’Yes, sir. Another judicious reply.

'Damned Papists! The Nairns, Sharpe, are all Scottish Presbyterians! We may be boring, but by God we are Godly! He grinned, then sneezed violently before vigorously wiping his nose with a huge grey handkerchief. He gestured with the handkerchief at the procession. Another god-damned feast-day, Sharpe, can't think why they're all so bloody thin. He laughed, then looked with shrewd eyes at the Rifleman. 'So you're Sharpe?

'Yes, sir.

'Well don't come near me, I've got a bloody cold. He walked towards the fire. 'Heard about you, Sharpe. Bloody impressive! Scottish, are you?

'No, sir. Sharpe grinned.

'Not your fault, Sharpe, not your fault. Can't help our damned parents which is why we have to thrash our damned children. He glanced quickly at Sharpe, making sure he was being appreciated. 'Came up from the ranks, didn't you?

'Yes, sir.

'You've done bloody well, Sharpe, bloody well.

'Thank you, sir. It was amazing how few words were usually needed to get by with senior officers.

Major General Nairn bent down and damaged the fire by bashing its logs with a poker. 'I suppose you're wondering why you're here. That right?

'Yes, sir.

'You're here because this is the warmest damned room in Frenada and you're obviously no fool. Nairn laughed, dropped the poker, and worried his nose with his handkerchief. 'Bloody awful place, Frenada.

'Yes, sir.

Nairn looked accusingly at Sharpe. 'Do you know why the Peer chose Frenada as his winter Headquarters?

'No, sir.

'Some people will tell you, and here the Major General broke off to collapse with a satisfied sigh into a vast horsehair armchair, 'that it was chosen because it is near the Spanish border.