July 24, 1809: The Morning after

Freddie handed the toast to Cotton to finish and hastened to refill the coffee pot for the third time.

"Uh, do you want a bit? Mylord has said that I can have a cup, but I don't like it. So you can have mine, if you want?"
The young German grinned.
"Mylord does not think that 'any civilized man can be expected to begin the day without at least one cup of decent coffee'."

His imitations of his master were becoming quite good. If it was not for the different timbre and the slight troubles with the unfamiliar word 'civilized', it might very well have been Torrington himself declaring this.

Cotton grinned and accepted the bread Rottlaender passed over. "Nah - I'll stick with me tea, thanks. How's the rest o' that brekuss doin', anyway?"

The lad really was getting good at his imitations. He wondered for a moment how well he'd do at mimicking Vickery.

"Oh, it does." Willoughby shifted the lemon just a little higher. Some of the juice had managed to get into his nose and he began to fervently press at it and even rub. The pain was sudden and sharp though it did not last long. If anything he might just have discovered a cure on how to make a stuffy nose a runny nose. When he tried again, he held his breath for fear he might snort some of the lemon up the nose by accident too.

"Please be merciful to me and say that it has finally been rubbed off." He said lowering the squished remains of the lemon from his nose.

There they were, Cotton and Rottlander. Maybe they could help him, perhaps they have seen her! He had looked and asked and searched all over the camp but could not find her. Where was she? He dearly hoped that she had not wandered into the camp of the 95th, and presented herself as too fine a meal to allow to pass by, or that perhaps the provosts got to her because she chose to tell them a piece of her mind! Perhaps she had just wandered off or maybe Gabriel took her, or Freddie.

Trying not to look frantic and completely distraught, he approached the two men seeing that they were making breakfast. No, they would not have boiled a little chick, he was certain of that.

"Hey." He said, obviously high strung and nervous. "...." He opened his mouth like a fish out of the water a couple of times, and then closed it firmly.

"...Youhaven'tseenmychicksomwheremaybeorissheherepleasehelp?" He blurted out and then had the most hopeful, pleading, nervous, guilty look that was really heartbreaking.

The only word Cotton managed to decipher from that lot was 'chick' but he already had an inkling Pye would have discovered her missing.

He nodded and pointed Torrington's tent. "She'm safe, in there. Captain Torrin'ton said you could go ask for her."

Holding out a handkerchief, Torrington hastened to assure Willoughby that he had quite successfully managed to reduce the ink to a barely perceptible stain.

"Just keep your hat pulled down low over your face - with a bit of shadow, it will be quite unnoticable!"

Freddie had understood exactly nothing, but – having been quite startled by Peggie's unexpected appearance before – he could guess the problem as well. Gathering that Cotton suggested going into the tent to retrieve the chick, he smiled and pressed the refilled coffee pot into Pye's hand.

"Here - you can help us bring things in. If you have coffee, he will not be so angry!"

"Thank you... I should stop accepting things from you, dear friend, and begin giving back." He smiled weakly and then took the handkerchief to wipe his nose and wipe the skin as well. The world smelled rather like a lemon but at least there was hope for appearing decent on his first day. He took a sip of the water where the medicine had been earlier placed hoping that whatever effect it should have released into the water, was now there.

Pye looked relieved. Peggiie was not dead or cooking in someone's pot. The location that Cotton however pointed out still filled him with dread. What if she had not allowed the officers any good sleep, what if she had left a 'present' on Torrington's coat and it was not an egg, what if she had pecked at his food even if it was not meant for her.

Rather gratefully he accepted the coffee. Anything to appease the gods that is the officers! He smiled nervously. "I will get Peggie. She's .. hope she wasn't misbehaving, thank you. Do you want me to take anything more in there cos' I will do anything!"

"She was in his coat!", Freddie informed him, still slightly scandalized by that. "And she was comandeering him around!"

He meant 'bullied around' – in his mind there was no other word for Peggie's attitude. What confused him even more was that it seemed to work.

Pye paled. "She was bossing the officer.... Lord , your Lord around?" He looked shocked and worried. "And he did not .he did not sign her off to be hanged or summat like it? Or to be lashed or...." He could imagine what would have happened to a soldier and wondered what exactly a chick could get away with or how she would have been punished? Why, she could have been marked off for the pot!

"He gave her a bisquit! Of his fine English ones!", Freddie answered, still shocked by it as well. "And she ... made noise at Captain Vickery! But they did not call the provosts! But they were ..."

A rather complicated gesture indicated a general befuddlement.

"They were what?" Pye eyed Freddie blandly then glanced at Cotton if he could translate the gesture or if perhaps Freddie would say also the word, translate that.

He gulped. "Aye.. going in now.. I mean. can't have them waiting with coffee. Call me out when you need more brought in alright?" He looked at both Cotton and Freddie pleadingly. "Allright.. going in." He took a deep breath but did not move. He would have used the excuse that he needed to know what Freddie meant and was waiting for that reason.

Freddie rather took it to mean that he should go first with part of the breakfast, so he did just that, announcing cheerfully:

"Here is breakfast, Sirs! Cotton made something with apples!"

Having temporarily forgotten the delicate state the officers were in, he made no attempt to moderate his voice – making Torrington wince and nearly cut his hand instead of a lemon.

Willoughby whimpered and closed his eyes. "For all that is sacred, keep your voice down!" He exclaimed, and rather quickly regretted it. He did not even notice that there was a second green coat holding coffee as a peace offering.

The chick happily chirped at the sound of Freddie who, similarly to Torrington was the voice of one who brought little treats to her and was a good friend with her owner. She could hear him too of course, and he seemed to be much more timid at entering the tent, but brought the goods just as Freddie promised them.

Happily the chick began to peck at her present confinement and chirped to warn them that she was there and that she was ready to go now because she had been well fed and while she would indeed like more, she did no longer like her confinement and she intended to chirp louder if that would be required to get what she wanted.

Torrington closed his eyes in silent defeat as he realized that yet another rifleman would see his painted face. Without interrupting his struggle to clean up, he addressed the young rifleman, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"Good morning, Pye. Please put the coffee here. Your missing charge is in that writing desk there. She has slept well, confused the hell out of me and fed on three bisquits. Please take her away."

He said all of that in such a monotone voice that it was impossible to say whether he was completely furious or not.

This was a dream, a really strange dream which would convince him that honey or anything sweet was not meant for him because it would make him see things that were not there. How else to explain the pattern on the officer's face that looked remarkably like nothing he could easily recognise. Did the officer lie face first in his letters that did not dry yet or perhaps he dosed off on a map he was preparing and smeared the ink all over himself?

His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes wide open, much like a deer stunned by a sudden appearance of a carriage that meant to run it down, and he did not move through the whole of Torrington's speech. Atleast the coffee remained safe, though it had nearly saw its demise when Pye first cast eyes on Torrington.

He looked rather frightened as he tiptoed closer to him. Certainly like a deer entering a bear's den. His shaky hand lay the coffee beside Torrington and jerked back, as if fearing that Torrington would suddenly burst to his feet and maul him.

He gulped and hurried over to the desk. The chick chirped with that 'you are late, what took you so long' tone but eagerly scampered up his arm. Pye appeared even paler against her yellow fluff, slowly beginning to change and grow less soft as weeks progressed, her bulk growing bigger too and not just because of the amount of food she ate.

"......simrph...." Was all that came out of Pye's mouth. He was still too befuddled about what he just witnessed, shocked and frightened at what he heard and his brain needed a little more time to catch up and make sense of it all.

Freddie, already past the first shock, was in a slightly better state. He had enough control now to place his plates on the table in something approaching proper decorum, slide the best bits under Willoughby's nose in apology for the earlier shaking, remove the lemon knife from Captain Vickery's immediate vincinity, since the captain seemed on the verge of dozing off again, hand Torrington a cloth and another piece of lemon, and take the writing desk along to clean it properly from any fluff and other remains of Peggie's occupation. All that happened in less then a minute, then, without breaking stride, he gripped Pye's elbow to steer him outside before any of the officers could reconsider.

"If that was all, Sir?"

He sincerely hoped so - he would not be able to keep this up for long. Already he was nearly frazzled with worry that he might have forgotten something important.

Vickery had put his head back down on the table and just flapped one hand, feeling too hungover and tired to try to make any sense out of anything that had occurred that morning.

He managed to mumble the word "Breakfas'?" at Rottlaender's enquiry.

"Oh! Natürlich!"

Freddie immediately darted to the table again and piled food for Vickery on a plate, poured another cup of coffee and, just to make sure, polished the table with his sleeve before he placed it in front of the Captain's nose.

"Here, Sir! Cotton says this are ... apple fritters?"

Vickery blinked awake, propped his head on his hand and looked at the food that had just appeared in front of him.

"If Cotton wasn' so good, you'd have to watch out I didn't take Rottlaender for my batman," he informed Torrington ungrammatically, not taking his eyes off the food in case it decided to be a figment of his imagination and vanish.

"I'd fight you over the matter, but I think we will both be happier with sharing."

Turning to see Vickery's intense stare, he informed him with mock severity:

"The same goes for deliciously smelling breakfast treats!"

"Help yourself," Vickery said, reaching for one of the apple fritters - it looked as though Cotton had sliced them in an effort to try to make the apples go further. "Ow! Mind yourself, they're hot!"

He blew on his fingers and took a bite. No, he wasn't going to let Cotton leave his service any time soon if he could help it!

Willoughby watched the food that had been placed in front of him in silence. It smelled nice, it was apparently hot. He yawned and nudged it carefully with his finger.

"Do you have that tea you make?" He inquired quietly. He would have liked it a lot to have a few more sips of that. He saw Pye who had by now looked more eager to assist Freddie again and did not stand in his spot as though turned to stone by Torrington's gaze any longer.