Bernard Cornwell Collected Edition: Sharpe’s Company, Sharpe’s Sword and Sharpe’s Enemy
BERNARD CORNWELL
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2014
Copyright © Rifleman Productions Ltd 1983
Bernard Cornwell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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.
Source ISBN: 9780007334551, 9780007346820, 9780007346790
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007454709
Version: 2017-05-08
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page Bernard Cornwell Collected Edition: Sharpe’s Company, Sharpe’s Sword and Sharpe’s Enemy BERNARD CORNWELL
Copyright Copyright Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2014 Copyright © Rifleman Productions Ltd 1983 Bernard Cornwell asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. 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. Source ISBN: 9780007334551, 9780007346820, 9780007346790 Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007454709 Version: 2017-05-08
Sharpe’s Company
Sharpe’s Sword
Sharpe’s Enemy
Sharpe’s Story
About the Author
Also by Bernard Cornwell
About the Publisher
SHARPE’S
COMPANY
Richard Sharpe and the Siege of Badajoz,
January to April 1812
BERNARD CORNWELL
Sharpe’s Company is for the Harper family, Charlie and Marie, Patrick, Donna and Terry, with affection and gratitude
‘Brilliant! Sharpe is a great creation’
Daily Mirror
‘Now thou art come unto a feast of death’
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
HENRY VI, PART I, ACT 4, SCENE 5 .
Table of Contents
Title Page SHARPE’S COMPANY Richard Sharpe and the Siege of Badajoz, January to April 1812 BERNARD CORNWELL
Dedication Sharpe’s Company is for the Harper family, Charlie and Marie, Patrick, Donna and Terry, with affection and gratitude
Epigraph ‘Brilliant! Sharpe is a great creation’ Daily Mirror ‘Now thou art come unto a feast of death’ WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE HENRY VI, PART I, ACT 4, SCENE 5 .
Map
Part One: January 1812 PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Part Two: February–March 1812
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Part Three: St Patrick’s Day, March 17th to Easter Sunday, March 29th 1812
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Part Four: Saturday, April 4th to Monday, April 6th 1812
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Historical Note
PART ONE
A pale horse seen a mile away at sunrise means the night is over. Sentries can relax, battalions stand down, because the moment for a surprise dawn attack has passed.
But not on this day. A grey horse would hardly have been visible at a hundred paces, let alone a mile, and the dawn was shredded with dirty cannon smoke that melded with the snow-clouds. Only one living thing moved in the grey space between the British and French lines; a small, dark bird that hopped busily in the snow. Captain Richard Sharpe, huddled in his greatcoat, watched the bird and willed it to fly away. Move, you bastard! Fly! He hated the superstition in himself. He had spotted the tiny bird and, quite suddenly and unbidden, the thought had come to him that unless the bird took wing within thirty seconds, then the day would end in disaster.
He counted. Nineteen, twenty, and still the damned bird hopped in the snow. He could not tell what kind of bird it was. Sergeant Harper would know, of course, the huge Irish sergeant knew all the birds, but knowing what kind of bird it was would not help. Move! Twenty-four, twenty-five, and in desperation he bundled a crude snowball and skittered it down the slope so that the small bird, startled, sprang up into the skeins of smoke with a couple of seconds to spare. A man must sometimes make his own luck.
God! But it was cold! It was all right for the French. They were behind the vast defences of Ciudad Rodrigo, sheltered in the town’s houses and warmed by wide hearths, but the British and Portuguese troops were in the open. They slept by vast fires that died in the night and yesterday, at dawn, four Portuguese sentries had been discovered frozen, their greatcoats iced to the ground, dead by the river. Someone had tipped them in, breaking the Agueda’s thin ice, because no one wanted to dig graves. The army had taken its fill of digging; for twelve days they had done nothing else; batteries, parallels, saps and trenches, and they never wanted to dig again. They wanted to fight. They wanted to carry their long bayonets up the glacis of Ciudad Rodrigo, to go into the breach, to kill the French, and take those fires and houses for themselves. They wanted to be warm.
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