28 May; Outside the Tent

It was not just that. Jenny was content to let plans become reality, as long as no one got caught. But Pye was sloppy, stupid, drawing attention to himself and all those near him.

She thought of something else. "I told Vickery that I didn't know who stabbed the provost with your bayonet. Hard to tell with them all quarreling amongst themselves."

Ah. That was all right, really, since Newbury himself had no idea who'd stabbed the provost.

"Did sound awful bloody confused, what I remember of it." Which wasn't much at all, considering."

"Yes it was," she answered levelly. She cocked an ear in the direction of the tent again. "What did Pye do, exactly?"

Some of the simmering disgust heated up again. "He snuck in on one of them provosts an' did somethin' to him. Dunno what, but..." Newbury sighed. "Then he's got all the nerve to say I ain't no better."

"That will come back to harm us all."

"So we tried tellin' him." For all the good it had done.

"Well. You'll be safe, at any rate, stuck in the surgeon's wagon. They won't try anything there."

This was true, especially with those redcoats hanging around. "And you?"

She shrugged and gestured at her clothes. "I stay out of sight. Eventually they'll forget all about it." Though it might take longer for the one who had taken a bayonet to the groin.

"Could stay by the wagon too," he suggested, not wholly sure any of this would be shortly forgotten.

"I have been."

Newbury's cheeks warmed. "I mean properly, like."

She laughed suddenly, and then clapped a hand over her own mouth at the obviously feminine sound. "Yes, well, I may do that. We'll see how this court martial turns out."

"Aye. Shouldn't be long now, really." Hopefully, anyway. Newbury opened his mouth to offer another few words, then thought better of it.

"We should go back and listen. Though it won't do to be seen with you. Maggie's the only one who knows, but the rest - well, they can't blurt out a secret if they don't know it."

Newbury shook his head. "I ain't goin' back there just now. Not if... I'll take another turn 'round the camp here, I think." It wasn't so wise to go back to the other side of the tent, in case Pye was still there. He was too likely to give the boy another knock, really. "Happy listenin'."

She nodded and slipped away, returning to the far side of the tent away from where the riflemen had posted themselves.

That was that. He lingered a moment, letting more pleasant thoughts drift slowly around his head. Then he chuckled quietly to himself and limped off, not sure where he was heading but not caring either.

Jenny listened at the tent, but what she heard was unnerving. It was not long before she came to find Newbury again. She spotted him in the dim darkness by his limp, but she hesitated. It would be safer, of course, to disappear without a word, but after all he had been through on her behalf, he deserved an explanation at least. And besides, he could tell Maggie, because Jenny knew that she for one would worry.

"Joe. I don't like the way things are sounding in there," she began.

Eh? He turned, a frown on his face. "Not goin' well in there?"

In a way, he hoped it was only her being jittery, even though he knew it wasn't.

She shook her head. "I'm no lawyer, but - " And then she stopped herself. "Oh, I think it's going all right for you. I think you have a good chance of getting justice of some sort." She gave him a little smile, though perhaps he could not see it in the dark. "But I think I'd better go before they take further interest in me. I did steal that bread and I did stab that provost. Sooner or later they'll want justice for that too."

Newbury shook his head, carefully. "Ain't me needs justice, you know. Besides of which I dunno a thing 'bout any stolen bread - it was in my pack for us both, weren't it? And that provost... hell anybody coulda done that, really. Good luck to 'em tryin' to get their own back later too."

She shook her head, but arguing with Newbury would not change the officers' minds. "I have to go. Goodbye, Joe. Thank you. And I'm sorry... for everything."

"What's to be sorry for?" It was all pretty straightforward to him. The bread wasn't really stolen and the stabbing of the provost had really been an accident. Neither explanation was wholly false and certainly neither could be conclusively proven.

It struck him then that she'd told him 'goodbye'. "But..." What the hell was all this about?

She touched his arm, and then she ran.