In Oporto

[Maggie Cotton]

It was already growing dark before Maggie and Martha were able to cross the Douro in one of the navy boats. Maggie had been waiting impatiently, watching their crossings all day as well as the rapid repairs to the bridge, but naturally the camp followers were the lowest priority and only allowed to cross when there was no one with a more pressing need. She still could not bring her donkey; Vickery's baggage too would have to remain until it could be brought by the bridge after all the artillery had crossed. But Jenny had volunteered to stay behind and bring Maggie's donkey in the morning. Jenny had no urgent need to cross the river, but Maggie wanted to see Cotton, and Martha wanted to find Jacklin.

The sailors rowing them across had been jovial and ribald earlier in the day, making her nervous. Now they seemed tired and bored. Little wonder, since ferry duty in the rain was much more tedious and less rewarding than fighting the French on the high seas.

Once they were set ashore on the opposite bank, the women were on their own. The other passengers seemed to know where they were going, and they quickly scattered. No one seemed to know where the 60th rifles or Captain John Vickery were billeted, but after asking directions from many different passing soldiers and a few locals and even an officer, they finally found their way to a house which they hoped was the right one. It was trying at the least to be wandering a strange city at night in the rain, but Maggie was glad to have Martha with her, and at least the rain would keep people inside. She knocked on the door.

[Maggie Cotton]

A Portuguese woman answered the door, a Portuguese woman who spoke very little English. She peered at the two women with open suspicion.

Martha spoke first, clear and loud. "Hello, senhora. Is this the billet for men of the 60th rifles?" The senhora frowned. "Sixtieth rifles!" Martha repeated.

"Or Captain John Vickery?" Maggie asked.

The woman seemed to understand. "Capitão, captain, yes!"

"Captain Vickery?" Maggie repeated with emphasis. "Of the 60th rifles? The... the men in green, verde. Verde with vermelho. Like this?" She fingered her shawl which was wrapped around her head against the rain. The directions they had received were by no means precise, and it would be just her luck to be directed to the wrong captain's house.

But the woman simply nodded and smiled. "Yes, yes, captain," she repeated with understanding. She spoke a long and confusing sentence in Portuguese before shouting for a girl who gestured for them to follow her up the stairs. After exchanging an uncertain look, Maggie and Martha did so. At a door on the uppermost floor, the girl knocked and called out a sentence that included "captain" and "women". That was all that Maggie could understand.

[Richard Sharpe]

There was a knock at the door and Sharpe frowned. Padstowe hadn't said he was expecting anyone. He got up to answer. "I'm closest," he said, before Padstowe could protest, and pulled the door open to find Padstowe's Portuguese landlady and another woman there.

[Maggie Cotton]

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but she found herself too confused to say anything at first. A rifles officer, yes, but it was Lieutenant Sharpe. She frowned.

"Evening, sir," Martha called behind her. At least Martha was able to remember her manners. The Portuguese girl sidled away to let her up and returned downstairs, leaving the women dripping on the threshold.

"Sorry... Mister Sharpe," Maggie faltered. She realized that he probably did not even recognize or remember her. "I'm Maggie Evans. I was - we were looking for Captain Vickery, or the 60th's billet." She had heard multiple voices, though. Perhaps Vickery and Cotton were there inside the room.

[Richard Sharpe]

What was she doing here? Well, she had a friend with her, so that should be what were they doing here?

He pulled his jacket a little straighter. "Evening, Miss Evans. You've found Captain Padstowe's billet. The 60th are round the corner and down the street a bit. Well, Captain Vickery is. I don't reckon the whole company's billeted together."

[Maggie Cotton]

"Oh." Her disappointment was evident, as well as her embarrassment. "Sorry. Someone thought it was here. Do you know which... Padstowe?" She repeated the name in a hushed voice, suddenly realizing what he had said. Padstowe had been the name of the man whose watch Cotton had been accused of stealing. She drew back unconsciously, almost as if she feared he would have her whipped on the spot if he knew who it was standing outside his door. "Sorry, Mister Sharpe. Good night."

[Richard Sharpe]

"That's all right. If you go out of this house and turn left, take the next street on the right and you'll find the 60th. One of them'll be able to tell you where your man's at." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Ain't anyone goin' to bite your head off round here, neither, there's no need to look so nervous."

[Maggie Cotton]

"No, yes sir." She found that, absurdly, her heart was pounding. She had not listened to his instructions at all. "Sorry, which way did you say?"

[Richard Sharpe]

"Seems to me you need to dry off a bit." He glanced over his shoulder at Padstowe and stood aside. "You're fair drenched, the both of you. You come in and dry off and I'll walk you down there in a bit, make sure you get the right place."

[Maggie Cotton]

And there he was, the man himself. Maggie could not very well now go whispering to Lieutenant Sharpe that she did not want to present herself to the man whose watch had been stolen, the theft of which had partly been her fault, so she felt. And if he were to know, what sort of further punishment would he demand for Cotton and herself? But before she could protest, Martha was already saying "Thank you, sir! That's a very kind offer!" and pushing past her into the room.

"No, no, we'll drip water everywhere!" Maggie cried belatedly. She stepped into the full light of the room and laid a hand on Martha's arm.

[Richard Sharpe]

"A drop of water won't harm owt," Sharpe said, sending an apologetic look in Padstowe's direction for inviting these two women in. It would only be for a short time while they dried off, though.

[Maggie Cotton]

Martha was already introducing herself to Padstowe and happily taking off her outer wraps in front of the fire. Martha was a cheery soul who never seemed ill at ease, Maggie thought to herself. Very reluctantly, very self-aware, she unwrapped her own bottle-green shawl from around her head and shoulders, hoping that the bruises would not show too badly in this dim interior.

"Good evening, captain," she said very quietly, making a small curtsey.

[Jonathan Padstowe]

Padstowe, surprised and bemused, but unprotesting at this intrusion did his level best not to stare. Two drenched camp followers looking for Vickery it seemed and casually invited in by Sharpe... Well, he supposed it would not be for long. Sharpe would only take a liberty so far.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, sitting up in his chair again from where he had slouched comfortably and searched for his jacket. Even if it was only thrown around his shoulders it would be better than appearing in a state of total undress. Hogan would certainly amuse himself with the news that he'd had two half-naked women in his room at the same time...

[Maggie Cotton]

"Lord love you sir," Martha laughed, "We're never ladies." Maggie smiled apologetically, but Martha continued chattering away. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I see you've hurt your arm! You look all done in. Must be why we haven't seen you before." One could trust Martha to know practically everyone, or at least recognize their faces. "Oh poor arm... You got someone to look after you?"

"Martha!" Maggie interrupted. But of course, now she remembered that he had been attacked when the watch was stolen from him, and he had stayed behind in Lisbon to recover. Now that she looked at him, he did seem wan and pale, in addition to having his arm in a sling. She found herself staring at him, another of Hakeswill's victims, until she made herself look away into the fire. She probably looked much worse than he did. "We can go down to the kitchens, really. I'm sure Mrs. - Senhora - the good woman of the house wouldn't mind."

[Jonathan Padstowe]

Now one of them was offering to look after him! Padstowe flushed crimson to his roots and wished that Sharpe would stop looking so damn amused.
The younger (and meeker, it seemed) of the two thankfully made a reply unnecessary by silencing her friend and apologetically suggesting that they could go down to the kitchen. Padstowe was in agreement with this, and was about to suggest that the kitchen may be more appropriate when he noticed that, now in the better light of the fire, the younger woman's skin was not in fact, as he had supposed, incredibly dirty but covered in bruises. The words of his dismissal died in his throat.

"Madam, you have been injured."

[Maggie Cotton]

Maggie tensed and ducked her head, turning away as if to look for something in her pack. "No, no, no," she said breezily. Then, realizing that outright denial would not work in such a situation, she added, "I'm all right now. Martha, we should go."

[Jonathan Padstowe]

"No - I am sorry, but, forgive me, those bruises are severe. Has someone beaten you? You need not be afraid of me; just say his name and I shall see to it that he gets justice."

[Maggie Cotton]

Maggie did not know what to say. It took all her concentration just to keep from crying. She could not blurt out such things to a stranger, but he deserved some sort of answer, not just sullen silence. "Please don't trouble yourself, sir. I've got friends to look after me. I've got a man in the 60th rifles."

[Jonathan Padstowe]

"Was it he that did this to you?"

That might explain why she was still here, and made it difficult. If she was married to him properly, which was rare but not unknown amongst the English camp followers, then she could not testify against her husband.

[Maggie Cotton]

"No! No, no," she answered emphatically, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked entreatingly at Sharpe and then back to the captain. "He's a good man. I know you think he's the one who attacked you, but he didn't, he never would. Sir." She looked at Martha who had a confused and worried expression on her face. Maggie herself felt suddenly confused. She picked up her things hurriedly. "We can find our way now. Sorry to have... dripped everywhere."

[Jonathan Padstowe]

Her reaction seemed strange to Padstowe, and he frowned in confusion as her protestations are to his good character became personal regarding him. Could this pretty young creature possibly be attached to that foul creature Hakeswill? The thought was grotesque; and what did she know of his injuries, anyway?

"Madam, I do not know who you man is to know whether he has wounded me or not!"

[Maggie Cotton]

Maggie was already blushing deeply before he spoke. She had said too much. She hovered impatiently as Martha gathered her things. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have said anything."

[Richard Sharpe]

Sharpe stepped forward. He thought he'd recognised her, but it was hard to tell for sure under the bruises. "You're Cotton's girl, ain't you?" he said. "Saw him at the seminary - or whatever it was - earlier today. He's a good soldier, him."

[Maggie Cotton]

Maggie darted a quick look at Padstowe to see how he would react to the revelation, but she was grateful at least for the lieutenant's good opinion. "Yes, Mister Sharpe. Maggie Evans, remember? I talked to you when Gabe was... in trouble. And you said you remembered seeing us in Lisbon, you and your friend with the crutch, that night when the captain had his watch stolen. Remember?" Perhaps he would not remember at all by now. She looked nervously again at Padstowe.

[Richard Sharpe]

Sharpe had to think back, but he nodded. "Aye, I remember that. You were with him in the same tavern Ste... Doctor Maturin and I was in. I think you was at the next table over, in fact. You were still there when we left, weren't you?"

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