Sharpe's Enemy Read Online Free

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 cannot accede to her importunings.’
    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 annoyed.’ Nairn paused, holding the bread dangerously close to the flames. Sharpe said nothing, but he knew that the Peer’s annoyance and the Prince of Wales’ interference had something to do with the sudden summons north. Nairn glanced at Sharpe from beneath the bushy eyebrows. ‘Have you heard of Congreve?’
    ‘The rocket man?’
    ‘That’s the one. Sir William Congreve who has the patronage of Prinny and is the begetter of a system of rocket artillery.’ Smoke came from the bread and Nairn snatched it towards him. ‘At a time, Sharpe, when we need cavalry, artillery, and infantry, what are we sent? Rockets! A troop of Rocket Cavalry! And all because Prinny, with a touch of his father’s madness, thinks they’ll win the war. Here.’ He held the toasting fork to Sharpe then proceeded to lavish butter on his blackened slice. ‘Tea?’
    ‘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 grinned. ‘Don’t you like it blacker than that?’
    ‘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