I woke as he slipped out of the tent.
"Morning Pat," I heard him say.
"Mornin' Sir. Your tea's brewed, and ready."
"Thanks Pat."
"And you've special treat today, Sir, Ramona has managed to find you some eggs to break your fast."
"Find?"
"That's what she calls it, Sir. I don't argue."
"That's probably a good move. Has she . . . found enough for Harry too, d'ye think?"
"She has if he's up before you've finished eating them, Sir."
"He'll 'ave to be quick then, I've a fine appetite on me today. "
"Sure, and that's fine to see. Here, take your tea, and Ramona will have you fed in two shakes of a lambs tail."
I slid out of the tent and stood, stretching, and taking deep lungfuls of Spanish air.
"Morning, Mr Flashman, Sir," Harper grinned. "Sleep well, Sir?"
"Like a baby, Sergeant, like a baby. Fine morning, Sergeant."
"That it is, Sir." The man's smile was warm, open and without a trace of threat. "That it is indeed" Patrick Harper was clearly a perceptive bog- trotter, and knew that he could attribute his beloved Lieutenant's sunny mood to the tender care of Flash Harry. I warmed to the fellow. After all, he and I shared a common purpose now - the happiness of one Dick Sharpe.
I sat by the fire, sipping the disgusting stuff that Harper called tea. If Dick hadn't so plainly been relishing it, I'd've spat the vile stuff out, damned his eyes and demanded a proper brew, but it ain't in me to make a scene when I'm with a new lover, and the eggs Harper's wench fed us on were marvellous - not least for turning up miraculously fresh and luscious in the midst of an army on the march.
Ramona appeared to be a resourceful female, as well as a toothsome little morsel, and my estimation of Harper increased again, both for his discriminating choice, and for being able to attach and hold her, amongst so many men with greater resources. I did feel a momentary pang of regret knowing that I'd not be able to taste the delights of either of 'em, but even the dumbest animal, which yours truly ain't, knows that you don't shit where you eat.
The men struck camp as we ate, and we moved out shortly thereafter. As I marched companionably by Dick's side, it occurred to me that while I'd ploughed a few furrows in the ranks in Kabul, this was the first time I'd been able to enjoy a lover's company on the march, I've always preferred the common soldier to officers and gentlemen when it comes to humping -- the latter group being nearly to a man a rascally set of self-glorifying rogues and scoundrels - a situation that don't generally lead to open friendliness, especially when I'm generally on a horse, and the object of my gallantry marching in the line.
No mention was made of the night just passed, naturally, though we contrived to have our fingertips brush as often as might be, which I knew sent little shocks of delightful anticipation through all six foot two of the Flashman frame when I cast my mind forward to camp at the day's end, and I judged from the wicked twinkle in Dick's eye that his thoughts took a similar turn.
We both feigned weariness and retired even before the Spanish sun had sunk properly below the hills, and battle was fairly joined as soon as the tent flap fell, though this second night was perhaps a trifle more leisurely than the first. We spared more time for kisses and caresses, and I discovered that loutish as he looked, and hard and fast as he undoubtedly rode when his blood was rightly up, Sharpe had something of a talent for tenderness beneath his rough manner, unveiling an impressive arsenal of teasing touches, fleeting brushes of finger tips, flickerings of tongue and playful nips with his teeth that reduced me quickly to a whimpering mongrel cur rising eagerly on to all fours and all but begging to be shafted. His energy and stamina weren't noticeably diminished by the previous night's hurly burly, and once again, it was a blissfully happy and fulfilled Flashy that curled himself round the rifleman's lean frame and rested his head on Sharpe's chest, listening to his even breathing and soft snores as the sun began to rise, and drifting into a sweet and sated doze.
The next morning dawned bright and fair, Harwer was benign, Ramona's cooking delicious and the world was glowingly right.
Obviously, it was too good to last.
An Ensign, barely out of the nursery, trotted over and stood at attention in front of Sharpe, all but quivering in his eagerness.
"Well lad, spit it out," says Dick, "I haven't got all day."
"General Wellington's compliments, Mr Sharpe, and would you and the other officer join him in his tent when you've finished your breakfast, Sir."
"Aye, lad. Tell the General I'll be along directly."
I was quite keen to meet old Hookey, him being the only commander m'father had ever considered fit to lead a mule, let alone an army, and I wasn't disappointed when we fronted up.
He was an imposing-looking fellow, ramrod straight, imperious his beak of a nose adding character to what would otherwise have been a commonplace face. His air was brisk.
"Flashman?" says he, when Dick makes the introduction, "Any relation to Buck Flashman?"
I disavowed any relationship with my paternal progenitor gaily, and we got down to business.
"It's these damned Frog deserters, Sharpe," he says, "they're makin' a demmed nuisance of themselves, raidin' the peasantry then skulkin' back to their hills. I need them flushed out and killed or captured. There must be twenty or thirty of the scoundrels hiding away up there."
"Yes, Sir." Sharpe was standing very upright, the picture of a keen officer and a modest hero. What a man my Dick was! I thought, tenderly.
"Well, man, are you and your Chosen Men up to the task? Your leg wounds not troublin' you?"
"Not too much, Sir. Can you give me an idea of where they're holed up, Sir?"
Hookey gestured to an officer on his left, who spread a map on the table between him and Sharpe. He waved his hand over an area on the left. "Somewhere in there, Sharpe. The area's a rabbit warren of caves, and the passes are too narrow to send a proper company in - but it's perfect for a small force like you and your rascals. Plenty of overhangin' rocks for that marksman of yours, Hagman, to snipe from, plenty of routes to outflank the bastards and take 'em by surprise. I'll rely on you then, Sharpe, shall I?"
"Yes Sir, certainly Sir."
You had to marvel at the man's total confidence when presented with such poor odds in adverse conditions, but I was devastated. It sounded like the type of foray that a goodly proportion of the participants didn't return from, and my passion for the lusty rifleman was still too fresh and green for me to view the likelihood of losing him with any kind of equanimity. I'd miss him powerful badly, if he got himself killed, God rot him!
Then Wellington made things worse, by an order of magnitude.
"Why not take young Flashman here along of you? Show him some soldierin' out of the common way - give the boy something to brag about when he returns to his regiment."
Sweet Christ and all his little angels, no!
"I. . . I'd be honoured, Sir, deeply honoured." I lied manfully, "Though Lieutenant Sharpe may find me something of a liability - I took a head wound, Sir, at Talavera, and I find myself often distracted. I'd hate to imperil the mission."
The great man shrugged and proved himself to be the finest commander I'd ever served under with the remark "As you will Flashman. No doubt you know best." Alas for the modern army that lacks his like!
I was like to faint with relief when we left, having to drag air into my lungs at my narrow escape. Inevitably, my reprieve was not to be long lived.
We stood under a tree, hidden from the camp. Dick looked into my face, his eyes hurt, reproachful.
"Will ye not come with me, Harry?" says he, and the blackguard reached a hand up to softly cup my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
Take Flashy's first rule of love free, gratis and for nothing - it may save your life. Chaps, never fall in love with a man - or if you must, at least don't fall in love with a hero. You can confess cowardice to a woman, and she, God bless her, will only love you all the more for it. A man will despise you. The hero, though, he won't feel contempt - he'll keep loving you, but he'll pity you for your weakness, and if there's one thing I can't stand, whining, snivelling cur though I be, it's pity
So, what was I to do, with my prick stirring restlessly, every nerve ending screaming out desire, and my heart bursting with fondness for this hero of mine?
"If you want me, Dick," I murmured, and started to plan my escape when I for wouldn't have look at him and see the disappointment in his eyes.
"Morning Pat," I heard him say.
"Mornin' Sir. Your tea's brewed, and ready."
"Thanks Pat."
"And you've special treat today, Sir, Ramona has managed to find you some eggs to break your fast."
"Find?"
"That's what she calls it, Sir. I don't argue."
"That's probably a good move. Has she . . . found enough for Harry too, d'ye think?"
"She has if he's up before you've finished eating them, Sir."
"He'll 'ave to be quick then, I've a fine appetite on me today. "
"Sure, and that's fine to see. Here, take your tea, and Ramona will have you fed in two shakes of a lambs tail."
I slid out of the tent and stood, stretching, and taking deep lungfuls of Spanish air.
"Morning, Mr Flashman, Sir," Harper grinned. "Sleep well, Sir?"
"Like a baby, Sergeant, like a baby. Fine morning, Sergeant."
"That it is, Sir." The man's smile was warm, open and without a trace of threat. "That it is indeed" Patrick Harper was clearly a perceptive bog- trotter, and knew that he could attribute his beloved Lieutenant's sunny mood to the tender care of Flash Harry. I warmed to the fellow. After all, he and I shared a common purpose now - the happiness of one Dick Sharpe.
I sat by the fire, sipping the disgusting stuff that Harper called tea. If Dick hadn't so plainly been relishing it, I'd've spat the vile stuff out, damned his eyes and demanded a proper brew, but it ain't in me to make a scene when I'm with a new lover, and the eggs Harper's wench fed us on were marvellous - not least for turning up miraculously fresh and luscious in the midst of an army on the march.
Ramona appeared to be a resourceful female, as well as a toothsome little morsel, and my estimation of Harper increased again, both for his discriminating choice, and for being able to attach and hold her, amongst so many men with greater resources. I did feel a momentary pang of regret knowing that I'd not be able to taste the delights of either of 'em, but even the dumbest animal, which yours truly ain't, knows that you don't shit where you eat.
The men struck camp as we ate, and we moved out shortly thereafter. As I marched companionably by Dick's side, it occurred to me that while I'd ploughed a few furrows in the ranks in Kabul, this was the first time I'd been able to enjoy a lover's company on the march, I've always preferred the common soldier to officers and gentlemen when it comes to humping -- the latter group being nearly to a man a rascally set of self-glorifying rogues and scoundrels - a situation that don't generally lead to open friendliness, especially when I'm generally on a horse, and the object of my gallantry marching in the line.
No mention was made of the night just passed, naturally, though we contrived to have our fingertips brush as often as might be, which I knew sent little shocks of delightful anticipation through all six foot two of the Flashman frame when I cast my mind forward to camp at the day's end, and I judged from the wicked twinkle in Dick's eye that his thoughts took a similar turn.
We both feigned weariness and retired even before the Spanish sun had sunk properly below the hills, and battle was fairly joined as soon as the tent flap fell, though this second night was perhaps a trifle more leisurely than the first. We spared more time for kisses and caresses, and I discovered that loutish as he looked, and hard and fast as he undoubtedly rode when his blood was rightly up, Sharpe had something of a talent for tenderness beneath his rough manner, unveiling an impressive arsenal of teasing touches, fleeting brushes of finger tips, flickerings of tongue and playful nips with his teeth that reduced me quickly to a whimpering mongrel cur rising eagerly on to all fours and all but begging to be shafted. His energy and stamina weren't noticeably diminished by the previous night's hurly burly, and once again, it was a blissfully happy and fulfilled Flashy that curled himself round the rifleman's lean frame and rested his head on Sharpe's chest, listening to his even breathing and soft snores as the sun began to rise, and drifting into a sweet and sated doze.
The next morning dawned bright and fair, Harwer was benign, Ramona's cooking delicious and the world was glowingly right.
Obviously, it was too good to last.
An Ensign, barely out of the nursery, trotted over and stood at attention in front of Sharpe, all but quivering in his eagerness.
"Well lad, spit it out," says Dick, "I haven't got all day."
"General Wellington's compliments, Mr Sharpe, and would you and the other officer join him in his tent when you've finished your breakfast, Sir."
"Aye, lad. Tell the General I'll be along directly."
I was quite keen to meet old Hookey, him being the only commander m'father had ever considered fit to lead a mule, let alone an army, and I wasn't disappointed when we fronted up.
He was an imposing-looking fellow, ramrod straight, imperious his beak of a nose adding character to what would otherwise have been a commonplace face. His air was brisk.
"Flashman?" says he, when Dick makes the introduction, "Any relation to Buck Flashman?"
I disavowed any relationship with my paternal progenitor gaily, and we got down to business.
"It's these damned Frog deserters, Sharpe," he says, "they're makin' a demmed nuisance of themselves, raidin' the peasantry then skulkin' back to their hills. I need them flushed out and killed or captured. There must be twenty or thirty of the scoundrels hiding away up there."
"Yes, Sir." Sharpe was standing very upright, the picture of a keen officer and a modest hero. What a man my Dick was! I thought, tenderly.
"Well, man, are you and your Chosen Men up to the task? Your leg wounds not troublin' you?"
"Not too much, Sir. Can you give me an idea of where they're holed up, Sir?"
Hookey gestured to an officer on his left, who spread a map on the table between him and Sharpe. He waved his hand over an area on the left. "Somewhere in there, Sharpe. The area's a rabbit warren of caves, and the passes are too narrow to send a proper company in - but it's perfect for a small force like you and your rascals. Plenty of overhangin' rocks for that marksman of yours, Hagman, to snipe from, plenty of routes to outflank the bastards and take 'em by surprise. I'll rely on you then, Sharpe, shall I?"
"Yes Sir, certainly Sir."
You had to marvel at the man's total confidence when presented with such poor odds in adverse conditions, but I was devastated. It sounded like the type of foray that a goodly proportion of the participants didn't return from, and my passion for the lusty rifleman was still too fresh and green for me to view the likelihood of losing him with any kind of equanimity. I'd miss him powerful badly, if he got himself killed, God rot him!
Then Wellington made things worse, by an order of magnitude.
"Why not take young Flashman here along of you? Show him some soldierin' out of the common way - give the boy something to brag about when he returns to his regiment."
Sweet Christ and all his little angels, no!
"I. . . I'd be honoured, Sir, deeply honoured." I lied manfully, "Though Lieutenant Sharpe may find me something of a liability - I took a head wound, Sir, at Talavera, and I find myself often distracted. I'd hate to imperil the mission."
The great man shrugged and proved himself to be the finest commander I'd ever served under with the remark "As you will Flashman. No doubt you know best." Alas for the modern army that lacks his like!
I was like to faint with relief when we left, having to drag air into my lungs at my narrow escape. Inevitably, my reprieve was not to be long lived.
We stood under a tree, hidden from the camp. Dick looked into my face, his eyes hurt, reproachful.
"Will ye not come with me, Harry?" says he, and the blackguard reached a hand up to softly cup my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
Take Flashy's first rule of love free, gratis and for nothing - it may save your life. Chaps, never fall in love with a man - or if you must, at least don't fall in love with a hero. You can confess cowardice to a woman, and she, God bless her, will only love you all the more for it. A man will despise you. The hero, though, he won't feel contempt - he'll keep loving you, but he'll pity you for your weakness, and if there's one thing I can't stand, whining, snivelling cur though I be, it's pity
So, what was I to do, with my prick stirring restlessly, every nerve ending screaming out desire, and my heart bursting with fondness for this hero of mine?
"If you want me, Dick," I murmured, and started to plan my escape when I for wouldn't have look at him and see the disappointment in his eyes.