28 May; Twilight Trial

Sergeant Burr was returning now with Lambert and his two escorts. Good. They were only missing Lieutenant Graham and that fellow Wiffort. Blackwood looked toward Third Company's section of the bivouac but did not see the gangly lieutenant.

"I believe proceedings shall open soon," he said. "Once all the participants are gathered."

Which probably meant he would have to send a man to find Graham. He fell silent, however, upon the arrival of a woman who was obviously known to the Rifles.

The badly-bruised greenjacket attempted yet another smile and answered, "Well, my ribs ain't fallen out, so's it's prob'ly a good day."

She smiled sympathetically and then looked up at the officers. "Guess I better go," she whispered to Cotton. "See you after. Good luck Joe," she concluded, laying a very gentle hand on his shoulder.

Cotton slipped an arm around Maggie's waist. This wasn't like the court-martial they'd held on him, and it wasn't going to be, either. At least it was going to start soon and this awful waiting would be over with. He couldn't help glancing across at Vickery and hoping that it would go his way, for once.

"Never heared o' anybody's ribs fallin' out of 'em, Joe, nor any bones doin' that." Newbury's reply had made him chuckle, though, which was something.

He grasped Maggie's hand as she slipped from his arm. "You get us some good food on, an' we'll tell you 'bout it after, how's that?" he said, and risked giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Never can tell with bones." He lowered his gaze to the forage cap in his hands. The trial would start soon. Now that it was so close at hand, he was dead nervous about the whole thing.

Vickery glanced down at Newbury. "You'll be fine. All you need to do is to tell the court what happened to you and maybe to answer a few questions. The surgeon will give his report, and you'll be free to go."

He turned to Maggie. "Mrs Cotton, do you know if your friend, Miss Ross, would be willing to give evidence this evening?" He hadn't seen Jenny Ross, but that didn't mean anything.

She looked up with surprise when Vickery spoke to her. She was still not used to being addressed by her new surname. "Oh, I'm sorry sir, I haven't seen her today."

No Jenny? Newbury twisted his forage cap up in his hands and privately resented that he felt disappointed by this news.

"Ah." That was somewhat disappointing, yet not wholly unexpected. "I am sure she would be welcome to attend as an observer, if not as a witness. As you are, Mrs Cotton, as the proceeding have some bearing on you both."

Maggie looked horrified. "Me? Sir?"

"Well, on your friend, certainly. And from what I understand, possibly on Cotton too."

Cotton looked at him and opened his mouth as if to say something, before closing it again. "They did have my things out all over the place, Cotton," Vickery said quietly. "And as they were hardly likely to do so due to a grudge against me, it must have been because they had a grudge against you. And that will have some bearing on your wife, after all."

"Oh." Cotton bit his lip. "Hadn't thought of that, sir."

Maggie looked alarmed at that thought. It had not occurred to her either. The last person to hold a grudge against Cotton had been Sergeant Hakeswill.

Cotton slipped his arm around Maggie again. "God knows why, sir. I mean, I ain't a-done anythin' to 'em at all. Likely they only done that 'cause I'm a Rifleman an' mates with Pye an' Joe, here, sir."

Vickery nodded. "Likely that is the only reason for their actions, Cotton."

Maggie took a breath. "Maybe I oughta stay out then, sir."

"It is entirely your choice, Mrs Cotton," Vickery said, feeling a cad for scaring her like that.

She nodded and gave Cotton a squeeze, bobbed another small curtsy for the captain, and slipped away in a hurry.

"You didn't ought to go scarin' her like that, sir," Cotton said, reprovingly. "After all, look what happened the last time someone had a grudge agin me."

Vickery blinked. "It was careless of me to suggest that, and I apologise." He noticed a redcoated figure hurrying towards them and stepped forward to meet him ."I presume you are the counsel for the defence, sir?"

"Lieutenant Graham," Blackwood supplied, his first words in some minutes. It did not surprise him that Graham was late.

Graham nodded. "Lieutenant Graham, sir," he answered. "I believe you have already met Lieutenant Wiffort."

He touched his hat to both Blackwood and Vickery.

"Mister Wiffort." Blackwood nodded in acknowledgment of both salutes. "I daresay you and Captain Vickery are already acquainted?"

Graham's eyes flickered between Wiffort and Vickery. It was clear from the expression on the provost officer's face that he remembered Vickery perfectly well. Furthermore, Graham recalled what Wiffort had said about Vickery previously. Graham suspected that the court-martial was not, in fact, really about the three provosts or the rifleman involved at all. It was a pissing-contest between these two men. Or at least Wiffort was doing his best to make it one.

Graham simply meant to hold up his end, hope that some sort of justice was served out, and most of all that it was done quickly. There were far better things he could be doing than this court-martial.

"We are," Vickery said, noting the expression on the provost officer's face. The man was a boor and seemingly careless of what his men got up to. Not the sort of officer that the Rifles encouraged. It was a shame that the Army as a whole put up with his sort, in Vickery's opinion.

Indeed. Blackwood noted the set of Wiffort's face and was not wholly surprised. He had suspected the provost officer would be something of a snot.

"Very well. Shall we move along? I expect Colonel Trevor will be eager to move things forward."

"Certainly," Vickery replied.

Cotton moved forwards to help Newbury, pausing when he remembered that they were both witnesses and would not necessarily be allowed to be there for the opening of the trial.

"A man will be sent out when you are to join us," Blackwood said to the two greenjackets, taking note of the many bruises on the face of the fellow he'd fetched a chair for. That alone may be damning enough.

"Shall we move along then, sir?" Wiffort asked, his tone bordering on impertinent. He looked at the battered Riflemen without expression and Blackwood guessed he was uncaring about the poor fellow's suffering. Not surprisingly.

"Of course," Blackwood answered mildly. "This way, gentlemen."

Vickery raised an eyebrow. Had any of his Riflemen used such a tone to him, they would find themselves getting very short shrift, and extra duties.

The Rifles officer said nothing, however, content to follow Blackwood into the tent that had been prepared for the court martial.