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SHARPE’S banquet
Richard Sharpe and the
Waterloo Banquet
Novel by Paul Kaster
1822 June 14
Chapter 3
London
The next day, Sharpe rose with the sun. He liked to start the day with tea, bacon and bread.
“I imagine that at least one public house near here will serve those.”
Dinner with Anne was not until seven o'clock. A good breakfast and then lunch should carry him until dinner. Outside the inn, he turned to left and then left again onto King Street. Ahead he could see the sign hung outside of The Golden Lion. He walked to the door and entered. The man behind the counter signaled for Sharpe to take a table. While he was sitting, a server girl came to his table.
“Tea, bacon and bread.”
“Milk and sugar for the tea, sir?”
“Yes, and a large mug of the tea.”
The girl returned very quickly with the tea. Steam came from it. Sharpe carefully sipped from the mug.
“Nothing like good, strong tea to start the day.”
While he waited for the food, he considered where to go next. “King Street can take me east to The Strand. Down the Strand are shops that sell tea. Can buy some there and save the shipping cost and tax.”
The serving girl brought his food as he finished his tea.
“Another, sir?”
Sharpe was in no hurry. “Yes, another.”
The girl turned to go for another tea.
Sharpe spread some butter on a slice of bread, then piled some bacon on top of the butter.
While he ate, he considered where to go after the tea shops. “Marylebone? I used to watch cricket matches there when I was a boy. Learned to bowl there. Have to find notice boards to see if they have matches this week. Be curious to see a match and who remains from when I would go there.”
He slowly ate and drank while he thought about his days in London before he joined the army. Orphanage workhouse and dog pit fights in Wapping, pickpocket at Vauxhall Gardens, thief at St. Giles and cricket at Marylebone.
“Nearly thirty years. Then, I survived here. Did what I could. Not many from then are alive. Maggie Joyce told me eight years ago, most of the others are dead.” Sharpe smiled at the thought of Maggie.
Maggie had been like a mother and sister to him in the beginning. Later, she was his first lover. She was the reason that he had run away from London. When a man had roughed Maggie up, Sharpe killed him. Maggie sent him away so that the man's friends would not kill Sharpe.
Since then, Maggie had risen from barmaid and prostitute to owning a bar. She survived several husbands. Nine years ago she had saved him from corrupt army officers and helped him to sell jewels that he had taken from the French after Vitoria.
“God bless her. I hope that she is alive and well. Should try to see her.”
Sharpe finished his breakfast. It was nearly ten o’clock when he set off to the tea shop. From the Golden Lion, he made his way past Charing Cross to The Strand. He walked slowly as he looked at this surroundings as he walked. Many years ago he had walked this part of London. It had changed some. The Strand was full of people, carts and carriages coming and going in both directions.
“Busy Friday for the merchants.” He thought as he watched.
After about thirty minutes he arrived in front of a narrow building. “The Golden Lyon Tea and Coffee House?” Above the sign was another name. ‘Twinings’.
“This is who sends tea to my home.”
As he entered, he was greeted by a clerk. “Good day, sir. How may I help you?”
“Tea, strong, like the army drinks.”
“That would be BooHee tea from China. We package it for the army in one ounce envelopes with twenty smaller envelopes inside.”
“You send me packages of four ounces of leaves per envelope. I store it in a glass jar after I open the envelope.”
“Yes, we have four ounce envelopes as well.”
Sharpe considered how much he wanted to buy and carry. Sixteen ounces would last him for a long time. If the price was right.
“What is the price?”
“Four shillings, four pence for one pound, sir.”
He paid five pence per ounce when he had tea delivered. That is six shillings, 8 pence per pound.
“I’ll take a pound at that price.”
“Very good, sir. May I interest you in any of our other teas? We have a black Souchong or TongMu and some green teas as well.”
“I don’t know them.”
“I am happy to brew a sample of each for you to try.”
The clerk took Sharpe to an area at the back of the shop. There he found several small tables with stools. In the corner was a stove. The clerk had Sharpe sit while he poured water into a kettle.
"Since you know BooHee, I will start you with the Souchong. When the water boiled in the kettle, the clerk poured some over tea leaves in a cup.
"Sugar? Milk?"
"Both."
The clerk added both to the cup after he had let the leaves brew. When he thought the tea was ready, he handed the cup to Sharpe while he started another cup.
"This next one will be the TongMu."
Sharpe sipped at the first cup.
"Tastes like smoke. Different, but good."
He sipped a few times more before the clerk handed him another cup.
"This is the TongMu."Sharpe tasted the new cup.
"Tastes like the BooHee. Weaker. Something like a fruit taste, too."
To the clerk he asks, "Is this a lower grade tea?"
"Yes, sir. TongMu is not roasted as long as other black teas. It retains some of the green tea flavors. You will notice the difference in this next cup."
Sharpe reached out to accept the next cup of tea. He noticed that the aroma was different. And, the cup held only tea without milk. As he sipped, he noted that it was not sweet either.
"Tastes like flowers. Not sweet either."
"Green teas taste much weaker and more flowery than black teas. For those that want a sweet tea, they add honey."
Sharpe tasted the green tea only once more. He liked the sweet, black teas better. While he waited for the last cup, he wondered it the clerk knows about cricket.
"Do you follow cricket?"
"No sir, but I am aware of when matches are held by those here in the shop."
"Any this month?"
"Two weeks ago, Marylebone's first team played its second team. They will play again on the seventeenth, I believe."
"The seventeenth. Day before Wellington's banquet. May not have time to see. Maybe later today, I should go to Marylebone."
"Do the teams still practice at Marylebone before matches?"
"I do not know, sir."
"Here is another green tea. It is called Gunpowder tea because it is a powder, not leaves."
Sharpe looks at the unbrewed tea.
"Gunpowder? Don't think that this would even flash in the pan."
The clerk looked at him quizzically.
"Never served in the army, eh?"
"No, sir."
Again, no milk, not sweet. Good taste though.
"Could be sweeter."
"Sorry to say again, sir. Those that like sweet green tea use honey. I have none here."
Sharpe sips this green tea until he is finished.
"Honey would make it better."
"And, now sir, what may I package for you?"
Sharpe thinks to what he has tasted. "Already decided to take a pound of the BooHee. Maybe a half pound of the TongMu and a half pound of the Gunpowder. Lucille might like the green tea. Especially with honey. He has a thought too. Make a good drink with some brandy."
He tells the clerk of his choices.
"Would you like me to refill any of the cups while I package your order?"
"Another of the BooHee will do."
"Very good, sir."
The clerk pours then goes to prepare Sharpe's order.
"This is a good tea. And, much better surroundings than drinking around a sunrise campfire. Do miss Hagman's brewing skills. He made a good cup of tea to start a day."
Sharpe pulled a watch from his coat. For his birthday, Lucille had given him a gift of a Breguet watch.
"Since you will be going to see your 'master' Wellington, you must be on time. I am told that Wellington has this same timepiece. You should set yours to the same time as his so that the two of you will remain to be on the same schedules, n'est ce pas?" She teased as he examined the gift.
"This is very expensive, my dear."
Before he continued, she touched his lips to stop him.
"You have done so much for us. The farm is making money. So many of the village have food and clothing because you have made us successful. This gift is from all of us. And, it will remind you to return to us, especially me, on time." She had smiled.
He is reminded of her and his life as he looks at the watch.
"I have been here more than an hour. Yet, I still have time until I meet Anne and her friend. Maybe I will go to Marylebone. Some of the cricket members may be there today. It has been more than thirty years since I was there. Few there from old days I would guess."
He paid for his tea, put the packages in his pack and went outside. He had decided to ride to Marylebone. Carriages of different sizes passed him where he stood. He crossed the street to find a carriage that would be going his direction. It took a few minutes to find a two-wheeled, empty carriage. He waved to the driver, who signaled that he would stop.
"Where to, sir?"
"Marylebone cricket field."
"Very good, sir."
Sharpe watched the streets as the cab driver made his way. From Fleet Street, they turned north onto Drury Lane. At Oxford Street, they turned to the west. At the corner of Hyde Park, turned north again. At the corner of St. Johns Woods Road, the driver stopped.
“The cricket field is there just beyond Lord’s Tavern, sir.”
Sharpe got out of the cab, paid the driver and walked to the field. He sees only a fence that stands taller than he is by a good four feet. The fence stretches down the street for what he guesses is 200 yards. Beyond the end of the fence he can see what looks like a church yard. “St. John’s Woods Church? Don’t remember this field. Was a duck pond here before. Cricket field now?”
He looks around before he goes back to the tavern. Bills on the front advertise the matches that will be played. He sees that there will be a match on June 17. No one is nearby to ask about the field. He turns to the tavern.
“Someone inside will know.”
He goes into the tavern. Although it is noon time, there are very few people inside. He chooses a table and sits. Shortly, a girl comes to him.
“Sir?”
“Have the black beers they serve in Ireland?”
“No, sir. Have a good English black beer.”
“Try one.”
The girl went to get Sharpe's drink. She returned quickly. He noticed that the beer looked like the Irish beers that he had had. He sipped.
“Not the same.” He paused “Will do.”
“Oh, and lass. Is there someone here to talk about cricket?”
“Yes, sir. I will send Mr. Barnes to see you.”
Sharpe drank his beer and waited.
Mr. Barnes came to his table. Sharpe noted that he was older.
“Mr. Barnes. Will you join me?”
Barnes looked around the room to make a point that he was available.
“Know cricket?”
“Played some. Old MCC grounds.”
“Old grounds?”
“Yes. Old grounds were south of here. Knew Thomas Lord. Lumpy Stevens. Taught me to bowl.”
“Lumpy Stevens? Don´t know of Lumpy Stevens. Rider Sandman is one of best now.”
“Bowler?”
“Batsman. Often scores more than fifty runs a inning.”
“Will he play on Monday?”
“Don’t know. ’E don’t play all the time. Rumors ’e works. Can’t play all the time.”
“Mr. Lord owns this tavern and the fields. Did see Mr. Lord play ’is last match ’ere seven years ago. MCC played Middlesex. ’is son played for Middlesex.”
Sharpe remembered that Lord was a good bowler. “Good match?”
“Middlesex won by 16 runs. 89 and 24 against MCC 31 and 66. Some ’ere like to jibe Mr. Lord that ’e made it close but gave ’is son a first win.”
“Thomas Lord I know would not have given a win to anybody, not even a child.” He smiled as he recalled Lord.
“Mr. Lord is still tough man. See ’im ’ere sometimes.”
“See him at the matches?”
“Always. ’E never misses.”
Sharpe decides that he may want to return Monday for the match. He notices that Barnes’ glass is empty.
“Buy you another before I go?”
“Won’t say no.”
Sharpe signals to bring another drink for Barnes and that he wants to pay.
Outside, he decides to walk back to his room.
“Lots of time. Fine day to walk.”
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