Nairn had another piece of bread by the fire. 'You're wondering why you were chosen, is that right? Out of all the brave officers and gentlemen, we chose you, yes?

'I was wondering, sir. Yes.

'Because you're a nuisance, Sharpe. Because you do not fit into the Peer's well ordered scheme of things. Sharpe ate his toast and ham, saving himself the need to answer. Nairn seemed to have forgotten the toasting fork, that lay on the hearth, and instead had plucked another piece of paper from the table. 'I told you, Sharpe, that Prinny has gone mad. Not only has he foisted the dreadful Gilliland on us with his dreadful Congreve rockets, but he has foisted this on us as well.’This' was the piece of paper that Nairn dangled between finger and thumb as if contagious. 'Appalling! I suppose you'd better read it, though God only knows why I don't just put it on the fire with that bloody man's letter. Here. He held the paper to Sharpe, then returned to his toast.

The paper was thick and creamy. A seal was big and red on its wide left margin. Sharpe twisted it towards the windows so he could read the words. The top two lines were printed in decorative copperplate script.

'George the Third by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith'. The next words were hand written on ruled lines. 'Trusty and Well-beloved Richard Sharpe, Esq. The printing resumed. 'Greeting: We do by these Presents, Constitute and Appoint you to be'. Sharpe looked up at Nairn.

The Major General was grumbling as he scooped butter from the dish. 'Waste of time, Sharpe! Throw it on the fire! Man's mad!

Sharpe grinned. He tried to control the elation that was growing in him, elation and sheer disbelief, he almost dared not read the next words.