All language subtitles for Sharpes Sword 1995 BRRip XvidHD 720p-EN

You are not yet a nun. You're too young to die.
Follow the setting sun to the woods.

Pray to your silver cross.

I will, Father.

You hear confessions.

You know who El Mirador is. Tell me.

No. No.

Aargh.

- You see what I see. Harper?
- Indeed I do.

A colonel of the imperial Guard.

One of Napoleon's best.

Where's the nearest French fort, sir?

Villafranca, 50 miles north.

Fort and town.
Frogs hold the fort, we hold the town.

I wonder what he wants there.

Have a go, Dan?

Sorry, sir.

When you can't see the face,
you can't take the heart.

Up and at 'em, boys. Up and at 'em.

Silly bugger!

Brave silly bugger, though.
Let's give him a hand before he gets killed.

Formez ligne!

Good shooting, Sharpe.

Tally-ho, Sharpe. Flush 'em out!

Aux abris!

Aargh!

- Seen that colonel, Pat?
- There's nobody left back there.

Hey!

Ne tirez pas!

Ne tirez pas.

Vous parlez fran�ais?

Parole.

Vous comprenez?

Parole.

Klingenthal.

Best sword ever made

Too good for a damn dragoon officer.

O� est votre colonel?

La bas!

Search him.

I found this on him, sir.
A piece of paper with numbers on it.

Bill of sale, eh? I don't believe you.

I... no speak anglais.

I don't believe that, either.

Why don't you kill him?

Then you can keep the sword.

Please, parole. Please.

Oui, Captain.

Colonel Berkeley, South Essex.
We accept your parole.

Er... nous accept...

- Robert, get him to write it out and sign it.
- Yes, sir.

Monsieur le Capitaine, nous voudrions
que vous �crivez votre promesse.

See if you understand this.

I'm going to kick you in the crotch.

Steady on. Sharpe.

Poor devil's trying to surrender.

This man is a spy, sir. I'm certain of it.

Where's your tunic, eh? Where were you going?

Dash it all, Sharpe. He doesn't have to tell us.

Bad form. Old boy.

R�pondez, vite!

Mon colonel �tait mourant.

J'ai pris ma tunique et je lui ai mis sous la t�te.

On partait pour la France.
On s'est perdu, c'est tout.

Tunic's under his colonel's head. They got lost.

- I did my best, old boy.
- Major Sharpe.

This is Captain the Lord Spears,
one of Major Munro's exploring officers.

- Your servant, Captain... I mean, my lord.
- Oh, Jack'll do.

It's a fine honor to shake the hand
of the man who saved Wellington's life.

Seems a man doesn't lose his arm
scratching his arse, Jack.

That's the style!

I knew you two fellows

would hit it off.

Major Munro will want to talk to this fellow.

So, as he's given us his parole,
I'll take him back to camp.

You didn't tell him about the piece of paper, sir.
Could be a code.

Copy it down when you get back, Harris.

Go through that so-called colonel's pockets.

When you've finished, take the tunic
he's wearing and the one under his head,

and bring them back to camp.

Sir.

You know,

I think you have your eye on that sword.

Dan!

Easy.

Hey.

Easy, lass. Easy.

Bird in the hand, sir?

Richard.

Major Munro wants to see you at six

Shall we have a word?

Look, I have to go, lass.

I promise I'll come back.

Look, I swear I'll come back.

She's to stay with us till we reach Villafranca.

Colonel's orders.

She understands English.

It seems like she's about to speak, and she just...

I've seen that before.

Probably saw something dreadful
and was too frightened to scream.

She'll speak again,

as soon as she feels safe.

Rifleman Harris said to give you this.

And these.

These are also for you.

Oh. Yeah.

We found this on the French captain.

Could it be a code?

Well, it looks like a list of bills to me.

But I suppose I ought to
have a word with the Frog about it.

Um, I'll see you there at six.

And don't be late. Munro hates lateness.

Never had a lesson in my life.

Can you believe that. Laddie?

Sit down, laddie.

Which would you prefer me to do, Sharpe?

Play Bealach na Broga -

that's the Munro March -

or send you on a dangerous mission?

Er, dangerous mission, sir.

Who's winning the war, Sharpe?

- Wellington, sir.
- Why's he winning it, Sharpe?

Steady troops, sir.

Superior intelligence, Sharpe.
Supplied by whom, laddie?

Men like you, sir.

Och, don't lick me, laddie!

Wellington is winning it
with the help of a man called El Mirador.

Not his real name, of course.

El Mirador made this map.

Tell me what you think of it.

Good God!

Every French fort.

Full figures for infantry, cavalry, artillery.

I do believe he's even counted
the bloody bayonets, sir!

Look long at it, laddie.
You may not see its like again.

Why not, sir?

El Mirador is in mortal danger.

Our agents in Paris tell us

that Bonaparte personally picked out a man
to capture El Mirador -

a Colonel Philippe Leroux of the Imperial Guard.

Paris says he set out six weeks ago
across the frontier

to rendezvous near the French fort at Villafranca.

And Villafranca is where El Mirador
conducts his operations.

We killed a full colonel
of the Imperial Guard this morning, sir.

Aye.

Jack told me. A Colonel Junot,
according to the captain we captured.

Maybe he was Leroux, maybe not

I don't trust that captain, Jack... I mean, my lord.

What about the numbers we found on him?

Captain Delmas says he buys horses.
The numbers are prices. Who can say?

But it could be a code.

Absolutely. But if it is a code,
it'll be a book code.

Why not just move El Mirador
to a safe place, sir?

El Mirador is more than a spy, Sharpe.

He's a chief of spies.

He has hundreds of couriers
and confidential agents to consider.

That's why he chose Villafranca
for his headquarters.

The constant coming and going
conceals his couriers,

so he has to stay there.

Does El Mirador know
the colonel is coming to kill him?

Not kill, capture.

Capture him for torture.

Colonel Leroux will want everything
in El Mirador's mind.

But El Mirador is not the kind of man
who will leave his post.

Could I have your second suggestion?

Yes, sir.

Find the colonel and kill him.

Oddly enough, but these are your orders.

No nonsense about parole.
Wellington wants him dead.

Any more questions. Ask them now.

I'm off to Burgos in the morning.

Just one, sir.

Do the French know
El Mirador's real identity, sir?

They may do now.

A week ago,
a priest and a party of nuns went missing

50 miles south on their way
to a remote mountain shrine.

We found blood, but no bodies.

Oh, yes.

We found this.

The priest was Eh Mirador's confessor.

One last question, sir.

Couldn't I protect El Mirador better
if I knew his real identity, sir?

El Mirador's identity is a state secret,
known only by Wellington and myself.

Even Captain Spears doesn't know who he is.

And what you don't know

don't hurt you, Sharpe.

Beg your pardon, sir, but in my experience
what you don't know usually gets you killed.

Suppose he captured you, tortured you?

Are you suggesting I'd talk, sir?

Don't be a damned fool, Sharpe.

Everyone talks on the third day.

Now. Shall ye stay

for Haste Ye To The Wedding?

Er... no, sir.

How do you stand it, Pipe Major?

I said, how do you stand it?

Smells good, Ramona.

She is sleeping. Don't wake her.

Course not.

Do me a favor, Ramona.

I need these tunics washed and dried by dawn.

No, no.

I finish favors for men.

I do favors for Harper
and look how he treat me.

How he treat you?

I mean, how does he treat you?

He treats me like a whore.

Can I have a word with you, Harper?

- What's this between you and Ramona?
- She's not talking to me.

- Well, what have you done to her?
- Nothing.

Well, whatever it is you're not doing, go and do it.

- That's not your business.
- Whatever business this is, get it sorted out.

If that means
I'm going to wash and clean your tunics,

well, I'm not.

Well, I'm not.

Well, I'm not!

Harper!

Harper!

Take her back to Ramona's tent.

I've taken her back three times already.

- Take her again.
- Ht's no use.

She just keeps running back here.

Easy, lass.

Easy.

Look, you can stay here,
but you must sleep under your own blanket.

Harper... you sleep at the bottom of my bed,

just to make sure nothing happens
that's not in army regulations.

What?

Good God, lass. Go and put some clothes on.

She hasn't got any clothes.

Well, tell Ramona to get her some, damn you.

I asked her.

She told me to shag off.

This loaded, Harper?

Ah, no. Army regulations state never leave
loaded weapons lying around the camp.

You must have missed that one.

Listen, it's not very often I raise my fist to a man.

But when I do, I leave evidence of it.

I believe that.

So what's between you and Ramona?

Ramona wants me to marry her
and take her to Ireland.

Since you've got a young son,
I don't see much wrong with that.

- I don't.
- So?

I love Ramona.

I love her a lot.

I love her enough
not to take her back to my bloody country.

And she's Spanish.

And she's got a son bon out of wedlock -
my son.

For Christ's sake, no man or woman in Ireland
would look at the side of the road she walked on.

Then, of course, there's my mother.

Your mother?

When I was seventeen,

my mother made a match for me
with a girl called Annie Brady from Dunmoyle.

My mother adored her.

And do you know,

she was the most beautiful girl
you've ever seen since the first day.

- You're not telling me you're married, are you?
- No, I'm not!

Annie Brady died on me.

And, you know,
I don't think my mother ever recovered.

And I'll tell you,

if I was to arrive home in Ireland
with a Spanish wife and a child,

well, she'd never forgive me.

Harper,

look around you.

What do you see?

I see soldiers.

No, you don't.

You see truth-tellers.

Liars, mongrels, bastards.

Men who have tumbled into this war,

the madness that is this war.

That's what you see, isn't it?

That's what I see.

- And they all have one thing in common.
- What's that?

They live by the sword,
and they're prepared to die by the sword.

They have little else, but they have honor.

You're going to have to show
the mother of your child that same honor.

So start praying, Pat.

Bonjour.

Ah... good morning. Oui?

You really are too hard on him, Richard.

Poor fellow's only trying to be pleasant.

I don't trust the bugger.

Too bloody good to be true.

He's just trying to please, Richard.
He's frightened, far from home.

Prisoners are always anxious to please.

That's why they smile all the time.

Oh, aye? And why's that, then, Jack?

I've been that soldier.

I spent six months as a prisoner of the French.

I was captured after I was wounded.

French surgeon hacked this off.

Took his bloody time about it, too.

Something about him...

He's as strong as a bull,
but he walks like a woman.

His eyes are everywhere.

But you can never see what he's looking at.

He's like a gun laid up.

All greased but ready to go off.

Could you persuade Berkeley
to convene a court of honor tonight

when we make camp?

I think I've proof he's not the man he says he is.

The only way Berkeley will do that...

...is if the Frenchy has someone to speak for him.

Sort of a devil's advocate.

Well, you could do that.

Very well. Word of warning though, Richard.

Berkeley will get into a fearful wax

- if you get it wrong.
- Don't worry.

I'll hang the bugger out to dry.

How do I look, Harris?

Sir?

Good book?

Very.

Voltaire, sir. I found it in the woods.

Pity there's only a few pages.

What? You found it in the woods?

Where?

Under the colonel, sir.

It could be a code book, couldn't it?

It could be, but I don't have the book.
It was all bloody. I could only save a few pages.

Well, where is it?

Oh, bugger!

I'll be back soon, lass.

And when I come back, I want you in my bed.

I mean, I'll sleep out here, like.

Right.

Hope you damn well know
what you're doing, Sharpe.

People back in London get very picky
about playing with parole.

Can we start, sir?

French colonel's tunic. Sir.

Put it on.

Mettez-la.

Perfect fit, sir.

Now.

Put this on.

This is supposed to be his own tunic, sir.

The one he put under
the so-called colonel's head.

See. Sir?

His own tunic doesn't fit,
but the colonel's fits him perfectly.

I believe this man is really Colonel Leroux
of the French Imperial Guard.

I believe he murdered his captain in the woods
and changed clothes with him.

I would like to plead with this court of honor

to revoke this man's parole

until Major Munro returns from Burgos, sir.

Well...

The prisoner would like to say something
in his defense through me.

Of course. Carry on, Jack.

�coutez...

Je ne suis qu'un soldat qui fait son devoir
et qui aime son pays.

I am a soldier, I do my duty, I love my country.

Mon commandant m'a dit qu'il y avait
un colonel de Paris qui voulait aller en patrouille.

One day, my commanding officer tells me
that I must take a colonel from Paris

- on patrol.
- Juste pour se vanter devant ses amis

d'avoir vu la fronti�re.

So that he can...

boast to his friends
that he has seen the frontier.

J'y suis all�, je me suis retrouv� dans les bois,
vous �tes arriv�s.

I go there. I am in the woods. You come.

Et vous avez tu� mon colonel.

You killed my colonel.

Vous vous demandez pourquoi
mon uniforme ne me va pas.

You ask me why my uniform doesn't fit.

Je pourrais vous dire
que c'est parce qu'il a r�tr�ci sous lavage.

I could say it is
because it has shrunk in the wash.

Mais ha v�rit�...

But the truth is...

...cette tunique ne m'a jamais �t�.

...the tunic does not fit now because it never fit.

- Je suis qu'un pauvre petit capitaine de Lyon.
- I am a poor captain from Lyons.

- J'ai que deux tuniques.
- I have two tunics.

La meilleure, elle est � la caserne.

My best tunic is back at the barracks.

- Et h'autre. Celle qui ne m'a jamais �t�...
- My other tunic. The one that never fit me...

...elle est l�, devant vous.

...is here before you.

C'est tout ce que j'ai � vous dire.

That's all I have to say.

Excusez-moi.

What a cock-and-bull story!
You're not going to believe that codswallop,

are you. Colonel?

Major Munro won't believe it. That's for sure.

Major Munro
is not in charge of this court, Sharpe.

You've had your say,
this poor devil has had his,

and he strikes us as a simple,
serving soldier who did his duty,

as you and I must do ours. Sharpe.

We will continue to accept his parole
until we get to Villafranca.

Major Munro can make up his own mind.
Agreed?

This court is no longer in session.

Congratulations. Jack.

Let's have a cognac.

Stay for a drink, Sharpe?

No, sir.

I've swallowed enough French crap
for one night.

Sorry, Richard.

Devil�s advocate, you know.

You did it damn well, Jack.

Thank you. Thank you.

Yes, yes. Now, be a good chap and bugger off.

C'est fini.

Daccorod

C'est bien. Oh... pardon.

Tr�s bien.

Good sword, that. I'll have it when you're dead.

Thank you.

What were you going to do with it?

Kill Eh Mirador?

...that's my share

That's my house trap. You can play there

Louse trap, lookers-out

Snotter box, chinny-chop

Breastplate, apple string

Thigh-a-thacker, knee-a-knacker,
toe-a-tripper, love my dear

The more I love, my lover draws near...

- Harris.
- Sir.

That book you burnt, Harris,

have you read it before?

Candide, sir? Oh, yes.

Quite a well-known book by Voltaire.

Good book?

Oh, yes, sir.

A satire. At first reading,
it purports to be a picaresque romance.

But to the educated eye. It's more of a satire
on the morals and manners of society.

Tell me something funny from it.

Well, you see, sir,

the hero keeps on saying, "Everything's
for the best in the best of all possible worlds,"

at the most inappropriate of times.

Yeah.

Take my advice, Harris.

When you get back home, write
a bloody good book with loads of shooting in it...

...and you'll die a rich man.

That Candide, you said it's a common book?

Very common, sir.

So, if you had another like it,
you could figure out the code?

Very likely. If I had another like it.

There'll be a library in Villafranca.

Nothing I should like better, sir.

We'll get the bastard yet.

Lay off, lass.

Look...

Is this yours?

Column, halt!

Column, halt!

Jack.

Sir.

Nasty little brute.

Villafranca not much better.

There's a party coming from Villafranca, sir.

- That looks like Sir Henry Simmerson.
- That's a nasty little brute, too.

What? Who did you say, Jack?

Sir Henry Simmerson.
He's the political officer here.

Can't be. He lost the King's Colors.
He went home in disgrace.

How can he be here?

He's back home.

Sharpe saw Simmerson lose the Colors,
so naturally Simmerson hates him.

May I be excused, sir?

No. You may not. Sharpe.
Best behavior. Gentlemen.

Try to pretend that the pretentious little puke
didn't lose the King's Colors.

Good to see you, Sir Henry.

What ho, Berkley.
Munro said you were on your way

Took your damned time.

Gentlemen.

I wish I could say I was glad to see you, Sharpe.

But I ain't,

so there.

Sir Henry.
May I introduce Captain the Lord Spears?

One of Munro's men.

Delighted to meet you, my lord.

Ain't you the Simmerson
that lost the King's Colors?

There was a full inquiry, my lord.
I was completely exonerated.

Allow me to shake you by the hand,

my lord.

Ah, so you didn't lose 'em, you mislaid 'em.

As you seem to have
the most unfortunate habit of losing things,

I think I'll hold on to my one good hand.

A joke, Sir Henry.

It's a joke. My silly old sense of humor!

I trust I have a sense of humor, my lord.

A man who loses the King's Colors
is in need of a sense of humor, Sir Henry.

Now, what do you know about this Frog fort?

Speaking as the political commissioner, my lord,

I must stress that it is of the utmost importance
to the Anglo-Spanish authorities

that normal trade and commerce
be not interrupted.

We have established a modus vivendi
with the fort.

They don't trouble us. We don't trouble them.

And I trust you gentlemen will do nothing
to disturb this most sensitive situation?

Not to worry, Sir Henry.
We just plan to blow that fort to bits, that's all.

What have they got. Sir Henry?

Have they got cannon?

I have been in that fort many times
under a flag of truce,

and I categorically state
that they have no cannon.

Confound that cannon!
It'll be no fun getting into that fort, Sharpe.

- A night attack, sir?
- Good idea.

Best be getting back to our billets.
Where's young Robert with my horse?

Come back, boy.

Move aside, McDonald. Move aside, son.

Oh, no!

It's all my fault.

By God, he'll pay for this.

I should have listened to you. Richard.
He must be Leroux.

Breaks his parole
and kills an 18-year-ohd boy.

Don't worry, sir.

We'll go in and get him tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

I'm going in tonight, Sharpe.

I want that bastard dead by dawn.

It's more of a hospital than a house.

Who are they?

They call them the survivors -
those that have been captured. Tortured.

And somehow survived.

If only in body.

This is Don Felipe,

the owner of the house.

The French raped

then murdered his wife,

and forced him to watch.

This house is her memorial.

I am Don Felipe. My house is yours.

Is this the girl in need of care?

Follow me.

Bound to be here somewhere, Harris.

Somewhere, sir.

I shall have to search every book.

Er, naturally, I shall be excused parades?

Set yourself up with a skivvy, Sharpe?

Don't be selfish. Share and share alike, hm?

This is the Mirador.
Mirador means watching place.

Usually I paint here, but from now on, my child,
you may look on it as your own private garden.

Looks like you'll be well looked after, lass.
We'll leave you now and move to our billets.

If you're lonely, let me know, my dear.

We'll leave you now, lass.

All right, you can come with us,
but you must promise to come back here.

Sir Henry, show us to our billets.

With pleasure.

I've put you in the Irish Mission,
with Father Curtis.

Bloody hell, it's a hospital!

Civil tongue now, Richard. Here's Father Curtis.

Not exactly fond of us.
Fought against us with the Spanish at Trafalgar.

Spanish think he's a saint. So does Wellington,
cos he looks after our wounded.

I'll leave this sorry lot to you, Curtis.
Good day, my lord.

I'm Curtis, Rector of the Irish College.

The faithful call me Father.
You may call me Doctor.

Your servant, Doctor.

I'm Major Sharpe of the South Essex.

This is Sergeant Harper and the Chosen Men.
Hope you can find them clean quarters.

Not chosen by the Lord, by the looks of them.

I run this mission

as you run a regiment.

There are rules.

No strong drink, no strong language,

and, above all,
no weak women inside the wards.

I'm with you there, Father.

Irish?

Indeed I am.

Right, then you'll serve Mass on Sunday.

This is little Patrick Harper, Father.

This little Catholic boy
does you great credit, Mrs. Harper.

You have a girl with you, one of ours.

One of ours, too, Father.

What do you know of her?

Enough.

There is a convent
that misses you much, my child.

She's turned her back on God... for now.

But I've seen many a good soldier run away
and live to fight another day.

So have I.

You know where to find me.

Make yourself at home, Major Sharpe.

Now, that's what I call a priest.

Good, because you're going to need him soon.

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet hall deserted

Whose lights are fled

Whose garlands dead

And all but he departed

Thus, in the stilly night

'Ere slumber's chain

Hath bound me

Sad memory

Brings the light

Of other days

Around me

Damn song.

Sneaks up on you.

Sunt lacrimae rerum.

These are the tears we weep for the past,
the present, and the future.

I was thinking of my wife.

It is our duty to remember the dead.

How did you know she was dead?

Would you weep if she were not?

So you want me to speak to Sergeant Harper?

I will do so, but in return,
you must do something for me.

Whatever you say, Father.

Let me put it like this.

I will see to it that Harper goes first to the church,
then to Ramona's bed.

And you will see to it
that the girl goes from your bed to the church.

May God bring you back safe from battle.

Get the gunners!

Plus bas! Plus bas!

Colonel!

Colonel?

South Essex!

What the hell's happening, Jack?

It's hopeless.

We're being driven back.

I think we should get out of here.

Get the lads back home, quick as you can.
Me and the Chosen Men

will make a rearguard.

Soon as you're home, write to Burgos.

Tell Munro to find me cannon. Go!

South Essex. Fall back.

No, not like that.

Facing the enemy.

One pace back at a time.

Slow march!

The bastards knew we were coming.
Jesus, come on!

Steady.

Oh. God.

Sergeant Harper?

I'm looking for Major Sharpe, sir.

Well, try the Irish Missin.

Come on! Come on!

If you find him, tell him I've gone for his cannon.

You've already looked?

- Jesus, where in the hell is he, then?
Hell?

Hell is not within these holy walls,
Sergeant Harper,

but we have something close to it.

We call it a dying room.

It's across the cloisters,
through the black door, down the steps.

Ask for Sergeant Connelly.

Die easy, boy.

Don't delay.

Do it now.

There's a Frog in the bed beside you.

Don't let your country down. Die easy, now.

Die without a word.

Would you do that. Sonny?

Let go, now, then.

Let go.

Did you see that. Lads?

He marched away.

Now, march after him.

Who goes there?

Pat Harper, from Donegal.

Pat Connelly.

Shigo.

B�s in Eireann.

Death in Ireland.

Do you have a flogged soldier?

Many.

Patrick!

Good God!

Good God!

Die easy, boys.

Has the surgeon gone
to get something for Major Sharpe?

Yes, Harper. He's gone to get a coffin.

Please don't, Father.

Major Sharpe has a slash to the left shoulder
that's gone to the bone.

But what's going to kill him is the bullet
in his belly. Ht's going green with all the pus.

If he were a dog, I'd shoot him.

But God, in his mercy, is sending him a fever.

Soon he'll feel nothing. He'll be dead by dawn.

There must be something you can do for him.

I'm a priest. I'll pray for him.

That's the best you can do for him?

I'm an old soldier, too,
so I'll give you a bit of good advice.

- Let her look after him.
- Why can't I look after him?

He's my major.

And he's my friend.

Look at her.

If you were God and you hooked down tonight.

And you saw that poor lonely child.

Mightn't you take pity, Pat?

Hm?

I was just wondering...

What were you wondering?

I was wondering...

Would you have any holy oil
or holy water for Major Sharpe, Father?

As far as I can tell,
Major Sharpe's a heathen, Harper.

Ah, no, you see,

I thought if I sprinkled some holy water
on Major Sharpe when he was unconscious,

I might be able to save his soul,

despite himself.

You can't have it, Harper.

Have what, Father?

That's a Toledo blade.

Who told you about it?

People say you were a great swordsman
in your day, Father.

And that you have the finest collection of blades
in all of Spain.

Major Sharpe broke his sword fighting at the fort.

But I thought that if you gave me a fine blade.

I could make a great sword out of it.

And when Major Sharpe would see it,

it might make him better.

Tell me why I should give this to your major.

It's very important to me
that Major Sharpe gets well, Father.

And Ramona?

You give me that blade,

and Ramona can call herself Mrs. Harper.

Swear on the Bible.

Ah, Jesus, I hate swearing, Father.

He'll only need half the guard.

And hone the blade. Harper.

There's a week's work in it.

Donne-moi �a.
Donne-moi �a, esp�ce d'abruti!

Je le fais moi-m�me.

Hey, my favorite English spy.

Thanks for your help.

What the devil are you doing here?

I was looking for a book, Sir Henry.

A book?

What does a common soldier want with a book?

Why, my lord,
I was going to wipe my bum with it.

Were you, by Jove?

Well, don't waste a good British one.

Here. Here's one of those damned Frog books.

Candidy, it's called. Wipe your bum on that.

I'm so grateful, my lord.

So very grateful.

Happy now, are we?

"All is for the best

in the best of all possible worlds."

Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi
custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam.

Amen.

Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi
custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam.

Amen.

Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi
custodiat animam...

...tuam in vitam aeternam.

Come here, my child.

Shy. Eh?

Let's not beat about the bush.

Sharpe's dying.

Soon he'll be dead.

And then you'll be all alone in the world.
And what are you going to do then. Hm?

Who wants a skivvy who can't speak?

If you're lucky. They'll hock you up in a convent.

If you're not lucky.

You'll be locked up by the first gang
of drunken soldiers that see you

and be shagged till you're silly.

You come up to my house a maidservant.

And I�ll do the same for you in the shagging line.

You'll have a roof over your head,
regular meals,

and a few pennies in your purse.

At least as long as your looks last.

Well, what do you say, eh?

How about a silver shilling?

Do you mind doing most of it, dearie?

I'm feeling a bit fagged today.

Mm.

I say, you're a hot little whore, aren't you?

Numbers... code.

Numbers... code.

Numbers... code.

God guided your hand, my child,
but the fever has not yet broken.

And that's bad.

Another day burning,
and his heart will stop beating.

Kill or cure.

Kill or cure? What do you mean?

Cold water.

The final weapon against fever.
As old as war and warriors.

The Celtic manuscripts say the burning body
should be laid out in an icy stream,

then wrapped tight in wool to break the fever.

It's very hard on the heart.

Kill or cure.

Morning, lass.

How can I thank you, lass?

Hold it, Harris.

Harper, I have it. The French code.

- You know how the first number is the page?
- Yeah.

- Well, the second number is the line in.
- Yeah.

The third is the line down,
and the fourth is the letter in the word.

The clever bugger
kept changing the combination.

- Mr. Sharpe will want to see this.
- Take it easy, Harris.

Harper, have you seen the name
at the end of this message?

Richard.

What is it, lass?

You spoke!

You said my name.

Is there something else, lass?

I love you.

I wish I could say the same, lass.

Major Sharpe. Sir.

Button your tunic, Harper.

What's that you've got there?

Oh, this?

It's just another sword, sir.

I found it...

lying around.

Someone host it. I found it.

Why don't you have it?

You found it?

Lying around.

You're a lying bastard, Harper!

Maybe only sometimes, sir.

Any luck with the code book, Harris?

Luck, sir? I've got the lot.

Permission to speak, sir?

Best brown paper and paraffin oil.

For your wound.

Thank you, Hagman.

I've come with your cannon, Sharpe.

Good to see you up and about, Richard.

Good to see you, Jack.

I'll be in the library if you want to talk to me.

I'll join you presently.

I'm sorry, my son.

Men are seldom as they seem.

That's not true of you...

...El Mirador.

It was in the code.

But why? You fought against us.

Why do you now spy for Wellington?

I think the theological reasoning
would bore you, Sharpe.

This the book you're looking for?

Candide.

Catch.

Very fond of Voltaire.

I am.

You know what he said?

"God is not on the side of the big battalions,

but on the side of the best shots."

How are you feeling, Richard?

Just so, Jack.

Just so.

Candide was the code book.

So... you know who I am.

Harris handed me the name of the traitor
just half an hour ago.

I suppose they'll shoot me?

I should say so.

I didn't do it for the money, Richard.

Though it would have been damned useful.

In my father's house there are many mansions.

All of them mortgaged up to the hilt.

So why did you do it, Jack?

Courage.

It's like the king's shilling, Richard.

Some soldiers save it.

Some soldiers spend it all in one day.

I told you my life was saved by a French doctor.

Well, that doctor was Colonel Leroux.

And he saved my life simply by virtue of the fact
that he stopped torturing me before I died.

I... I just couldn't stand it any more.

You see, I had spent the whole coin of courage.

And then he made me sign some papers...

...betraying my honor.

And the honor...

...of a lady I once loved.

And I could not let him use that, so...

...so I became his spy,

ridiculous as that may seem to you, Richard.

Why didn't you kill Father Curtis?

You knew he was El Mirador.

Leroux ordered me to.

But I told him I would not do that.

He would have to do that himself.

And he would have done so,

if you hadn't wounded him at the fort.

The fort.

See, that's what I can't stomach, Jack.

I can see how you lost your way with Leroux.

And I can see you might not anticipate
him killing McDonald,

but what about Berkeley?

How could you betray Colonel Berkeley?

No, no.

Believe me, I didn't. Somebody else did that.

If I'd betrayed the fort.

I would have had to betray you.

I may be able to betray my country, but...

...I could never betray my friend.

So what am I supposed to do now, Jack?

Me not being an officer and a gentleman.

I mean, I know what an officer would do.

He'd put you under close arrest,
court-martial you, shoot you,

and let your family die of shame.

Oh, and I know what a gentleman would do.

He'd put a pistol on that table,
walk outside that door, and wait for you

to blow your brains out.

But me?

What the hell do I do with you, Jack?

You tell me, Richard.

I'm sending in the South Essex before sunset.

They're like me, Jack.

Shaky, very shaky.

They've got 500 yards of open ground to cross,
and they might not keep going under fire.

The French have cannon.

There's a rampart
with bloody sharp stakes at the bottom.

I need to send them off in such a way

that they won't stop
till they're standing in that fort.

Can you suggest something
that might put that kind of steel into them, Jack?

Yes, Richard.

I do believe I can.

Sergeant,

form the line.

Sir.

South Essex, form line!

Back to town, boys.
We'll see enough blood later.

Steady!

Keep back. Boys.

Another three on the gates, boys.

Then we're going in.

Steady!

Steady!

By God, lads,
aren't you going to give him a cheer?

Come on! Come on!

Go on, Jack.

Oh, good, yes!

Bally good!

Tra�tre.

I want that flag.

Who's with me?

Give us a tune,

Pipe Major.

Charge bayonets!

Out!

Forward march!

Feu!

Steady, boys!

Steady!

Come on! Hold that line!

Dan.

Aye.

Never had a skivvy say no to me before.

Made me hot.

So I waited till Sharpe was busy

with the Frogs.

And I came to hear you say yes.

Came to hear you beg...

...actually.

Now. Don't move.

On your knees.

She's one of us.

She goes on her knees
only before God, Sir Henry.

Was it you who betrayed
Colonel Berkeley's night attack?

How much did they pay you?

Suppose I did it for nothing?

Who's to say what really happened?

Not you, anyway.

And no-one in London would take your word
against the word of Sir Henry Simmerson.

Well, what's it to you, priest?
You hate the British.

I'm Irish.

John Bull's a bad neighbor,
but Bonaparte's a bully, and so are you.

God forgive me, but I wish it had lasted longer.

Halt!

Make ready

Fire!

Charge!

Coop, cover!

Go!

Parole, monsieur?

Oui.

Harris, tear down that French rag.

Put up some proper Colors.

Parole. Monsieur?

No parole.

Not this time.

You fight me now. Sword on sword.

Kill me, you go free.

My word on it.

- You hear that, Munro?
- Aye, but he doesn't understand. Allow me...

He bloody understands! Don't you, Leroux?

Of course.

Well...

It will be a pleasure to kill you, Mr. Sharpe.

Really.

Please.

No.

Not here amongst your French dead.

But here, amongst mine.

Here, where you killed McDonald,

where you killed Berkeley.
Where you killed Jack Spears.

Here, on my ground, Leroux.

English ground.

Come and kill me.

Outside.

No

- Come on. Sir.
- Good luck. Sir.

Come on, then.

En garde.

Sir, sir, sir.

Sergeant Harper, sir. He's...

Come. Come on.

Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis
in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Am I going to die this time, Father?

Yes, my son.

Have you any last wishes?

I wish I'd married Ramona, Father.

I can grant you that before you go.

Quickly, now.

Do you, Patrick Harper, take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife?

Say "I do".

I do.

Do you, Ramona Gonzalez, take this man
to be your husband? Say "I do".

- I do.
- I now pronounce you

man and wife.

Now, get up and kiss the bride.

I thought you said I was going to die, Father.

We're all going to die, Patrick.

So you're staying, Emma?

There's work to be done.