Sharpe's Enemy

Sharpe gri

'And the Peer, Sharpe, likes to chase foxes. Thus are the rest of us consigned to the eternal torments of this bloody place. Sit down, man!

'Yes, sir.

'And stop saying ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’ like a bloody bumlicker.

'Yes, sir. Sharpe sat in the chair opposite Major General Nairn. The Scotsman had huge grey eyebrows that seemed to be trying to grow upwards to meet his shock of grey hair. The face was good and strong, shrewd-eyed and humorous, spoilt only by his cold-reddened nose. Nairn returned the gaze, looking Sharpe up and down from the French cavalry boots to the Rifleman's black hair, then he twisted round in the armchair.

'Chatsworth! You scum! You varlet! Chatsworth! Heel! You hear me? Heel!

An orderly appeared who gri

’Tea, Chatsworth, tea! Bring me strong tea! Something that will rekindle my military ardour. And kindly try to bring it before the New Year.

'I've already wet it, sir. Something to eat, sir?

'Eat? I've got a cold, Chatsworth. I'm nigh unto death and you blather at me about eating! What have you got?

'I've some ham, sir, that you liked. Mustard. Bread and fresh butter? Chatsworth was solicitous, obviously liking Nairn.

'Ah, ham! Bring us ham, Chatsworth, ham and mustard, with your bread and butter. Did you steal the toasting fork from this mess, Chatsworth?

'No, sir.

'Then find which of your thieving comrades did take it, have them flogged, then bring the fork to me!

'Yes, sir. Chatsworth gri

Nairn smiled at Sharpe. 'I'm a harmless old man, Sharpe, left in charge of this bloody madhouse while the Peer gallivants round half of the bloody Peninsula. I am supposed, God help me, to be ru

Sharpe smiled. 'I wouldn't know, sir.

'I do, Sharpe, I do. That's why I'm a Major General. Nairn leaned forward and threw the letter onto the fire. 'That's what you do with letters like that. Nairn chuckled happily as the paper caught fire and flared brightly. 'You want to know why you're here, don't you?

'Yes, sir.

'You are here, Sharpe, because the Prince of Wales has gone mad. Just like his Father, poor man, stark staring raving mad. Nairn leaned back and nodded triumphantly at Sharpe. The letter shrivelled to a black wisp on the logs as Nairn waited for a reaction. 'Good God, Sharpe! You're supposed to say something! God bless the Prince of Wales would do at a pinch, but you sit there as though the news means nothing. Comes of being a hero, I suppose, always keeping a straight face. Stern business is it? Being a hero?

'Yes, sir. Sharpe was gri

The door opened and Chatsworth edged in with a heavy wooden tray that he put on the floor in front of the fire. 'Bread and ham, sir, mustard in the small pot. Tea's well brewed, sir, and I beg to report that the toasting fork was in your room, sir. Here it is, sir.

'You're a rogue and a scoundrel, Chatsworth. You'll be accusing me of burning correspondence from the Chaplain General next.

'Yes, sir. Chatsworth gri

'Are you a Methodist, Chatsworth?

'No, sir. Don't rightly know what a Methodist is, sir.

'You are fortunate indeed. Nairn was fixing a slice of bread to the toasting fork. A Lieutenant appeared at the open door behind him, knocked hesitantly to attract attention. 'General Nairn, sir?

'Major General Nairn is in Madrid! Negotiating a surrender to the French! Nairn pushed the bread close to the logs, wrapping his hand in his handkerchief to keep the scorching heat away.

The Lieutenant did not smile. He hovered at the door. 'Colonel Greave's compliments, sir, and what's he to do with the iron brackets for the pontoons?

Nairn rolled his eyes to the yellowed ceiling. 'Who is in charge of the pontoons, Lieutenant?

'The Engineers, sir.

'And who, pray, is in charge of our gallant Engineers?

'Colonel Fletcher, sir.

'So what do you tell our good Colonel Greave?

'I see, sir. Yes, sir. The Lieutenant paused. 'To ask Colonel Fletcher, sir?

'You are a General in the making, Lieutenant. Go and do that thing, and should the Washerwoman General want to see me, tell her I am a married man and ca

The Lieutenant left and Nairn glared at the orderly. 'Take that grin off your face, Private Chatsworth! The Prince of Wales has gone mad and all you can do is grin!

'Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?

'It is, Chatsworth, and I thank you. Go now, and close the door silently.

Nairn waited till the door was shut. He turned the bread on the fork. 'You're not a fool are you, Sharpe?

'No, sir.

'Thank God for that. It's possible that the Prince of Wales does have a touch of his Father's madness. He's interfering in the army, and the Peer's damned a

'The rocket man?

'That's the one. Sir William Congreve who has the patronage of Pri

'I'm sorry, sir. Sharpe should have poured. He filled two cups while Nairn dressed his toast with a massive chunk of ham liberally smeared with mustard. Nairn sipped the tea and sighed.

'Chatsworth makes a cup of tea fit for heaven. He'll make some woman a lovely wife one day. He watched Sharpe toast a slice of bread. 'Rockets, Sharpe. We have in town one troop of Rocket Cavalry and we are ordered by the Horse Guards to give this rocket troop a fair and searching test. He gri

'No, sir. Sharpe liked his toast pale. He turned the bread.

‘I like it smoking like the bloody pit. Nairn paused while he ate a huge mouthful of ham. 'What we have to do, Sharpe, is test these bloody rockets and when we find they don't work we send them back to England and keep all their horses which we can put to good use. Understand?’

’Yes, sir.

'Good! Because you've got the job. You will take command of Captain Gilliland and his infernal machines and you will practice him as if he were in battle. That's what your orders say. What I say, and what the Peer would say if he were here, is that you've got to test him so bloody hard that he slinks back to England with a grain of sense in his head.’

’You want the rockets to fail, sir? Sharpe buttered his bread.

'I don't want them to fail, Sharpe. I'd be delighted if they worked, but they won't. We had a few a couple of years back and they're as flighty as a bitch in heat, but Pri