Free Sharpe 12 - Sharpe's Battle by Bernard Cornwell Page A

Sharpe to fetch it when the serving girl whisked it away.
    “Damn,” Runciman said sadly.
    “You spoke, Colonel?” Hogan asked, helping himself to a handful of Runciman's cherries.
    "Nothing, Hogan, nothing but a twinge of gout. I need some more Husson's
    Water, but the stuff is damned hard to find. Maybe you could put a request to the Horse Guards in London? They must realize we need medication here? And one other thing, Hogan?"
    “Speak, Colonel. I am ever yours to command.”
    Runciman coloured. He knew he was being mocked but, though he outranked the
    Irishman, he was nervous of Hogan's intimacy with Wellington. “I am still, as you know, Wagon Master General,” Runciman said heavily.
    "So you are, Colonel, so you are. And a damned fine one too, I might say. The
    Peer was only saying to me the other day. Hogan, says he, have you ever seen wagons so finely mastered in all your born days?"
    “Wellington said that?” Runciman asked in astonishment.
    “He did, Colonel, he did.”
    “Well, I'm not really surprised,” Runciman said. “My dear mother always said I had a talent for organization, Hogan. But the thing is, Major,” Runciman went on, "that until a replacement is found then I am still the Wagon Master
    General“-he stressed the word 'General'-”and I would be vastly obliged if you addressed me as-"
    “My dear Wagon Master,” Hogan interrupted Runciman's laborious request, "why didn't you say so earlier? Of course I shall address you as Wagon Master, and
    I apologize for not thinking of that simple courtesy myself. But now, Wagon
    Master, if you'll excuse me, the Real Companïa Irlandesa have reached the edge of town and we need to review them. If you're ready?" Hogan gestured to the inn's gateway.
    Runciman quailed at the prospect of exerting himself. “Right now, Hogan? This minute? But I can't. Doctor's orders. A man of my constitution needs to take a rest after... ” He paused, seeking the right word. “After... ” he went on and failed again.
    “Rest after labour?” Hogan suggested sweetly. “Very well, Wagon Master, I'll tell Lord Kiely you'll meet him and his officers at General Valverde's reception this evening while Sharpe takes the men up to San Isidro.”
    “This evening at Valverde's, Hogan,” Runciman agreed. "Very good. And Hogan.
    About my being Wagon Master General-"
    “No need to thank me, Wagon Master. You'd just embarrass me with gratitude, so not another word! I shall respect your wishes and tell everyone else to do the same. Now come, Richard! Where are your green fellows?”
    “In a taproom at the front of the inn, sir,” Sharpe said. His riflemen were to join Sharpe in the San Isidro Fort, an abandoned stronghold on the Portuguese border, where they would help train the Real Companïa Irlandesa in musketry and skirmishing.
    “My God, Richard, but Runciman's a fool!” Hogan said happily as the two men walked through the inn's gateway. "He's a genial fool, but he must have been the worst Wagon Master General in history. McGilligan's dog would have done a better job, and McGilligan's dog was famously blind, epileptic and frequently drunk. You never knew McGilligan, did you? A good engineer, but he fell off the Old Mole at Gibraltar and drowned himself after drinking two quarts of sherry, God rest his soul. The poor dog was inconsolable and had to be shot.
    The 73rd Highlanders did the deed with a full firing party and military honours to follow. But Runciman's just the fellow to flatter the Irish and make them think we're taking them seriously, but that's not your job. You understand me?"
    “No, sir,” Sharpe said, “don't understand you in the least, sir.”
    “You're being awkward, Richard,” Hogan said, then stopped and took hold of one of Sharpe's silver coat buttons to emphasize his next words. "The object of all we now do is to upset Lord Kiely. Your job is to insert yourself into Lord
    Kiely's fundament and be an irritant. We don't want him here and we