„A very delicate caper sauce, perhaps?” Soult suggested.
The guns rose to a sudden fury, shaking the windows and rattling the crystal peardrops of the two chandeliers above the long table, but both the Marshal and the cook ignored the sound. „What I will do,” Deron said in a voice which suggested that there could be no discussion, „is bake the lamb with some goose fat.”
„Good, good,” Soult said.
„And garnish it with onions, ham and a few cepes.”
A harassed-looking officer, sweating and red-faced from the day’s heat, came into the room. „Sir!”
„A moment,” Soult said, frowning, then looked back to Deron. „Onions, ham and some cepes?” he repeated. „And perhaps we might add some lardons, Sergeant? Lardons go so well with lamb.”
„I shall garnish it with a little chopped ham,” Deron said stoically, „some small onions and a few cepes.”
Soult surrendered. „I know it will taste superb, quite superb. And Deron, thank you for this breakfast. Thank you.”
„It would have been better eaten when it was cooked,” Deron said, then sniffed and went from the room.
Soult beamed at the cook’s retreating back, then scowled at the newcomer who had interrupted him. „You’re Captain Brossard, are you not? You wish some breakfast?” The Marshal indicated with a butter knife that Brossard should take the seat at the end of the table. „How’s General Foy?”
Brossard was an aide to Foy and he had no time for breakfast nor indeed to offer a report on General Foy’s health. He had brought news and, for a second, he was too full of it to speak properly, but then he controlled himself and pointed eastward. „The British, sir, they’re in the seminary.”
Soult stared at him for a heartbeat, not quite believing what he heard. „They are what?” he asked.
„British, sir, in the seminary.”
„But Quesnel assured me there were no boats!” Soult protested. Quesnel was the city’s French governor.
„None on their bank, sir.” All the boats in the city had been pulled from the water and piled on the quays where they were available for the French to use, but would be of no use to anyone coming from the south. „But they’re nevertheless crossing,” Brossard said. „They’re already on the hill.”
Soult felt his heart miss a beat. The seminary was on a hill that dominated the road to Amarante, and that road was his lifeline back to the depots in Spain and also the connection between the garrison in Oporto and General Loison’s men on the Tamega. If the British cut that road then they could pick off the French army piece by piece and Soult’s reputation would be destroyed along with his men. The Marshal stood, knocking over his chair in his anger. „Tell General Foy to push them back into the river!” he roared. „Now! Go! Push them into the river!”
The men hurried from the room, leaving Kate and Christopher alone, and Kate saw the look of utter panic on her husband’s face and felt a fierce joy because of it. The windows rattled, the chandeliers shivered and the British were coming.
„Well, well, well! We have Rifles among our congregation! We are blessed indeed. I didn’t know any of the 95th were attached to the 1st Brigade.” The speaker was a burly, rubicund man with a balding head and an affable face. If it were not for his uniform he would have looked like a friendly farmer and Sharpe could imagine him in an English market town, leaning on a hurdle, prodding plump sheep and waiting for a livestock auction to begin. „You are most welcome,” he told Sharpe.
„That’s Daddy Hill,” Harris told Pendleton.
„Now, now, young man,” General Hill boomed, „you shouldn’t use an officer’s nickname within his earshot. Liable to get you punished!”
„Sorry, sir.” Harris had not meant to speak so loudly.
„But you’re a rifleman so you’re forgiven. And a very scruffy rifleman too, I must say! What is the army coming to when we don’t dress for battle, eh?” He beamed at Harris, then fished in his pocket and brought out a handful of almonds. „Something to occupy your tongue, young man.”