June 1 - In Tents

(From here)

"Where are you going?" asked Paol, catching up with Jérémie. He thought the female prisoners were the other direction, but in the growing darkness, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't got turned around.

As they walked, a voice up ahead called out. "Paol?" Marie-Eve approached
and recognized that it was indeed Kerjean's voice she had heard. She
stared at Blanchard and the two women. "Paol, what have you done?"

"What? No. Nothing," he stammered in surprise as Marie-Eve approached. The darkness gave the eerie impression that she had just appeared out of nowhere. "She is sick," he added, as though that explained everything.

"Sick?" Well that was different. If the woman was sick, Marie-Eve wanted no part of her illness, neither for herself nor her son. She was about to speak further, but the son in question began to stir. She had been walking him in the hopes of lulling him to sleep, but having stopped to talk, she had spoiled her own good work. "Well if she's sick, you can keep her away," she muttered, bouncing her infant once again.

Francois did not like the way this was turning out. It was supposed to be have been something pleasant and now it was definitely not. He felt badly for the poor woman but as for the English prisoner, well....he'd warned the man. Blanchard hadn't even been that rough with him anyways.

With that he followed the others, noting that Pajol stopped to talk with some woman and an infant too. No matter, he would stick close to Jeremie, in case he could be of assistance.

He'd glanced back to answer Paol, only to see that he had fallen into conversation with a woman. Despite himself, Jérémie smiled. Good for Paol, then.

"Leclerc oughta forgot about the pair of you by now," Jérémie said as they got nearer to the tent. "This will be better place to rest in anyway."

But of course as soon as he'd said the sous-lieutenant's name, who but Leclerc himself should appear out of the darkness.

"What is the meaning of this?" The officer demanded, his voice thick and halting.

"Fine," Paol said shortly. The shift in Marie-Eve's attitude toward the two women since last he saw her left him at a loss, though he supposed he ought to have felt relieved that she seemed more inclined toward self-preservation now. "I have to go. I will--" he began, turning to see where the others had gone, but broke off sharply at the sight of the officer. It was with a sickening jolt that he recognized Leclerc and recalled Jérémie's earlier reference to him. He hadn't the presence of mind to offer an explanation; he simply bolted to catch up with them.

"Better not to get too close, sir," he blurted out, stumbling to a halt behind the others.

"Good evening, lieutenant," Marie-Eve called amiably as she strolled up alongside the group. She wondered if the man would recognize or remember her, or if he would have noticed her prolonged absence. Probably not.

Olivia frowned at the new man, taking in the reactions of the Frenchmen around her and his uniform. Clearly this was one of the officers they were all so concerned about, and she was past the point of being impressed or intimidated. She was tired and sore, and had been very much looking forward to a chance for herself and Jenny to rest.

"The meaning of this, monsieur," she said sharply, lifting her chin, "is that Miss Ross and myself were taken to this tent quite rudely and simply left there. Miss Ross is feeling decidedly unwell, and these gentlemen were kind enough to offer aid. Now, if you don't mind, it is time for her to get some rest!"

A tiny part of her argued that this was perhaps not the best tactic to take with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, their captor. It was too late for that, however, and she crossed her arms decisively, not lowering her gaze.

Who was this man to tell him... Leclerc stared at the private in round-eyed disbelief. Then a woman was speaking, offering a greeting. After her was, to his greater shock, an Englishwoman. Of all things!

"I do not care if she is dying!" Leclerc snapped, bewildered beyond his ability to cope. "Get her out of my sight at once!"

Almost a better response than Olivia could have hoped for. She felt a triumphant smile tug at her lips, and schooled her face back into a mask of politeness. Bobbing a quick curtsey in the direction of the officer, she turned back to Banchard.

"Well then," she said. "I suppose you better take us back to the other women."

Right. Jérémie couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard, but he was not about to question the sous-lieutenant. Without even so much as an acknowledgment, he resumed his journey, determined now to reach that damn tent before anything else happened.

With the appearance of the officer, Francois was glad he was further in the back of the small group, uncertain if the soldiers were about to get into trouble. The officer was clearly agitated. The young recruit was also a bit disappointed to hear that the man had no regard for the ladies' comfort or condition, hardly a gentleman. Not that he said anything aloud about it, he wasn't stupid.

When they moved on, Francois followed, remaining quiet until he discerned a good reason to speak up again or would be required to translate.

Ridiculous. Insane. Unbelievable.

Leclerc stared after the odd procession until it disappeared into a tent, then he turned sharply away, his body swaying from the abrupt motion. Why was the world so damned unsteady all of a sudden?

~

"That cot there," Jérémie directed, nodding toward it. Some thoughtful idiot had been in here during their absence and had outfitted the tent properly. "Turn the blanket aside."

The sooner he put this woman down, the better. His arms were aching.

Paol ducked forward and drew back the blanket on the cot. This would be a damn sight better for the woman than sleeping on the damp ground. Which was good, or something, though 'good' seemed an awfully relative term under the circumstances.

Outside the tent two voices rose in conversation only to fade away almost as abruptly as they had come. Still, Paol didn't relax. He glanced from the woman on the cot to Jérémie. "I will keep watch."

His hand was on the tent flap when, remembering Marie-Eve, he turned back. "You ought to go," he said quietly, "Before Jourdain shows up." This was, he thought, inevitable. It was the lieutenant's tent, after all and officers seemed to have an uncanny knack for showing up without warning in the precise location that their presence was least desirable.

At last, Jenny felt herself released onto a bed. Someone laid a blanket over her, and she pulled it close and curled onto her side. Now if only these foreign-speaking louts would quit shouting and leave her in peace.



Marie-Eve watched the woman and then nodded at Paol. She did not need much persuasion to take her child away from a sick bed. "Should I send Montreuil?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Paol's brow furrowed and he glanced once again at the sleeping form on the cot. He hadn't thought of that, but after a moment he shook his head. "Best to give her some peace, I think." That, and he didn't much want to find out how Montreiul would react if confronted with this particular set of circumstances. Drawing back the tent flap, he gave Marie-Eve a faint smile, "C'mon, then."

The last of the men left, though perhaps only for a moment, and there was blessed peace in the tent. She could tell that Mrs. Graham was still there, peering out the tent with ... whichever one had carried her. While Paul was speaking his own young sweetheart and their child. They sounded like they were about to leave. 'Wait," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing the edge of the blanket nearest them. "Water. l'eau. Tres l'eau, grande l'eau."

Leclerc's batman Michaut approached the tent looking harried. "There you are! Bourque and me have been looking for you lads everywhere, and the women. Where've you been? Jourdain wants his guests, and - " His voice dropped to a whisper as he glanced over his shoulder. "His holiness is being impossible. Now he says he won't stay for dinner at all, after all the trouble I had to grab those chickens. I don't know what's wrong with him, I don't."

Overhearing, Olivia stood and glared at the newcomer.

"You can tell your Jourdain that his guests are ill," she told him angrily. "Miss Ross needs sleep."

If truth were to be told, Olivia was increasingly feeling that she needed sleep as well. The day had left her sore and tired, and her naturally thin reserves of patience were being stretched to their breaking point.

"Just leave us alone," she said in English, tone slightly plaintive. She rubbed at her eyes with her hands, and repeated in French: "Please, leave us alone."

A rare moment of spare time between work and the dreaded dinner party had inspired Goyette to take a short walk. He needed to clear his head; the situation needed diffusing, and only careful maneuvering would do it. Unfortunately, for all that was distracting him, his instinct for spotting trouble was no less sharp. His pace quickened until he reached the tent.

Catching the Englishwoman's last words, Goyette turned to Michaut and said sharply, "Explain yourself."

Michaut jumped with surprise and turned to salute the officer. "Beg pardon, sir, but I was just looking for these English women to take them to their dinner with Messieurs Jourdain and Leclerc, sir."

Useless, that's what he was. Absolutely useless. The lieutenant had appeared out of the darkness and was at tent before Paol could so much as call a warning. "Sir," he called, ducking into the tent after the officer, "Please, sir, St Laurent sent me to fetch the women; I take responsibility." Belatedly, he snapped to attention.

"You have been sent to fetch them, and yet one of them appears to have taken ill," said Goyette, inwardly feeling relief. A solution to his problem had, of all things, presented itself. "A most unfortunate turn of events. And if you were to call the surgeon here, I'm sure he would concur that having company at dinner is not worth the risk of catching illness."

Olivia nodded at Goyette's words, looking beseechingly at Paol and Michaud.

"Your officer would not like to be sick, I'm sure," she said.