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Sharpe’s Sword: The Salamanca Campaign, June and July 1812

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2019
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‘A what?’ Hogan frowned.

‘A pique-nique. It’s a French word, but I suppose we’ll all be using it soon. For you peasants who don’t speak French it means a simple, light repast taken in the open air. We’ve got chicken, ham, spiced sausages, some delicious cake, and best of all some wine. We, of course, are myself and La Marquesa de Casares el Grande y Melida Sadaba. You’re both specifically invited.’

Hogan smiled. It seemed that Sharpe accepting the responsibility for Leroux had lifted a weight from his shoulders. ‘La Marquesa! It’s time I rubbed shoulders with the aristocracy!’

‘What about me?’ Spears looked aggrieved. ‘Am I not noble enough for you? Good Lord! When my ancestors ate the forbidden fruit in Eden they insisted on having it served on a silver platter. You’re coming?’ This last he addressed to Sharpe.


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