27 May; Pursuing a prankster

"Sir.. I was part'ly aware you could do that." He looked to Vickery seriously thinking of Newbury. "I was not certain." He added as an afterthought. A court martial would see them without punishment in his opinion. The act was necessary as well as rather entertaining.

There was little that Matthew could have added to the discussion between the other officers and the sergeant looking into the matter; he remained quiet as a consequence, having said his piece. Once the sergeant was dismissed, Matthew took that as his dismissal as well. He'd come here to loan them the use of Lavinia, and she had done her duty in finding the sack. For his part, Matthew had had his curiosity satisfied as far as it was likely to be, as well; he doubted Lavinia was going to find much else, and the investigation appeared to have been dropped.

He'd therefore bade a goodnight to the others, as soon as the sergeant and his men had gone their own way, and set off back for his own encampment.

"Are you also aware that what you did was the same basic act as what they did to Newbury? And that the provost officer would be well within his rights to press charges against you, as I am against his men?" Vickery spoke quietly, determined to get the seriousness of the situation across to the young Rifleman.

Cotton swallowed, hearing the quietness of the officer's voice. The officer was angry, not at Pye, but at the situation PYe had put himself in.

"Yes sir. .. but only if I was found." He had almost said, that unlike the provosts who were blatantly stupid, very little evidence suggested that he himself, had been at fault. His words still suggested it. He glanced at Cotton, and saw the man swallow. The quietness, he had noted it and realised that it might well mean that the officer was very upset. Much more than if he was going to shout.

"You were found, though. God only knows how the Sergeant was persuaded that you were not the one who did it. You ave tar on your hands, after all. Whatever possessed you to think that such a thing might be a good idea? Do you not trust that such an act as theirs will be punished under the King's Regulations and the law, that you have to inflict punishment of your own?"

He took a breath, determined that however angry he was, he was not going to treat Pye unfairly here and now. Lieutenant Sharpe would probably hand the man to his Sergeant to deal some rough justice of his own, but that was not how Vickery ran his Rifle Company.

"..Permission to speak..m' mind sir?" The lad inquired, for there was the sort of answer which could be honest, and yet not in the manner in which a soldier should think, and then there was the drilled answer with which he could keep his reply as short as, yes sir or no sir.

He made a quick affirmative gesture, unseen in the darkness. You could learn more useful information about a soldier, or a set of circumstances, during an unofficial conversation.

"Permission granted, Pye." He clasped his hands behind his back and waited to hear what the lad had to say.

"I don't think they'd 'ave been punished sir. Not like they deserve it. Not .. pro'lly at all. They's eels sir. That's how they wiggle out'a t' hold o' t' law. Snakes that strike like. " He shook his head stiffly. "So they'd do it. Some'ow. They wouldn't get wot' they deserve. N' they near killed Newbury, sir. Got 'im all worse battered than he already was. "His voice held some of his loathing of the men and some of the anger, even if much contained.

"But wot' they'd get.. if.. if'un anything at all. Jus' a slap on t' wrist. Sir. Now, it ain't jus' a slap on t' wrist."

"Ah." So that was what it came down to. "Pye, I told you when we first met that I do not hold with flogging apart from in certain situations. This is one of those situations. I do not intend to let them get away with what they did to Newbury. He is a Rifleman of my Company, he was gravely assaulted when already injured and I will see them punished for that."

He was not sure how much Pye knew about the circumstances of Cotton's flogging, but doubtless his batman would fill the lad in. "If a man can be flogged for being found guilty of intending to steal a watch, a man can be found guilty of deliberately causing severe injury to another soldier."

"Is so sir. But some men don't. They cn' do wot' they wish.. n' not get in trouble for it.. but others will." He was thinking of Hakeswill, he was thinking of how officers held a fine enough opinion of himself, and yet there was something terribly sinister with the man as well.

"They'll get others to, sir." Perhaps he did not know the exact details of Cotton's crime, but in ways of how much he knew of that man, his words were directed well.

"Do you trust me to do my level best on Newbury's behalf?" Vickery asked. "You came within an inch of being court martialled yourself, you know. Do you ever think your actions through, consider the consequences of what you do and how it might affect those around you?"

"..Yes, sir." He did trust Vickery to do his best on Newbury's behalf. He only did not trust that the other party would do the same. That the one who should decide on the sentence would have done the same.

He frowned at his captain's words, and waited only for him to finish before speaking: "..I do sir...is why I made sure them other riflemen... they were seen or in company,.. or.. I knew they were havin' this ..proof that they couldn't be there." He didn't know the word for it.

"An alibi." Vickery considered that. "Did you consider the consequences to yourself, or to me, as your officer?"

"..If'n I didn't get caught.. t' counse... con... t' stuff after wouldn't 'appen sir. 'couse nobody'd be t' blame. " He lowered his gaze again. It wasn't easy to be asked such questions by the man one held in high regard. It felt like scolding much more than he wished to take on.

"..I didn' think 'bout you sir. ..thought officers don't get 'ffected by wot' their subordinates do. Is always t' fault o' us, sir. Nobody else." He shrugged faintly. "N' if I wos' caught... 'least t' provost would've gotten wot' he deserves.." He hesitated. "... I know flogging sir." But there, he did not say he could have done alright with it. He would not have been alright at all.

"Unlike your previous regiment, officers of the Rifles do care and what their subordinates do does affect us. After all, we are in much closer proximity in the Rifles than in a regiment of the Line - and I have had experience of both. And there will be consequences, even here. After all, a Rifleman should always know what his actions might lead to, especially when takign the law into his own hands. And the next time you go and do something wild and irresponsible like that, it may very well be the triangle."

He glanced to Cotton. "Have you explained about Company courts-martial, Cotton?"

Another swallow. "No sir."

"..Sir?" His face fell a little. There was still going to be a court martial? He was promised to avoid the triangle this time, which meant he would not be flogged, but what was a company's court-martial? What did it mean?

He looked at Cotton, urging him to spit it out fast, and simple. "What.. is it?"

This was not how he'd wanted to explain this. "It's like a regimental court martial, only it's kept in the company. No officers - whoever's bein' tried is heard by three Riflemen - well, nobody above the rank of Corp'ral, They can't have a man flogged, but they can fine him or have him cobbed, things like that." He sighed. "What the Captain does, is give a man the choice, to take what he'll give out, or be tried at a Comp'ny court martial, by the Riflemen, with no officers involved."

He knew Vickery would follow through with the giving of punishment. It could possibly be worse than what the riflemen did, or chose to do. They held no ill feelings towards him, so that perhaps he could fare better of that way.

"Cobbin', finin'." He nodded slowly then after a moment, and a scowl later: "Wot's.. cobbin, Gabe?"

"Cobbin's..." He glared through the dark at the silent, impassive figure of the Captain. "It's basic'lly bein' spanked with a wooden board. S'posed to be done in front of the whole comp'ny, though it us'lly ain't. An' there's havin' your coat turned, which is havin' the letter C sewed on your sleeve, which is there for a week or two weeks, an' that'll mean fourpence stopped from your pay for it, too." He shrugged again careless of the fact it couldn't be seen. "Though, once it's done, it's over - ain't anybody will bring it up an' rub your nose in it afterwards."

"...there ain't many riflemen 'round t' decide..." He murmured and shrugged. Instinctively he looked at his sleeve when the punishment was mentioned. "So......'ow do they decide ? You all meet up n'...discover yer ailments? I mean.. wot ails ye with a person?.. I dunno, Do I 'ave a choice too?.."He turned to Vickery. ".....when do ye decide? .... You wouldn't.." Decide that he had done something wrong? Wishful thinking. Decide that ..

He was safe though. No flogging meant one young rifleman a happy man.

"You'd come back to the Company for it," Vickery said. "And it's a proper trial, carried out fairly and impartially. The only input I would have is if I were called to testify, and whatever the panel decide, I would abide by. Whatever that decision is." He puased to let that sink in. "The choice is yours: Accept whatever punishment I decide to give you, or stand trial before your peers and accept their judgement."

Neither option was certain to bring him a light punishment. Officers tended to offer the worst to their men, while peers, who had been in a similar situation, could offer a lighter punishment in turn. It wasn't though as if Pye had actually ever before experienced the joys of a company court-martial. What he had really known was the usual, flogging sort. He had been witness to it, he had been the participating party. It was officers, who had decided on the final fate then.

Perhaps he could trust Vickery not to lay it badly on him, but the man was still of a higher rank and to Pye, subconsciously that meant, a somewhat greater threat. "Sir...I think I'll take t' trial 'fore m' peers. Though i's certain yours.. uh judgement would'a been jus' as fair." But not as light. The sense that he could not be flogged made the lad less worried. The triangle would not be met. Not on his side of the bargain.

Vickery inclined his head. "So be it. You both may be needed as witnesses against the provosts, but when that trial is over, you shall accompany me back to rejoin the rest of the Company, and I shall arrange for things to be carried out there." He looked between them both; their faces were no more than pale blurs in the darkness now. "Now, it is getting late. I suggest you both find somewhere to get your heads down."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." Pye gave a smart salute, disturbing the chick in his sack, which made a sleepy chirp of protest. It was half hearted and barely worth a notion. He averted his gaze to look at Cotton, or the outline of the man at the very best. Did he need to worry? He raised his arms to a provost once, to stop the maltreating of a fellow rifleman. No, he did not worry. And he would have done it again.

"Night, sir." Cotton saluted the captain, and took Pye's arm to guide him away. "Of all the...! Holdin' a rifle on a guy to make him stop beatin' someone senseless for no reason is one thing, but goin' off an' doin' God knows what to a man lyin' injured is summat else entirely! No wonder the Captain's hoppin' mad - I would be an' all!" The words were quiet, almost hissed out - Cotton did not want to let everyone in the area know what had happened.