Riflemen at rest; 31 May, evening

Brandiston's gaze lowered briefly to his mug. "Just staying alert, sir."

"There's picquets out. We'll have plenty o' warnin' if the French try owt sneaky. Them 60th lads is nearly as good as us 95th, ain't that right, lads?"

There were murmurs of assent from the other Riflemen and Cresacre grinned. "One of 'em even beat our own Dan Hagman in a straight shootin' match. Wouldn't ha' believed it if I ain't ha' seen it with me own eyes."

"He didn't make it an easy match though, to be sure," Harper added. Hagman himself merely nodded over the rim of his own mug.

"I suppose we can't have all the sharpshooters to ourselves," Brandiston allowed, relaxing fractionally. He looked over at Hagman and asked, "Is there going to be a rematch?"

Burke subtly poured a bit of his own tea into Brandiston's mug, and leaned forward with a grin. "There should be. It won't do t'have any telling us that our Hagman ain't the best. A plain bit o' trickery, sor, so it is. Aye, Dan?"

"Aye. It was close, very close. He's a good shot, that Cotton." Hagman finished the rest of his tea.

Sharpe grinned. "Aye, it were real close. You should challenge him again, show him he shouldn't assume he's the best just 'cause he won a competition once."

Hagman shrugged a shoulder. "Won twice - though you missed the match we had in Lisbon. Aye, sir, I'll do that."

"More practice won't hurt anyone but the Frogs," Brandiston commented.

"I'll drink to that, sor, even just with tea," Burke said with a grin, and drained the rest of his tea in a large swallow.

Brandiston grinned back at Burke and drained his own mug in response.

"Have to see if we can't challenge them 60th lads to a rematch, then," Sharpe said with a grin.

Cresacre chuckled and glanced around. "Anyone else for another cuppa? Plenty 'o water left in the kettle, after all."

Mayden, who had been listening with a little too much intent - an attempt to distract himself from the continuing, sporadic, screams from the battlefield - held out his cup. "I'll not refuse another," he said.

"We'll win, this time' Dan will or else my name isn't..." He paused and looked at the men collected around the fire and grinned, leaning forward to get some more drink. Non alcoholic, but warm. He tried to ignore the screams and closed his eyes briefly. "Any music for us today?" It would cover up the sound, wouldn't it?

"Oi, don't be too bold there, lad." Dan said with a grin towards Perkins. "Unless you want ta get a re-namin' " he chuckled. "This body's getting old and even my lass has seen better days..."

Getting another cup o' tea himself he sat back and started to softly sing.

Here's a health to the bird in the bush,
Here's a health to the bird in the bush;
For all birds of one feather, they should always lie together.
Let the people say little or much.

And here's a health to the bird in the bush
Here's a health to the jolly dragoon;
For we've tarried here all day, to drink down the sun,
Let's tarry here and drink down the moon.

It may not be the most appropriate song for their situation, yet he hoped to distract at least the young lads somewhat from the things going on around them.

Perkins gave Hagman a sheepish grin, though he needed no convincing about what he thought was fact. Dan Hagman would win, and he would need no renaming. And if he did, he might pick a rather simple name, that would not be humiliating at all. But, he was not going to be wrong! He had full faith in the older, humble man.

He listened in silence. The older man's voice managed somehow, to draw his thoughts, and that of many, from the screams which broke through the dark. It was soothing and light. Something the men needed, well he did at least!

He raised his mug to the song, drinking from it and looking grateful and glad: "More, please, more, Dan." He urged him. "Sing the one.. That one.. um.." But he could not remember the words to the tune, or the tune itself.

Hearing Perkins request another song Hagman looked at the lad. "Don' know which one ya mean, Ben lad, but I'll give ya another. Though I fear it'll not be one for cheering along." Not being as scared as the youngsters Dan still felt the gloom of this night.

When Boney he commanded his army to stand
He levelled his cannon all over the land
He levelled his cannon his victory to claim
And he slew my light Horseman on his way going haim.

So broken-heated I will wander, broken-heated I'll remain
For the loss of my lover, in the wars he was slain
Broken-hearted I will wander, broken-heated I'll remain
He is my Bonnie Light Horseman, in the wars he was slain.

Perkins watched the fire as Dan Hagman sang, warming his hands on his mug. It was becoming chilly, the night cold still. He poked the fire with a stick that came away stray from the flame. One end had remained unburnt, the other charred black. The bit that had become brittle came away, and landed atop the other wooden remains. He watched it briefly then dropped it into the fire, patting the cuff of his coat.

"Isn't that a lass's song?" He inquired more quietly like. It was no happy tune, no light hearted bit of poetry. Outiside the camp another scream was heard, louder than the rest, then it seemed to sap in strength again. One could take pity on the man, who had had to suffer so. Whatever Perkins had wanted to add, was lost to that. He looked down, uncomfortable. Adjusted his coat. Checked his buttons and then emptied his mug.

"Aye, 'tis." Dan answered thoughtfully, taking a sip from his already cooling tea. "An' there are hundreds of lasses at home or even here who'll never see their loves again." He knew the topic was not cheerful but everything was better than just sit here and listen silently to the horrors of the night.
" 'Sides, I think we can all take ta these feelings of loss... missing dear ones."

"How many lasses did you have, Dan?" It was somewhat forward, but if there was a choice between dwelling on that blood curdling scream or, on the other hand, asking a friend a question he had himself to blame for, he would pick that one.

"I mean.. other than your rifle." He grinned.

Hagman almost choked on his tea. He looked a bit sheepishly at Perkins. These were usually things he did not talk about much. However, Ben was still so young he did not want to go over it with just a rude joke like he would with the lads.

"Ya see... I've been on that earth for quite some time now, lad.. and, um.. there were a lass or two I've met along me way..." He was grinning a bit to himself now as memories came to his mind.
"Ya'll find soon enough tha' life's so much sweeter with a lass by ya side."

Perkins grinned boyishly at Hagman. He leaned back, and thought about what he had said, glanced around at the men and then did the sensible thing every lad would, when told that. "If it's so sweet, why don't we each have one to march with us?"

Though the thought embarrassed him, he still couldn't wipe that grin of his face. He remembered seeing other lasses and riflemen with them. Dainty feet poking out, where a man's ought to have.

"Because the Good Lord looks out for us, that's why," Burke said with a grin. He faked a shudder. "Can't y'just imagine that many lasses about? Wouldn't need officers what wi' all the orders we'd be gettin'."

He poured a bit more hot water into his mug, sloshing it about in hopes of the used leaves becoming fair tea, and sat back. "It was a fair song, though, Dan."

Dan had to laugh heartily at Perkin's question. The lad had still so much to learn about the army, war and life in general.

"No one would want that, Ben. Ta have a lass ta warm ya bed is fair enough..." He grinned at the others "bu' havin' her march wit'ya all the time... nah, that just would not be right."

He looked over to Burke as he thanked him for the song. "Ya right there, Burke. Just ta think me Beth would be here wit' me all the way..." He chuckled than shuddered in mock disgust.

"Women's better left to home anyway," Mayden offered, looking up from an intent study of his tea.

Orders? Oh, that made sense then. And Perkins was eager to agree, especially as Hagman did too and even explained it further. He pretended that he had known that all along of course. He leaned back a bit. "What I meant." He nodded. "No place for women. Marching here. " There were always camp followers of course, and some men were married, but if Hagman had said it, then it was true. The others said the same to, any they had more experience by far.

"Good just for.." And just as he was saying that, another scream and what seemed to be or probably was, a word of plea, to stop, or to kill him, just to stop the pain in all. Very quietly Perkins whispered: "..warmin..bed."

Blaise suddenly found himself missing his sisters -- all seven of them -- but at the same time he was heartily grateful that none of them were here. He ought to write a letter soon, he told himself. One would be enough, since it would be passed all around the family ... including Dorian, he hoped.

He winced inwardly at the scream. To cover it he said hastily, "Women march too sometimes, if you believe the songs." That was one of Nora's favorites, he recalled, as he began to sing.

"'I'll tie back my hair, men's clothing I'll put on,
And I'll pass as your comrade, as we march along.
I'll pass as your comrade, no one will ever know.
Won't you let me go with you?' 'No, my love, no.'"

The singing faded back to life again. Mayden refilled his mug and leaned back against his pack, holding his silence for he knew he was not possessed of any manner of fine singing voice.

"The camp followers march, after a fashion," he allowed presently. "But that don't hardly count's much."