Outside 95th's billet

Carty might have been joking but Pye believed him to the very last word. He looked at the horse, which belonged to Sharpe, as if it were sacred and a single touch of its side, neck or muzzle would send the wrath of this malicious man upon him. Of course that image was worsened by Hakeswill's own preeching.

"You.. you'um jus' cursed n' he cut ye toe off?" He looked around them nervously to see if he were standing around anyplace and looked visibly relieved when he did not see a figure skulking about.

Carty started laughing again, much louder. "I joke, I joke! Heehee." He giggled to himself and Noix harrumphed affectionately.

"The toe - it is dead, and hurting very, very bad - all black and-" He made a face, sticking his tongue out in an expression of exaggerated disgust. "So Mister Sharpe says, 'That'll have to come off', so Sergeant Harper hold me shoulders and Mister Sharpe cut it off with rifle-sword. And then he says, "Very brave- eh, what's 'is name?" and Harper says "Carty, sir," and Mister Sharpe says, "Very brave, Carty, lad," and I am very happy, because Mister Sharpe is very brave and says I is very brave! But is good because Harris says toe is dead, and if not cut off makes whole foot dead and then ken't be rifleman no more!"

Pye looked at Carty, saw him laughing and thought he'd gone mad. He scowled then seeing he'd been fooled.

"Oy!" He didn't hold a grudge against the other rifleman though, even as he lifted his hand to give him a light tap over the top of his head.

"You silly jokest'r! I'll have yer hat fer that!" But as he chuckled he listened and also made a face at black toe's story. It clashed terribly with what he'd heard. Sharpe was vile, a terrible man, no gentleman by the words of that redcoat of the 33rd. But how could he then be saying the sort of things like:~Very brave, Carty, lad?~

"So's he..'er.." Couldn't right ask that question. "Um.. He's .. he's very brave ye say?"

"Oh, oh, very brave," Carty said, nodding, his eyes wide with hero-worship. "Mister Sharpe take us all way down to Lisbon, and we fight in Santiago, and he is very, very brave, and quick, and clever - very clever, Mister Sharpe, yis yis." He stood up straight. "He say riflemen stick together, and he look after riflemen."

"He's a bit like Cap'n Vickery then. He's brave too, I think! N' he talks with us , ye know." His grin widened and decided that for now Carty's words felt a lot more believable than one of a hate filled, lying... of a man of the red. His expression couldn't be played!

"Talks, n' he sticks up for us. Well, he sticks together with us. That I know of. A great man." He nodded eagerly.

" N' he let me go to the rifles too! A finest man, I'll say." His grin may only have brightened, quite proud of the officer that he served under. "Tol' me I could pick my rifle. Because No rifle's the same. No." He shook his head.

Vickery had seemed an all right officer from what Carty had seen, but he was warier after Cotton had been flogged. Waldegrave had threatened him with a flogging, and Mister Sharpe had saved him, so in Carty's mind Vickery was the lesser of the two, by far, but it occurred to him that it would be rude to say that to his new friend. "You are in rifles long time?"

"No." He shook his head.

"Jus' from .. I came ter..um.. transfered to the 60th a little after ye lot had that presentation of yours. Of the rifles, firing, n' all t' crawlin' n' going over land and that sort." He smiled, he remembered another thing just then. Carty and Cotton had gotten to that flag first. The boy was more than just a good rifleman, what that meant!

"Had t' go to Captain Vickery so's he decides if I can be in the 60th." He nodded. A scary ordeal to be told to talk when all the while you were taught to be silent and do what one was told.

Carty looked amazed. "That is very very small time being rifleman!" he said, and then puffed up in pride; the other rifleman was older than he was, but he had been a rifleman for longer, and for the first time since he joined the army he had some kind of seniority over someone. "Is very good, being rifleman."

"Is too." He chuckled seeing the other boy swell in pride. Indeed, the lad was probably much older a rifleman than he was. No wait, it wasn't a probable but a certain thing! How silly a thought it was to even speculate when it was he, he had seen fire so finely and him to present the skills of the riflemen, never to forget mention of his time during the winter in Spain as a rifleman no less!

"Much, much, much better than servin' there with t' redcoats, it is! " He agreed wholeheartedly. "Is hard too, of course but.. but, ain't nothing to compare it no. " He shook his head then looked curiously at Carty.

"You joined the riflemen first or.. or have yer gone from any other rank?" He did look young and yet in experience of the green, he was older. Odd how things went but it was not something Pye minded!

Daniel Cadoux, shielding his uniform under a black umbrella, saw the flag outside the building, and was satisfied that he had reached his destination. A view confirmed by the two men in riflegreen, dark from the rain, with a bright chestnut horse. Behind him, Tulip, with a connoisseur's interest, gave a low whicker of greeting to the mare, who raised her head and curled a lip at the black gelding in disdain.

Carty was about to answer Pye but then saw an officer - one he had never seen before, but who was wearing the uniform of the 95th. He was carrying a thing - like a vast shining cape spread over a spidery frame - it bore a superficial resemblance in shape to the frilly lacy things some of the Portuguese women carried. He squeaked in terror and stood to attention.

The boy holding the horse was one of Sharpe's men - the other, now he could see clearly, was from the 5/60th - the other Riflemen, and presumably from Vickery's company. That made it easier, since he brought orders for both groups.

"I am Captain Cadoux," he said. "I have already spoken to Mr Sharpe, and I'll need to see Sergeant Harper...." He turned his dark eyes on the other rifleman. "I wonder if your officers are around - I have orders for them from Colonel Edrington."

Carty recognised the man's face; he had been on the retreat, though with another company. And he was asking him a question. "S-sir-"

Standing stiff to attention, his earlier questions quickly forgotten. He didn't know who the man was, but the uniform was of the 95th. Not Sharpe, else Carty would have been certain to point that out in some way. He was silent, not daring to look back to his new friend.

A question was asked. The officers? Captain Vickery, he thought, could still be at his billet. But he could also have gone elsewhere, seeing to his riflemen or business. His mind raced with thought, while he uttered an equally tempered: "Sir..." Before turning quiet.

Perhaps they had been made to stand in the rain for a punishment....

"I would be very grateful if you could ask your officers - or Sergeant Harper to ... " Cadoux looked at the house that seemed to be the 95th's billet and sighed. "To meet me here." Duncan had fastened Tulip's reins to a convenient railing and already taken his chest inside, out of the rain.

Carty nodded, and thought to run to the provisioning point and find Harper - for he had no idea where Mister Sharpe was - but he had been left to guard the horse... He would risk it, he decided. "S-sir? Mister Sharpe and Sergeant Harper, away, but I- um."

Pye waited for Carty to give his own report of his officers, though his own wouldn't be quite encouraging either. Away, was the best word the boy used to describe their officers, but it was the worst not to know where they wore.

"..Captain Vickery, sir. .." He'd have to run and find him. Maybe one of the German riflemen would know where he was, or the English. "Away..maybe 60th billet , sir." And back to being quiet, feeling the cool rain on his cheek.

"If not Captain Vickery, one of your lieutenants," Cadoux was prepared to be patient, but not for much longer. The French were marching away, and the riflemen, who should be scouting ahead, were in their billet. "Go and fetch one of your officers... " He turned back to the boy with the horse - amazingly young, and frightened. "A Chosen Man, then ..."

"Sir, I told stand here, with horse- all gone, sir-" Carty said, staring up at the officer with barely concealed terror. "I maybe run, sir, maybe know to Sergeant Harper, but, sir, horse, Mister Sharpe horse, sir, I-"

Pye gave a quick nod, a sharp salute and turned on his heel to go and fetch an officer for this man.

He tried to recall his name and with relief the memory was fetched from his mind. The man said he was Captain Cadoux! And he was of the 95th Rifles!

Easy to remember, the strange name that it was.

With the clouds thick up in the sky, their colour dark gray and as moist as if a river was just waiting to shimmer down upon the earth it was considerably dark. His first stop had been quite logical, for he had gone to the 5/60th's billet where he found it rather deserted. Though in places where there were men it was bristling with movement.

"Ye know where cap'n Vickery 'is?" He asked one of the riflemen just shaking some water from his shako. The man pointed vaguely in the direction, answering a simple. "Weiss nich'." Cooly.

"Thanks." Pye answered and turned where he was sent, wading through the water mucked terrain.

Cadoux watched the rifleman leave then turned back to the child in green. "The horse will do very well out here .... Tulip won't hurt it, if you tie it alongside. And then find your Sergeant..." Who ought to be sensible, and capable of preparing the section to march. He really had not expected to find it so difficult to communicate with riflemen.

"Yis, sir," said Carty, and tied the horse to the same post. "Only little time, sir," he said desperately, and ran as if Cromwell's ghost was chasing him.

There was a moment's jostling for position, then Tulip gave way like a gentleman, and allowed the chestnut mare to stand beside him unmolested. Cadoux smiled and walked into the building, closing the umbrella and shaking the raindrops from it. The house had not been improved by having a succession of soldiers billeted in it - scuffed paintwork and tears in the wall paper - considering the height, probably from a carelessly carried rifle.

Carty ran until he saw Harris, Hagman, Harper and Perkins up ahead, laughing and jostling as they meandered back. "Sarge! Sarge!" Carty shouted. "Officer, sarge!"

"Slow down, Carty - what are you on about?" Harper asked, handing his pile to Harris.

"There's an officer, not Mister Sharpe, a new one - he's just arrived at the sleeping-house with a horse and a huge black parasol and he's asking for Mister Sharpe and I don't where in the world he's got to!" Carty wailed in rapid Irish, knowing that Harris would tell him off for it later, though right now he needed to be fast. Harper nodded, and motioned for Carty to lead the way, following at a jog.

The search in the direction shown by the German rifleman proved fruitless. Guessing that the man might have only been right for a certain period of time and that the captain had already departed that area, Pye changed his course again. He was running, splashing muck about as his shoes sank into the brownish mixture of soil seeping between the stones.

No luck!

"What's the hurry, ey?" Pye whirled around and nearly fell over as a particularly slippery stone found its way under his shoe, his face bright and glistening with wetness, dark bits of hair glued to his skin.

"Weber! " He exclaimed, catching some of his breath, which rolled out in misty clouds of warm air. "Ye Kno' wher' caph'n Vickery is'er?"

"'Nein. Afraid not." The man answered, wondering what such haste was for. "Any officer?" The boy asked with a hopeful, pleading look.

Weber shrugged and then Braun, appearing at the door, pointed a hand southwards. "Look over that way." Pye thanked the two men, and broke off into a run again.