All language subtitles for Sharpes.Mission.subs

Where did you last see
Lieutenant Graham, Pope?

It were somewhere round here,
Major Brand, sir.

I weren't really watching too close on account
oft'Frogs all around us cutting and stabbing.

That's when I got this, sir.

Aye, and when I woke up it were dark.

The rest ofthe patrol were dead,
Lieutenant Graham were missing.

Then I came looking for you, sir.

(Gunshots)

- It's a bloody ambush!
- Get down!

Two to your left!

No! Please!

That's Graham.

The buggers are using him as bait.

- No! No!
- I'll go.

No, no, no, no, no.

I'll go, Sharpe.

SOLDIER: Go on, Major Brand. Go on, sir.

SHARPE: Covering fire!

Go on, sir! You can do it!

Go on!

SOLDIER: Bloody got him!

They've shot Major Brand!

(Soldiers cheer)

GRAHAM: Major Brand!

Major Brand.

Allez. Vite.

Major!

No! No!

(Single shot)

He's got him.

(Soldiers shout)

Harris!

Steady. Steady.

Hagman, water.

It's too late, I'm afraid, Sharpe.

You did your best, sir.

You did more than your best.

(Bugle call)

What's the matter?

Time to get up.

Don't you hear your bugle?

Bothers you, does it?

Suppose I put something in your ear
so you can't hear it?

Stop it, Richard!

Bagpipes could be worse.

I hate the bugle because I hate the army.

Because I hate the war.

We all hate the war.

No, you don't. You love it.

I'm a soldier.

What will you do when you go home, Richard?

You'll still be a soldier...but there won't be a war.

And ifthere's no war, then you won't be happy.

What will you do all day?

Well...I'll do what every other officer does.

What every other husband does.

Whatever that is.

I'll tell you what they do, Richard.

They ride, they hunt,

they gamble, they play cards.

They look after their gardens...
their dogs,

their libraries.

They wine and dine
and make polite conversation.

They cut a figure in society.

Is that why you married me, Jane?
To cut a figure in society?

I thought you loved me for what I am.

You know I love you.

And you know I love you for yourself.

I just...picture you in my mind's eye back home
and I wonder how you'll fit in.

Would you be happy making polite conversation
about art and literature?

You mean will I be able?

So...

..what does this fellow Wordsworth do
when he's home?

What do you think he does?

Um...

Paints?

(To himself) Oh, you bloody fool, Sharpe.

Should have known he was a philosopher.

Richard...

I'm a stupid, silly snob. Can you forgive me?

Can I forgive you over there?

Major Sharpe.

Major Sharpe?

Do your duty, Richard. I'm going to bathe.

(Mutters) Bloody army.

What is it, Harris?

Beg your pardon, Major, but you're to report
to General Wellington's tent at nine o'clock.

Pat, what are you doing?

Shh. Just carrying out orders, sir.

Nosey told us to fraternise
with the local population.

Well, in future, when you're fraternising
with the local women,

make sure they're women over 40.

I'll think ofthat, sir.

Harris.

Sir?

- Have you heard of somebody Wordsworth?
- Oh, yes, sir. William Wordsworth. He's a poet.

Not a philosopher?

No, sir. Is that all, sir?

(Quietly) Yeah.

Forward march, by the left! By the left!

Morning, Ramona.

Thanks for these.

Something the matter?

Something to do with Patrick?

I can tell you?

Yeah. Course you can.

Things are not good in bed
between Patrick and me.

Well, you know er...

We all have us ups and downs.

Not me! No ups, no downs.

Steady on.

Look. Patrick Harper,

my husband, making a fool of himself

over a gypsy girl.

You know what I'd like to do to her?

Mm.

Mon colonel.

Garde à vous!

Ah, vous?

Gaston! Gaston!

I shall see you at supper some night,
Mr Shellington.

- I do hope so, my dear lord. I do hope so.
- Ah.

There you are, Sharpe. I want you to meet
Mr Clarence Shellington ofthe London Gazette.

This is Major Sharpe, one of our most er...

Well, one of our officers.

Delighted to make your acquaintance,
Major Sharpe.

Have you done anything heroic?

I'm afraid not, Mr Shellington.

- My lord.
- Sharpe.

Shame on you, Ross.

You should have had him stopped at the port.

Poor fellow wants to give you a puff
for the public back home.

Puff? Rubbish. Have a look at that, Sharpe.

It's from Colonel Brand, Sharpe.
You know Colonel Brand, don't you?

Yes, sir. I was with him in the ambush
that won him his promotion, sir.

Well, that ambush created quite a stir in London,
as did your report.

The Prince Regent heard of it
and Brand did rather well from it.

He raised a special reconnaissance troop.
Brand's Boys, they call themselves.

They spend their time far behind the French
lines stirring up trouble, making mischief.

That's no matter to me.
This is what matters to me.

This report, if it's true,
could help us change the course ofthe war.

Brand believes he's located
General Calvet's main powder magazine.

It's in the Rocha cave system
30 miles behind the French lines.

- What do you say to that, Sharpe?
- Let's blow it up, sir.

How would you rate Brand as a field officer?

- One ofthe best I've ever seen, sir.
- You won't complain if he leads the mission?

Of course not, sir.

You think you and Brand can blow
the French powder magazine, do you?

- Yes, sir.
- You're a damn fool, Sharpe.

Oh. Thank you, sir.

Only one man in the British Army can blow
that magazine, and that is Major S Pyecroft.

- And Pyecroft won't blow it for us.
- Why not, sir?

Presumably he's still a serving officer?

He's a serving officer with half his face missing,
and his left hand as well.

What happened to him?

Pyecroft and another officer
were working on a bomb.

The other officer made a mistake on the fuse.

Pyecroft spends his time in the desert,
as an exploring officer.

Who was the other officer, sir?

I was.

I want you and Ross to set out at dawn
and fetch Major Pyecroft back to camp.

- Dismissed.
- Sir.

Oh, and, Sharpe?

Show Shellington round the camp.
I can't spare another officer.

- Yes, sir.
- Oh, and, Sharpe?

You'd better brace yourself. He's a poet.

A poet, sir?

My wife'll be delighted.

Really?

I'd rather call for the surgeon and have him
cut off my goddamned foot with a saw.

- Dismissed.
- Sir.

We're wasting our time, sir.

- Pyecroft won't touch explosives.
- Then you'll have to make him, Ross.

Why me, sir?

Because you know how to hurt him.

You and Pyecroft were close, eh, Ross?

We were good friends, sir.

Just like you and me, Ross, eh?

Find him.

My lord.

Colonel Brand,

so far, so good.

Now you must convince Wellington
to send Ross with you on the mission.

(Horse neighs)

Bloody gypsies! They'll have seen us. Merde!

Papa!

MAN: Hyah! Hyah!

Hyah!

Papa! Papa!

(Gunshot)

Vete, Zara! Vete!

(Screaming)

(Gunshot)

Bring the horse.

Mama!

Papa!

Mama!

Mama.

(Horse approaches)

I have to persuade Pyecroft to use explosives
again, which he swore not to do.

And he's going to be at the beck and call
of your hero, that bugger Brand.

Brand's a brave man, sir. I've seen him in action.

He's been out there for a good few years.

Every time he comes back, he's a hero.

Gone to his head, Sharpe.
He's a law unto himself.

From what I hear,
sometimes he is outside the law.

Maybe he uses rough methods,
but he gets results.

- So do you.
- Maybe I do, Sharpe,

- but I don't take pleasure in it.
- You're a damn liar.

You'll have to wait this time, Ross.

Come on, Pyecroft, you old buzzard.

You and Pyecroft were good friends,
weren't you?

Just like you and me, Sharpe.

Yes, sir.

Though I walk through the shadow
ofthe valley of death,

I shall fear no evil.

Receive, O Lord, the souls
ofthese poor unknown gypsies,

and send down thy vengeance
upon their murderers.

En el nombre del Padre,
del Hijo y del Espiritu Sancto. Amen.

Dear Lord, what are you going to do
for this poor girl?

There he is, sir.

Ah, that's him all right.

Ha-ha! Well, I'll be damned!

Septimus has got a girl with him.

- Septimus?
- Silly, ain't it?

(Gunshot)

SHARPE: Good God, he'll never make it.

The best I can do is down one ofthem, sir.
What about the other four?

Septimus will think of something.

Come on! Come on!

Good to see you, Septimus.

Wish I could say the same.

Major Sharpe.

Thank you, Sharpe. Good shot.

- Sir.
- You're probably wondering

why I called you in from the hills.

No, I'm not wondering. You want me
to blow something up. The answer is no.

I don't use explosives any more.

- You could have fooled me back there, sir.
- Those explosives are for my personal use.

Who's the girl?

She's a gypsy. Her parents were murdered.
She's too frightened to tell me what happened.

We've got gypsies at the camp.

She can stay. Gypsies look after their own.

So they do, Hector.
We could all profit from their example...

especially when cutting fuses.

After you...Hector.

DRILL SERGEANT: Come on, come on!

I'm tired and I'm thirsty.

Take me home.

Who is that?

That's Pyecroft.

And his gypsy girl.

Why's he wearing that awful hood?

Maybe cos he's twice her age.

I think I should get one ofthem.

SOLDIER: Colonel Brand!

Welcome to Wellington's camp, Colonel Brand.

Sharpe, isn't it?

I mean Major Sharpe. I beg your pardon.

- You've risen in the ranks.
- So have you, sir.

Congratulations, Major.

- Thank you, sir.
- And who is this good-looking woman?

May I introduce my wife? Mrs Jane Sharpe, sir.

Pleased to meet you, ma'am.

May I say you are as beautiful
as your husband is brave.

Bravery is a subject on which I hear you speak
with some authority, Colonel Brand.

Well, my fame follows me like a bucket
tied to a dog's tail, my lady.

It makes a great deal of noise
but is damned inconvenient.

A bon mot! I must make a note ofthat.

This is Mr Clarence Shellington, sir.
He works for the London Gazette.

- He wants to write about you, sir.
- Your servant, Shellington.

May I make an appointment to speak to you
on behalf of my readers, sir?

Why not do it over dinner?

May I invite you two gentlemen to dine tonight?

What do you say, Colonel Brand?

I accept, madam.
But I warn you, I'm a simple soldier.

No fancy dishes. All I require is a good claret.

And you, Mr Shellington?

Bread and water and your company, madam,
would suffice.

By the way, Sharpe, where can my men
find water well away from camp?

- You're not camping in the main line, sir?
- No. My men keep themselves to themselves.

It's a matter of morale.

Well, you'll find fresh water and good shelter
behind those trees, sir.

Good. Thank you.

Damn it, Jane. They're dining with us tonight.
Who's going to organise the cooking?

We have to find somebody
who knows about Frog dishes,

- which fork goes with which knife...
- Of course we shall.

♪ Fiddle and pipe

SHARPE: What's going on?

If I find any of you near this gypsy girl again,
I'll confine you to camp for a year.

Now, clear off! The lot of you.

Harris.

As you were, Harris.

Now...I'm having some guests for dinner tonight.

How would you like to be chef, eh?

Serve at table, talk Frog, a little la-di-da, eh?

Not very much, sir.

But if you give me Conchita's apple...

That's how it started
in the Garden of Eden, Harris.

Buenos días, señorita.

Señora, not señorita.

And I have a child.

- Pity it's not mine.
- Ramona?

See you again...señorita.

So who's that ugly buzzard?

How should I know? Never saw him before.

You never saw him before?

Well, by God, you've been doing some winking
and twinkling for a married woman.

Married woman? Me?

No, for two months, I have no ups, no downs.

We are here. 60 miles north,
this river marks the boundaries of our forces.

30 miles north ofthe river is the Rocha fort
and powder magazine

housing General Calvet's supplies.

50 miles to the east
is General Calvet's main camp.

Now, our task is simple. To move north,
capture the fort, blow the powder magazine,

and make it back to camp before Calvet's men
can intercept us over the mountains.

Congratulations, Brand.
It's ambitious and it's rather impressive.

There is one thing, sir. It seems a pity
to blow the fort without making a full inventory.

You mean for intelligence purposes?

Perhaps I didn't make myself clear.

General Calvet is rumoured to have gathered
his stores as well as his ammunition at the fort.

An inventory would give us a picture
of Napoleon's intentions in the area.

Perhaps I should go on the mission, sir.

Sniff round the fort,
make a full survey ofthe stores.

Put it all together.
It would give us a glimpse into Calvet's mind.

I would be risking my head of intelligence
on nothing more than a rumour

that the Rocha fort is the centre
of Calvet's storage system.

Yes, sir, I think it might well be a risk
worth taking, eh, Brand?

I can assure you, my lord...
my information is never wrong.

Very well.

Colonel Brand and his men will set out at dawn
the day after tomorrow.

They will scout one day ahead
ofthe main body of infantry,

to be commanded by Major Sharpe.
Sharpe will also be responsible

for the security of a party of sappers and
engineers to be commanded by Major Pyecroft.

Will that be all, sir? I've had a long journey

and should like to make myself presentable
enough to dine with Major Sharpe

- and his wife tonight.
- I'm obliged for the information. Dismissed.

Colonel Brand seems to think
very highly ofyou, Sharpe.

Seems so, sir.

Well, don't let it go to your head.

One minute you're showing poets
round the camp,

the next you're throwing dinner parties
for senior officers.

You're cutting quite a figure in society, Sharpe.

Thank you, sir.

Major Pyecroft to see you, sir.

I respectfully request not to be assigned
to this mission as explosives officer, sir.

Request denied, Major Pyecroft.

A man under duress
may not do his best work, sir.

Let me make something clear to you, Pyecroft.

You have two choices.

Either you blow up the Rocha powder magazine

or I'll return you to the regular army list
and find an excuse to send you back to London.

See how you like it in your leather hood
with children pointing at you in the street.

(Clears throat)

Well?

I'll blow the magazine, sir.

Dismissed.

Sir.

What do you think, Ross?

Colonel Brand has offered us
an interesting opportunity.

Can we exploit it?

Too early to say.

I'll only find out by going on the mission.

By then it may be too late, Ross.
Too late for you.

(Sneezes)

That's what you pay me for, sir.

May I compliment you on an excellent meal,
my lady?

It tasted all the sweeter since we spent the last
six weeks foraging for food behind enemy lines.

How wonderful to live like a gypsy.

And...what a good idea for a portrait.

Would you sit for me, dear lady?

Some rings, a scarf.

Oh, please say you will.
The Romanies are so romantic.

I'm sorry to hear you say that.

I myself hold no regard
for the culture ofthe gypsy race.

Nor I. I merely meant that they were
a good source of poetic inspiration.

I shall be glad to get myself up
if you wish to paint my portrait.

I'm sure Mr Shellington's admiration
ofthe Romany race is purely artistic.

Absolutely.

Absolutely, my dear lady. How aptly put.

You don't see gypsies as a suitable subject
for poetry, Shellington?

The sublime is my only subject, Colonel Brand.

I'm glad to hear it.
Soldiers should confine themselves to shooting.

Poets should confine themselves to the sublime.

Pray, what do you think
is the proper subject for painters?

I think painters should confine themselves
to nature.

Sunsets and suchlike.

You are a student of nature, sir?

Absolutely. Do you know why?

Because I am a soldier.

What's the first thing you notice about nature,
Shellington?

You notice that the strong animals survive
and the weak fall away.

That's how the world is.

The strong survive and the weak die.
That's how it should be.

That way you breed a strong race.

Survival ofthe strongest is the principle
upon which I conduct my troop.

I work my men hard.

Those that can keep up, I promote.

Those that can't...I have no use for.

What about the wounded, sir?

Wounded?

In battle, sir, some men are killed,
some survive and some men are wounded.

The wounded are always the greatest burden.

What do you do about them?

We leave them, Sharpe.

This is war. War is no place for the weak.

That's a big change.

Change? What do you mean?

When I first met you, sir...you tried to rescue
a wounded man under fire.

Well, let's just say I felt lucky that day.

Out late, my little lady.

I'm not your little lady.

That's right, you're Sergeant Harper's little lady,
but he don't treat you right, do he?

You would understand better what happened
if you were married, Sergeant Pope.

Married? Me?

Oh, no, I like to stay free as a bird.

Huh. What kind of bird?

A cuckoo.

I like to...lay my eggs in a nest
and then I moves on.

I'd love to lay an egg in your nest.

Come here, you bitch!

You whore!

(Harper groans)

I'm not a whore.

I am the wife of Patrick Harper.

I'm sorry you can't stay longer, sir.
We won't keep you from your bed.

Bed?

I'm not for bed.
I shall go back now and turn out the guard.

I turn them out three times a night.
Do it myself. Keeps them on their toes.

Well, good night, sir.

Good night, Sharpe. Good night, my lady.

Till tomorrow, Shellington.

As Shakespeare says in Hamlet:
Good night, dear Prince.

Your carriage awaits,

Mr Shellington.

It was so pleasant to have you here tonight,
Mr Shellington.

To hear polite conversation, talk of poetry.

I hope we will see you again.

I shall see you all night in my dreams,

dear lady.

Wasn't it a wonderful evening?

(Door opens and closes)

May I be excused
as soon as I put everything to rights, sir?

- What's your rush, Harris?
- I've an appointment with a young lady, sir.

Well, good luck to you, then.

Mr Shellington, sir...

What about him, Harris?

Well, his quotation from Shakespeare
was incorrect.

The phrase is from Hamlet,
but it's not "Good night, dear Prince,"

it's "Good night, sweet Prince."

What's your point, Harris?

My point, sir, is that Shellington does not know
a lot about literature,

but he knows a lot about women.

Good night, dear Prince.

Good night, sweet Prince.

Conchita.

(Distant bugle)

Garrotte.

The Portuguese use it a lot. Your fellow Harris
probably saw them do it when he was in Lisbon.

You think Harris could have done this...sir?

Well, it seems he was fond of one ofthe
gypsies.

He probably tried to make love to her,
the others came along and he killed them all.

Who reported this murder?

I did, sir.

So, Harris goes to her caravan
in the dead of night,

chokes her to death, and he calls you in?

Make sense to you, sir?

It does seem you may have been a bit hasty,
Provost Marshal.

Thank you, sir.

I will have to arrange a court of inquiry,
possibly a court martial.

In the meantime,
this man will be confined to camp

and will be in your care.

Good of you to go out on a limb like that, sir.

Forget it.

Just as we must hope
that Pyecroft can forget his poor gypsy girl.

What gypsy girl was that, sir?

Wasn't Pyecroft's gypsy girl murdered last
night?

What makes you think that, sir?

I thought she was staying here with the others.

No, sir, she was staying with Pyecroft
last night, sir.

Lucky for her.

So, Pyecroft got himself a gypsy.

Who else would have him, eh?

I'll be on my way, Sharpe.
Call on my assistance any time.

Thank you, sir.

You're in big bloody trouble, Harris.

I know, sir. Prima facie doesn't look good, sir.

Prima facie? What do you mean, prima facie?

Latin, sir. Prima facie. At first sight.

Look, shut up, Harris.

What have you got to say for yourself?

Nil desperandum, sir. Never say die.

Harris, until this matter is resolved,
you're my responsibility.

While I'm on this mission...
you will act as manservant to my wife.

You're letting a suspected murderer
look after your wife, sir?

Harris, I am posting you to my household
as I would post you to a position on a battlefield.

Yes, sir!

The ring, sir. The ring.

Here I am, Colonel Brand, as we arranged.

Well, this won't do at all.

You must don a most heroic uniform
and sit on a most heroic horse.

The readers ofthe Gazette pay two pennies
for my paper, sir,

and they expect to see the sublime.

Don't worry, Shellington,
I'll give your readers their money's worth.

Put it away, Pyecroft.

Sit down.

I want you to put your mind to this, Pyecroft.

Last night, somebody came into the camp
and killed three gypsies.

A man and two women. No apparent reason.

Zara told me the men that killed
her mother and father spoke English.

She heard them shouting. And she's seen
her parents' horses in this camp.

They cut a ring from her mother's finger,
shaped like a snake.

She made a drawing of it for me.

When they discover their mistake,

they'll come after her.

You can't take Zara on this mission with you,
Pyecroft.

She can stay with Ramona.

She'll be safe here.

Much obliged, Sharpe.

Sir.

Sharpe.

I'm concerned about this mission, sir.

Attempting to blow up a French powder
magazine is reasonable cause for concern.

It's not that, sir.
It's the man leading the mission that worries me.

You agreed.
Are you questioning His Lordship's orders?

- No, sir, but...
- Go back and prepare your men.

Leave the thinking to me.

Yes, sir.

All present and correct, sir.

Right, double up!

Fall in!

Come on!

Don't worry, Harper.

Your turn will come.

Let's get 'em moving.

HARPER: Company, shoulder...arms!

Right face!

Left wheel, quick...march!

BRAND: Cresson's got the bait.

Alors, mes enfants.

I'm sorry about keeping you from the rest
ofthe camp, but I have my reasons.

No need to apologise, Sharpe.

I'm used to being on my own.

Well...you won't be on your own tonight.

Thank you, Sharpe.

(Whistles)

Brings back fond memories, eh, sir?

I beg your pardon, sir.

It's all right.

Just keep an eye on 'em, eh?

- I don't know who's about.
- Don't you worry, sir.

Me and this old lass, we'll look after 'em.

It is entitled Thinking Of Tomorrow's Battle.

Shouldn't it be called Thinking Of Going Home,
Mr Shellington?

The people who buy the Gazette want to read
about the spirit ofwar, Major Sharpe,

and that is what I'm here to sketch.

Spirit ofwar, eh?

Very good.

- Carry on, Mr Shellington.
- Good night, Major Sharpe.

Good night, sweet Prince.

Congratulations, Colonel.

You must be able to smell the garlic.

Charge!

(Battle cries)

La poudre. La poudre, elle est foutue.

Surrender? Yeah, course you can.

Get 'em moving over here!

Non. Non.

Non, s'il vous plait.
Non, monsieur! Non, s'il vous plait!

Frogs...

What is it?

- What is it?
- Best stay back, Mr Shellington.

A few dead Frogs down there.
It's not a pretty sight.

Don't be silly, Mr Sharpe.

That's what I came to see.

The spirit ofwar.

The sights ofwar.

The sounds ofwar.

The sounds ofwar, Mr Shellington?

You'll hear the sound ofwar down there,
all right.

It's a very soft sound.

And a very dirty sound.

(Buzz offlies)

(Hushed chatter)

OFFICER: Column...halt!

Stay still!

Stay where you are, lads. Stay back.

SHARPE: Sir. Pyecroft.

You notice anything?

- What, Sharpe?
- There's no losses on our side.

Not a Redcoat amongst 'em.

Brand's the only one ahead of us.

Must have taken them by surprise.

Maybe.

(Sniffs)

Hold your hand out, sir.

Have a look at them, Pyecroft.

What the devil are you looking for, Sharpe?

The man who ran the furthest.

There he is.

- How do you think this man died?
- Slashed to death with a sabre, for God's sake.

What are you playing at, Sharpe?

Take a closer look, sir.

Good God.

Sharpe. Ross.

What is it, Pyecroft?

On the right, regulation powder issued to us.

On the left...the powder issued
to these poor buggers.

Just a pinch of powder. The rest was dust,
sand, God knows what other rubbish.

Whoever armed these poor devils
knew they were going to die here.

They didn't have a chance.

- This was slaughter.
- All right, what's going on?

Whoever set up this massacre
was working wi' the French.

- Bad powder, no British casualties...
- Sharpe.

It's all a bloody fraud!

It's Brand, isn't it? Has to be.

And you knew all along.
You and bloody Wellington.

- Yes, we...we had our suspicions.
- You bloody knew!

- Why didn't you tell me?
- We had to be sure.

Sure?! Look around you.

This isn't soldiery. He couldn't even do it cleanly.
The man's a bloody butcher.

You're damned impudent,
but you're absolutely right.

Call Brand in. We are going home.

- Oh, no, we're not, sir.
- Oh?

It's a trap. They've baited it with a really
big cheese, the Rocha powder magazine.

We are going home!

No, we're bloody not! We're going to get Brand

and we're going to blow up
that Frog bloody magazine. Pyecroft?

You get me in there, Sharpe,
I think it could be arranged.

We're going to use bloody big bait.

Oh? What?

- You.
- Me?!

Yes, you...sir.

OFFICER: Come on, get a move on.
Over here, you two.

Get these bodies out ofthe way.

Oh, looks bad.
I think he could do with seeing the surgeon.

Best brown paper and paraffin oil, sir.

- That'll do it.
- What are we going to do with him, Sharpe?

- Send him home, sir.
- Home? He'll need an escort.

Send two of Brand's men with him.
They know the terrain.

Which is a perfect excuse
for bringing Brand back.

ROSS: What if he doesn't want
to go back to Wellington's camp?

Oh, he'll want to, sir.

Where am I?

- Might even try to seduce my wife.
- What?

Oh, I remember.

I should see a surgeon.

Don't worry, Shellington,
we'll soon have you back home.

You know our friend here's
going to be hanging round your house?

So will Harris, Pat.

You know what I want, don't you?

You need Zara as bait for Brand.

I'll have to ask her, Sharpe.

You know what the answer to that'll be.

She's a Romany.
She wants revenge for her parents' death.

They want us to go back, sir.

Why are they calling you back?

I don't know. But it means
I get to stay at Sharpe's camp tonight.

Ross is very important to me.

You will remember that I have made you
what you are...and I could destroy you.

You'll get what you want.

But remember,
you need me more than I need you.

Don't ever threaten me again.

Will there be anything else, ma'am?

No, thank you, Harris.

- You may go.
- Thank you, ma'am.

There is something else, Harris.

- Yes, ma'am?
- Sit down, Harris.

I wanted to talk to you about Major Sharpe.

You've known him longer than I have.

Soldiers don't discuss their commanding officers
with strangers, ma'am.

Stranger?

Is that what I am, a stranger?

His wife...a stranger?

I'm sorry.

I merely meant that you're not a soldier, ma'am.

- Now, if you'll excuse me.
- Please, Harris.

Talk to me.

Tell me what you think of him.

Not as a major but as a man.

What makes you love him?

Ma'am...

Why would you follow him to the death?

Loyalty.

We're loyal to him, he's loyal to us.

In life and in death.

We trust him with our lives
and he trusts us with his life.

And with his wife.

He trusts you with his wife.

(Door closes)

SHARPE: Deeply obliged to you, sir.

Glad to see the back of him.

Think nothing of it.
He shouldn't be out here anyway.

I'm glad you called me back.
I should be keeping an eye on Ross.

SHARPE: Yeah.

Thinks the French are trying to trap us.

- Mind if I ask you another favour, sir?
- Not at all.

Between you and me, sir,
the lads are nervous about that powder wagon.

I've told Pyecroft to take it up to the woods
for the night.

Take his gypsy girl with him.

I'd be damn grateful
if you could put on a special guard for him, sir.

I'll take care of it myself.

Thank you very much, sir.

POPE: What's going on here, eh?

We feed Frogs to the crows.

We don't. They're soldiers, same as us.

Soldiers? You call that bedraggled lot soldiers?

That'll do, Pope.

Aren't you the fellows they call...Chosen Men?

The scourge ofthe French.
Sure there isn't some mistake?

You seem a bit...soft-hearted to be Chosen
Men.

Chosen Men are men of honour.

Men who'll fight any enemy to the death...
but still bury them.

They have respect.

- Vive la France!
ALL: Vive la France! Vive la France!

Vive la France! Vive la France! Vive la France!

Boo.

We want you to tell us things, Pope.

I'll tell you nowt.

I'm going to take you into the woods, laddie.

You'll go in a man...

How you come out is entirely up to you.

Get out!

There's about two ounces of explosives here.

Not quite enough to kill you,
just enough to make a nasty hole.

Rather unpleasant with all these rats.
Wolves, maybe.

It's a seven-minute fuse.
You'll call for me in about four.

I'll return in about six...if you're lucky.

(Click as gun is cocked)

(Cocks gun)

Did you kill her?

(Cocks gun)

Get up!

It were all Brand's doing!

Stop the fuse now, Major.

He told me about it. And he told me
that if I told, nobody would believe me.

Look, please, Major!

For the love of God, stop that fuse!

He's a French spy! He's a murderer!

He made me a murderer.

He made me a spy, too.
He's made all of us murderers

- and spies.
- Never!

Murderers...maybe.

We did well out of Brand, plenty of loot,
lots ofwomen, but we're not spies.

Pope, maybe...but not me.

Not me or the men.

Please, Major, I've told you everything I know!

Do you think he's told us everything, Sharpe?

No. He hasn't told us why the Frogs
put their powder magazine at risk.

- What are we doing here?
- Ross.

They want Major General Ross
because he knows Wellington's strategy.

The Frogs were going to jump on you
tomorrow night. No prisoners except Ross.

The next morning,
me and Brand find you all dead.

Take on the garrison at the fort...
and report back to Wellington as heroes.

Well, I'm convinced,
but it won't convince a court martial.

They'll say he said it under duress.

Besides, he can always take it all back.

Brand has ways of bringing pressure.

POPE: Please, Major Sharpe!

Stop the fuse!

Look, he took me in. He took us all in.

He took you in too, didn't he, eh, Sharpe? Eh?

Remember?
When he "rescued" Lieutenant Graham.

You thought he were a hero.

Eh?

Well, the French set that up.

- And then you got him promoted.
- So I did.

I'll have to make up for it now.

I don't know why I bother.

- They'll shoot you anyway.
- They might not.

I'll turn king's evidence.

I might get away with a flogging.

They play fair, you know.

I think I can make you a better offer than that.

How about you and Harperjust go off, eh?

Suit you, Pat?

That suits me just fine.

There you go.

Just watch him, Pat. He's a crafty little bastard.

Come here, you bastard!

Come here!

Sir.

What shall I do to show how much I love her?

How many millions of sighs can suffice?

That that wins others' hearts
never can move her.

Those common methods of love she'll despise.

- (Crash of crockery)
- I do beg your pardon, ma'am.

Whoa!

Sharpe!

Let me and my boys go in and finish offthe fort.

I bet you'd like that. Butchering
another pathetic bunch of French deserters.

Better for you, surely, Sharpe.

That's not soldiering.

Pat.

Parlez-vous anglais?

I speak little English.

What do you want?

The French colonel has left you here to die.

He's given you bad powder.

The powder is so bad, it cannot carry a bullet

strong enough to kill me.

I wish you to try.

Tirez! Tirez!

That's soldiering.

HARPER: Column...forward!

March south as quickly as you can.

If you see a British soldier, surrender.
You shall be safe.

Merci, monsieur.

En avant.

If you meet up with your French colonel,
tell him we are three times their number.

D'accord.

Feeding false information to the enemy.

That's soldiering.

Lock 'em up.

Go on, move on!

We're prepared to fight alongside you, Sharpe.

I wouldn't want to be caught dead
in the same grave as you.

Come on, move, you swine, you swine!
Go on, keep moving!

Come and see this, Sharpe. Pyecroft.

Stand still.

Keep your hands together. Move it.

The powder's probably
on the other side ofthis door.

- I'll have to blow it open.
- Blow it open, then.

And risk setting offthe whole magazine?

- You're supposed to be the expert, aren't you?
- Frogs, sir.

(Drums)

SHARPE: Five to one, lads! What do you say?
- Five to one against us

the first time they come,
but after that, the odds turn in our favour.

What do you say, lads?

- What do you say, lads?
ALL: Yeah!

Show the Colours!

En rang!

Hagman, call Major General Ross
for a field court martial. On the double.

Aye, sir.

Hector, there...there's something
I've been meaning to tell you.

It may have been my fault.
I may have cut the fuses too short.

Not like you to cut short fuses, Septimus.

We're getting married, Zara and I,
ifwe get out ofthis.

You'll have to be my best man, Hector. Can't
have a best man who cuts a short fuse, eh?

It would be a great honour, Septimus.

My dear.

Are you mad, Sharpe? A court martial
with the Frogs beating at the door?

That's why I want a court martial, sir.

I want Colonel Brand tried as a traitor.

I want him tried for six murders.

Captain Crake will act for the defence.

If I can think of anything to say.

Very well, Sharpe.

But there'll be a record ofthis trial. I want it done
by the book. I want witnesses, I want proof.

Then let's get started straightaway, sir.

Very well.

You have ten minutes
for the prosecution and no more.

I call my first witness, sir. Zara the gypsy girl.

Whoever murdered her mother
found it on her finger.

Did you ever wear such a ring, Colonel Brand?

Of course not, you damn fool.

This is a sketch drawn by Mr Shellington

of Colonel Brand

on the morning ofthe 10th October.
It's signed and dated.

It shows that Colonel Brand

was wearing Zara's mother's ring.

This is a sketch

drawn by Mr Shellington on the following day...

by which time Colonel Brand had realised

that Zara had most likely heard or seen
her mother being murdered.

As you can see, sir...

the ring is now gone.

Got anything to say to that, Colonel Brand?

I've never seen the ring before in my life.

Turn out your pockets, Brand.

(Clink)

I knew you were too mean to throw it away.

That's not proof.

Pope must have put it in my pocket.

Before we leave these sketches, sir...

..one more detail.

You see this braided cord on the riding crop
wrapped around his hands?

See the braid?

The same X marks that we found
on the gypsy girls' necks back at the camp.

That we found on the neck
ofthe deserter yesterday.

The same mark.

You're excused, my child.

That's just the first ofthe details, sir.

I now intend to read a testimony
ofthe late Sergeant Pope.

It's quite conclusive, sir. I think you'll agree,
having heard it, that we have a prima-facie case

to convict Colonel Brand
and sentence him.

- Get on with it, Sharpe.
BRAND: I protest.

This isn't a proper court martial.

Oh, come on, Brand. We're doing our best.
There is a bloody war on!

SHARPE: Colonel Brand is no hero.

He's a murderer...a traitor...

..and a spy.

I don't know his motives. But I can guess.

I suspect you'll find he has debts back home.

Mortgage, gambling debts, maybe a blackmailer
he has to pay off. Who knows?

Maybe he was just mad for money.
Sold his soul for French gold.

I demand the death penalty.

That concludes the case for the prosecution.

Captain Crake, do you have anything to say
for the defence?

Nothing in his defence.

Nothing in mine.

Colonel Brand, do you wish to say something?

Do you really think
anyone in London will stand for this?

You know how it'll look.

A zealous officer being persecuted
by small and petty men.

The Frogs, sir. Frog column advancing!

Prince ofWales's Own Volunteers,

we'll give 'em three volleys.

Then fire at will.

Then we'll give 'em cold steel.

Push the ladders back!

Take their satchel bombs, six-second fuse.

They're six-second fuses.

En avant!

They're running, lads! They're running!

(Cheering)

- They'll be back.
- I'm getting too old for this, sir.

(Wheezes)

- Never say die, Hagman.
- (Hagman gasps)

Too old, are you, Hagman?

Here.

The court martial has reached its verdict.

Colonel Brand has been convicted on six counts
of murder and has been sentenced to death.

The sentence to be carried out in a manner
to be determined at a later date.

In other words, when we get out of here.
Ifwe get out of here.

Court martial dismissed.

Guilty. Sentence is death.

Wellington'll have to
confirm that sentence, Crake.

And they'll never make it back to camp.

Well, you've had your fun, Sharpe.

But it'll be over in the next few minutes
when the Frogs come over the wall.

Then you'll need a friend.

I'll be your friend, but you're going
to have to beg. Because they'll torture you.

They'll torture you and torture Ross.

You'll be begging me to make them stop.

And, by God, I'm going to make you beg,
Sharpe!

(Fading yell and splash)

- Did you see that, Harper?
- Who, me? No, I saw nothing, sir.

Did you see what happened to Colonel Brand?

Oh, he's a funny fish, sir. I just saw him jump
headlong into the wishing well.

Why do you think
he'd want to do something like that, sir?

Thank you, Harper.

(Orders shouted in French)

You shouldn't have done that, Sharpe.

Yes, I should.

Pyecroft thinks he's found a way out.

A tunnel that leads out onto the hill.

Trouble is...we'll need a garrison to provide
a rearguard, let the rest of us get away.

I think I can find that garrison.

How would you like to die like soldiers?

- Good luck, Crake.
- Good luck, Sharpe.

SHARPE: Come on! Come on!

Come on!

It blows in ten minutes, Sharpe.

310...31 1 ...312...

Right, lads! Let's show these Frogs how to fight!
Show the Colours.

(Whispers) Come on, man.

Down, lads!

581 ...582...

..583...584...

..585...586...

587...588...

598...599...

home.

- 601 ...602...
- This time you cut them too long, Septimus.

(Pyecroft chuckles)

Non!

How about a song, Hagman?

Arma virumque cano...summat.

- Sing of arms and the man.
- Very impressive, Sharpe.

♪ It's of a gentleman soldier

♪ As a sentry he did stand

♪ He kindly saluted a fair maid
by the waving of his hand

♪ So boldly then he kissed her
and he passed it as a joke

♪ And he drilled her into his sentry box
wrapped up in a soldier's cloak

(Laughs)

(Belches)

I dreamed of you last night...

..and the muse came to me.

And I...wrote you this poem.

I trust you will not be offended.

I dreamed of you...how shall I say...

..undraped.

Oh, Mr Shellington.

I don't know if I dare let you read it.

"My Love in her attire...doth show her wit,

It doth so well become her.

For every season she has dressings fit,

For winter, spring, and summer.

No beauty she doth miss

When all her robes are on...

HARRIS: But beauty's self she is

When all her robes are gone."

A fine poem.

First published as A Poetical Rhapsody in 1602.

Originally attributed to...Anonymous
of all people.

But, personally, I think it was written
by Francis Davison.

Francis Davison, eh?

I'm so sorry.

We poets share a common muse.

Poetry is like an apple tree.

And we poets, like birds ofthe air,

alight and feed on it where we may.

Francis Davison, eh?

Wrote it on a candlefly, did he?

"Light to the silly fly,

To the dear light I fly of your disdainful eyes,

But in a diverse wise,

She with the flame doth play

By night alone

And I, both night and day."

That's me.

A silly fly drawn to the candlelight.

I nearly got my wings burned, didn't I, Harris?

I don't think so. He's not that hot.

I know you. How are you, then?

Anything to report, Rifleman Harris?

Nothing serious, sir.

Small skirmish.
He went offwith his tail between his legs.

You're relieved of guard duty, Harris.

Return to your unit.

Yes, sir! Thank you, sir.

- Good to see you, lad.
- Likewise, Dan.

Well done, Harris.

Is he dead, Patrick?

He'll never lay a hand on you again. Ever.

OFFICER: Corporal, take your men
to the quartermaster.

Did you think of me?

All the time?

All the time.

When we get back to England...

..it will be like this.

All the time.

We'll have a house with a garden.

We'll have friends to stay.

We could read books together.

Play the piano.

(Bugle)

One day.

- Well done, Pyecroft.
- My lord.

No problems with the explosives this time,
Ross?

No, sir.

Horse Guards will need to know
about Colonel Brand, sir.

Tell them he died a hero's death
and let's get on with the war.

- My lord.
- Gentlemen.

♪ Here's forty shillings on the drum

♪ For those who'll volunteer to come

♪ To 'list and fight the foe today

♪ Over the hills and far away

♪ O'er the hills and o'er the main

♪ Through Flanders, Portugal and Spain

♪ King George commands and we obey

♪ Over the hills and far away