Richard Sharpe triumphs in the last battle of the war, only to find himself in worse peril when charged to recover Napoleon’s treasure.It is 1814. Rumours abound that Napoleon has surrendered, been murdered, or fled. But before the French are finally defeated and Sharpe can lay down his sword, one of the bloodiest conflicts of the war must be fought: the battle for the city of Toulouse.But Sharpe’s war is not only the battle. Accused of stealing Napoleon’s treasure, Sharpe must discover the unknown enemy who has tried to frame him – and his revenge is ingenious and devastating.Soldier, hero, rogue – Sharpe is the man you always want on your side. Born in poverty, he joined the army to escape jail and climbed the ranks by sheer brutal courage. He knows no other family than the regiment of the 95th Rifles whose green jacket he proudly wears.
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Bernard Cornwell. Sharpe’s Revenge: The Peace of 1814
SHARPE’S. REVENGE. Richard Sharpe and the Peace of 1814. BERNARD CORNWELL
Copyright
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
HISTORICAL NOTE
SHARPE’S STORY
If you enjoyed Sharpe's Revenge, check out these other great Bernard Cornwell titles
About the Author
The SHARPE Series (in chronological order)
The SHARPE Series (in order of publication)
Also by Bernard Cornwell
About the Publisher
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For Whiskey
Title Page
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The wind shredded the smoke, revealing a Bampfylde who stood in profile to Sharpe. The Naval Captain was sucking in his belly to make his body into a smaller target. Sharpe had the blade of the pistol’s foresight outlined against the white silk shirt, and now he lined the back notch with the blade foresight, then he edged the pistol a fraction to the left just in case the weapon did pull to the right. He would aim low, for most guns fired high. If this one did not fire high then he would give Bampfylde a belly wound. That would kill, but slowly; as slowly as some of Sharpe’s men had died after Bampfylde had abandoned them behind the enemy’s lines.
His finger curled round the trigger. The smoke was entirely gone from Bampfylde now and was nothing more than a tenuous scrap of distant mist that was being whirled high off the bluff’s edge to sail inland.
