Visiting Cotton

[Fifth day of the march - morning]

The irritation that Edrington had felt at the abrupt termination of his meeting with Sir Arthur Wellesley continued the following morning. If he had ever thought it was a good idea to try to reassure Cotton about his future place in the 60th Rifles, today was not a good day to it. But, if Vickery had even dropped a hint to Cotton, not going would reinforce the despair that they hoped to dispel.

So, after snapping at Abernethy during breakfast, and riding some of his own fidgets out alongside the column, he trotted forward towards the group of Vickery's company. It would soon be time for the first break of the day - a sensible time to pay the visit.

Cotton had slept better than the previous night, although still not comfortably. Today, he had rejoined the Company, although without his pack, which he had received permission to leave with Captain Vickery's things. He did not find the going easy, but was determined not to complain, and welcomed the first break of the day, gratefully sitting down on a nearby rock.

Edrington looked around for Captain Vickery, but could not see him among the riflemen. He could see Cotton, though, perched on a rock, as though sitting on the ground would involve unnecessary movement and pain. For the moment he was alone, not far from the others. If he spoke to him now, they might be overheard, but at least there was the semblance of privacy.

Edrington dismounted, trusting Bauernbrot to remain while he walked across to the young rifleman he had had flogged.

Cotton was trying to remember what Maggie had taught him yesterday when he became aware that a man wearing red was approaching. He looked up, and realised it was the Colonel, who was making directly for him. His mouth grew dry. What more could his Lordship possibly want with him, someone he believed to be a thief. He wiped his hands on his trousers and made to stand up.

""No, stay where you are," Edrington said, as Cotton began to stand. "I was looking for Captain Vickery," - which was in part the truth. "I am pleased to see that you are ... able to rejoin your company."

"Thanks, sir," Cotton replied, relaxing down on the rock again. "I... I can march, sir. Can't do scouting f'r a bit though." He bit his lip. The Colonel did not want to hear about him, not after yesterday. "Captain's off with the scouts this mornin', sir," he said, instead, and fell silent again.

Probably keeping clear of him, Edrington thought.

"It won't be long until you're fit enough to scout," he said, "and to ... Captain Vickery has told me that he is perfectly content for you to stay as his servant." Which made his views on the verdict quite clear - or perhaps it was fairer to say that it was his view of Cotton's normal character.

"Ye...yes, sur." His Kent accent, with its rounded vowels, was becoming more pronounced. It was this man, after all, who had found him to be a thief. He didn't want Edrington's opinion of Vickery to be tarnished, as it surely would be now. What officer kept a proven thief as his servant, after all?

He swallowed. Maybe he had done the sentencing, but he'd also let the Rifleman down after only fifty lashes. Did that count for something?

"Thank you, sur, f'r stoppin' it," he said, feeling awkward. He couldn't meet the officer's eyes, and hoped the intention wasn't to send him back to get the rest later.

Maggie was returning from fetching another needle book and something to drink for Cotton and herself. She saw the horse nibbling at some grass on the side of the road, and feeling cheerful on such a sunny day, she exchanged pleasantries with him. Further along she saw Cotton talking to a redcoat, but she was so focused on not spilling the cups in her hands and not tripping in the wagon ruts that she didn't realize who it was until she was right behind him. It was too late to slip away unnoticed because now he had seen her.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I didn't mean to interrupt." Cotton could wait for his drink.

Edrington turned as the woman approached, and nodded. He hoped that she would pass by, although it was obvious that she had been bringing a drink to Cotton, but she did not. What had been a difficult conversation now became even more so.

"Enough is enough," he said, and then, because he had said to Vickery that he would make the point: "You are still a rifleman, and still part of Captain Vickery's company. That position, and the high regard you are held in in that respect, will not change because of what I decided. That, I accept, was not part of your normal behaviour."

He looked up then. 'High regard'? The officer was saying he was respected because he was a Rifleman, and moreover, that he would still be respected despite what had happened? He made a small gesture, as though accepting a gift, with his right hand, by his side.

"Thank'ee, sur. An', I'm sorry I've bin so much trouble to ee, sur. My lord."

The apology almost made Edrington smile, but the Rifleman was deadly serious, and he said: "Take care not to cause me, or anyone else, such trouble again, Cotton. Your officer has faith in you, and I am prepared to trust his judgment on that score."

Maggie had tried to hurry away as quickly as her feet and the overflowing cups and the awkward road full of divots and ruts would let her. It was not a rapid progress, and she felt embarrassed to overhear their conversation. Seeing the colonel, she discovered that her face was burning as she remembered what a spectacle she had made of herself at the trial and in the square the morning after. What a fool!

There might have been a hint of a smile in the Colonel's eyes if Cotton had been looking, but he wasn't and only heard the cold censure in the voice.

"I...I... Yes, my lord."

He was going to prove Vickery right to believe in him, if it killed him. And if he could do that, then he would show the Colonel that he was right to trust the Captain.

He held his rifle a little tighter, pulling it a little closer. He was a Rifleman, and he was going to show these redcoats just what that meant.

"Then get better, get back to normal duties, and be ready to meet the French when we arrive. That will be all. Your young woman can now bring you your drink. I am sorry to have made you wait. Good luck, Rifleman." This time he did smile, and wait for Cotton to look up, before beckoning Bauer over, and remounting.

Cotton looked up, to see that the Colonel was smiling. He managed to smile in return, though it was slightly wan and rather shy. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He watched the Colonel mount his horse again and turn to head back up the column.

He watched him go, thinking, and grateful that he had come. Maybe... maybe he could rebuild his damaged pride and confidence in himself. Maybe he didn't have to be just another flogged soldier for the rest of his life.

Maggie looked over her shoulder when it sounded like the colonel was leaving. Yes, he was on his horse now. She hurried back to Cotton, again with a belabored pace. "What did he want?"

"He... he came to say..." Cotton found he couldn't put it into words. "He said that I'm respected 'cause I'm a Rifleman, and he hopes he c'n trust the Captain's judgement. I think he meant about me keepin' me position, that bit."

She stared at Cotton, surprised by his news. He seemed to be pleased, so she would try to feel pleased for him. "Well that was very... decent," she said, handing him a cup and trying to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"It was nice of him, 'specially when he's got a lot to think about, bein' a Colonel an' all." He accepted the cup and took a long pull at it. He hadn't realised how thirsty he was.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it was." She looked at Cotton as he drank from his cup. "Are you sure you're doing all right, marching? Has the surgeon seen you? I think there's a town up ahead, someone said. Maybe there's an apothecary or somewhere I can get you something..."

"You do fuss so." He smiled at her to show it wasn't meant as a serious criticism. "Though mebbe I should see the Captain. Dunno if I can keep it up all day, y'see. Takes it out of you summat awful, when it hurts all the time." He handed the cup back to her. "Bit o' rest's all I need, nothin' else."

She squeezed his hand. "You just make sure not to overdo it. Do you want me to go fetch the captain right now?"

"No. Oh, God, Maggie, what d'you think he'd think of me? Leave it a bit. No, he's off scoutin'. Maybe Mister Brady could give permission, or summat." He shook his head. "Don't think I can think straight right now."

"All right, Gabe, it's all right. I'll go find Mister Brady. You just stay there. Here, drink this too." She gave him her own cup and looked at his face with concern before hurrying off to find the lieutenant.