'Yes, sir. Sharpe stood up, took the proffered orders, and felt the elation again. A Major!
Bells suddenly clanged from the church, jangling the still air, frightening birds into hurried flight. Nairn flinched at the sound and crossed to the window. 'Get rid of Gilliland, then we can all have a quiet Christmas! Nairn rubbed his hands together. 'Except for those bloody bells, Major, there's nothing, thank the Good Lord, that is disturbing His Majesty's Army in Portugal and Spain.
'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. God! The 'Major' sounded good in his ears.
The bells rang on, marking the feastday, while, fifty miles north and east, the first English soldiers, red coats untidy, filed into the quiet village of Adrados.
CHAPTER 2
The rumour reached Frenada soon enough, yet in its passing through the Portuguese countryside the story twisted and curled in the same manner that Congreve's rockets tangled their smoke trails above the shallow valley where Sharpe tested them.
Sergeant Patrick Harper was the first man of Sharpe's Company to hear the story. He heard it from his woman, Isabella, who had heard it from the pulpit of Frenada's Church. Indignation in the town flared, an indignation that Harper shared. English troops, not just English, but Protestants to boot, had gone to a remote village which they had looted, killed, raped, and defiled on a holy day.
Patrick Harper told Sharpe. They were sitting with Lieutenant Price and the Company's two other Sergeants in the winter sunlight of the valley. Sharpe heard his Sergeant out, then shook his head. 'I don't believe it.
'Swear to God, sir. The priest talked of it, so he did, right there in the church!