13th June: Locusts and honey

Having reached the tree some steps ahead of Pye, Freddie greeted him there with an eqally silly grin and joined in Pye's laughter, nearly doubling over with it. The thought of what was to come in camp made him only laugh even harder. It was all so unreal, somehow: Here they were, knowing what was waiting for them, having the scars on their backs, and still they didn't even contemplate going anywhere else.

The moment the Frog moved however, Freddie abruptly stopped laughing and angled his rifle at him. He didn't understand the French sentence, but it hadn't sounded pleasant, even though the man was clearly still half out of his senses.

"... Um." He understood the Frog to be awake. And that was about it. Whatever he said in French was as good as...wait.. he learned the word for dead. So, it was something to do with that state. But whether he was asking to be dead, whether he thought he was dead or whether he meant for Pye to be dead, well it was not something the lad wanted to dwell on.

"...Uppey.." He motioned with his hand, speaking English but with an accent he thought was very French and so the man should understand him. "Standey.. " He said and motioned with his own rifle. "toi.. walkay, oui?"

The Frenchman could be released from his bonds to the tree, but then he could walk. "We'll shoot you if you try to run." All English, and no accent this time.

The Frenchman shook his head, willing his senses to fix on the two young men before him. In heavily accented, but quite understandable English, he repeated:

"You should be dead. Both of you!"

He slowly did as the one with the nose-scar had told him and got unto his feet. They were wobbly, but would carry him. The question was rather whether a bit for freedom now was worth it. He had been in prison before, a few days more wouldn't hurt that much. And two rifles pointed at him weren't good chances, even for a good fighter. Slowly raising his arms, he said:

"I surrender!"

"Good. You surrender and you walk. Understood?.. Do you give..." He paused trying to remember what an officer could give, which made him unable to run. "...par......parole?.." An officer would give one such to another officer, but since the two lads did not exactly have an officer in their pocket this would have to do until they returned.

He briefly turned to Friedrich. "..roll that thing we got up in wot' you got, and then tuck it under your shako. A'right?" It would be safe there, and out of view.

The sous-lieutenant quickly thought. These were only kids. Was his parole binding then? And even if it was, would it bother him?

His mind produced a negative answer to that. If there was a decent chance, he would take it. If there wasn't, he wouldn't make his life unnecessarily hard.

"Good. You have my parole. Where do you take me?"

Freddie thought he remembered that parole meant that the officer had promised not to run away, so he stepped back, slowly lowered his rifle and did as Pye had suggested. He wasn't sure whether the honey was really safe there, but it was as good a place as any to try to smuggle it in.

"To our camp, of course." Pye thought the question was silly. Where else could they take him? They did not mean to drown him in a river, nor did they mean to shoot him, if he behaved. They were certainly not going to return him to his own army.

He kept his rifle leveled, though perhaps just a little lower than before. "Walk." he meant to make a slight detour, but the Frog did not need to know that he planned it. "Come, Freddie. Time for us to make good haste back home." He grinned. They looked rather innocent now, with all trace of honey disappeared, hidden well under the shako.

Freddie returned the grin and fell in besides Pye. His mind floated now in a strangly calm little sphere. It was not unlike that particular state of mind one had when advancing on the enemy. All decisions were made, nothing left to worry about. Now it was only going on for as long as possible and luck throwing the dice.

"Yes. We go back now. What's 'haste'?", he inquired.

"To get t' rabbit 'fore we get back to camp, 'fcourse." Pye answered simply. "S'.. not far from here. That's where I set up some traps. We'll check 'em and pick'em." He indicated the direction with his hand.

"Don't trust t' Frog though.. even if he's given us his word... they'm sneaky bastards." That he whispered to Friedrich. He smiled, feeling quite relaxed and pleased with what the two had accomplished. having shot some of the French, having taken an officer prisoner, why, they were quite excellent!

Unseen to the two riflemen behind his back, the Sous-Lieutenant smirked. So those little squirrels wanted to poach as well. Quite devious they were. A pity they were English. If they would have been born in Marseilles, they would have gone far by now.

But them being English, they had probably just numbered their days. Because sooner or later both would be concentrating on the rabbit that would have got caught in one of the snares, and then he would get away.

With slight regret he thought that he would still have to kill both of them to prevent them from shooting at him or yelling. Those other redcoats would still be close by somewhere. And of course he needed the weapons they carried. Well, at least he could try to make it quick and easy.

Setting one foot in front of the other, slightly staggering for effect from time to time, he meekly followed the boys' directions to their next destination.

"There." Pye murmured, quite excited that they have reached their destination. He then turned towards their French prisoner and Friedrich.

"Wait with him." He indicated the man. He may have been young and inexperienced in some ways of the army, but he knew that on the street one did not trust anyone completely. No matter what word they might have given. To trust on the street, could get you killed, and to trust this man here, even as an officer, might do the same. he did not know about their honour and though it was all the rage with their superiors, he personally doubted the logic behind it.

"Watch him, an' don't let him get to ye." He said sternly, giving the Frenchman a look of warning. "Shout if he does so much as think of something he shouldn't." He adjusted the hold on his rifle. "I'll check me snares and get the rabbits, if we got any, A'right?" he did not want to leave Freddie alone with their prize even for a moment. Although he trusted his friend enough to know he would not let him run, he felt any Frog would try just that.

Freddie grimly nodded and motioned the Frenchman to keep standing three paces away. He wasn't sure whether he trusted the man either, him being a frog and all, and although the prisoner seemed meek enough now, he accepted that Pye's upbringing in a town might give his friend some insight into the situation he didn't have.

So he kept a cautious distance and his rifle levelled at the man. The thought that after the man had given his parole his guards were perhaps expected to treat him as if he was only a guest occured, but Freddie shoved it out of his mind.

They hadn't hit him or anything, and if he complaint to Captain Vickery ... then the Captain could hardly get any more angry than he would already be, if he believed the Frenchman at all.

He didn't take his eyes of the Frog, but with his ears he followed Pye's progress, ready to react should his friend require him to.

"Do we have luck?", he inquired curiously. "When have you maked the slings?"

"Rabbit!" It was bloody luck it was. When considering that one should've set atleast five snares and be patient, to have caught one now, was stunning. Pye would not question his luck however and grinned. "We've got one." He made sure the animal was dead, then got it out of the snare. He looked ponderously at his uniform and then decided to hide the creature too. Lifting his shako, he squished the rabbit in, and then pulled the headwear as far down as he could.

He'd have to be careful as, unlike some hats, the shakoes weren't the finest place to hide things. Space was really not great in there!

"We've only placed them here yesterday, I think. Been more fortunate 'bout it than I had hoped." He laughed softly as he approached the two men. "Ready to go." His snare was put away as well. No use to leave the material behind when it could be used as a snare another time.

Freddie grinned and motioned the French to start walking again. "If we find some Kastanien - you know those big brown nuts with needles - I can make rabbit stuffed with them and painted with honey. That is a very good food! Or we can use apples and small nuts from the bush with funny branchs." He drew a spiral in the air with the muzzle of his rifle. "Haselnüsse, we call them."

His voice was alright, but his eyes looked a bit feverish. It was such a nice dream to cling to!

Damn! The lads were careful. Perhaps he had underestimated them a bit. But short of running from two boys and letting them continue to fire at French soldiers, he didn't think he could have done anything differently.

Well, he could have shot Cheeky there and not just redecorated his shako - damn that bloody inanccurate musket - but Nosey had fought back quite skilled, and while he would certainly have prevailed in the long run, there hadn't been any chance to end that sooner. And the sous-lieutenant knew that plans never did go wrong just because a musket shot had missed. If all hinged on that, then the plan was a failure in the first place. Sometimes you had to take those chances, but you didn't grumble when it did go awry.

Well, sooner or later there would be another guard, perhaps an officer who took his parole more seriously. His chance would come.

Suddenly he smiled. Perhaps he might even get some favours out of Cheeky and Nosey during his stay in the British camp. After all, it was up to him what he told about their exploits.

Amiably chatting, he probed:

"So what are you boys doing out of camp?"

"Check if there's trees like that around... is it time for them?" He did not know when they could get these Kastanien, or the other ones.. but he did wish they could. Food as described was just the best thing to imagine and Pye felt that his tummy would all but agree it was time for it!

But not yet. They had to get back first and hope that their absence would not be too upsetting to others. What appeared a splendid idea earlier, was slowly beginning to be.. far from it. If they had just gone, got the honey and returned they might not have been missed, but so long?

He glanced at the Frenchman, who spoke in English again - something rather unnerving in Pye's opinion. "..Takin' you back." He answered. "What were you doin' all the way out there?" He returned. There was one problem, wasn't there. He only couldn't figure out what it was, but it had to have something to do with this man.

"Following some deserters. Yours, not ours. Didn't want to get arrested and shot at us."

Not quite the truth, but not to far of either.

"You should have been helping instead of shooting at us. Isn't your army rather harsh in dealing with them?"

"Our army wants to deal with its escaped on its own... we do not need your help." He answered stiffly. "How did you think to label them deserters when they might have only been a foraging party.. or something of t' like."

Of course, desertion happened. On both sides, at various times, depending of what triggered it. Just because he had not done it, did not mean that he did not know of it, or its reasons.

"..Deserters are killed, yes." He said after a moment. There had been cases when they were spared. But so rare, that to count on those, would be to be a down right fool. Anyway, just to think of Captain Vickery's disappointment was enough to convince Pye not to want it.

His goal accomplished, the Frenchman didn't answer. Now that little English twig would be pondering what might happen if their little adventure was misunderstood. He had not sounded too happy just now, so probably he had already been thinking along those lines.

Better not say anything more, though. At least not before some other people were in sight. Otherwise those two might just realize that putting a bullet into his head would solve a few problems.

Trying to present the picture of a prisoner resigned to his fate, the sous-lieutenant trod on, the occasional stumbles now disappearing from his walk.

From here.



He had attracted quite the following, he noted when he paused to look back. At last! Maybe these humans could be trained after all. The dog dropped the blanket, not having a need for it anymore, and stirred back into a run. They were close to where he'd last seen the Angry Human.

As he went, he bayed like a foxhound on the trail of its quarry.

Pye was about to demand an answer, when he heard the familiar yapping. It brought back memories of the hunts even if this was singular and barely like the hounds he knew. But the darn thing was back! He saw the blur of white bolting in their direction.

"Git lost!" He shouted, even if the dog might not have been near enough to hear them yet.

And then the dog dropped the blanket, allowing Cotton to scoop it up.

He froze as someone yelled at the dog. It was a very familiar voice, too. He dropped the blanket, returning his hand to the stock of his rifle, and moved his right hand to the dog-head screw, ready to pull it back to the full-cock position.

"Pye!"

He had, hadn't he? He'd been caught right in the act of deserting now. Cotton tightened his grip on his rifle.

He'd found his quarry, not far from where he'd left it. All that remained was for the other earthy humans to come take over. In the meantime, the dog saw to it that the Angry Human and his friends didn't go anywhere.

That had been quick. The other members of the company must have been searching for those two boys. And the man who had discovered them didn't sound pleased at their sight at all. Was this now good or bad for him?

Just to make things absolutely clear to the newcomer, the sous-lieutenant lifted his arms high. In his rough voice, he called:

"Parole!"

What the...?

That was a somewhat unexpected complication.

"What've you two bin up to?" he asked, moving the rifle to cover the Frenchman. "You was missin' at p'rade an' the Captain ain't best pleased, I can tell you!"