Sharpe’s Havoc by Bernard Cornwell

„They’re friendly, sure enough,” Harper said as they left another small settlement where the dungheaps were bigger than the cottages. „Not like the Spanish. They could be cold. Not all of them, but some were bastards.”

„The Spanish don’t like the English,” Hogan told him.

„They don’t like the English?” Harper asked, surprised. „So they’re not bastards after all then, just wary, eh? But are you saying, sir, that the Portuguese do like the English?”

„The Portuguese,” Hogan said, „hate the Spanish and when you have a bigger neighbor whom you detest then you look for a big friend to help you.”

„So who’s Ireland’s big friend, sir?”

„God, Sergeant,” Hogan said, „God.”

„Dear Lord above,” Harper said piously, staring into the rainy sky, „for Christ’s sake, wake up.”

„Why don’t you fight for the bloody French,” Harris snarled.

„Enough!” Sharpe snapped.

They marched in silence for a while, then Vicente could not contain his curiosity. „If the Irish hate the English,” he asked, „why do they fight for them?” Harper chuckled at the question, Hogan raised his eyes to the gray heavens and Sharpe just scowled.

The road, now that they were far from Braga, was less well maintained. Grass grew down its center between ruts made by ox carts. The French had not scavenged this far and there were a few flocks of bedraggled sheep and some small herds of cattle, but as soon as a herdsman or shepherd saw the soldiers he hustled his beasts away. Vicente was still puzzled and, having failed to elicit an answer from his companions, tried again. „I really do not understand,” he said in a very earnest voice, „why the Irish would fight for the English King.” Harris drew a breath as if to reply, but one savage look from Sharpe made him change his mind. Harper began to whistle „Over the Hills and Far Away,” then could not help laughing at the strained silence that was at last broken by Hogan.

„It’s hunger,” the engineer explained to Vicente, „hunger and poverty and desperation, and because there’s precious little work for a good man at home, and because we’ve always been a people that enjoy a good fight.”

Vicente was intrigued by the answer. „And that is true for you, Captain?” he asked.

„Not for me,” Hogan allowed. „My family’s always had some money. Not much, but we never had to scratch in thin soil to raise our daily bread. No, I joined the army because I like being an engineer. I like practical things and this was the best way to do what I liked. But someone like Sergeant Harper?” He glanced at Harper. „I dare say he’s here because he’d be starving otherwise.”

„True,” Harper said.

„And you hate the English?” Vicente asked Harper.

„Careful,” Sharpe growled.

„I hate the bloody ground the bastards walk on, sir,” Harper said cheerfully, then saw Vicente cast a bewildered glance at Sharpe. „I didn’t say I hated them all,” Harper added.

„Life is complicated,” Hogan said vaguely. „I mean there’s a Portuguese Legion in the French army, I hear?”

Vicente looked embarrassed. „They believe in French ideas, sir.”

„Ah! Ideas,” Hogan said, „they’re much more dangerous than big or little neighbors. I don’t believe in fighting for ideas”-he shook his head ruefully-”and nor does Sergeant Harper.”

„I don’t?” Harper asked.

„No, you bloody don’t,” Sharpe snarled.

„So what do you believe in?” Vicente wanted to know.

„The trinity, sir,” Harper said sententiously.

„The trinity?” Vicente was surprised.

„The Baker rifle,” Sharpe said, „the sword bayonet, and me.”

„Those too,” Harper acknowledged, and laughed.

„What it is,” Hogan tried to help Vicente, „is that it’s like being in a house where there’s an unhappy marriage and you ask a question about fidelity. You cause embarrassment. No one wants to talk about it.”

„Harris!” Sharpe warned, seeing the red-headed rifleman open his mouth.

„I was only going to say, sir,” Harris said, „that there’s a dozen horsemen on that hill over there.”

Sharpe turned just in time to see the horsemen vanish across the crest. The rain was too thick and the light too poor to see if they were in uniform, but Hogan suggested the French might well have sent cavalry patrols far ahead of their retreat. „They’ll be wanting to know whether we’ve taken Braga,” he explained, „because if we hadn’t then they’d turn this way and try to escape up to Pontevedra.”

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