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datatime: 2022-12-05 19:24:36 Author:yoSLtDCS

'Is that Mass?'

Lossow swore in German, stood up, flinched as he put his weight on his left leg. Sharpe looked at him. 'Are you - hurt?'

'You want to go?'

'Ja. Not easy, my friend.'

Lossow stood up, wiped blood from his hands. 'We must get out of here!'

'Yes, sir.'

'Is that Mass?'

Sharpe shrugged. 'And who works it? Maybe, I don't know.' He glanced at the battery, its embrasure plugged, and he knew that the French gunners would be celebrating. They deserved it. He doubted if the gun would fire again, not today; the iron barrels had a limited life and the gun had achieved its purpose. 'Come on. Let's see Cox.'

The Irishman grinned. 'Wouldn't worry, sir. It doesn't offend me and if it offends Him then He's plenty of opportunity to punish you.'

Harper kicked the fallen beam. 'Perhaps they can rig another telegraph, sir?'

'You don't sound hopeful, my friend?'

Sharpe turned round, blood flecking his uniform, and his face grim. 'We'll get out. With or without him, we'll get out.'

Lossow swore in German, stood up, flinched as he put his weight on his left leg. Sharpe looked at him. 'Are you - hurt?'

'You don't sound hopeful, my friend?'

'What day is it?'

Lossow's heels clicked in the side aisle; he came from behind a pillar, blinked in the sunlight. 'Where is he?' He disappeared again.

The Sergeant pointed to the head. 'Rest of him's over the wall, sir. Poor wee thing.'

The Sergeant pointed to the head. 'Rest of him's over the wall, sir. Poor wee thing.'

The Sergeant pointed to the head. 'Rest of him's over the wall, sir. Poor wee thing.'

'Is that Mass?'

'What day is it?'

Sharpe turned to him. 'We must persuade Cox to let us out.'

Sharpe felt ashamed. This was Harper's religion. 'I'm sorry.'

Cox had not been at his headquarters; he was on the ramparts, they were told. So the three had hurried there and Cox had gone. Now he was said to be visiting the magazine, so they waited, and the light shaped the dust into silver bars and the muffled responses got lost somewhere in the high stone ceiling, and still Cox had not arrived. Sharpe slammed his scabbard on the floor, hurting his shoulder, so he cursed again.

Sharpe felt ashamed. This was Harper's religion. 'I'm sorry.'

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