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SHARPE’S MISSION
Richard Sharpe and the Battle of the Nive
Screenplay Written by Eoghan Harris and Bernard Cornwell.
Novel Adapted by Paul Kaster
PART TWO
1813 November
SAINT-PEE-SUR-NIVELLE
Chapter 8
Brand had his men ready at first light. He and Pope ride ahead of their men. They halt when they see the French deserters on the road.
Captain Craig rides up to Brand.
“Congratulations Colonel. You must be able to smell the garlic.”
Brand grins, then signals for the force to come forward.
The French walk slackly along the road. They are not alert as they are still behind the French line. They do not suspect that a British force is near.
Brand rides his force into the road to assemble them into line to charge.
The French sergeant sees them and calls the deserters into a three-deep line. Quickly, he calls out the orders to load and prepare to fire. While line is not the formation to receive cavalry, a three-deep line with woods on either side to protect the flank will do. He orders the front rank to kneel with their bayonets attached. All are veterans and know the drill.
Brand sees the formation and smiles. He commands the troops to trot first. As the distance is not great, he quickly moves to gallop and then to charge.
At one hundred yards, the French sergeant orders to front rank to fire, then the second and finally the third. The sergeant quickly becomes scared as the sound of the shots is not normal. Instead of load cracks, it is mere puffs. He is unaware that the cartridge’s powder was diluted with sawdust. There is not enough force to propel the musketballs with any force at the advancing British.
“Reload! Reload!”
“Front two ranks charge bayonets!”
Their only hope is that the hedge of bayonets will stop the horses until the rear rank can reload with a charge that can hurt at a few yards distance.
Brand leads his men to the French knowing that the French musket fire can not hurt them. He rides up to the line and fires a pistol at one of the kneeling men. The shot hits him and throws him back into the rank behind. Captain Craig and their sergeants repeat the same at men around the first. When they are done, six French have been struck and removed from the line. Before the men on either side can close the gap, the British troopers have forced their horses into the French and begun to slaughter them with their swords.
The deserters had no desire to die here and are not committed to any of them. They bolt and run in any direction that looks to be safe. Brand’s men are mounted and too fast. All of the French are caught and struck down. Some think that if they try to surrender, they will be spared, but Brand’s men give no quarter. Only the sergeant and another are spared. They are captured and dragged to Brand.
Brand alights from his horse. From his saddle, he pulls his riding crop which he wraps in each hand then pulls tight. He approaches the sergeant first. One of the troopers raises the sergeant to his feet. Brand turns quickly behind the sergeant and loops the crop over his head to strangle him. The other prisoner watches as the sergeant dies slowly. When there is no life left, Brand tosses the body to the ground in front of the remaining prisoner. He shakes as Brand grins evilly and walks towards him.
A few miles south of Brand, the Prince of Wales’ Own was up before dawn. They were escorted through the lines by some of Brand’s mounted soldiers. So far, they have not encountered any French or British patrols.
Within an hour of crossing the lines, they approach the road that Brand had attacked the French. Earlier they had heard firing ahead. Sharpe sent scouts forward.
Hagman is one of the men scouting ahead. He signals back to the column for Sharpe to come ahead.
“Frogs, sir.”
Dan points ahead.
Sharpe and Nairn walk ahead. They stop to survey the scene.
Shellington comes up behind them.
“What is it? What is it?”
“Better stay back, Mr. Shellington. A few dead Frogs down there. It’s not a pretty sight.”
Shellington raises up to see further. Frustrated at Sharpe’s attitude.
“Don’t be silly, Major Sharpe. That’s what I came to see. The spirits of war. The sights of war.”
Sharpe and Nairn turn to him.
“The SOUNDS of war.”
Nairn makes a face of disgust that only Sharpe can see.
Sharpe rolls his eyes when Shellington turns the scene.
“The sounds of war, Mr. Shellington.” He turns his head down the road.
“You’ll hear the sounds of war down their, Mr. Shellington, all right.”
“You’ll hear a very soft sound. A very dirty sound.”
Sharpe leads them forward to where the scouts have been examining the dead. Slowly they walk among the dead. Sharpe notes that all of the dead are French, only. There are no signs of dead British or British horses. Sharpe kneels to examine a body.
Behind them, Shellington approaches the bodies. As he passes several that have been badly maimed by swordcuts, he pauses. He pulls a kerchief from a pocket to hold to his mouth. Shortly, his head goes up as he spirals to the ground in a faint.
Sharpe nods to Harper.
“See to ‘im, Pat”
Harper nods.
Nairn and Pycroft approach Sharpe.
Sharpe stands “Do you notice anything?”
Nairn looks around. Pycroft watches Sharpe. By now, he has learned that Sharpe’s asks questions for which he has concluded an answer. And the answer is usually poignant.
“There are no losses on our side.”
Nairn and Pycroft turn to the field.
“Not a redcoat amongst ‘em.” Sharpe turns side to side.
Nairn stares up the road. “Brand’s the only one ahead of us. He must have taken them by surprise.”
Sharpe looks at the ground. “Maybe.”
He picks up one of the muskets. After hefting it in each hand, he lifts the muzzle to his nose and sniffs. He turns to Nairn.
“Hold your ‘and out, sir.”
Nairn turns a hand up to Sharpe.
Sharpe lifts the musket so that he may hold the butt higher than Nairn’s hand. He drops the muzzle into Nairn’s palm. All of them hear the sound of metal rolling inside the barrel. A musketball emerges for Nairn to grasp.
Nairn looks at it puzzled. He holds it up to give to Sharpe. Sharpe examines it, then pulls a cartridge from the dead soldier’s cartridge box. He gives it to Pycroft.
“Look at that, Pycroft.”
While Pycroft examines the cartridge Sharpe walks away. Nairn follows him.
“What are you looking for Sharpe?”
“The man who ran the furthest.”
A few feet more, the bodies stop.
“There he is.”
Sharpe looks down at the body. He kneels to examine the body further. There are no signs of sword cuts.
“How do you think this man died?”
“He was slashed to death with a saber.”
“Take a closer look, sir.”
Nairn approaches and kneels at the body. Together they see the marks that something made into the man’s neck.
“Good God! Nairn whispers.
From behind them, Pycroft calls. “Sharpe. Nairn.”
Nairn turns back to the others. Sharpe looks up then follows Nairn back to Pycroft.
“What is it, Pycroft?”
Pycroft has poured out two lines of gunpowder into the road. He points, “On the right, regulation powder issued to us.”
Hagman hands him a branch with one end smoldering. Pycroft blows on it to cause it to flame. He lowers it to the right-hand line of powder. The powder burns rapidly and with a loud pop.
“On the left, the powder issued to these poor buggers.” He touches the flame to the other line of powder.
It burns with a mere fizzling sound.
He stands to face Sharpe and Nairn.
“A pinch of sand with dust, sand and who knows what other rubbish. Whoever armed these poor devils knew they were going to die here. They didn’t have a chance.”
Hagman takes the ember and walks away.
“This was slaughter.” Pycroft spits.
Sharpe listens and becomes angry. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark. He turns on Nairn.
“All right. Now, what’s going on? Nobody could have set up a massacre like this without working with the French!“ He paces between Pycroft and Nairn.
“Bad powder. No British casualties. It’s all a bloody fraud.”
“Sharpe.”
Richard turns to Nairn.
“It’s Brand, isn’t it? It has to be.” He looks accusingly at Nairn.
“And, YOU knew all along. You bloody well knew. You and Wellington.”
Nairn turns his head away. He stammers, “Well we had our suspicions.” He still can’t face Sharpe.
“Don’t act innocent. You knew. Why didn’t you bloody tell me!”
“We had to be sure.”
“Sure! Look around ya.” He gestures his hands to each side. Nairn turns his head to where Sharpe points.
“This isn’t soldiering. He couldn’t even do it cleanly. He’s a bloody butcher.”
Nairn collects himself finally and turns to Richard.
“You’re damned impudent, man.”
It’s Sharpe’s time to turn away.
“But, you’re absolutely right. Call Brand in for questioning We’re going home.”
Sharpe spins back to Nairn.
“Oh, no we’re NOT, sir.”
Nairn is surprised. “What?! It’s a trap, man. They baited it with a really big cheese. The Rocha powder magazine.”
“We ARE going home.”
“NO, we’re not! We’re going to get Brand AND blow up that Frog bloody powder magazine.”
Sharpe stares at Nairn to make his point. When Nairn responds no further, Sharpe turns to Pycroft.
“Pycroft.”
“If you get me in there. I think it could be arranged.”
“Oh, and we’ll use bloody big bait.” Sharpe looks at Nairn.
“Oh, what?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Sir” Sharpe grins.
Nairn doesn’t know how to respond.
While they have been talking, the Prince of Wales’ Own have been clearing the French bodies from the road.
Harper and Hagman kneel over one body who they continue to examine. As Sharpe approaches, Harper says to Hagman with a voice loud enough to be heard by Sharpe.
“Oh, he looks bad. I think he could do with seeing the surgeon.”
Sharpe and Nairn stop.
Harper and Harman look up to them.
Hagman offers. “Best brown paper and paraffin oil, sir.”
Sharpe grins. That is Dan’s cure for every wound.
“That’ll do it for ‘im.”
Nairn sees that they are bent over Shellington.
“What are we going to do with him, Sharpe?”
With a sheepish grin, “Send ‘im home, sir.”
“Home? He’ll need an escort.” Nairn is unsure why Sharpe wants to reduce his force.
“Yes, Pat, send MR. Shellington back to camp. If we must stop every time he has the vapours, we will not be able to hold to the three days that we allowed to travel and blow the magazine.
“We can send some of Brand’s men back with ‘im. They know the terrain. For this fight, we need infantry, not cavalry. We won’t miss two or three troopers.”
Harper and Hagman grin at this choice. They stand to leave as Shellington is recovering his senses.
“What if he doesn’t want to go back to Wellington’s camp?”
“Oh, he’ll want to, sir.”
Harper walks up to the group. He carries a bucket of water. Sharpe looks to him.
Harper whispers. “You know, our friend here will be hanging around your house.”
Sharpe looks at him with an evil glint in his eye. He trades his rifle for the bucket of water. He grabs the bucket so that he may splash its contents onto Shellington. As he tosses the water. “So will ‘arris, Pat.”
The wave of water from the bucket catches Shellington fully in the face. He tosses the bucket in front of Shellington who rises spitting water and holding his arms away from his torso.
“Where am I?” Shellington struggles to raise himself from the dirt of the road.
Sharpe continues to talk with Nairn while Shellington recovers. “Once, he even tried to seduce my wife.”
“What?”
“Oh, I remember. I should see a surgeon.” Shellington searches for his hat nearby.
“Don’t worry Shellington. We’ll soon have you back home.” Nairn offers.
“Home? Home? No, no sir.” Shellington remains confused, but protests.
“Sir, I came here to write of the great deeds of the army. I have yet to see or hear a battle.”
Nairn continues. “Mr. Shellington, if you faint at the site of dead who have already fought, how then will you behave when the musket volleys are crashing and the sabers swinging their death to the enemy, and to us? We can not afford to provide bodyguards for you to protect you from the fight.”
“Sir, I insist.”
Sharpe stands over him. “Mr. Shellington. We do not have the time to coddle you. These Frenchmen are dead. Just the sight of them caused you to swoon. I can and will not have you become hysterical when we have a real fight.”
“I was not hysterical.”
“You WILL leave. If you want to write of what we do, you can read our reports when we return. For now, I will devote none of my men to care for you.”
“I will have Colonel Brand send men to escort you back to our camps.”
“Sir, I protest!”
Sharpe ignores him and walks away.
Harper turns to Nairn and winks.
“Mr. Shellington. If you want to protest, I think you will have to do that with Lord Wellington. His camp is that way.” Harper points south from where they started.
Nairn avoids grinning as he finishes with Shellington.
“Sergeant Harper seems to have it right. You should appeal to Lord Wellington to have Sharpe let you continue with us.”
“Lord Wellington? Camp? By the time I am able to have Wellington support me, you may be finished and be back to camp as well.”
“So we may.”
Nairn nods and walks away.
Harper grins, then walks away with Hagman.
Shellington stands with his hands loosely at his side. He is defeated to see Sharpe in battle. But, back at camp, he will be free to pursue Jane.
“Yes, yes.” There will be other combat units to visit and write about. For now, it is an opportunity to seduce Jane to return her to England for his sponsor.
Sharpe left the others to find Pycroft. Pycroft has been talking with Zara at the pack mules. They watch Richard approach. Pycroft moves to stand between Sharpe and Zara.
Sharpe says quietly so that only Pycroft and Zara can hear. “You know what I want, don’t ya?”
“You want to use as Zara as bait for Brand.”
Sharpe hangs his head.
“I’ll have to ask her, Sharpe.”
Sharpe raises his head to address Pycroft. “You know what the answer to that will be.”
Pycroft lowers his head, then turns to Zara.
“She’s a Romany. She wants revenge for her parent’s death.”
Zara nods at both of them. Her face shows the passion she has to bring the men who killed her parents to justice.
“We need to include Nairn. Brand outranks both of us. It is serious charges that we are bringing.”
“Then let’s get about it.”
Sergeant Pope stands on a hill to look south. Brand and Nairn had agreed at morning, noon and dusk that they would signal between the two groups. They used a simple set of flashes to convey messages. While neither group knows exactly where the other is, they know the general direction. Before long, a light flashes across Pope’s face.
Behind them, from another hill, Nairn has been using his mirror to sweep through sixty degrees to signal to Brand. After two tries, he receives an acknowledgement signal. He sends a message for Brand to return.
“They want us to go back, sir.”
Below Pope, Brand sits on his horse next to Colonel Cresson. They had been discussing the progress of Cresson’s plan and to continue or modify it.
“Why do they want you to go back?”
“I don’t know.” Brand looks at Cresson. “But, it means I get to stay at Sharpe’s camp tonight.”
Cresson ponders the value of this. He looks at his saddle then to Brand.
“The gypsy is not important. Nairn is very important to me. You don’t know that any gypsies survived Sergeant Pope and you. If you continue to kill gypsies, someone will wonder why the gypsies are dying.”
“You WILL remember that I have made you what you are. And, I could destroy you. Leave the gypsies until after we have Nairn. Comprenez vous?”
Brand looks at Cresson, but not with the fear or submission that Cresson expects.
Brand’s family secured their fortunes as traders. In 1800, when his oldest brother made some poor business deals, their father became a smuggler to replenish their business’ cash. They began carrying brandy and wine from France to England. His father then sold the goods at prices close to, but lower than merchants that had paid any tariffs. Quickly the family replaced the lost money. Since smuggling supplemented the family’s other trade with low risk, his father continued to smuggle.
In 1803 during the Peace of Amiens, Brand first met Cresson in France. His father and brothers were unable to travel to Paris to broker to purchase goods for the family business. Neville was able to secure leave from his regiment to travel in his father’s place. The Brand’s worked with Cresson’s family to supply brandy.
When the war resumed, the British Navy took many capable sailors to serve the fleet. Cresson’s family provided French sailors to help sail the boats that provided the smuggled goods. Brand’s father was unaware that some of these sailors stayed in England to spy on the British Army and Navy.
When Brand first arrived in Spain, he received a message to meet privately with Cresson. Reluctantly, Brand met with him. Cresson proposed that Brand give Cresson information in exchange for keeping secret that Brand’s family had been involved in spying for the French. Brand was repulsed by the idea that he would spy for the French. But, since he craved to be something more than a third son, in exchange for information that the French could get by other means, but more slowly, Brand could gain recognition that he might not be able to on his own. He accepted the offer.
For the duration of the fighting in Spain, Brand has benefited from Cresson and Cresson from Brand. As Brand became more successful, he would not respond to Cresson’s requests. Cresson more frequently would threaten to reveal, not only Brand’s father’s, but Brand’s own treachery.
As the British defeated the French in battle after battle, Brand became more confident to refuse Cresson’s requests. From captured French soldiers, Brand has learned that Cresson has fallen in favor with Napoleon. If Cresson fails, it may be his last failure for Napoleon.
“You’ll get what you want. But, remember. You need me more than I need you.” He says bitterly.
“Don’t EVER threaten me again.”
Cresson is not pleased with this. He rises in his saddle to repeat his expectation. Before he can counter, Brand rides off to join Pope.
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