’Not true, sir?

Nairn flashed a look of annoyance at Sharpe. 'Of course it's not bloody true! He leaned forward and picked up the bust of Napoleon, staring it between its cold eyes. 'You'd like to believe it, wouldn't you? Splash it all over your bloody Moniteur. How the savage English treat Spanish women. That would take your mind of all those good men you left in Russia. He slammed the bust onto the table. 'Damn. He blew his nose noisily.

Sharpe waited. He was alone with Nairn, but he had seen much coming and going as he entered the Headquarters. The rumour, whatever its truth, had stirred Frenada into activity. Sharpe was part of it, or else Nairn would not have sent for him, but the Rifleman was content to wait until he was told. The moment had evidently come, for Nairn waved Sharpe into a chair by the small fireplace and took the chair opposite. 'I have a problem, Major Sharpe. In brief it is this. I have a nasty mess on my doorstep, a mess I must clear up, but I don't have the troops to do it. He held up a hand tostop an interruption. 'Oh yes, I know. I have a whole bloody army, but that's under Beresford's control. Beresford was in nominal command of the Army while Wellington politicked in the south. 'Beresford's up north, with his Portuguese, and I don't have time to write a ‘please, sir’ note to him. If I ask for help from one of the Divisions then every General inside ten miles is going to want a finger in this pie. I'm in charge of this Headquarters. My job is to pass the papers and make sure the cooks don't piss in the soup. However, I do have you, and I do have the so-called garrison battalion of Frenada, and if you're willing then we might put the lid on this peculiarly nasty pot of snakes.

'Willing, sir?

'You will be a volunteer, Sharpe. That's an order. He grinned. 'Tell me what you know of Pot-au-Feu. Marshal Pot-au-Feu.

Sharpe shook his head. 'Nothing.