Nairn looked at Sharpe. 'Well, Major?

'I had thought of that, sir. He smiled. This was the second idea, the better idea. 'I thought of going in on Sowan's Night.

Nairn grinned. Automatically he corrected Sharpe. 'Sowan's Nicht! I like it, man! I like it! Sowan's Nicht! The bastards will all be flat on their backs with the drink!

Sowan's Nicht, the Scottish name for Christmas Eve, the night when any soldier could expect to get hopelessly, helplessly drunk. In England it was the night for Frumenty, a lethal drink of husked wheat grain boiled in milk and then liberally soused with rum and egg-yolks to be drunk until insensate. Christmas Eve.

Kinney nodded, smiling. 'We were the first to be caught by that trick, we might as well use it ourselves. He was referring to the Christmas Eve of 1776 when George Washington caught the garrison of Trenton unawares, the defenders believing that no war would be waged over Christmas. Then Kinney shook his head. 'But.

'But? Nairn asked.

Kinney seemed to subside, the hope of repeating Washington's trick going. 'Christmas Day, sir, when you want my men to relieve Major Sharpe. It's scarce five days away, sir. He shook his head. 'I can do it! I can have the men there, but I don't much like going empty handed. I'd have a thought to an extra ration issue, sir, and if the French are likely to be poking themselves into the place then I'd be glad of a full spare issue of cartridge. He could be talking, Sharpe knew, of up to a thousand pounds of dried beef and over forty thousand cartridges. Kinney's face grew more dubious. 'All the mules are gone, sir. They'd take a week to get back here from winter pasture. The mules, like the British cavalry, were mostly wintering in the plumper land near the sea.

Nairn growled to himself, made marks on his paper. 'You could get there without mules?

'Of course, sir. But what if the French do come?’

’They're not there to fight us, are they? They're there to capture this Pot-au-Feu!

Kinney nodded. 'And if they have a chance of killing off a prime Battalion as extra pickings?

'Aye, aye, aye. Nairn was disgruntled. 'I dare say you're right. New Year's Eve, Sharpe?

Sharpe smiled. 'I'd rather Christmas Eve, sir. He looked at Kinney. 'Would seven horse drawn wagons help? Plus a good few pack-horses? All fit, all ready to march?

'Help? Good God, man, of course they'd help! They'd suffice! And how, pray, do you work this miracle?

Sharpe looked back to Nairn. 'The Rocket troop, sir. I'm sure the Prince Regent would be delighted if they were found some warlike employment.

'God's teeth, Sharpe! Nairn smiled at him. 'Two weeks ago I promote you from Captain, now you're presuming to tell me what would please His Royal Highness! He looked at Kinney. 'The suggestion of the Prince of Wales' plenipotentiary pleases you then, Colonel?

'It does, sir.

Nairn grinned happily at Sir Augustus Farthingdale. 'It looks as if your wife will be safely in your arms within the week, Sir Augustus!

Sir Augustus flinched slightly, but bowed his head. 'Indeed it does, sir, and I'm grateful. I would still like to go with the rescue force, sir.

'You would, eh? Nairn frowned, not understanding the request. 'I mean no offence, Sir Augustus, 'pon my word none at all! But might you not think that such exploits are best left to hotter heads! We cooler brains must wait in patience, write our books!

Sir Augustus gave a thin smile. 'You mean older heads, sir?

'Older! Wiser! Cooler! And do you truly fancy climbing a bloody hill in the dead of night, laying up all day in the freezing cold, and then keeping up with fellows like Sharpe the next night? I admire the sentiment, Sir Augustus, I do truly, but I beg you to reconsider the request.

The thin face with its handsome mane of hair looked down towards the table. Perhaps, Sharpe thought, he was thinking of that cold day that would be Christmas Eve. Sharpe did not want the man there and he dared to mutter a comment that might help Sir Augustus to withdraw a request that Nairn could scarce refuse. 'We'll not be taking any horses, sir, none at all.

The head snapped up. 'I can march, Major, if I have to!

'I'm sure, sir.

'My concern is for Lady Farthingdale. She is a delicate lady, of good family. I would not like to think of her treated… he paused. 'I would like to offer her my protection, sir.

'Good God, Sir Augustus! Nairn stopped. The inference of Farthingdale's words was that Lady Farthingdale, having survived capture by Pot-au-Feu, would be at risk from Sharpe's men. Nairn shook his head. 'She'll be safe, Sir Augustus, she'll be safe! You can ride up with Kinney in the morning, yes, Kinney?

The Welsh Colonel did not look overjoyed, but he nodded. 'Yes, sir. Of course, sir.

'And you'll be arriving at dawn, Sir Augustus!

Sir Augustus nodded, leaned back. 'Very well. I shall ride with the Fusiliers. He looked with his unfriendly gaze at Sharpe. 'I can be assured that Lady Farthingdale will be treated with every respect?

The words implied an outrageous insult, but Sharpe supposed that they also implied an outrageous jealousy that perhaps an older man would feel for a younger wife. He chose to give a civil answer. 'Of course, sir. He turned to Nairn, one question left. 'Do we have the Riflemen, sir?

Nairn smiled, mischievously again, and in reply he pushed a letter across to Sharpe. 'Third paragraph down, Major. They're already on their way.

Sharpe read the letter and understood Nairn's smile. The letter had been dictated by Wellington to his Military Secretary, and the General was making specific suggestions how Pot-au-Feu must be defeated. The third paragraph began; 'I would advert you to Major Sharpe, in need of employment, believing that, with two Companies of Riflemen, he might effect a rescue before the punitive Battalion arrives. To that end, and in the belief that this measure will be deemed appropriate, I have given orders that two Companies of the 60th be attached to Headquarters. Sharpe looked up and Nairn smiled broadly. 'It was interesting to see, Major, whether we came to the same conclusions.

'We evidently did, sir.

'Console yourself with the thought that he did not think of using the Rocket troop. He has, however, asked the Partisans to help. A few irregular cavalry in the hills will make life easier. Sharpe wondered if Teresa would receive that message. Might he see her at Christmas? The thought quickened him and pleased him. Nairn took the letter back and turned the page. His face was serious. 'The Partisans, though, are not to take the credit. Spain believes that British troops raped this village and defiled their church. There must be a new sermon preached in the churches, gentlemen, that British troops avenged that massacre, and that any person in Spain is safe under the protection of our flag. He had evidently been paraphrasing the letter, for now he dropped it and smiled at Sharpe. 'You told these bastards they had till New Year's Day?

'Yes, sir.

'Then break your word, Major. Go and kill them at Christmas instead'

'Yes, sir.

Nairn looked out of the window. The rain had stopped and a great rift was spreading through the clouds, bringing back the blue sky. The Scotsman smiled. 'Good hunting, gentlemen. Good hunting.