29th May - morning, after breakfast

A child couldn't flog his parents, though. Or have then hanged for disobeying his wishes. He wasn't so sure about estate managers; however, he left these thoughts unspoken.

"Aye, agreed," he affirmed with a slight smile.

"Good!" She squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek. "Now, what can I do to help you pack? I no good with tents, mind, or with loading carts or donkeys."

For a fraction of a moment, Christian was at a loss, startled by her gesture. However he recovered quickly and turned, surveying what remained of Woodmarsh's unpacked belongings. "Ah..." He hoped to God his face wasn't as red as it felt. "Well," he turned back, "If you're sure...There ain't too much left, but if you want to start packing things away wherever there's room, I'll get this cot broken down and then help you with the rest. Alright?"

"Fine." Jenny was amused and a bit surprised. Most batmen she had known would have been so very particular about their routine that they would have refused any offer of assistance. They seemed always to have a very specific place for everything, having to pack and unpack it all nearly every day. But then, Christian was only a lieutenant's batman, after all, and it was Lieutenant Woodmarsh.

"How long have you been an officer's batman, Christian?" she asked. "Or may I call you - by your Christian name." She smiled at the unintended joke. "What is your Christian name?"

"I'm called Michael, miss," he replied, smiling politely at the joke.

He had to pause and think before answering her first question. The past weeks and months had bled together so as to be almost indistinguishable. "And ah...." It had been before the winter hadn't it? He counted off the time on his fingers. "Got to be....goin' on seven months now, I'd say."

"Michael then. May I call you Michael? Or Mike? And you must call me Jenny. Were you ever in service before?"

Christian shrugged. Michael, Mike, Mikey... He'd been called far worse too many times to be overly particular about such things. "Whichever you like."

"An' before? Nah. Me father was a cooper. I was all set to follow him into the trade too, 'cept I up an run off. Wanted to get meself a shiny, red coat an' musket. Only I got a bit more'n I bargained for."

She smiled again. "And well it suits you. Mike, do you know if the lieutenant found me a horse? He said I might ride, but I don't have my own mount. He must know that. Does he have another horse, or a donkey or mule?"

Christian snorted. He rather doubted that Woodmarsh knew anything of the kind. However... "Aye, he's got a mare who'll do nicely."

Now if only he could remember where he had packed the saddle and the rest of her tack since the lieutenant had last ridden her.

"A mare. I'm going to be like a proper lady!" She laughed and gave him a conspiratorial smile. "But of course, what else would I be? Don't tell anyone I said that."

"Don't tell anyone you said what?" he asked, giving her the blank look he normally reserved for officers. He lowered his gaze then, the corners of his mouth twitching, belying his seriousness.

She grinned. "I'm going to enjoy riding next to you, Mikey."

Grinning back at her, he stooped and grabbed hold of a nearby crate, hoisting it up. "If you want to wait outside, I'll get these loaded up an' then take down the tent. Shouldn't take long. Then I can bring Eris round, if you like."

"Eris - that's the mare?" she asked. "Gentlemen pick such strange names for their horses."

"Goddess o' Diskord, he says. Whatever that is. Nice little mare though; you'll like her."

She grinned. "I'm sure the goddess will suit me just fine. I'll go and take a little walk outside. I'll be back soon." And she slipped out of the tent with a smile.