‘Sharpe!’ Berry was still babbling. He lay on his back and tried to wriggle his way uphill away from the tall, dark shape of the Rifleman. ‘Shouldn’t we go, Sharpe, the French? They’re on the hill!’ ‘I know. I’ve killed at least two of them.’ Sharpe held his blade at Berry’s breast and stopped the wriggling. ‘I’m going back to kill a few more soon.’ The talk of killing silenced Berry. Sharpe could see the face staring up at him but it was too dark to read the expression. Sharpe had to imagine the wet lips, the fleshy face, the look of fear. ‘What did you do to the girl, Berry?’ The Lieutenant remained silent. Sharpe could see the slim sword lying forgotten on the grass; there was no fight in the man, no will to resist, just a pathetic hope that Sharpe could be placated. ‘What did you do, Berry?’ Sharpe stepped closer and the blade flickered at Berry’s throat. Sharpe saw the face twist to and fro, heard the breath gulping in the Lieutenant’s throat.
What do You think about Sharpe 3-Book Collection 2: Sharpe’s Havoc, Sharpe’s Eagle, Sharpe’s Gold?
