Sharpe's Challenge Page #4

(SQUAWKING)

Damn it.

There is one comfort, though.

General Burroughs' daughter

does not seem to be among the dead.

Nor is Captain Lawrence.

This looks like the handiwork of a Pindari

war band I've been tracking for the past four days.

This column was taken by surprise.

The men died in line.

Didn't even have time to unsling their rifles.

Whoever did this came at them in friendship.

I've never seen anything like it before.

I have. Chasalgaon.

Chasalgaon?

But to my knowledge,

there were no survivors at Chasalgaon.

Colonel Sharpe's always had

a certain gift for the impossible, sir.

Colonel Sharpe?

-Are you with me, Patrick?

-Yes, always.

Where are you going?

After the bastards that did this,

where do you think?

They will be many miles

from here by now, Colonel.

Colonel, I will send

two of my best men to track them

but we must report

the column's loss without delay.

Khande Rao is in Ferraghur,

the greatest fortress in the world.

It has never fallen.

(WOMAN SINGING IN HINDI)

(PRIEST SPEAKING IN HINDI)

(ANKLETS JINGLING)

Kneel before His Majesty Khande Rao.

I shall do no such thing.

Highness, your loyal commander-in-chief

offers you this humble gift.

The daughter of the mighty general

sent by England to challenge your greatness

kneels before you.

I'm afraid there's not much meat on her

and what there is undercooked but...

I'm sure, given encouragement,

she'll provide Your Highness with some sport.

No!

God damn you, sir, for shame.

Your Highness!

As a French officer, I cannot permit...

Permit?

Colonel Gudin,

you're here to train His Highness' men.

Nothing more.

India is not France.

You would do well to remember it.

What is your name, British soldier?

Captain Lawrence.

I've lately consulted with the Brahmin,

Captain Lawrence,

hoping to gain the answer

to a question that greatly troubles me.

Perhaps you can confirm

whether my augurs read the signs right.

Will your army lay siege to us here

at Ferraghur before the rains come?

In the army of His Britannic Majesty, sir,

the plans of great generals

are not confided to mere captains.

A pity.

You will convey for me then a message.

A message to your army

camped upon the Northern Plains.

You should know that England

does not parley with brigands, sir.

Oh, but you mistake me, Captain,

for I make no offer of parley.

(CELIA SCREAMING)

Is the prisoner fit for punishment,

Sergeant Bickerstaff?

Prisoner fit for punishment, sir.

Very well, do your duty.

One!

Two!

No, no, no!

By God, sir, but this won't do!

Lay it on hard, man. Don't tickle him!

You heard General Simmerson, lay it on!

And keep those strokes high, above his trousers.

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