bcornwell.sharpescompany-第19部分

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now　it　was　him。　He　cackled。　'Obadiah　Hakeswill；　missy；　at　your　service。'
　
　She　smiled　at　him；　transfixing；　unexpected。　'Obber…dyer？'
　
　He　paused。　He　had　been　about　to　transfer　the　bayonet。　He　was　suspicious；　but　he　nodded。　'Sergeant　Obadiah　Hakeswill；　missy；　and　in　a　hurry；　if　you　don't　mind。　'
　
　Her　eyes；　large　already；　widened　as　if　impressed。　'Sarj…ent？　Si？'　She　smiled　again。　'Sarj…ent　Obber…dyer　Hag…swill？　Si？　She　caressed　the　words；　lingered　on　them。
　
　Hakeswill　was　puzzled。　It　was　dark　enough　in　the　stable；　to　be　sure；　but　not　so　dark　that　she　could　not　see　his　face。　Yet　she　seemed　to　like　him。　It　was　not　impossible；　he　supposed；　but　even　if　she　did　like　him　that　was　no　reason　to　linger。　Reason；　indeed；　to　make　haste。　'That's　right；　dearie；　a　Sergeant。　Mucha　Importante。　'　He　was　short　of　room；　the　damned　horse　was　too　close；　but　then　the　girl　smiled　again　and　patted　the　straw　on　her　other　side。　'Importante？'
　
　He　grinned　at　her；　glad　she　was　impressed；　and　eased　the　bayonet　back　a　trifle。　'Move　over；　then。　'
　
　She　nodded；　smiled　again；　and　her　hands　went　to　the　back　of　her　neck；　and　she　licked　her　lips；　and　Hakeswill's　eyes　moved　to　watch　her　draw　up　her　long；　slim；　trousered　legs；　and　he　never　saw　the　blade　that　she　took　from　the　sheath　that　hung　at　the　top　of　her　spine。　He　was　fumbling　with　his　buttons　when　the　knife　sliced　at　his　face；　sprang　blood；　and　the　knees　kept　ing　and　slammed　him　against　the　horse's　rear　legs。　He　bellowed；　swung　the　bayonet；　but　the　knife　was　faster　and　cut　at　his　wrist；　so　he　dropped　the　blade；　screaming　at　her；　and　she　kicked　at　it　as　she　scrambled；　fast　as　a　hare；　under　the　belly　of　her　horse。
　
　'Whore！'　He　reached　for　her　under　the　horse；　but　the　bitch　had　his　bayonet　and　stabbed　at　him；　so　he　was　forced　back；　and　then　she　swore　at　him　in　fast；　fluent　English；　and　he　wiped　blood　from　his　face　and　spat　at　her。
　
　She　laughed；　crouching　beyond　the　horse；　and　she　leveled　the　blade　at　him。　'e　and　get　it；　Obadiah。　'
　
　He　stood　up　and　backed　into　the　passageway　between　the　stalls。　He　was　still　between　her　and　the　door；　and　there　were　more　ways　than　one　of　skinning　a　cat。　He　felt　his　face。　The　wound　was　small　enough；　and　his　wrist　was　usable。　He　grinned　at　her。　'I'll　have　you；　missy；　then　I'll　carve　you　into　little　pieces。　'　He　cackled；　feeling　his　head　twitch。　'Bloody　little　Portuguese　whore！'　She　was　still　between　the　horse　and　the　wooden　partition　and　he　went　forward　as　she　stood　up；　his　bayonet　still　in　her　hand；　and　she　was　smiling。
　
　He　checked　at　the　sight　of　the　bayonet。　She　was　holding　it　low；　ready　to　rip　it　upwards；　and　there　was　no　sign　of　trembling。　He　thought　of　rushing　her；　but　the　bitch　looked　as　if　she　might　do　real　damage；　so　he　backed　away；　keeping　himself　between　her　and　the　door；　and　looked　around　for　the　pitchfork　that　had　to　be　in　a　stable。　He　wanted　this　girl。　She　was　beautiful；　and　he　wanted　her；　and　he　would　have　her；　and　his　face　twitched；　and　the　words　hammered　in　his　head。　He　would　have　her；　have　her；　have　her；　and　then　he　saw　the　pitchfork　and　went　back　fast；　turned；　and　grabbed　at　it。
　
　The　girl　was　nearly　on　to　him。　She　had　guts；　for　a　Portuguese　bitch；　and　he　twisted　to　one　side　to　avoid　the　lunge　of　the　bayonet。　Damn　her！　She　had　passed　him；　was　by　the　door；　but　instead　of　opening　it　she　stopped；　turned；　and　taunted　him。　She　spoke　to　him　in　Spanish；　a　language　of　rich　insult；　and　laughed　at　her　own　words。
　
　Hakeswill　assumed　it　was　Portuguese；　a　language　of　which　he　was　as　ignorant　as　he　was　of　Spanish；　but　one　thing　was　sure。　He　was　not　being　plimented。　He　put　the　pitchfork　out　ahead　of　him　and　stalked　towards　her。　There　was　no　way　she　could　beat　this　attack　and　he　grinned　at　her。　'Make　it　easy　for　yourself；　missy；　drop　the　spike。　e　on；　drop　it！'
　
　Teresa　wanted　to　kill　him；　not　leave　it　to　Sharpe；　and　she　switched　to　English　so　she　might　provoke　an　angered；　unthinking　charge。　She　had　to　assemble　the　sentence　carefully；　make　sure　it　was　right　in　her　head；　and　then　she　laughed　at　him。　'Your　mother　was　a　sow；　sold　to　a　toad。　'
　
　He　bellowed；　the　anger　exploding　like　powder。　'Mother！'　He　ran　at　her；　swinging　the　pitchfork；　and　she　would　have　placed　the　bayonet　with　the　precision　of　a　Bishop　pinning　down　a　mortal　sin　if　the　door　of　the　stable　had　not　opened；　the　wood　caught　the　pitchfork's　tines；　and　the　ugly　Sergeant　was　tipped　off　balance；　fell　and　the　bayonet　stabbed　into　empty　air。
　
　Hakeswill　spun　as　he　fell；　momentarily　dazzled　by　the　sun　streaming　through　the　doorway；　and　had　an　impression　of　a　giant　shadow。　A　boot　caught　him；　he　was　kicked　as　he　had　never　been　kicked　before；　lifted　off　the　ground；　slammed　backwards；　but　he　kept　hold　of　the　pitchfork　and　snarled　at　his　assailant。　The　bloody　Irish　Sergeant！　He　picked　himself　up　and　lunged　at　the　Irishman；　but　Harper　simply　caught　the　pitchfork　by　its　two　tines　and　bent　them　outwards　and　apart。　Hakeswill　pushed　forward；　using　all　his　strength；　but　Harper　was　rock　solid　and　the　fork　did　not　move　except　for　the　metal　which　was　bent　straight　as　if　it　was　made　from　wet　willow　wands。
　
　'What　the　hell's　happening？'　Sharpe　stood　in　the　doorway；　holding　it　open。
　
　Teresa　smiled　at　him　over　the　bayonet。　'Sergeant　Obadiah　wanted　to　have　me；　then　carve　me　in　little　pieces。　'
　
　Harper　pulled　the　pitchfork　away　from　Hakeswill　and　tossed　it　on　the　ground。　'Permission　to　mit　murder；　sir？'
　
　'Denied。　'　Sharpe　came　forward；　letting　the　door　swing　shut。　'Latch　that　door。　'
　
　Hakeswill　watched　as　Harper　looped　the　string　over　the　peg。　So　this　was　Sharpe's　bloody　woman？　It　looked　like　that；　from　the　way　she　smiled　at　him；　touched　his　arm；　and　Hakeswill　knew　he　should　have　pushed　the　bayonet　through　the　slut's　throat　when　he　had　a　chance。　God；　but　she　was　beautiful；　and　he　felt　the　desire　still　there　and　he　would　have　her；　by　God；　he　would　have　her！　Then　he　looked　at　Sharpe's　face；　tight　with　anger；　and　Hakeswill　shrugged。　So　he　was　about　to　have　the　hell　beaten　out　of　him？　He　had　been　beaten　before；　and　a　beating　meant　no　rape　charges；　and　anyway　the　girl　was　the　only　witness　and　she　was　obviously　unharmed。　His　face　twitched　violently；　and　he　could　not　stop　it；　and　then　he　remembered　how　the　girl　had　angered　him；　made　him　rush　his　attack；　and　he　decided　that　the　same　tactics　would　work　on　an　angry　Sharpe。　'Whores　for　the　officers；　does　she；　Captain？　How　much？　I　can　pay　for　her　filth。　'
　
　Harper　growled；　Teresa　started　forward；　but　Sharpe　checked　them　both。　He　looked　only　at　Hakeswill；　took　two　paces　towards　him；　and　it　seemed　as　if　he　had　not　heard　what　the　Sergeant　had　said。　He　cleared　his　throat；　spoke　mildly。　'Sergeant　Hakeswill。　You　and　I；　through　no　choice　of　mine；　find　ourselves　in　the　same　pany。　Do　you　understand？'　Hakeswill　nodded。　So　the　jumped…up　little　bastard　was　going　to　do　his　officer　act！　Sharpe　spoke　calmly。　'We　have　three　rules　in　this　pany；　Sergeant；　are　you　listening？'
　
　'Yes；　sir！'　Hakeswill　fancied　the　bitch。　He　would　have　her；　too；　when　the　time　came。
　
　'Those　rules　are　as　follows；　Sergeant。　'　Sharpe　spoke　in　sweet　reasonableness；　as　a　Captain　to　a　valued　nonmissioned　officer；　though　whether　he　was　a　Captain　or　no；　he　still　had　no　idea。　'First；　that　you　fight　well；　that　you　fight　to　win。　I　know　you　can　do　that；　Sergeant；　I've　watched　you。　'
　
　'Yes；　sir！'　Hakeswill　barked　the　response。
　
　'Second；　that　no　man　gets　drunk　without　my　permission。　'　Sharpe　wondered　if　his　permission　would　be　worth　a　used　musket　ball　in　a　few　hours；　but　then　let　Rymer　look　after　Lieutenant　Price。　'Understand？'
　
　'Yessir！'
　
　'Good。　And　third；　Sergeant。'　Sharpe　was　now　two　paces　from　Hakeswill；　ignoring　the　muttered　Spanish　threats　from　Teresa。　'Third；　Sergeant；　that　you　steal　nothing；　except　from　the　enemy；　and　except　when　you're　starving。　Understand？'
　
　'Sir！'　Hakeswill　was　laughing　inside。　Sharpe　had　turned　as　soft　as　bloody　butter！
　
　'I'm　glad　you　understand；　Sergeant。　Shun！'
　
　Hakeswill　sprang　to　attention　and　Sharpe　kicked　him　between　the　legs。　Hakeswill　snapped　forward　and　the　officer's　right　hand　cracked　into　his　face；　too　high；　but　with　enough　force　to　send　him　staggering　backwards。