28 May; Twilight Trial

Did that mean he could go? Newbury steeled himself for the inevitable dismissal and was therefore surprised when the redcoat colonel, by now having resumed his seat, looked to the lieutenant sitting with the provosts and said "Mister Graham. Your witness."

Graham nodded, and looked hard at Newbury. "In your version of events you failed to mention some relevant details. The wound on Trooper Lambert matched your sword bayonet. Can you provide an explanation for this?"

Oh. Yes. That.

"I can't, sir. I don't remember much after I got kicked to the head... the third time, I think."

Graham nodded. That little detail cast some doubt on Newbury's entire testimony, he thought, which was exactly what he had hoped. "I have no further questions for Rifleman Newbury, sir."

Damndamndamn. Newbury seethed inwardly. He wished he could remember the whole thing.

"You may go," the colonel told him. "Sergeant. Send for Rifleman Cotton."

Newbury came shakily to his feet and made a point to fit his shako on properly before limping toward the tent flap. He'd just blown it, hadn't he?

Cotton swallowed as the tent flap opened and Newbury hobbled out, and swallowed again, harder, as the Sergeant called for him.

He entered the tent and stood to rigid attention with his shako under his arm.

"Rifleman." Colonel Trevor nodded slightly at the fellow. "Be seated, if you like. Sergeant Burr, the Bible."

Burr held out the leather-bound volume. In only a moment the formality of swearing the witness to oath was finished and Burr retreated to his place by the tent flap.

Newbury made it several paces away from the tent, happily under his own power, before his knee hitched. His feet caught on each other and he was barely able to keep his balance. He could not fathom the indignity of falling on his face in this place, surrounded as he was by the stiff-backed Guards.

"Idiot!" He burst out, grabbing the shako from his head in a quick movement that made near-everything hurt like blazes. He flung the headgear away and cursed feelingly, disgusted that he had not remembered the bit about his sword-bayonet. Bloody stupid!

OOC - if this doesn't work, I'll edit.

IC -

Sit down? Not with all these officers around, he couldn't. Cotton took the Bible and repeated the oath, feeling unreasonably as though he was the one on trial, again.

"Would you explain to the court the events leading up to the assault on Rifleman Newbury?"

Cotton focussed on the canvas wall of the tent above the Guards Colonel's head. "Well, sir, they come up to us, practic'lly accusin' us of lootin', sir. They made me turn out your things, sir - ended up pretty much throwin' 'em all over the road. There warn't anythin' to find, sir, o' course, but they went an' rifled through Newbury's stuff as well, which had bin left in the surgeon's wagon." He flicked his gaze down to the Colonel's face for a second. "He'd left it there on account of havin' a gammy knee, sir, y'see."

Stephenson leaned toward his officer and whispered something. Mister Wiffort listened a moment before lightly touching Lieutenant Graham's sleeve and muttered something into the redcoat's ear. There was a very slight nod from Graham as he made a note on the mostly-blank paper on his knee.

"An', well sir, there weren't anythin' to find." He didn't quite dare to add 'of course' to that. He broke position enough to look towards Vickery. "An' you come up, sir, 'cause you'd heard about it an' wanted to have a word with their officer 'bout what they'd done to your stuff. An' we got back from talkin' with their officer to find 'em kickin' ten kinds of sh... to find 'em kickin' the liver an' lights out of Rifleman Newbury."

Should he mention Jenny? He wasn't sure.

At this, Stephenson had leaned forward again, but Mister Wiffort flicked his fingers at the man in a gesture to show he was to resume his place. This was rich, the lieutenant thought. Absolutely rich. First that bruised-up brute and his flimsy testimony. Now this. Ridiculous.

"Was Newbury the only person they were kicking in?"

Cotton shook his head. "No, sir. They had Jenny Ross, as well, sir."

"And how would you describe their treatment of her?

Cotton took a breath. "Well, sir, they'd tied her hands together, in front of her, sir. An' when I saw her, she was on the deck too, with one of 'em layin' into her."

The Guards lieutenant glanced at Wiffort sidelong and leaned toward him casually.

"I do not suppose you know where this Ross woman is now?" Graham asked quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

Wiffort shook his head. In truth he did not care about the woman or her whereabouts.

"Hm." Graham leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful.

"Describe the scene as you saw it, if you will, Cotton."

The Rifleman took a breath. "Well, sir, Miss Ross an' Rifleman Newbury was both on the ground, sir. All curled up, 'cause of the kickin' they'd bin takin'. There was a provost down too, sir, an' the other two was still standin'. One of 'em had Newbury's sword in his hand. Rifleman Pye was holdin' a rifle on 'em too, sir."

"A rifle? Do you know if this rifle was loaded?"

Coton considered. "I don't know for sure, sir, but we'd bin doin' a bit of trainin' earlier, sir - along the line of the march, sir," he added, for the Colonels benefit, in case he should think they'd been trying to get away or something. "It'd be pretty strange if he had loaded it, comin' back to the column, like an' not expectin' any trouble. Him bein' a new Rifleman an' all, too."

Wiffort lifted an eyebrow. A possibly unloaded rifle... if that was so, he was going to have some particular words with his men, for being cowed by an empty firelock. He noted also that Graham had added another small note to his single sheet of paper. Perhaps this redcoated turd intended to be of real use after all.

Vickery nodded. "I do not believe I have any more questions for this witness, sir."

"Lieutenant Graham."

The redcoat lieutenant consulted his scrawling notes. "You state that 'they' threw your captain's things all over the ground. Who is 'they'?"

Oh, damn it. The ones who'd chucked Vickery's baggage out were not the same ones who were on trial here. He was just about to wreck his credibility as a witness, wasn't he? "It was a big guy called Giles an' another one, sir."

Though it had got wearing, having provosts, whoever they were, riling them. But that wasn't going to wash with anyone, was it?

Graham nodded slowly. "And is this fellow Giles present now?"

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He felt as though his neck-cloth was choking him. "No, sir."

"I see." Graham glanced again at his paper. "One last question. This Ross woman. Is she connected at all with your company?"

"She, um, has an understandin' with Rifleman Newbury, sir." What on earth did that have to do with anything?

He had suspected as much. "I have nothing further, sir."

Colonel Trevor grunted. "You may go, Rifleman. Sergeant. Bring in Rifleman Pye."

"Suddenly," Blackwood muttered so only Vickery might hear him, "I do not like our chances."