Reinforcements from the and Guards Brigade were posted to the ridge close behind the chateau. The Guardsmen were a part of the Prince of Orange’s dispersed corps and the Prince could not resist galloping forward to watch the battalions deploy in column of companies. They looked a brave sight as they advanced beneath their huge colours and with their bands playing. The Prince returned their salutes and called out his best wishes for a brave day. The Young Frog was in high spirits, elated by the music of the fifes and drums that mingled with the fizzing sound of French shell-fuses and the crash of their explosions. His gloom of the previous night seemed to have been dissipated by battle. He spoke cheerfully with the commander of the Guards, then saw Sharpe waiting higher on the ridge. “What are you doing there?” he shouted.
“Obeying your orders, sir. Watching the right flank.”
“I think we can abandon that idea, Sharpe!” The Prince’s tone implied utter scorn for anyone who seriously believed the French might attempt a flanking march. “It’s going to be a straightforward mill. You can tell that from their gun placements. From now on it will be toes on the scratch and heavy thumping!” The Prince feinted a punch at Sharpe to illustrate his prize-fighting metaphor, then pointed at the chateau. “I want you in Hougoumont.”
“To do what, sir?” Sharpe had ridden close to the Prince whose horse skittered sideways as a shell exploded higher up the slope.
,To report to me, of course. I’ll need to know when to send the reserves in.”
Sharpe had assumed that the chateau’s defenders were quite capable of deciding that for themselves, but he recalled Rebecque’s lecture on the need for tact, so just nodded. “Very good, sir.”
The Prince suddenly looked past Sharpe. “Witherspoon! Is that really you? My dear Witherspoon! We haven’t met since Eton! I thought you were destined for the Church, not the army! Or are you a vicar in disguise today? Isn’t this a splendid day? Such good sport!”
Sharpe left the happy reunion behind as he spurred towards the chateau. Harper, despite his sworn promise that he would not expose himself to danger, followed. The two Riflemen could hear the splintering crackle of musketry from the woods beyond the chateau, evidence that a new attack was gathering force. They galloped past the huge haystack that was built close to the northern entrance and Sharpe shouted at the defenders to open the gates. A startled Coldstreamer sergeant poked his head over the farmyard wall, saw the two men galloping towards him, and hastily shouted for the huge double gates to be unbarred. Once inside the farmyard Sharpe slid out of his saddle and unsheathed his rifle. Harper took the reins of both horses and tied them to a metal ring embedded in the stable wall.
A Coldstreamer captain, alarmed by the Rifleman’s sudden arrival, ran from the farmhouse to greet Sharpe. “You bring orders?”
“Ignore us.”
“Gladly!” The Captain ran back to the house which faced towards the woods where the French infantry was massing for their next rush.
A French roundshot crashed into the farmhouse roof, showering slates and splinters into the yard. Sharpe looked up at the damaged rafters and grimaced. “God knows what we’re doing here.”
“You’re keeping the wee boy happy, sir.” Harper looked at the nearest defenders. “My God, but we’re in high and mighty company, so we are. I’ve never fought with the Coldstreamers before. I’d better polish my boots.”
“You’d better stay out of bloody trouble.” Sharpe rammed the charge down his rifle barrel, then slotted the ramrod back into place. The cobbled yard was long and thin, surrounded by sturdy farm buildings amongst which was a small chapel where the wounded from the first attack were being tended. A dungheap was piled against the chapel’s wall, while barrels of unripe apples lay beside a pigsty that had lost its inhabitants, presumably to the Coldstreamers’ cooking pots. A cat, clearly sensing that the troubled times could only get worse, was carrying her kittens one by one from a huge barn to the main house. Three bandaged Guardsmen sat outside the chapel. The only other Guardsmen in sight were a lieutenant and his squad of men who were evidently the garrison’s reserve, and thus ready to reinforce any part of the chateau’s perimeter that was dangerously threatened by the imminent French attack.