“There, that’s done,” Wellesley said with relief. “My congratulations, Sharpe, and my sincere thanks.” His aides were all smiling at Sharpe, not Sergeant Sharpe any longer, but Ensign Sharpe of the King’s 74th. Captain Campbell even climbed down from his saddle and offered his hand to Sharpe who was still smiling as he shook it.
“It’ll turn out badly, of course,” Wellesley said to Campbell as he turned away. “It always does. We promote them beyond their station and they inevitably take to drink.”
“He’s a good man, sir,” Campbell said loyally.
“I doubt that too. But he’s a good soldier, I’ll say that. He’s all yours now, Wallace, all yours!” The General pulled himself into his saddle, then turned to Simone. “Madame? I can offer you very little, but if you care to join me for supper I would be honored. Captain Campbell will escort you.”
Campbell held his hand out to Simone. She looked at Sharpe, who nodded at her, and she shyly accepted Campbell’s arm and followed the General back up the street. Colonel Wallace paused to lean down from his horse and shake Sharpe’s hand. “I’ll give you a few minutes to clean yourself up, Sharpe, and to get those stripes off your arm. You might like to chop off some of that hair, while you’re about it. And I hate to suggest it, but if you walk a few paces east of the village you’ll find plenty of red sashes on corpses. Pick one, help yourself to a sword, then come and meet your fellow officers. They’re few enough now, I fear, so you’ll surely be welcome. Even the men might be glad of you, despite your being English.” Wallace smiled.
“I’m very grateful to you, sir,” Sharpe said. He was still scarcely able to believe what had happened. He was Mister Sharpe! Mister!
“And what do you want?” Wallace suddenly asked in an icy tone, and Sharpe saw that his new Colonel was staring at Obadiah Hakeswill.
“Him, sir,” Hakeswill said, pointing at Sharpe. “Sergeant Sharpe, sir, what is under arrest.”
Wallace smiled. “You may arrest Sergeant Sharpe, Sergeant, but you will certainly not arrest Ensign Sharpe.”
“Ensign?” Hakeswill said, going pale.
“Mister Sharpe is a commissioned officer, Sergeant,” Wallace said crisply, “and you will treat him as such. Good day.” Wallace touched his hat to Sharpe, then turned his horse and rode away.
Hakeswill gaped at Sharpe. “You, Sharpie,” he said, “an officer?”
Sharpe walked closer to the Sergeant. “That’s not how you address a King’s officer, Obadiah, and you know it.”
“You?” Hakeswill’s face twitched. “You?” he asked again in horror and amazement.
Sharpe thumped him in the belly, doubling him over. “You call me ‘sir,’ Obadiah,” he said.
“I won’t call you ‘sir,’” Hakeswill said between gasps for breath. “Not till hell freezes, Sharpie, and not even then.”
Sharpe hit him again. Hakeswill’s three men watched, but did nothing. “You call me ‘sir,’” Sharpe said.
“You ain’t an officer, Sharpie,” Hakeswill said, then yelped because Sharpe had seized his hair and was dragging him up the street. The three men started to follow, but Sharpe snarled at them to stay where they were, and all three obeyed.
“You’ll call me ‘sir,’ Sergeant,” Sharpe said, “just you watch.” And he pulled Hakeswill up the street, going back to the house from where he had seen the elephant. He dragged Hakeswill through the door and up the stairs. The Sergeant screamed at him, beat at him, but Hakeswill had never been a match for Sharpe who now snatched the musket from Hakeswill’s hand, threw it away, then took him to the window that opened just one floor above the courtyard. “See that elephant, Obadiah?” he asked, holding the Sergeant’s face in the open window. “I watched it trample a man to death not long ago.”
“You won’t dare, Sharpie,” Hakeswill squealed, then yelped as Sharpe took hold of the seat of his pants.
“Call me ‘sir,’” Sharpe said.
“Never! You ain’t an officer!”
“But I am, Obadiah, I am. I’m Mister Sharpe. I’ll wear a sword and a sash and you’ll have to salute me.”
“Never!”
Sharpe heaved Hakeswill onto the window ledge. “If you ask me to put you down,” he said, “and if you call me ‘sir,’ I’ll let you go.”
“You ain’t an officer,” Hakeswill protested. “You can’t be!”
“But I am, Obadiah,” Sharpe said, and he heaved the Sergeant over the ledge. The Sergeant screamed as he fell into the straw below, and the elephant, made curious by this strange irruption into this already strange day, plodded over to inspect him. Hakeswill beat feebly at the animal which had him cornered. “Goodbye, Obadiah,” Sharpe called, then he used the words he remembered Pohlmann shouting when Dodd’s sepoy had been trampled to death. “Haddah!” Sharpe snapped. “Haddah!”
“Get the bastard off me!” Hakeswill screamed as the elephant moved still closer and raised a forefoot.
“That won’t do, Obadiah,” Sharpe said.
“Sir!” Hakeswill called. “Please, sir! Get it off me!”
“What did you say?” Sharpe asked, cupping a hand to his ear.
“Sir! Sir! Please, sir! Mister Sharpe, sir!”
“Rot in hell, Obadiah,” Sharpe called down, and walked away. The sun was gone, the village was stinking with powder smoke, and two armies lay in ragged ruin on the bloody fields outside Assaye, but that great victory was not Sharpe’s. It was the voice calling from the courtyard, calling frantically as Sharpe ran down the wooden stairs and walked down the alleyway. “Sir! Sir!” Hakeswill shouted, and Sharpe listened and smiled, for that, he reckoned, was his real victory. It was Mister Sharpe’s triumph.
About the Author
Bernard Cornwell is the author of the acclaimed Richard Sharpe series (available from HarperCollins e-books), the Grail Quest series (featuring The Archer’s Tale and Vagabond), and many other novels. Mr. Cornwell lives with his wife on Cape Cod. Please visit www.bernardcornwell.net.
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Praise for Bernard Cornwell’s
Acclaimed Sharpe Series
“Marvelous! Bravery and audacity amidst the drama and turmoil of war.”
—Los Angeles Herald Examiner
“Eminently successful historical fiction.”
—Booklist
“A must-read. Bernard Cornwell is meticulous in his research and . . . his storytelling is wonderful. You’ll be hooked.”
—Times Record News (Witchita Falls, Texas)
“A hero in the mold of James Bond, although his weapons are a baker carbine and a giant cavalry sword.”
—Philadelphia Inquirer
“Apart from the rousing battle scenes, the author is at his best in evoking a long-gone era through clever detail.”
—New York Times Book Review
“Immaculate historical reconstruction . . . A ripping yarn.”
—Washington Post
BY BERNARD CORNWELL
Stonehenge 2000 BC: A Novel
THE RICHARD SHARPE SERIES
Sharpe’s Tiger
Sharpe’s Triumph
Sharpe’s Fortress
Sharpe’s Rifles
Sharpe’s Eagle
Sharpe’s Gold
Sharpe’s Battle
Sharpe’s Company
Sharpe’s Sword
Sharpe’s Enemy
Sharpe’s Honour
Sharpe’s Regiment
Sharpe’s Siege
Sharpe’s Revenge
Sharpe’s Waterloo
Sharpe’s Devil
THE STARBUCK CHRONICLES
Rebel
Copperhead
Battle Flag
The Bloody Ground
THE WARLORD CHRONICLES
The Winter King
Enemy of God
Excalibur
Credits
Cover design © by Carl D. Galin
Cover ar
t © by Paul Wright
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A previous edition of this book was published in Great Britain in 1998 by HarperCollins Publishers. A hardcover edition of this book was published in the United States in 1998 by HarperCollins Publishers.
SHARPE’S TRIUMPH. Copyright © 1998 by Bernard Cornwell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition JANUARY 2004 ISBN: 9780061751752
First Perennial edition published 2000.
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Sharpe's Triumph: Richard Sharpe and the Battle of Assaye, September 1803 Page 37
