　cheap　red　wine　he　had　put　in　his　courtyard。　Moreno　shrugged。　The　most　valuable　possessions　were　hidden；　well　hidden；　and　his　niece　insisted　she　had　friends　among　the　British。　He　could　hear　Teresa　upstairs；　talking　to　her　child；　and　doubtless　she　had　the　heathen　rifle　loaded　and　ready。　He　liked　his　niece；　of　course；　but　there　were　times　when　he　thought　that　his　brother　Cesar's　family　were　more　than　a　little　too　wild。　Downright　irresponsible　even。　He　poured　himself　wine。　That　child　upstairs；　improving　in　health；　God　be　praised；　but　a　bastard！　And　in　his　house！　Moreno　sipped　the　wine。　The　neighbors　did　not　know；　he　had　seen　to　that。　They　thought　she　was　a　widow　whose　husband　had　died　in　last　year's　battles　between　the　French　and　the　disintegrating　Spanish　armies。　He　heard　the　clock　in　the　cathedral　tower　begin　wheezing　as　it　wound　itself　up　to　strike　the　bell。　Ten　o'clock　in　Badajoz。　He　emptied　his　glass　and　called　for　a　servant　to　refill　it。
　
　The　bell　sounded；　and　below；　in　the　cathedral；　beneath　the　vaulted　ceiling　and　the　gold　ledges；　below　the　huge；　dark　chandelier；　and　beneath　the　sad　eyes　of　the　Virgin；　the　women　heard　the　crackle　of　muskets　begin　far　away。　They　looked　up；　over　the　glow　of　the　candles；　at　the　Mother　of　God。　Be　with　us　now　and　in　the　hour　of　our　need。
　
　Sharpe　heard　the　first　toll　of　the　hour；　and　then　no　more。　As　it　sounded；　so　the　first　fireball　rose　from　the　battlements；　arced　its　spark…path　in　the　blackness；　and　then　plummeted　to　the　ditch。　It　was　the　first　of　a　storm；　the　tight　packed　balls　flaming　and　falling　as　the　carcasses　were　rolled　on　to　the　breach；　and　suddenly　the　breaches；　the　ditch；　the　ravelin；　the　obstacles；　and　the　tiny　figures　of　the　Forlorn　Hope　were　swamped　in　light；　light　poured　from　above；　by　flames　that　caught　on　the　obstacles　in　the　ditch；　and　the　Hope　began　to　climb　as　the　fire　was　bright　on　their　bayonets。
　
　The　battalions　behind　cheered。　Silence　was　done。　The　front　ranks　reached　the　ditch　and　the　ladders　scraped　over。　Men　hurled　themselves　after　the　hay…bags　and　scrambled　down　ladders；　a　flow　of　men　in　desperate　haste　to　cross　the　ditch　and　climb　the　huge　ramps　of　the　breaches。　They　were　cheering；　urging　themselves　on；　even　as　the　first　tongues　of　quicksilver　flame　raced　down　the　breaches　of　the　Santa　Maria　and　Trinidad。
　
　Sharpe　dropped　as　the　mines　exploded。　Not　one　or　two；　but　tons　of　powder　packed　in　the　ditch；　on　the　lower　slopes　of　the　ramps；　was　ignited　and　exploded　outwards；　and　the　Forlorn　Hope　was　gone。　Taken　in　an　instant；　ground　into　fragments　of　wet　horror；　all　dead；　as　the　first　files　of　the　first　battalions　were　hurled　backwards　by　the　flame　and　flying　stone。
　
　The　French　cheered。　They　lined　the　parapets；　the　bastions；　and　the　guns　that　had　been　handled　round　to　fire　down　into　the　ditch；　guns　which　had　been　double　shotted　with　canister；　were　unmasked。　Muskets　spat；　were　drowned　by　the　cannon　flames。　The　enemy　cheered　and　shouted　obscenities；　and　all　the　time　the　carcasses　were　thrown；　lighting　the　targets；　and　the　ditch　was　slopping　with　fire；　a　container　of　flames　that　would　only　be　drowned　in　blood；　and　still　the　men　went　down　the　ladders　and　into　the　ditch。
　
　The　third　breach　was　silent；　the　new　breach。　It　lay　between　the　bastions；　a　huge　fresh　scar　that　could　lead　into　the　city；　but　Sharpe　saw　the　French　had　worked　well。　The　ditch　in　front　of　the　wall　was　huge；　as　wide　as　a　parade　ground；　but　filled　with　the　squat；　half…finished　ravelin。　The　ravelin　was　twenty　feet　high；　shaped　like　a　diamond；　and　the　only　way　to　the　new　breach　was　to　go　round　it。　The　way　was　blocked。　Carts　had　been　tipped　over　in　the　approach　ditches；　then　covered　with　timbers；　and　the　fireballs　had　lit　the　obstacles　so　that　they　flamed　huge　and　fierce；　and　no　attacker　could　get　close。　Only　the　breaches　in　the　bastions；　the　Santa　Maria　and　the　Trinidad；　could　be　approached；　and　those　were　dominated　by　the　enemy　guns。　They　fired　again　and　again；　the　ammunition　hoarded　against　this　night；　and　still　the　British　tried；　and　still　they　died　yards　from　the　breaches'　base。
　
　Sharpe　went　back　down　the　glacis；　into　the　shadows；　and　turned　once　to　see　the　high；　great　walls　of　the　battle　lit　by　fire。　Flames　jetted　from　the　embrasures；　writhing　smoke　into　the　maelstrom　below；　and　in　the　light　of　the　fires　he　saw　strange　patterns　at　the　top　of　the　breaches。　He　stopped　and　stared；　trying　to　make　sense　of　the　shapes　glimpsed　through　the　harrowing　fire　and　smoke；　and　saw　that　the　French　had　crowned　each　breach　with　Ckevaux　de　Prise。　Each　one　was　a　timber；　thick　as　a　battleship's　main　mast；　and　from　each　chained　timber　there　sprang　a　thousand　sabre　blade