Programa de TV: Sharpe - 1x15
(COW MOOING) Troops approaching.
Open the gate.
All right, lads, fall out.
-Davi, get some grub going.
-Yes.
Master Richard sahib.
I have to tell you that we have no grub.
We haven't, no.
But they have.
That would be stealing, sahib.
How am I to be a good British soldier if you make me into a thief again?
It isn't thieving when you're hungry, Davi.
First thing any soldier learns.
Now go on, get on with you.
Davi, mind you watch the eleventh commandment.
Yes, sahib.
You there!
(STAMMERING) Yes, yes, you fellow.
I don't know how they do things in the King's Army but here in the East India Company, it's customary to report to the officer of the day.
Sergeant Sharpe.
King's 33rd force, sir.
Reporting from Srirangapattam.
Orders for Major Crosby, sir.
You're here for the cartridges we recovered.
Yes, sir.
80,000, sir.
For the armoury at Srirangapattam.
Srirangapattam's...
six days' march.
How the devil do you expect to transport 80,000 cartridges?
-On your back?
-Bullock, sir.
Ox carts, sir.
Which you mean to hire with what?
Promises?
Hire them with money, sir.
Oh.
Speak the language, too, do you?
Sergeant, banker and interpreter.
I brought an interpreter, sir.
Did you?
Did you?
Every inch the Crown soldier.
Go and find your damn carts, Sergeant Sharpe.
Let me know when you're ready to load.
Thank you, sir.
MAN: Pass me some meat.
CROSBY: Sergeant Sharpe!
Hop to, lads.
On your feet.
I thought you were about finding carts, Sergeant.
Grub first, sir.
Well, your food, I hope.
Chasalgaon's an East India Company station.
We don't keep rations to feed the King's troops here.
Oh, yes, sir.
Our food, sir.
Carried it with us all the way, sir.
Company troops approaching, sahib.
Well, who the hell is it?
Not sure, sir.
Sullivan, perhaps.
Breaking in a new company.
I've never met Sullivan, sir.
Subedar!
Call out the guard.
Better give the bastard a salute when he arrives.
Tell him he can join me for dinner.
-You too, I suppose.
-Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.
Welcome to Chasalgaon, sir.
Major Crosby's compliments and you're invited to dine with him, sir.
Squad, attention.
Present arms!
-Is that stew about ready yet?
-In a jiffy.
A bloody camel could do it faster.
I'm going for a piss.
Front face!
Order arms!
Should I have your horse watered, sir?
All in good time, Captain.
All in good time.
Fix bayonet!
I like to give a fellow Englishman a proper salute.
You are English, aren't you?
-Yes, sir.
From Norfolk, sir.
-Good.
Too many damn Scots in the Company these days.
Have you noticed that?
Too many Scots and Irish.
Glib sorts of fellow they are.
Then they aren't English, are they?
Not English at all.
Present!
Oh, my God.
Come on, boys.
Fire!
Christ all-bloody-mighty.
There!
There!
What's the matter, Captain?
Cat got your t-t-tongue?
(MAN SCREAMING IN HINDI) King's men, to me!
Well left!
Well left, Captain...
(MAN SPEAKING IN HINDI) DAVI: Richard sahib!
Who the devil are you?
Major William Dodd...
at your service.
Subedar!
(SCREAMING) Two good men to guard the pay chest if you please.
(AGREEING IN HINDI) (SCREAMING) Major Dodd, sir.
Everything is loaded, sir.
-And the enemy?
-All dead, sir.
Not quite all, subedar.
(GRUNTING) (GROANING) (CLASSICAL HINDU INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING) Chasalgaon has fallen, Your Highness.
We left not a man alive.
-Colonel Richard Sharpe, late of the South Essex?
-Mmm-hmm.
Sir Samuel Rawlinson, President of the Board of Control.
I'm told you've a talent for bruising your betters, Sharpe.
Saving the man I've come to see, and a certain Irish sergeant of my acquaintance, have done such.
Now, will you take me to Wellington or shall I dig the bugger out myself?
Splendid.
Splendid.
This way.
(CLEARING THROAT) What's this nonsense I hear?
You've turned swords to ploughshares and become a farmer in France?
Aye.
It's true enough, Your Grace.
Suits you, this life?
Well, no bugger's trying to shoot me the livelong day so, aye, suits me.
I imagine the recent strictures placed upon you by the late Corn Bill must prove inconvenient.
And I imagine Your Lordship didn't bring me all this way to discuss the price of grain.
There is a young tiger loose in India, Sharpe.
A Maratha princeling with a heart for rebellion and a taste for English blood.
I thought we'd put an end to any threat from the Marathas in '03.
So had we all.
Divide and rule.
Simple enough policy, but one that has served us well.
While the Maratha princes fight and squabble amongst themselves, the Company prospers.
Should they unite behind a common leader however...
Who is he?
Khande Rao, the Rajah of Ferraghur.
I should hardly call him common, Rawlinson.
Since he came to power, attacks on our forts and hill stations have increased tenfold.
And with each success, more Pindari bandits come to his side.
How come this man has succeeded where many others have failed?
Though Khande Rao ascended his father's throne last summer, he's not yet in his majority.
It seems the late rajah's favourite concubine is ruling as regent.
-A woman?
-Just so.
Albeit one acting under advice and guidance of a renegade East India Company officer.
Our intelligence officer in Agra recruited a horse master supplying the Company with mounts to discover the renegade's identity.
Alas, nothing's been seen or heard of the fellow this past six months.
We need someone who knows the country to determine what's become of him.
And, if the worst has befallen, to see his mission through.
You want me to go back to India?
This uprising must be stopped, Sharpe, by whatever means.
One resourceful man may achieve what an army cannot.
Your Grace, my soldiering days came to an end on the ridge of Mont St John.
I am grateful of the opinion in which you hold me but a man's luck only holds so long.
Damn it, Sharpe.
The rat is in the bottle.
No one else will do.
India is a very tinderbox that waits upon the merest spark.
Should Khande Rao's resistance prove successful, our days as the dominant power in that country would be numbered.
That may be so, my lord.
But what happens in India is the business of men of influence and great import and not of a farmer.
I regret I must respectfully decline.
That is your last word?
I'm sorry I cannot prevail upon you to change your mind, Colonel.
Mrs Harper, my apologies for having kept you waiting.
-Ramona.
-Richard, thank God.
An acquaintance of yours, Sharpe?
A good friend.
Mrs Harper's husband is the Irish sergeant of whom I spoke.
What are you doing here, lass?
Is Patrick with you?
Alas, Sharpe, Mrs Harper's husband is also our missing agent.
You're Patrick's only hope.
You will find him, won't you, Richard?
(CAMELS BRAYING) (CHATTERING IN HINDI) I'm assured we'll be on our way again presently, ma'am.
It's a poor bloody spot for a tea party, Captain.
Bandit country.
And not one picquet posted along the track.
Some of us might call that reckless.
And you're whom, sir, to be giving orders to an officer?
Come, sir, state your business.
My name is Richard Sharpe and my business is with General Burroughs.
You're off to join his 3rd Army on the Northern Plain, are you not?
You have experience of India, Mr Sharpe?
Experience?
Aye, some.
I was at Srirangapattam and Assaye.
Then you should know, Mr Sharpe, this is friendly territory.
Any threat from Khande Rao's Pindari lies 30 miles...
-You mean the Battle of Assaye?
-Aye, that were it.
There were no riflemen here then.
You wear the green jacket of the 95th, do you not, Mr Sharpe?
I do, ma'am.
And you're right.
There were no riflemen here then.
I was at the time a private soldier in the 33rd.
Sharpe.
Good God, I mean, not the ranker that saved Wellington's life?
Well, it once fell to me to help him out.
Aye.
Then it's an honour, sir.
Indeed an honour.
Captain Lawrence, sir.
And this is Miss Celia Burroughs, the general's daughter.
Ma'am.
Unless I'm much mistaken, it's rightly Colonel Sharpe, isn't it?
Retired, Captain, retired.
I've...
I've no commission here.
It'll be an honour to have you travel along with us, Mr Sharpe, of course, but as...
I'd wait, if I were you.
There's someone up on that ridge.
May be nothing but...
I'd send a scouting party forward.
Alas, sir, our cavalry vanished off to the west to find forage some two hours since.
Two hours?
-Then I'd best go and find them for you.
-I'd be grateful.
Meantime, you may depend we shall advance along the pass with every weight of caution.
Ma'am.
(HORSE NEIGHING) (FLIES BUZZING) Not long dead.
An hour at most.
You must be the cavalry Captain Lawrence sent me to find.
Next time you're looking to catch a man unawares, you might want to conceal your horses downwind.
Captain Mohan Singh.
I command these lancers.
Richard Sharpe.
And I command no one here.
Pindari?
A raiding party, acting on orders from Khande Rao.
I thought this was friendly territory.
It was.
What brings you to India, Mr Sharpe?
I'm looking for a friend.
A man called Harper.
Patrick Harper.
-You know him?
-The Irish horse master?
-That's him.
-Yeah.
I knew him.
There was a raid, uh, six months ago.
The column he was travelling with was massacred to the last man.
Most likely by the same dogs responsible for this.
I'm sorry, Mr Sharpe, your journey seems to have been in vain.
It would appear your father has sent a Company escort, ma'am.
Good day, Captain Lawrence.
-It is Captain Lawrence, isn't it?
-Sir.
Which would make this...
delightful creature Miss Celia Burroughs, daughter to the great white General.
-Could I ask, sir, who you might be?
-My name is Dodd.
General William Dodd.
Formerly of the honourable...
honourable East India Company.
Now, happily Commander-in-Chief to his Highness, Khande Rao, Rajah of Ferraghur.
-Do you joke with me, sir?
-Joke, sir?
Why, sir, no, sir.
But I do have a paradox might amuse Miss Burroughs.
Present!
I'm sorry, Mr Sharpe, but we really must get back to column.
(GUNS FIRING) (MEN SHOUTING) What the hell are you doing here?
You're supposed to be dead.
Sure, I can't watch your arse if I'm dead, now, can I?
By God, Pat.
I don't think much of your new tailor.
You're a long way from home, Richard.
Are you lost?
Ramona sent me.
What the bloody hell were you doing running off and leaving her?
I've been too long a soldier.
You know how it is.
Your Lucille can't be too happy about you...
Last winter.
A fever.
Oh, Jesus, no.
I'm...I'm so sorry.
She was a rare lady.
Aye.
Aye, she was that.
Mr Harper?
Well...
it would appear we have all been premature in our prayers at your passing.
Luck of the Irish, Captain.
You can't beat it.
(SQUAWKING) Damn it.
There is one comfort, though.
General Burroughs' daughter does not seem to be among the dead.
Nor is Captain Lawrence.
This looks like the handiwork of a Pindari war band I've been tracking for the past four days.
This column was taken by surprise.
The men died in line.
Didn't even have time to unsling their rifles.
Whoever did this came at them in friendship.
I've never seen anything like it before.
I have.
Chasalgaon.
Chasalgaon?
But to my knowledge, there were no survivors at Chasalgaon.
Colonel Sharpe's always had a certain gift for the impossible, sir.
Colonel Sharpe?
-Are you with me, Patrick?
-Yes, always.
Where are you going?
After the bastards that did this, where do you think?
They will be many miles from here by now, Colonel.
Colonel, I will send two of my best men to track them but we must report the column's loss without delay.
Khande Rao is in Ferraghur, the greatest fortress in the world.
It has never fallen.
(WOMAN SINGING IN HINDI) (PRIEST SPEAKING IN HINDI) (ANKLETS JINGLING) Kneel before His Majesty Khande Rao.
I shall do no such thing.
Highness, your loyal commander-in-chief offers you this humble gift.
The daughter of the mighty general sent by England to challenge your greatness kneels before you.
I'm afraid there's not much meat on her and what there is undercooked but...
I'm sure, given encouragement, she'll provide Your Highness with some sport.
No!
God damn you, sir, for shame.
Your Highness!
As a French officer, I cannot permit...
Permit?
Colonel Gudin, you're here to train His Highness' men.
Nothing more.
India is not France.
You would do well to remember it.
What is your name, British soldier?
Captain Lawrence.
I've lately consulted with the Brahmin, Captain Lawrence, hoping to gain the answer to a question that greatly troubles me.
Perhaps you can confirm whether my augurs read the signs right.
Will your army lay siege to us here at Ferraghur before the rains come?
In the army of His Britannic Majesty, sir, the plans of great generals are not confided to mere captains.
A pity.
You will convey for me then a message.
A message to your army camped upon the Northern Plains.
You should know that England does not parley with brigands, sir.
Oh, but you mistake me, Captain, for I make no offer of parley.
(CELIA SCREAMING) Is the prisoner fit for punishment, Sergeant Bickerstaff?
Prisoner fit for punishment, sir.
Very well, do your duty.
One!
Two!
No, no, no!
By God, sir, but this won't do!
Lay it on hard, man.
Don't tickle him!
You heard General Simmerson, lay it on!
And keep those strokes high, above his trousers.
Three!
Four!
-What's this poor sod done, then, Simmerson?
-Five!
Six!
-Farted upwind of your nobility?
-Eight!
Wait!
Sharpe!
I see time has done nothing to improve a want of etiquette in you.
Still the same whore-mongering gutter trash of memory.
Aye.
And you're still the same cruel, flogging bastard.
Cruel, sir?
I calls it discipline.
This fellow was caught wearing paint and earrings on parade, if you please.
Joys, he names 'em.
Joys.
The marks and trinkets of his idolatry.
Well, I won't have it, sir.
Sepoys they may be, but this is a Christian army and I will see things done the Christian way.
There's no doubting that.
What's your business here, Sharpe?
My business is with General Burroughs.
Indeed.
-How long?
-About a month or so.
The fever ebbs and flows but, alas, never leaves him in sufficient health to command.
So who's in charge?
Back so soon, General.
I thought you to be at your pleasure some time yet.
Bad tidings, McRae, bad tidings.
And no worse a messenger to bring 'em than Richard Sharpe.
That would be, uh, Colonel Sharpe, sir.
I do not remember Mr Sharpe as holding a commission in this army.
I'm here at the express wish of Horse Guard, General.
See if you can remember that.
London wants this uprising put down hard and fast, before it spreads.
My orders are to lend what aid I can in that regard.
Then you are indeed welcome to our company, Colonel.
Hector McRae, special advisor to General Burroughs.
John Stokes, Major of Engineers.
Glad of the acquaintance, Colonel.
-This is my fellow traveller...
-Mr Harper, isn't it?
-I'd a fine bay mare of you some months back.
-That you did.
I hope she's giving you good service, sir.
You should be wary of this one, McRae.
He thinks 'cause Wellington raised him up from the sewer that it somehow makes him a gentleman.
-But he don't know his place.
Do you, Sharpe?
-Maybe not.
But I know I had to stand before a French column.
I know how to face fire without soiling my breeches and turning tail.
You spoke of bad news, General.
I regret to report that the escort transporting General Burroughs' daughter was overcome by a force of Khande Rao's men.
Miss Burroughs and Captain Lawrence have been taken captive.
You see, McRae, what did I tell you?
Bad tidings indeed.
First General Burroughs indisposed, now this.
I shall send to Agra for reinforcements and further orders.
Further orders?
What further orders do you need?
The second rule of war, Sharpe, which you'd know if you'd ever learned anything beyond insolence towards your superiors, is never reinforce failure.
Oh, I know that rule.
Though by that bird shit on your shoulder, it seems this army's resolved to prove you its living exception.
Sir, if Major Stokes' artillery is to breach the walls of Ferraghur, we must move against the fortress before the rains come.
I shall consider your advice, of course, McRae.
And what does that mean?
-We wait?
-We wait, sir.
What of General Burroughs' daughter?
(DOOR OPENING) Do not be afraid.
I am the Rani Lalima.
Sister to His Highness.
Well, what do you want?
To gloat on my misfortune?
I thought perhaps...
Do you imagine I would accept anything from you after all you've done?
My father will not stand idly by, madame.
Even now, he will be marshalling his army.
(DOOR CLOSING) (SHOUTING ORDERS) (MAN COMMANDING IN HINDI) (SHOUTING ORDERS) I must admit, despite his being a Frenchman, Gudin is making progress.
And when will they be ready?
Soon, Madhuvanthi.
Soon.
And after you've made the Plains run red with English blood, once you have ground them into the dirt, what then, my love?
Patience, Madhuvanthi.
Patience?
Have I not been patient?
And more.
You know it.
Did I put Khande Rao on his father's throne for your ambition to fail you now?
Have we not come far already?
Or do you forget?
A Company lieutenant with no prospect of advancement and a favoured courtesan.
Now I am a general and you a regent.
I shall not be Regent forever.
Soon Khande Rao will attain his majority and I shall be put aside.
But perhaps you weary of me, my love.
Is that it?
You want someone younger to rule beside you.
Lalima, perhaps.
I've seen how you watch after where she walks.
I'd keep a close eye on her because I do not think she's entirely to be trusted.
She's of no consequence.
She'll do as her brother orders and if she does not, she'll suffer for it.
All I ask, my love, is that you do not make me wait too long for what is rightfully ours.
When I tells you to shine my boots, Private, I means I wants them gleaming!
But, Sergeant Bickerstaff, you know full well that as a Hindu to work with...
Oh!
A Hindu says he.
A Hindu.
What's a Hindu then, eh?
Know what I bloody hates the livelong day?
There's no Hindus here!
Neither the Hindu nor Musulman nor gabardine Joe!
You signed on as a soldier, Private, and a soldier I'll make of you yet.
I signed on to fight for your army, not to clean your boot for you.
Do you tell me, boy?
I can see Shadrach Bickerstaff has to teach you better to mind your manners.
-All right, stand off, Sergeant.
-Mind your damn business!
Don't make me tell you again.
Who the bloody hell are you to give me orders?
You're no Company officer.
No, Sergeant Bickerstaff, I'm not.
I'm from a proper army that knows how to deal with bullying bastards like you!
Now, you raise your arm to this man one more time for no reason, and you'll have me to deal with.
Now stand off.
-Oh, what's it to you?
-What's it to me?
Nowt, beyond I know what it's like to be on the end of a sergeant's beating.
-Now stand off!
-Easier to be brave with rank and noon sunlight behind.
I hope you sleep light, Colonel.
Lest you find some morning you wake up to find your throat slit.
-Is that a threat, Sergeant?
-Take it as you please.
Oh, I do.
So come on, let's sort it out here and now.
Just you and me.
(LAUGHING) I weren't born yesterday neither, Colonel.
'Tis a hanging offence to strike at an officer.
-But like you said, I'm no Company officer.
-All the same.
I'll not hit a man wearing the King's uniform.
No?
No?
Well, that's easily remedied.
Officers!
I've shat 'em.
Shadrach.
All right, all right!
Clear off.
Next time I give an order, you bloody jump to, understood?
Aye, sir.
Richard!
Come on to me with a knife, will you?
You little gutless bastard!
Had enough, Shadrach?
(BELLS JINGLING) The French heavy cavalry came on in good order, the morning sun glinting on their sword tips.
But my heart was not dismayed.
What do you say, Stokes, which suits better?
Glinting or glimmering?
Stokes!
-Sir?
-Glinting or glimmering?
Um...
-As you have it, sir.
As you have it.
-Yes, yes, I think so, too.
Glinting.
Set it down, set it down.
My troops as one, look to their leader for, for...
What?
What is this?
I have said that when I am about my literary business, I am not to be disturbed.
What is it?
A message from Khande Rao.
Poor Captain Lawrence.
They killed him with a nail, McRae.
A nail driven into his skull!
It was, General, but not by any hammer.
This is the work of jetties, professional strong men.
Killing people in interesting ways is part of their remit.
There's a note along with the thing.
Written in their heathen script.
Perhaps you'd oblige me, McRae.
It is a short message and to the purpose, General.
If we attack Ferraghur, Khande Rao will kill General Burroughs' daughter.
You see, gentlemen?
As I thought.
Our best course lies in caution.
The longer we leave him unchallenged, the stronger he gets.
Khande Rao has got over 3,000 troops at Ferraghur.
Another month, it could be double that.
No matter their strength, a bandit rabble in want of discipline will never stand against a well-trained European army.
That must be why they have a bunch of Frenchmen teaching them tactics, then, under the command of a Colonel Gudin.
For a horse dealer, Mr Harper, you seem remarkable well-informed.
Well, sir, you see, a horse dealer picks up more round and about than just shit on his boots, sir.
Khande Rao is not just marshalling his troops up there to look good.
-You must move now.
-I have said!
Damn it, sir, don't push me.
We will wait until reinforcements and new orders are arrived from Agra.
There is no more to say.
Get that damn thing out of here.
What do you reckon then, Pat?
-This Khande Rao, can we take him?
-Well, he has a reputation of being a real monster.
If he is a monster, Mr Harper, then he's one of British making.
How is that, Captain?
The Company have only maintained the peace here by keeping the princes at each other's throats.
Khande Rao's father...
(SCOFFS) ...he feared his neighbours more than he hated the British.
And so it was your country that kept him supplied with arms.
That sounds just like the English, getting someone else to do its dirty work.
The son is not the father, however.
Khande Rao wants you out of our country once and for all.
It is a view with which I cannot say I do not have some sympathy.
So why are you fighting with us?
Khande Rao is a Maratha, Colonel, a sworn enemy of my blood.
And that makes you my enemy's enemy.
And, therefore, a necessary evil.
Good day to you, both.
I don't think I like the sound of that, a necessary evil.
-Have we ever been else?
-Hmm.
And there was me thinking we were always on the side of the angels.
What keeps my brother from sleep?
I dreamt of our father.
He was angry with me.
I don't know why that should be so.
I shall ask the Brahmin what it means.
I try to be like him in all things.
To find his courage within me, that I may see my people safely through these days.
No one doubts your courage, my lord, nor your wisdom.
But surely a great prince is also merciful.
I speak of the white general's daughter.
My brother, what harm has she done?
Can it be right to keep her locked alone in the darkness?
You think the British would treat you any better?
Then surely it becomes us to prove that it is they who are the barbarians in this land.
Release her to the guest quarters here in the palace.
I will stand surety.
Do this kindness for a sister who loves you.
-I will ask Madhuvanthi.
-Ask Madhuvanthi?
That witch!
-You are the Rajah of Ferraghur.
-And she is Regent!
Tell me, when the time comes to surrender such power, do you imagine she will do so gracefully and rest content?
-She and Dodd...
-Do not task me, Lalima.
General Dodd has served us faithfully well these past years.
It was our father's wish that he remain in our service and I will not go against that wish.
As my brother pleases.
You know what they are calling him?
In the town and in the fort.
The white Rajah.
The white Rajah.
Take care, my little brother.
Take care.
Christ, God, Sharpe!
You heard his message.
Attack Ferraghur and he kills General Burroughs' daughter.
Not if I can get her out.
Get her out?
What fresh madness is this?
You want to lead a forlorn hope against Ferraghur, is that it?
Have half my men killed on the walls, then watch Celia Burroughs have her head nailed?
If Captain Singh and his lancers help me, Mr Harper and I should prove sufficient to the job.
You and Harper, eh?
Oh, God knows...
I don't mind if you do die, Sharpe.
It's long past your time, ain't it?
If that's permission...
Oh, by all means.
Go and die, Sharpe.
Go and die.
Mademoiselle, it is His Highness' wish that you should be brought to the guest quarters at the palace.
There you may bathe and will be provided with fresh clothing.
I am well enough, sir.
It is not a request.
I have been a very poor father.
The effort of bringing Celia into the world took my dear wife from me, do you see?
I may not always...
have concealed my resentment.
I'm sure that's not the case, sir.
A son could have followed me into the army...
but a daughter...
I placed career before the duty a father owes to his child.
It's only now as...
the shadows lengthen and I realise, like the base Indian, the value of that which I squandered.
Bring her back for me, Colonel.
-Are we ready, Pat?
-As we'll ever be.
Godspeed, then, to you both.
-I trust your new quarters are more to your liking.
-General Dodd!
I hardly think it proper for you to be alone in a woman's quarters.
Fortunately, madam, there lies a region in which I am well-travelled.
-What is it you want?
-Merely to ask after your comfort.
To the best of my knowledge, sir, you were once an officer in the British Army.
It was the East India Company in which I served.
But let's not split hairs over such trifling matters.
Your point?
My point, sir, is that if any vestige of gentlemanly conduct you must have absorbed while in British Company remains, I would urge you to act upon it.
Alas, madam, these past years, I find I'm moved by impulses far more...
sub-equatorial.
If I understood you aright the other evening, General, you made a gift of me to the Rajah.
-What of it?
-Nothing.
I am merely imagining his disappointment if he were to find that his gift had already been unwrapped.
Then you better wish a health unto His Highness for he'll take more care in its opening than I will.
All right, I reckon this is about far enough, Pat.
Turn your coat round.
If Khande Rao's men see red coats, they'll shoot before they ask questions.
Wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?
Not with these jetti fellows to look forward to.
She must be some looker, that's all I can say.
-All the trouble we're going to.
-Who must?
-The general's daughter.
-Saving Celia Burroughs ain't a mission, Pat.
We're going to Ferraghur to stop a rebellion.
You know as well as me once the monsoon comes, that's it.
Khande Rao can afford to sit tight in his fort and watch while Simmerson's men starve for lack of supplies.
Then, when he's got them on the run, when they're retreating, he'll get his Pindari to carry them all across the Plains, you know that.
So wait a minute.
You and me, we're gonna stop a rebellion, just the two of us?
Well, I don't see no bugger else.
Yeah...
That...
That sounds just about right, just as long as you let me know.
Shh!
What do you want?
I came to tell you I am sorry you have been dealt with this way.
Keep your apology, madame.
It's nothing to me.
We did not ask you British to our country.
And still you came.
But not as guests, nor in friendship.
-You came to plunder, nothing more.
-I came to be with my father.
We are not savages, madam, whatever you might think of us.
All we want is to be left to run our own affairs.
I would be grateful if you would leave me.
Promise me one thing, madam.
I have stood surety for your present surroundings.
Were you to attempt escape, I should suffer for it.
His Highness would not approve of you being abroad at such an hour, Princess.
What my brother might or might not approve of is hardly any business of yours, General.
Indeed not, madam.
However, the well-being of his prisoner certainly is.
What did you want with her?
You are aware, madam, that as Commander-in-Chief of His Highness' forces, I am duty-bound to report this behaviour.
Nevertheless, I am willing to be persuaded that your conduct was other than it first appeared.
Persuaded?
And what about Madhuvanthi?
Or do you tire of a courtesan's tricks at last?
You should return to the palace, madam.
The streets of the fortress can be dangerous after dark, even to one as highborn as yourself.
Should a common soldier mistake you for something else...
who knows what accident might befall?
Don't look, I think we're being followed.
(MAN YELLING) It's about time!
Get out, man.
You've done your job, get out.
(MAN SPEAKING IN HINDI) Friends, mate.
Friends.
You understand?
We don't wanna fight you.
-We wanna come and join you.
-GUDIN: Join us?
-You're deserters?
-No, sir, we're volunteers.
-That's why them buggers are chasing us.
-Sergeant Sharpe, sir.
-Corporal Harper.
-Colonel Gudin.
Surrender your weapons and we'll escort you to Ferraghur.
If it proves you are what you say, we may find a place for you.
If not, you will die.
I'm afraid General Dodd will insist upon it.
So, you wish to enlist in the army of His Highness Khande Rao?
Aye, sir, that's why we're here.
And tell me, Sergeant Sharpe, just why should I believe you?
I'm never sure deserters are to be trusted.
We were to be flogged, sir, and lose us rank and all.
-Why?
-Accused of thieving, sir.
We didn't do it but it was our word against an officer.
We had nowhere else to run, sir.
It were either offer ourselves here or take our chances in the wild.
Why should I accept you into His Highness' service?
You give me a rifle at me shoulder and sword at my hand and I'll show you why.
This Rajah is no more your king than he is mine.
But we'll kill for him, Colonel, same as you.
Though I'll be damned if we'll beg for the privilege.
You are for the moment attached to my cushoon You shall be issued with the proper uniform and Sergeant Chef Bonnet will explain to you your duties.
-Aye, sir.
-Thank you, sir.
Les fuck-offs, n'est-ce pas?
-What's that?
-English deserters, no?
-I'm Irish, sir.
-That way.
Cinq minutes.
(IMITATING GUDIN) Best not to keep the Sergeant Chef waiting.
What is it?
Nowt.
And you with a face on you like a dragoon's arse from the minute we got lifted?
Hmm?
Listen, I'd follow you through the gates of hell if you gave me the word.
So I think I deserve more than a ''nowt'' for my trouble.
Dodd.
''General Dodd will insist,'' Gudin said.
Who is he?
The Company renegade you've been trying to find for one.
-And for two?
-A murdering bastard.
Do you know him?
Does he know you?
He had a lot on his mind that day at Chasalgaon.
Chasalgaon?
Shite.
Well, I'll take that as a ''Let's hope not'' then.
-How fares General Burroughs, sir?
-Fever seems to have him.
Perhaps we should delay our approach upon Ferraghur.
Delay, sir?
No, we cannot.
The rains maybe upon us in days, hours perhaps.
We must press on.
-Your Highness.
-General Dodd.
So, what news of the wolves at our door?
Intelligence from our scout says that the British broke camp early this morning.
Perhaps they have thought better of the enterprise and are falling back to Agra.
-Falling back, Colonel Gudin?
-The door of opportunity is closing, madame.
If the rains come, they will have to abandon the campaign until the autumn.
You sound almost eager to avoid the confrontation.
GUDIN: I have never walked away from a battle, madame.
Neither have I run toward one.
Like any soldier, I hope for peace and prepare for war.
If it's peace that you want, you better hope that General Burroughs values his kin above duty.
My father knows his duty.
Depend on it.
As he knows how to deal with renegades.
Be silent, and speak only when you are spoken to.
We have consulted with our Brahmins.
-They say the rains are coming very soon.
-Not too soon, Your Highness?
Or how else will we swill the Plain clean of English blood?
(DRUMS BEATING) HARPER: Boy!
Boy!
-More arrack here.
-No, no, no more, please.
Yes, yes.
I thought you crapauds could drink.
And it's Patrick, by the way.
Are you all Frenchmen in Colonel Gudin's cushoon, Sergeant Chef?
There used to be many more of us.
We came seeking a place and fortune, but men die here like flies.
The fever, the heat.
It has been a long march from Waterloo.
Aye.
It has that.
-You were there?
-Yeah.
How any of us lived through it...
Mon dieu.
Yet, here we are.
Such is God's humour.
For all that, it's not so bad.
Good food, fair pay, when it comes.
And beaucoup de b�b�s...
Come on, Jacques, come on.
Who was that white lass that we see with the Rajah?
Eh?
-That one's far beyond your purse, my friend.
-Oh?
The daughter of a British general.
-Dodd made a gift of her to the Rajah.
-A gift?
Much as another man might hang a beautiful picture upon the wall, His Highness likes to have her about him while he makes his plans for war.
So amongst my other duties, I am appointed her chaperone.
And escort her from the guest quarters to wherever His Highness pleases.
Such is my misfortune.
Sounds like a funny misfortune to me.
She is very beautiful, yes.
Mon dieu, quelle p�tasse!
Un shrew sans pareille.
More arrack, Jacques.
More arrack.
(LAUGHING) -Whoa!
-Oh!
We shall all have sore heads tomorrow.
Well, you will, anyhow, Jacques.
(KEYS RATTLING) I'll put him to bed.
Come on.
(GASPING) -If you please.
-Colonel Sharpe?
Sergeant Sharpe.
At least for now.
If you would.
-Forgive me...
-That's all right.
That's all right.
Don't fret your self, you did right.
Sergeant Sharpe, might I assume this subterfuge, indeed your very presence at Ferraghur, is at my father's request?
-It is, ma'am.
-Then you've seen him.
How is he?
I regret to say General Burrough
Open the gate.
All right, lads, fall out.
-Davi, get some grub going.
-Yes.
Master Richard sahib.
I have to tell you that we have no grub.
We haven't, no.
But they have.
That would be stealing, sahib.
How am I to be a good British soldier if you make me into a thief again?
It isn't thieving when you're hungry, Davi.
First thing any soldier learns.
Now go on, get on with you.
Davi, mind you watch the eleventh commandment.
Yes, sahib.
You there!
(STAMMERING) Yes, yes, you fellow.
I don't know how they do things in the King's Army but here in the East India Company, it's customary to report to the officer of the day.
Sergeant Sharpe.
King's 33rd force, sir.
Reporting from Srirangapattam.
Orders for Major Crosby, sir.
You're here for the cartridges we recovered.
Yes, sir.
80,000, sir.
For the armoury at Srirangapattam.
Srirangapattam's...
six days' march.
How the devil do you expect to transport 80,000 cartridges?
-On your back?
-Bullock, sir.
Ox carts, sir.
Which you mean to hire with what?
Promises?
Hire them with money, sir.
Oh.
Speak the language, too, do you?
Sergeant, banker and interpreter.
I brought an interpreter, sir.
Did you?
Did you?
Every inch the Crown soldier.
Go and find your damn carts, Sergeant Sharpe.
Let me know when you're ready to load.
Thank you, sir.
MAN: Pass me some meat.
CROSBY: Sergeant Sharpe!
Hop to, lads.
On your feet.
I thought you were about finding carts, Sergeant.
Grub first, sir.
Well, your food, I hope.
Chasalgaon's an East India Company station.
We don't keep rations to feed the King's troops here.
Oh, yes, sir.
Our food, sir.
Carried it with us all the way, sir.
Company troops approaching, sahib.
Well, who the hell is it?
Not sure, sir.
Sullivan, perhaps.
Breaking in a new company.
I've never met Sullivan, sir.
Subedar!
Call out the guard.
Better give the bastard a salute when he arrives.
Tell him he can join me for dinner.
-You too, I suppose.
-Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.
Welcome to Chasalgaon, sir.
Major Crosby's compliments and you're invited to dine with him, sir.
Squad, attention.
Present arms!
-Is that stew about ready yet?
-In a jiffy.
A bloody camel could do it faster.
I'm going for a piss.
Front face!
Order arms!
Should I have your horse watered, sir?
All in good time, Captain.
All in good time.
Fix bayonet!
I like to give a fellow Englishman a proper salute.
You are English, aren't you?
-Yes, sir.
From Norfolk, sir.
-Good.
Too many damn Scots in the Company these days.
Have you noticed that?
Too many Scots and Irish.
Glib sorts of fellow they are.
Then they aren't English, are they?
Not English at all.
Present!
Oh, my God.
Come on, boys.
Fire!
Christ all-bloody-mighty.
There!
There!
What's the matter, Captain?
Cat got your t-t-tongue?
(MAN SCREAMING IN HINDI) King's men, to me!
Well left!
Well left, Captain...
(MAN SPEAKING IN HINDI) DAVI: Richard sahib!
Who the devil are you?
Major William Dodd...
at your service.
Subedar!
(SCREAMING) Two good men to guard the pay chest if you please.
(AGREEING IN HINDI) (SCREAMING) Major Dodd, sir.
Everything is loaded, sir.
-And the enemy?
-All dead, sir.
Not quite all, subedar.
(GRUNTING) (GROANING) (CLASSICAL HINDU INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING) Chasalgaon has fallen, Your Highness.
We left not a man alive.
-Colonel Richard Sharpe, late of the South Essex?
-Mmm-hmm.
Sir Samuel Rawlinson, President of the Board of Control.
I'm told you've a talent for bruising your betters, Sharpe.
Saving the man I've come to see, and a certain Irish sergeant of my acquaintance, have done such.
Now, will you take me to Wellington or shall I dig the bugger out myself?
Splendid.
Splendid.
This way.
(CLEARING THROAT) What's this nonsense I hear?
You've turned swords to ploughshares and become a farmer in France?
Aye.
It's true enough, Your Grace.
Suits you, this life?
Well, no bugger's trying to shoot me the livelong day so, aye, suits me.
I imagine the recent strictures placed upon you by the late Corn Bill must prove inconvenient.
And I imagine Your Lordship didn't bring me all this way to discuss the price of grain.
There is a young tiger loose in India, Sharpe.
A Maratha princeling with a heart for rebellion and a taste for English blood.
I thought we'd put an end to any threat from the Marathas in '03.
So had we all.
Divide and rule.
Simple enough policy, but one that has served us well.
While the Maratha princes fight and squabble amongst themselves, the Company prospers.
Should they unite behind a common leader however...
Who is he?
Khande Rao, the Rajah of Ferraghur.
I should hardly call him common, Rawlinson.
Since he came to power, attacks on our forts and hill stations have increased tenfold.
And with each success, more Pindari bandits come to his side.
How come this man has succeeded where many others have failed?
Though Khande Rao ascended his father's throne last summer, he's not yet in his majority.
It seems the late rajah's favourite concubine is ruling as regent.
-A woman?
-Just so.
Albeit one acting under advice and guidance of a renegade East India Company officer.
Our intelligence officer in Agra recruited a horse master supplying the Company with mounts to discover the renegade's identity.
Alas, nothing's been seen or heard of the fellow this past six months.
We need someone who knows the country to determine what's become of him.
And, if the worst has befallen, to see his mission through.
You want me to go back to India?
This uprising must be stopped, Sharpe, by whatever means.
One resourceful man may achieve what an army cannot.
Your Grace, my soldiering days came to an end on the ridge of Mont St John.
I am grateful of the opinion in which you hold me but a man's luck only holds so long.
Damn it, Sharpe.
The rat is in the bottle.
No one else will do.
India is a very tinderbox that waits upon the merest spark.
Should Khande Rao's resistance prove successful, our days as the dominant power in that country would be numbered.
That may be so, my lord.
But what happens in India is the business of men of influence and great import and not of a farmer.
I regret I must respectfully decline.
That is your last word?
I'm sorry I cannot prevail upon you to change your mind, Colonel.
Mrs Harper, my apologies for having kept you waiting.
-Ramona.
-Richard, thank God.
An acquaintance of yours, Sharpe?
A good friend.
Mrs Harper's husband is the Irish sergeant of whom I spoke.
What are you doing here, lass?
Is Patrick with you?
Alas, Sharpe, Mrs Harper's husband is also our missing agent.
You're Patrick's only hope.
You will find him, won't you, Richard?
(CAMELS BRAYING) (CHATTERING IN HINDI) I'm assured we'll be on our way again presently, ma'am.
It's a poor bloody spot for a tea party, Captain.
Bandit country.
And not one picquet posted along the track.
Some of us might call that reckless.
And you're whom, sir, to be giving orders to an officer?
Come, sir, state your business.
My name is Richard Sharpe and my business is with General Burroughs.
You're off to join his 3rd Army on the Northern Plain, are you not?
You have experience of India, Mr Sharpe?
Experience?
Aye, some.
I was at Srirangapattam and Assaye.
Then you should know, Mr Sharpe, this is friendly territory.
Any threat from Khande Rao's Pindari lies 30 miles...
-You mean the Battle of Assaye?
-Aye, that were it.
There were no riflemen here then.
You wear the green jacket of the 95th, do you not, Mr Sharpe?
I do, ma'am.
And you're right.
There were no riflemen here then.
I was at the time a private soldier in the 33rd.
Sharpe.
Good God, I mean, not the ranker that saved Wellington's life?
Well, it once fell to me to help him out.
Aye.
Then it's an honour, sir.
Indeed an honour.
Captain Lawrence, sir.
And this is Miss Celia Burroughs, the general's daughter.
Ma'am.
Unless I'm much mistaken, it's rightly Colonel Sharpe, isn't it?
Retired, Captain, retired.
I've...
I've no commission here.
It'll be an honour to have you travel along with us, Mr Sharpe, of course, but as...
I'd wait, if I were you.
There's someone up on that ridge.
May be nothing but...
I'd send a scouting party forward.
Alas, sir, our cavalry vanished off to the west to find forage some two hours since.
Two hours?
-Then I'd best go and find them for you.
-I'd be grateful.
Meantime, you may depend we shall advance along the pass with every weight of caution.
Ma'am.
(HORSE NEIGHING) (FLIES BUZZING) Not long dead.
An hour at most.
You must be the cavalry Captain Lawrence sent me to find.
Next time you're looking to catch a man unawares, you might want to conceal your horses downwind.
Captain Mohan Singh.
I command these lancers.
Richard Sharpe.
And I command no one here.
Pindari?
A raiding party, acting on orders from Khande Rao.
I thought this was friendly territory.
It was.
What brings you to India, Mr Sharpe?
I'm looking for a friend.
A man called Harper.
Patrick Harper.
-You know him?
-The Irish horse master?
-That's him.
-Yeah.
I knew him.
There was a raid, uh, six months ago.
The column he was travelling with was massacred to the last man.
Most likely by the same dogs responsible for this.
I'm sorry, Mr Sharpe, your journey seems to have been in vain.
It would appear your father has sent a Company escort, ma'am.
Good day, Captain Lawrence.
-It is Captain Lawrence, isn't it?
-Sir.
Which would make this...
delightful creature Miss Celia Burroughs, daughter to the great white General.
-Could I ask, sir, who you might be?
-My name is Dodd.
General William Dodd.
Formerly of the honourable...
honourable East India Company.
Now, happily Commander-in-Chief to his Highness, Khande Rao, Rajah of Ferraghur.
-Do you joke with me, sir?
-Joke, sir?
Why, sir, no, sir.
But I do have a paradox might amuse Miss Burroughs.
Present!
I'm sorry, Mr Sharpe, but we really must get back to column.
(GUNS FIRING) (MEN SHOUTING) What the hell are you doing here?
You're supposed to be dead.
Sure, I can't watch your arse if I'm dead, now, can I?
By God, Pat.
I don't think much of your new tailor.
You're a long way from home, Richard.
Are you lost?
Ramona sent me.
What the bloody hell were you doing running off and leaving her?
I've been too long a soldier.
You know how it is.
Your Lucille can't be too happy about you...
Last winter.
A fever.
Oh, Jesus, no.
I'm...I'm so sorry.
She was a rare lady.
Aye.
Aye, she was that.
Mr Harper?
Well...
it would appear we have all been premature in our prayers at your passing.
Luck of the Irish, Captain.
You can't beat it.
(SQUAWKING) Damn it.
There is one comfort, though.
General Burroughs' daughter does not seem to be among the dead.
Nor is Captain Lawrence.
This looks like the handiwork of a Pindari war band I've been tracking for the past four days.
This column was taken by surprise.
The men died in line.
Didn't even have time to unsling their rifles.
Whoever did this came at them in friendship.
I've never seen anything like it before.
I have.
Chasalgaon.
Chasalgaon?
But to my knowledge, there were no survivors at Chasalgaon.
Colonel Sharpe's always had a certain gift for the impossible, sir.
Colonel Sharpe?
-Are you with me, Patrick?
-Yes, always.
Where are you going?
After the bastards that did this, where do you think?
They will be many miles from here by now, Colonel.
Colonel, I will send two of my best men to track them but we must report the column's loss without delay.
Khande Rao is in Ferraghur, the greatest fortress in the world.
It has never fallen.
(WOMAN SINGING IN HINDI) (PRIEST SPEAKING IN HINDI) (ANKLETS JINGLING) Kneel before His Majesty Khande Rao.
I shall do no such thing.
Highness, your loyal commander-in-chief offers you this humble gift.
The daughter of the mighty general sent by England to challenge your greatness kneels before you.
I'm afraid there's not much meat on her and what there is undercooked but...
I'm sure, given encouragement, she'll provide Your Highness with some sport.
No!
God damn you, sir, for shame.
Your Highness!
As a French officer, I cannot permit...
Permit?
Colonel Gudin, you're here to train His Highness' men.
Nothing more.
India is not France.
You would do well to remember it.
What is your name, British soldier?
Captain Lawrence.
I've lately consulted with the Brahmin, Captain Lawrence, hoping to gain the answer to a question that greatly troubles me.
Perhaps you can confirm whether my augurs read the signs right.
Will your army lay siege to us here at Ferraghur before the rains come?
In the army of His Britannic Majesty, sir, the plans of great generals are not confided to mere captains.
A pity.
You will convey for me then a message.
A message to your army camped upon the Northern Plains.
You should know that England does not parley with brigands, sir.
Oh, but you mistake me, Captain, for I make no offer of parley.
(CELIA SCREAMING) Is the prisoner fit for punishment, Sergeant Bickerstaff?
Prisoner fit for punishment, sir.
Very well, do your duty.
One!
Two!
No, no, no!
By God, sir, but this won't do!
Lay it on hard, man.
Don't tickle him!
You heard General Simmerson, lay it on!
And keep those strokes high, above his trousers.
Three!
Four!
-What's this poor sod done, then, Simmerson?
-Five!
Six!
-Farted upwind of your nobility?
-Eight!
Wait!
Sharpe!
I see time has done nothing to improve a want of etiquette in you.
Still the same whore-mongering gutter trash of memory.
Aye.
And you're still the same cruel, flogging bastard.
Cruel, sir?
I calls it discipline.
This fellow was caught wearing paint and earrings on parade, if you please.
Joys, he names 'em.
Joys.
The marks and trinkets of his idolatry.
Well, I won't have it, sir.
Sepoys they may be, but this is a Christian army and I will see things done the Christian way.
There's no doubting that.
What's your business here, Sharpe?
My business is with General Burroughs.
Indeed.
-How long?
-About a month or so.
The fever ebbs and flows but, alas, never leaves him in sufficient health to command.
So who's in charge?
Back so soon, General.
I thought you to be at your pleasure some time yet.
Bad tidings, McRae, bad tidings.
And no worse a messenger to bring 'em than Richard Sharpe.
That would be, uh, Colonel Sharpe, sir.
I do not remember Mr Sharpe as holding a commission in this army.
I'm here at the express wish of Horse Guard, General.
See if you can remember that.
London wants this uprising put down hard and fast, before it spreads.
My orders are to lend what aid I can in that regard.
Then you are indeed welcome to our company, Colonel.
Hector McRae, special advisor to General Burroughs.
John Stokes, Major of Engineers.
Glad of the acquaintance, Colonel.
-This is my fellow traveller...
-Mr Harper, isn't it?
-I'd a fine bay mare of you some months back.
-That you did.
I hope she's giving you good service, sir.
You should be wary of this one, McRae.
He thinks 'cause Wellington raised him up from the sewer that it somehow makes him a gentleman.
-But he don't know his place.
Do you, Sharpe?
-Maybe not.
But I know I had to stand before a French column.
I know how to face fire without soiling my breeches and turning tail.
You spoke of bad news, General.
I regret to report that the escort transporting General Burroughs' daughter was overcome by a force of Khande Rao's men.
Miss Burroughs and Captain Lawrence have been taken captive.
You see, McRae, what did I tell you?
Bad tidings indeed.
First General Burroughs indisposed, now this.
I shall send to Agra for reinforcements and further orders.
Further orders?
What further orders do you need?
The second rule of war, Sharpe, which you'd know if you'd ever learned anything beyond insolence towards your superiors, is never reinforce failure.
Oh, I know that rule.
Though by that bird shit on your shoulder, it seems this army's resolved to prove you its living exception.
Sir, if Major Stokes' artillery is to breach the walls of Ferraghur, we must move against the fortress before the rains come.
I shall consider your advice, of course, McRae.
And what does that mean?
-We wait?
-We wait, sir.
What of General Burroughs' daughter?
(DOOR OPENING) Do not be afraid.
I am the Rani Lalima.
Sister to His Highness.
Well, what do you want?
To gloat on my misfortune?
I thought perhaps...
Do you imagine I would accept anything from you after all you've done?
My father will not stand idly by, madame.
Even now, he will be marshalling his army.
(DOOR CLOSING) (SHOUTING ORDERS) (MAN COMMANDING IN HINDI) (SHOUTING ORDERS) I must admit, despite his being a Frenchman, Gudin is making progress.
And when will they be ready?
Soon, Madhuvanthi.
Soon.
And after you've made the Plains run red with English blood, once you have ground them into the dirt, what then, my love?
Patience, Madhuvanthi.
Patience?
Have I not been patient?
And more.
You know it.
Did I put Khande Rao on his father's throne for your ambition to fail you now?
Have we not come far already?
Or do you forget?
A Company lieutenant with no prospect of advancement and a favoured courtesan.
Now I am a general and you a regent.
I shall not be Regent forever.
Soon Khande Rao will attain his majority and I shall be put aside.
But perhaps you weary of me, my love.
Is that it?
You want someone younger to rule beside you.
Lalima, perhaps.
I've seen how you watch after where she walks.
I'd keep a close eye on her because I do not think she's entirely to be trusted.
She's of no consequence.
She'll do as her brother orders and if she does not, she'll suffer for it.
All I ask, my love, is that you do not make me wait too long for what is rightfully ours.
When I tells you to shine my boots, Private, I means I wants them gleaming!
But, Sergeant Bickerstaff, you know full well that as a Hindu to work with...
Oh!
A Hindu says he.
A Hindu.
What's a Hindu then, eh?
Know what I bloody hates the livelong day?
There's no Hindus here!
Neither the Hindu nor Musulman nor gabardine Joe!
You signed on as a soldier, Private, and a soldier I'll make of you yet.
I signed on to fight for your army, not to clean your boot for you.
Do you tell me, boy?
I can see Shadrach Bickerstaff has to teach you better to mind your manners.
-All right, stand off, Sergeant.
-Mind your damn business!
Don't make me tell you again.
Who the bloody hell are you to give me orders?
You're no Company officer.
No, Sergeant Bickerstaff, I'm not.
I'm from a proper army that knows how to deal with bullying bastards like you!
Now, you raise your arm to this man one more time for no reason, and you'll have me to deal with.
Now stand off.
-Oh, what's it to you?
-What's it to me?
Nowt, beyond I know what it's like to be on the end of a sergeant's beating.
-Now stand off!
-Easier to be brave with rank and noon sunlight behind.
I hope you sleep light, Colonel.
Lest you find some morning you wake up to find your throat slit.
-Is that a threat, Sergeant?
-Take it as you please.
Oh, I do.
So come on, let's sort it out here and now.
Just you and me.
(LAUGHING) I weren't born yesterday neither, Colonel.
'Tis a hanging offence to strike at an officer.
-But like you said, I'm no Company officer.
-All the same.
I'll not hit a man wearing the King's uniform.
No?
No?
Well, that's easily remedied.
Officers!
I've shat 'em.
Shadrach.
All right, all right!
Clear off.
Next time I give an order, you bloody jump to, understood?
Aye, sir.
Richard!
Come on to me with a knife, will you?
You little gutless bastard!
Had enough, Shadrach?
(BELLS JINGLING) The French heavy cavalry came on in good order, the morning sun glinting on their sword tips.
But my heart was not dismayed.
What do you say, Stokes, which suits better?
Glinting or glimmering?
Stokes!
-Sir?
-Glinting or glimmering?
Um...
-As you have it, sir.
As you have it.
-Yes, yes, I think so, too.
Glinting.
Set it down, set it down.
My troops as one, look to their leader for, for...
What?
What is this?
I have said that when I am about my literary business, I am not to be disturbed.
What is it?
A message from Khande Rao.
Poor Captain Lawrence.
They killed him with a nail, McRae.
A nail driven into his skull!
It was, General, but not by any hammer.
This is the work of jetties, professional strong men.
Killing people in interesting ways is part of their remit.
There's a note along with the thing.
Written in their heathen script.
Perhaps you'd oblige me, McRae.
It is a short message and to the purpose, General.
If we attack Ferraghur, Khande Rao will kill General Burroughs' daughter.
You see, gentlemen?
As I thought.
Our best course lies in caution.
The longer we leave him unchallenged, the stronger he gets.
Khande Rao has got over 3,000 troops at Ferraghur.
Another month, it could be double that.
No matter their strength, a bandit rabble in want of discipline will never stand against a well-trained European army.
That must be why they have a bunch of Frenchmen teaching them tactics, then, under the command of a Colonel Gudin.
For a horse dealer, Mr Harper, you seem remarkable well-informed.
Well, sir, you see, a horse dealer picks up more round and about than just shit on his boots, sir.
Khande Rao is not just marshalling his troops up there to look good.
-You must move now.
-I have said!
Damn it, sir, don't push me.
We will wait until reinforcements and new orders are arrived from Agra.
There is no more to say.
Get that damn thing out of here.
What do you reckon then, Pat?
-This Khande Rao, can we take him?
-Well, he has a reputation of being a real monster.
If he is a monster, Mr Harper, then he's one of British making.
How is that, Captain?
The Company have only maintained the peace here by keeping the princes at each other's throats.
Khande Rao's father...
(SCOFFS) ...he feared his neighbours more than he hated the British.
And so it was your country that kept him supplied with arms.
That sounds just like the English, getting someone else to do its dirty work.
The son is not the father, however.
Khande Rao wants you out of our country once and for all.
It is a view with which I cannot say I do not have some sympathy.
So why are you fighting with us?
Khande Rao is a Maratha, Colonel, a sworn enemy of my blood.
And that makes you my enemy's enemy.
And, therefore, a necessary evil.
Good day to you, both.
I don't think I like the sound of that, a necessary evil.
-Have we ever been else?
-Hmm.
And there was me thinking we were always on the side of the angels.
What keeps my brother from sleep?
I dreamt of our father.
He was angry with me.
I don't know why that should be so.
I shall ask the Brahmin what it means.
I try to be like him in all things.
To find his courage within me, that I may see my people safely through these days.
No one doubts your courage, my lord, nor your wisdom.
But surely a great prince is also merciful.
I speak of the white general's daughter.
My brother, what harm has she done?
Can it be right to keep her locked alone in the darkness?
You think the British would treat you any better?
Then surely it becomes us to prove that it is they who are the barbarians in this land.
Release her to the guest quarters here in the palace.
I will stand surety.
Do this kindness for a sister who loves you.
-I will ask Madhuvanthi.
-Ask Madhuvanthi?
That witch!
-You are the Rajah of Ferraghur.
-And she is Regent!
Tell me, when the time comes to surrender such power, do you imagine she will do so gracefully and rest content?
-She and Dodd...
-Do not task me, Lalima.
General Dodd has served us faithfully well these past years.
It was our father's wish that he remain in our service and I will not go against that wish.
As my brother pleases.
You know what they are calling him?
In the town and in the fort.
The white Rajah.
The white Rajah.
Take care, my little brother.
Take care.
Christ, God, Sharpe!
You heard his message.
Attack Ferraghur and he kills General Burroughs' daughter.
Not if I can get her out.
Get her out?
What fresh madness is this?
You want to lead a forlorn hope against Ferraghur, is that it?
Have half my men killed on the walls, then watch Celia Burroughs have her head nailed?
If Captain Singh and his lancers help me, Mr Harper and I should prove sufficient to the job.
You and Harper, eh?
Oh, God knows...
I don't mind if you do die, Sharpe.
It's long past your time, ain't it?
If that's permission...
Oh, by all means.
Go and die, Sharpe.
Go and die.
Mademoiselle, it is His Highness' wish that you should be brought to the guest quarters at the palace.
There you may bathe and will be provided with fresh clothing.
I am well enough, sir.
It is not a request.
I have been a very poor father.
The effort of bringing Celia into the world took my dear wife from me, do you see?
I may not always...
have concealed my resentment.
I'm sure that's not the case, sir.
A son could have followed me into the army...
but a daughter...
I placed career before the duty a father owes to his child.
It's only now as...
the shadows lengthen and I realise, like the base Indian, the value of that which I squandered.
Bring her back for me, Colonel.
-Are we ready, Pat?
-As we'll ever be.
Godspeed, then, to you both.
-I trust your new quarters are more to your liking.
-General Dodd!
I hardly think it proper for you to be alone in a woman's quarters.
Fortunately, madam, there lies a region in which I am well-travelled.
-What is it you want?
-Merely to ask after your comfort.
To the best of my knowledge, sir, you were once an officer in the British Army.
It was the East India Company in which I served.
But let's not split hairs over such trifling matters.
Your point?
My point, sir, is that if any vestige of gentlemanly conduct you must have absorbed while in British Company remains, I would urge you to act upon it.
Alas, madam, these past years, I find I'm moved by impulses far more...
sub-equatorial.
If I understood you aright the other evening, General, you made a gift of me to the Rajah.
-What of it?
-Nothing.
I am merely imagining his disappointment if he were to find that his gift had already been unwrapped.
Then you better wish a health unto His Highness for he'll take more care in its opening than I will.
All right, I reckon this is about far enough, Pat.
Turn your coat round.
If Khande Rao's men see red coats, they'll shoot before they ask questions.
Wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?
Not with these jetti fellows to look forward to.
She must be some looker, that's all I can say.
-All the trouble we're going to.
-Who must?
-The general's daughter.
-Saving Celia Burroughs ain't a mission, Pat.
We're going to Ferraghur to stop a rebellion.
You know as well as me once the monsoon comes, that's it.
Khande Rao can afford to sit tight in his fort and watch while Simmerson's men starve for lack of supplies.
Then, when he's got them on the run, when they're retreating, he'll get his Pindari to carry them all across the Plains, you know that.
So wait a minute.
You and me, we're gonna stop a rebellion, just the two of us?
Well, I don't see no bugger else.
Yeah...
That...
That sounds just about right, just as long as you let me know.
Shh!
What do you want?
I came to tell you I am sorry you have been dealt with this way.
Keep your apology, madame.
It's nothing to me.
We did not ask you British to our country.
And still you came.
But not as guests, nor in friendship.
-You came to plunder, nothing more.
-I came to be with my father.
We are not savages, madam, whatever you might think of us.
All we want is to be left to run our own affairs.
I would be grateful if you would leave me.
Promise me one thing, madam.
I have stood surety for your present surroundings.
Were you to attempt escape, I should suffer for it.
His Highness would not approve of you being abroad at such an hour, Princess.
What my brother might or might not approve of is hardly any business of yours, General.
Indeed not, madam.
However, the well-being of his prisoner certainly is.
What did you want with her?
You are aware, madam, that as Commander-in-Chief of His Highness' forces, I am duty-bound to report this behaviour.
Nevertheless, I am willing to be persuaded that your conduct was other than it first appeared.
Persuaded?
And what about Madhuvanthi?
Or do you tire of a courtesan's tricks at last?
You should return to the palace, madam.
The streets of the fortress can be dangerous after dark, even to one as highborn as yourself.
Should a common soldier mistake you for something else...
who knows what accident might befall?
Don't look, I think we're being followed.
(MAN YELLING) It's about time!
Get out, man.
You've done your job, get out.
(MAN SPEAKING IN HINDI) Friends, mate.
Friends.
You understand?
We don't wanna fight you.
-We wanna come and join you.
-GUDIN: Join us?
-You're deserters?
-No, sir, we're volunteers.
-That's why them buggers are chasing us.
-Sergeant Sharpe, sir.
-Corporal Harper.
-Colonel Gudin.
Surrender your weapons and we'll escort you to Ferraghur.
If it proves you are what you say, we may find a place for you.
If not, you will die.
I'm afraid General Dodd will insist upon it.
So, you wish to enlist in the army of His Highness Khande Rao?
Aye, sir, that's why we're here.
And tell me, Sergeant Sharpe, just why should I believe you?
I'm never sure deserters are to be trusted.
We were to be flogged, sir, and lose us rank and all.
-Why?
-Accused of thieving, sir.
We didn't do it but it was our word against an officer.
We had nowhere else to run, sir.
It were either offer ourselves here or take our chances in the wild.
Why should I accept you into His Highness' service?
You give me a rifle at me shoulder and sword at my hand and I'll show you why.
This Rajah is no more your king than he is mine.
But we'll kill for him, Colonel, same as you.
Though I'll be damned if we'll beg for the privilege.
You are for the moment attached to my cushoon You shall be issued with the proper uniform and Sergeant Chef Bonnet will explain to you your duties.
-Aye, sir.
-Thank you, sir.
Les fuck-offs, n'est-ce pas?
-What's that?
-English deserters, no?
-I'm Irish, sir.
-That way.
Cinq minutes.
(IMITATING GUDIN) Best not to keep the Sergeant Chef waiting.
What is it?
Nowt.
And you with a face on you like a dragoon's arse from the minute we got lifted?
Hmm?
Listen, I'd follow you through the gates of hell if you gave me the word.
So I think I deserve more than a ''nowt'' for my trouble.
Dodd.
''General Dodd will insist,'' Gudin said.
Who is he?
The Company renegade you've been trying to find for one.
-And for two?
-A murdering bastard.
Do you know him?
Does he know you?
He had a lot on his mind that day at Chasalgaon.
Chasalgaon?
Shite.
Well, I'll take that as a ''Let's hope not'' then.
-How fares General Burroughs, sir?
-Fever seems to have him.
Perhaps we should delay our approach upon Ferraghur.
Delay, sir?
No, we cannot.
The rains maybe upon us in days, hours perhaps.
We must press on.
-Your Highness.
-General Dodd.
So, what news of the wolves at our door?
Intelligence from our scout says that the British broke camp early this morning.
Perhaps they have thought better of the enterprise and are falling back to Agra.
-Falling back, Colonel Gudin?
-The door of opportunity is closing, madame.
If the rains come, they will have to abandon the campaign until the autumn.
You sound almost eager to avoid the confrontation.
GUDIN: I have never walked away from a battle, madame.
Neither have I run toward one.
Like any soldier, I hope for peace and prepare for war.
If it's peace that you want, you better hope that General Burroughs values his kin above duty.
My father knows his duty.
Depend on it.
As he knows how to deal with renegades.
Be silent, and speak only when you are spoken to.
We have consulted with our Brahmins.
-They say the rains are coming very soon.
-Not too soon, Your Highness?
Or how else will we swill the Plain clean of English blood?
(DRUMS BEATING) HARPER: Boy!
Boy!
-More arrack here.
-No, no, no more, please.
Yes, yes.
I thought you crapauds could drink.
And it's Patrick, by the way.
Are you all Frenchmen in Colonel Gudin's cushoon, Sergeant Chef?
There used to be many more of us.
We came seeking a place and fortune, but men die here like flies.
The fever, the heat.
It has been a long march from Waterloo.
Aye.
It has that.
-You were there?
-Yeah.
How any of us lived through it...
Mon dieu.
Yet, here we are.
Such is God's humour.
For all that, it's not so bad.
Good food, fair pay, when it comes.
And beaucoup de b�b�s...
Come on, Jacques, come on.
Who was that white lass that we see with the Rajah?
Eh?
-That one's far beyond your purse, my friend.
-Oh?
The daughter of a British general.
-Dodd made a gift of her to the Rajah.
-A gift?
Much as another man might hang a beautiful picture upon the wall, His Highness likes to have her about him while he makes his plans for war.
So amongst my other duties, I am appointed her chaperone.
And escort her from the guest quarters to wherever His Highness pleases.
Such is my misfortune.
Sounds like a funny misfortune to me.
She is very beautiful, yes.
Mon dieu, quelle p�tasse!
Un shrew sans pareille.
More arrack, Jacques.
More arrack.
(LAUGHING) -Whoa!
-Oh!
We shall all have sore heads tomorrow.
Well, you will, anyhow, Jacques.
(KEYS RATTLING) I'll put him to bed.
Come on.
(GASPING) -If you please.
-Colonel Sharpe?
Sergeant Sharpe.
At least for now.
If you would.
-Forgive me...
-That's all right.
That's all right.
Don't fret your self, you did right.
Sergeant Sharpe, might I assume this subterfuge, indeed your very presence at Ferraghur, is at my father's request?
-It is, ma'am.
-Then you've seen him.
How is he?
I regret to say General Burrough