Yet another tavern in Lisbon

Williams looked across at Cotton. "Never disturb him. But I'm thinking the General's here already - so's the rumour. And the place is filling up - the 33rd's here, already, and there's more ships in the offing."

Sergeant Hakeswill pushed open the door to the tavern and made his way to the tap room. The 33rd had finished landing late that afternoon, and he had found himself some decent rooms. Now all he needed was a drink and a good whore, and this place had looked as good as any to find them.

The crossing had been hell on the transports. Many of the men had been seasick to start off with and when the storm had hit two days out the space below decks had stank with reek of vomit and reverberated with the redcoats' cries of despair. But Hakeswill had not been effected; Hakeswill had never been seasick in his life and so had made profitable use of his situation on the way across, making the men's lives more miserable than ever. He'd had to be careful though not to try it on with the sailors; fly buggers the lot of 'em, and more than capable of dealing with him. But he was back on land now, in his element, and he could start getting back to business.

He glanced quickly over the tap room as he entered. There were two riflemen and a redcoat sitting at one of the tables, a couple of Portugee in the corner, but apart from them and a likely looking girl at the bar the place was empty.

Hakeswill's eyes glanced over the girl and his face gave one of its involuntary twitches. Yes, a very likely looking lass, and nine out of ten waitresses here were whores on the side. She'd do for him. He made his way up to the bar, leant on the counter and gave the girl what he thought to be his most charming smile.

"Drink for me, senhoritar," he said. "Drink for one of 'is Majesty's finest, wot is going to kick old Boney's arse when our great General, Sir Arthur Wellesley, God Bless 'im, gets a move on."

Cotton was about to reply to Williams when the door opened and another redcoat appeared. He had a Sergeant's stripes on his sleeves and looked as though he could be trouble.

"General's already landed," he said to Hagman. "Leastways, that's what I was told. I just hope it means we get to do sommat more than just sittin' around. Gets borin', just sittin' around all day."

Williams watched the Sergeant swagger in. Maria could cope with trouble, and there were the locals - although they would probably be intimidated by the presence of himself and the Riflemen. When push came to shove, the Army tended to band together against the natives.

He gave a reassuring nod to Maria, and turned back to Cotton. "Boring's not too bad. Better than over-excitement, which is what I think is going to happen next."

Hagman was glad to hear that the rest of the Army had finally landed. He turned slightly to see who'd entered the tavern. He saw the Sergeant make his way to the bar and couldn't help it but the way the fellow ogled Maria made his skin creep.
He turned back to Williams and Cotton, though a bit wary should there any trouble arise.

"There's nothing wrong with a bit o' excitement, Williams. 'S bein too pretty boring the last days for me likin' too." He turned to Cotton. "Good ta see that there are more eager men 'round who know how ta handle the wooden lady all right." He addes grinning "Maybe we'll have the chance for another shooting match on the fields then."

"If'n you don't keep in practice, you won't be able to fight proper-like when it comes to facin' the Frogs." He glanced at the Sergeant before looking back to the others. "Though mebbe that's the difference between redcoats and greenjackets."

Williams dropped his voice. "Now don't go lumping all of us redcoats together, lad. There's times when a man picks his friends by something other than the colour of his coat." The Sergeant had only entered the bar, and asked for a drink, and already the tension was rising.

"True, true. I din't mean anythin' by it. An' there's plenty of fine fellows in red."

Although, of course, there were several not so fine fellows in red as well. There was something about that Sergeant... Cotton didn't like the look of him and decided to keep as far away as possible from him.

Hakeswill felt that he was being watched and his blue eyes darted in the direction of the three soldiers at the table. They were shoorting him the odd wary glances, and Hakeswill grinned at them nastily. He then turned back to the bar as the girl set down his drink, and before she could withdraw her hand he caught hold of her wrist.

"And that's the thing about 'is Majesty's finest," he said, putting on his grimacing smile. "Is that we need the finest company, and you look like very fine company to me, missy." His eyes darted down to her bosom and then back up again to her face. "So 'ow much, senhorita?"

Hagman just nodded his agreement to Williams's and Cotton's words. He sensed their own tension and was desperately wondering what the evening might have in store for them.

"Let's just hope that we'll be in fine company when worse comes to worse, lads."
His waryness even encreased when he heard the Sergeant speak to Maria. That fella smelled like trouble.

Williams stood up. The look on Maria's face told him that the trouble he feared had arrived. He could not see the Sergeant's face, but the man had looked like trouble from the first. He glanced down at the two Riflemen. He had only met them today, and he had no idea if they would support him - against a Sergeant too.

He fixed a grin on his face, and moved across to the bar. "Maria, my love, our mugs are empty and could you..." As he reached the bar he saw the Sergeant's hand round Maria's wrist. Watch it, Williams, he thought. "Evening, Sergeant. Maria, love, come and join me and my friends. Bought and paid for, Sergeant," he muttered. "There's plenty more out there."

Hakeswill glared at the private, not letting go of the girl's wrist.

"Plenty more for you, boyo," he sneered. Bloody Welsh bastard didn't know his place. "But this one's for me. Know why? Because I'm a sergeant, and I takes my pleasure where I pleases - especially over the likes a Welsh Davvie. Says so in the scriptures. So how much, senhorita?" he purred at the girl. "Quanto argento for the sergeant here?"

Williams flicked a glance back to the table. No help to be relied on from there, nor from the locals. And his fellow Inniskillings were not here. Now they would have joined in willingly! Scots and Irish mixed - they wouldn't hesitate, whatever the odds, and three stripes would make no difference. But on his own, his man was serious trouble. "Of course, Sergeant. But Maria was cooking our dinner like, and that - as well as the other - is all settled. Now let her go and get our food for us..." and, knowing Maria, make a quick exit through the back door "and you can negotiate in peace. With the blessings of the Welsh on your head."

Cotton didn't like the looks of this at all. Williams looked as though he'd willingly punch the other redcoat, but for the fact of those three stripes on his sleeve.

But he had to back Williams up. Heavens knew, if their places were reversed, he'd want to know someone was on his side. And the Welshman seemed a decent enough man.

"It's as he says, Sergeant," he said, leaning forward, arm around his rifle. "She was just a-going for our bait. Weren't you, love?"

Williams kept the slightly foolish grin on his face. He could have kissed the Rifleman for offering his support, but on the other hand... This was not the time for a shooting war to break out. Where would they bury the body?

"I'm sure that Maria'll see that all your wants are satisfied, Sergeant, and a tasty bit of fish would set you up for the rest of the evening." Maria was still staring at her hand, trapped by the Sergeant. She didn't speak English well enough to understand what he was saying, but she'd be fast on her feet if only the bastard would let her go. Without moving away he snagged a bottle from the counter. "Have some wine, Sergeant. On the house." Well, at least he was now armed.

Hakeswill eyed the two soldiers, his gaze falling speculatively on the bottle that the Welsh picked up. The third hadn't yet got up, but probably would and in a flash of annoyance the sergeant knew he was beaten. For now. He let go the girl's hand and affected a grin.

"Alright, lad. Since I'm feeling generous, and because I wants no bad blood between us fine men of 'is Majesty's army, I'll let you be and have your bait. Enjoy your meal lads," he set down his drink. "I shall be taking my custom elswhere."

With that, his face twitching violently as he gave them a final galnce, he turned and left the tavern. Damn the Welsh bastard; him and those scruffy riflemen! Couldn't be proper soldiers, dressing in green like heathens. Going to the dogs this army was, to the dogs... He'd been forced to retreat for now, but as he stalked off into the night already he was forming a way to get his revenge on the three of them.

Williams caught at the girl's arm before she left. "Get us dinner, love. The lads deserve it. Then go. Go to Mama. Understand? Dinner, then go."

He turned back, weak kneed with relief. "Thank you, lads. But I don't think we've seen the last of him. I'd rather face a cavalry charge any day."

Cotton breathed a sigh of relief as the Sergeant -whoever he was - gave up and let Maria's wrist go. "I don't reckon we've seen the last of him, either," he said, letting go of his rifle to nurse his cup. "He means trouble, and he'll be lookin' out to give us summat to worry over afore we knows where we'm at."

Hagman visually struggled with what to do. He barely knew Williams, so better stay out of it. But he didn't like the looks and talk of that fella there at all, being Sergeant or not.
Seeing Cotton get up and remembering his own words from before he drained the last of his brandy. He then turned around in his seat to see what was going to happen.

He looked first at Maria, then to the Sergeant who still had Maria's wrist in his grip. He desperately hoped that Williams words would calm the guy. Making sure his rifle was in reach he decided to stay seated but not letting them out of his gaze.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding he saw the Sergeant let go of the girl's hand. He was quite surprised to find him leave the tavern altogether shortly after.

Hearing Cotton's statement about the still to come trouble with that bugger he turned to the two lads still standing at the bar. "The release from boredom came almost too soon, eh lads?" He said with a warm smile to the girl: "Now, cara Maria, would you be so kind as to bring us some more o' that brandy."

"Well, he'll have to find us first! Three different regiments, no names - he'll have his work cut out." That sounded reasonable, but what he had seen in the Sergeant's eyes had been madness, not simple lust. If he'd seen that first, he'd never have tried to interfere, not without half a dozen drunken Inniskillings beside him. But he had, and the Riflemen had been there, and - well, he felt prouder of himself and his friends than he had for some time.

"It's Maria that I'd be worried about. She'll go back to her mother, out of Lisbon. That should keep her safe, I'm hoping." And stop her telling the mad Sergeant what she knew - which was little enough. "If he comes back alone, the locals will look after the place. The Provosts [MPs? too late for research] try to keep the peace between Army and town, but it'd be too late for a little thing like Maria."

Riflemen were sharpshooters, men who worked on their own initiative, often attached to other units as skirmishers or scouts. "33rd. Speak of the devil and he will show his wings. I think we need to find out he is. Anyone in that Regiment will recognize the description. And - maybe make our own plans" With optional burial plot outside town, lined up.

"33rd... I don't know anyone in the 33rd, but I'm sure between us we can find out. And if Maria can get out of Lisbon for a bit, she'll mebbe feel safer after that. As you say, if anything happened, the Provosts will try to sort it out, but it'd be too late for her."

The girl was still shaking a little as she brought their food over, but Cotton gave her a reassuring smile. He patted his rifle. "He won't be back to hurt ye, lass. Not with us here. And when we go, you go. Vaya to your madre, yes?"

Williams stood up and gave the girl all the money in his pouch. It would leave him short for a few days, but the sense of responsibility nagged at him. "Vaya," he said, and followed her back into the kitchen, where he gave her a solid kiss, before opening the door into the yard. All was quiet - these back alleys twisted and turned and led into dead ends, and a stranger would be hard put to find his way. He patted the girl as she slipped past him into the darkness. "Vaya con Dios."

Williams stood in the darkness for a minute or two, listening. Relieved to hear neither screams nor shouts, he turned back into the bar.

"She'll be back in her rooms by now," he said. "Leave tomorrow, when there's too much coming and going for one girl to be spotted. Now, there is still wine in that bottle, since I didn't need to use it..."

Cotton noticed the man give his money to the girl, but thought he'd be best not mentioning it; some people could get very touchy about things like that. He pushed Williams' abandoned cup across the table to him.

"You look like you could use some of that," he said, gesturing to the wine bottle. "I don't half feel sorry for the soldiers in the 33rd, having to put up with a bastard of a Sergeant like that."

Williams poured the wine into the cup, slopping some of it. After swallowing half, he wiped his mouth. "I tell you, if he'd gone for me, I'd have dropped where I stood, I was that scared. Once I got a good look at him, that is. You see men like that sometimes - killers." He swallowed some more. "We're all meant to be killers, true, and probably are. But that's just the enemy, and nothing personal. I think he'd sooner kill us that the Frogs."

He held out his hands. "Sorry to drag you into it. If we hadn't been here..." He frowned, not liking that train of thought.