Sharpe's Peril

WOMEN SCREAMING:

BABIES CRYING:

TRUMPE You, soldier,

dance with me.

I do not dance.

Do not, sir? Or cannot?

Will not, then. If it please you.

It does not please me.

WOMEN'S LAUGHTER

I am resolved to step a measure

with every man here present.

And have a wager of my friends to do

the same.

What do you say to that?

You lose.

Not lost your touch with the ladies,

then?

What the hell are we doing here

anyway?

You saw the dispatch. Aye, the

governor requests your presence.

But why? I thought we were headed

home. We are, Pat.

We are, I promise.

Colonel Sharpe?

One moment, sir.

Damn the man, damn him to hell.

God rot all quill suckers, heh?

We sweat and bleed and die upon

their whim.

And for what thanks?

If it's gratitude you're after,

then you've joined the wrong army.

You may well be right at that.

Colonel?

Sharp. Richard Sharpe.

Count Vladimir Alexei Dragomirov,

3rd Native Horse.

You have business with the governor?

Tread lightly.

Sedgefield is a wily, old devil.

Your Excellency, Colonel Sharpe.

Colonel,

His Excellency Viscount Sedgefield.

I'm told you have a nose

for mischief, Colonel Sharpe.

Told, sir?

His Grace, Lord Wellington.

After this late rebellion,

only recently put down,

we find ourselves, alas,

already facing fresh dangers.

Bandits, Sharpe, in the high hills.

Under the thrall of a cutthroat

named Chitu.

Causing no end of havoc

with Company operations.

Villages put to fire and sword.

The harvest disrupted.

Sorry to hear that.

Indeed.

A Company squadron

under Count Dragomirov

has been dispatched

to find this Chitu.

And, so far, without success.

You are requested

upon the highest authority,

to do better.

I am no longer

in the service of His Majesty.

My business in India concluded.

I am for Calcutta and England.

I cannot persuade you?

Perhaps then,

might at least you be prevailed upon

to perform one last duty?

In which, I assure you,

there is no peril to yourself.

Aye.

If I can.

I have in my care a property.

Like yourself, bound for the north.

May I look to you for its safe

conveyance?

Aye. Very well.

Your word?

What is it, this property?

Ah, Colonel Sharpe,

I have the honour to present

Mademoiselle Marie-Angelique Bonnet.

Who is she?

Damned if I know.

Her fiance is a Company major,

name of Joubert.

Stationed at Kalimgong.

Where, in God's arse, is Kalimgong?

Company hill station,

on the way, Sedgefield says.

SIMPLE TUNE:

SOLDIERS SINGING

Major Tredinnick, sahib.

Marvellous, marvellous.

Who commands this column?

Why, sir, no man.

All men.

We are, you might say, a regular

Captain Copperthorne's crew.

A gentleman asks a civil question,

he expects an answer in kind

and none of your riddles.

What he means to say, sir, after his

fashion, is the matter

would depend on whether you meant

Company troops or king's.

For we number both amongst the

column.

Your officer will do for now.

Very good.

I'd be glad if our mounts could be

fed and watered.

And someone to see to the lady's

comforts also.

Quilter, Deever.

This way, gentlemen.

How is it you come to be travelling

along Company's routes.

I was ordered, sir.

There's bandits hereabouts,

all manner of heathen deviltry.

Sooner than have troops venture

forth in small bands,

we thought it best

to combine all soldiery

samewise bound into one column.

Mind how you tread,

that is elephant sh*t.

These gentlemen were hoping

to speak with you, sir.

Very good, Colour Wormwood.

Would you want me to remain, sir?

In case there's any questions?

I'm sufficient to the task.

Very good, sir.

You'll forgive Colour Wormwood's

familiarity, gentlemen.

Being not long in India, I find

myself beneath his wing.

Ensign Beauclere, 69th Foot.

Colonel Richard Sharpe,

late of the South Essex.

Sergeant Major Harper.

Your pardon, Colonel... You may

dispense with formalities.

I hold no present commission.

Mr Harper and myself are about

some private business on the

governor's request.

And yourself?

I command a small prisoner escort,

sir.

Bound for Calcutta.

I'd hardly call such numbers small,

Mr Beauclere.

What have you in your charge?

Some regicide?

No, sir. You misapprehend me.

For the most part,

what you see here

is the royal train of the Maharani

Padmini Devi of Jhalawar.

A princess?

Her highness travels to Pankot

under protection of Company

detachment.

With Subedar Pillai commanding.

As for regicide, I fear my prisoner

is in no mean so worthy of note.

So what was the offence?

The murder of an officer, sir,

in furtherance to robbery of the

regimental stores.

Oh.

The commissariat sets great store

by its spoons, so it does.

Subedar Pillai, then...

..is in charge

of the safety of this column.

Do it.

Do it, man!

Not like that, you'll kill him.

You've got the blade

the wrong way round.

You need to line it up

along the vein, not across it.

Are you a farrier? I know how to

bleed a horse without killing it.

What are you waiting for, then?

Do it.

Hold onto that.

Right.

Keep the bugger steady, Pat.

He's fine.

Easy, boy. Take it nice and easy.

Easy now.

WHINNYING:

Easy, boy.

Just keep him there, Pat,

keep him there.

I reckon you'll live.

We are most grateful, Mr...?

Sharpe. Colonel Sharpe.

Sergeant Major Harper.

For future, a wee bit of ginger

added to his feed might help, ma'am.

Ask what reward you will of Subedar

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