28 May; Twilight Trial

"Come come, gentlemen," Colonel Trevor said by way of greeting, waving the officers into the tent. Chairs had been set up for them on the opposite side of the table behind which Trevor sat. "Let us begin this unpleasant business."

Blackwood managed not to grimace at his colonel's brusque tone. It seemed Trevor was in one of his less-pliable moods. There was no avoiding it though. "Lieutenant Graham, Lieutenant Wiffort. You may sit there. Captain Vickery, here." He pointed out the chairs, then turned toward the tent flap. "Sergeant Burr! The prisoners may come in."

Vickery sat down on the indicated chair. The proceedings should hopefully be straightforward enough, and if Wiffort didn't buck his ideas up, judgement was likely to be on the side of the Riflemen. Or at least, Vickery hoped it would be. If the brusqueness of the Colonel's tone were anything to go by, maybe provosts would be let off.

It could go either way, and he determined to do his best by his men.

Colonel Trevor seemed to have little more patience with the entire thing than Graham did, and the lieutenant began to entertain hopes of being out of here quickly. Sitting next to Wiffort, he breathed slowly out through his nose. He hoped the provost officer would have the sense to check his tongue a little; if Wiffort pushed Trevor too much, it would damage the chances of his men.

For his part, Graham was convinced that there was no way to tell for certain what had happened. He thought it was more likely that the provosts had been at fault, but there was not enough evidence to convict them in his opinion. He expected - unless Wiffort made too grevious an error - that they would be acquitted.

The charges were read - assault on Rifleman Newbury - and the formal declaration of order of proceedings made. The prosecution under Captain Vickery would open the trial and the defence, under Lieutenant Wiffort, would follow. Having made this initial speech, Colonel Trevor sipped at a tin mug that was no doubt filled with wine and looked toward Wiffort. Or, more precisely, toward the three prisoners.

"On this charge, Troopers. How do you plead?"

Wiffort answered Trevor for the three provosts, before Graham could even say anything. "Troopers Lambert, Sykes, and Stephenson plead not guilty. Sir."

"So noted. Captain Vickery. Present your case, sir."

(OOC - I feel unable to think straight for some reason. If anything needs editing, I'll edit.)

IC -

He would, wouldn't he?

Vickery stood. "Sir, I was informed by the batman to one of my lieutenants, that my presence was required at the baggage on another matter. On my arrival, I found that these three provosts had detained a young woman, an acquaintance of one of my men. Due to an earlier injury sustained in action, I ordered Rifleman Newbury to remain behind while I went to deal with the matter for which I had returned to the baggage.

"After dealing with that matter, I returned to find both Newbury and the young woman on the ground, being systematically kicked. The injuries sustained in this attack have set Newbury's return to duty back by some considerable amount, for which I find I have no alternative but to prefer charges, sir."

Trevor's unreadable face turned briefly toward Lieutenant Wffort, whose resentful expression suggested what he thought of that statement. "Have you witnesses to call in support of this charge?" The colonel asked, his gaze sliding back to Vickery.

"I have, sir," Vickery replied, keeping his gaze steady and non-threatening. He extracted a piece of paper and laid it on the table in front of the Colonel.

Pye silently observed the beginning of the trial. He felt uncomfortable there, not that if he was needed, he would not testify. It was only that he disliked this farce, played out even when everybody knew who had done it. Why did they need to hear the story of the provosts? The bastards, who would lie to save their skin, who had lied as was obvious. They did not deserve it.

Well his skin was safe, and theirs would not be, if all was as it should be. The notion made him smile. The appearance of Lambert had him struggle not to grin.

Trevor took a moment to study the paper, then he nodded. "Sergeant. Bring in Rifleman Newbury."

"Here, mate, they'm callin' you," Cotton said, preparing to help Newbury out of the chair he was sitting in. "I'll help you inside, though I won't be 'llowed to stay, me bein' a witness an' all."

Were they? Lovely. Newbury set his jaw and heaved himself up out of the chair. He might as well get used to moving himself around without help sometime.

"This'll be fun," he muttered, determined to keep from leaning on his mate if he could help it. The two sentries outside the tent stared at him in disbelief as he limped slowly through the open flap. Like as not they'd never seen a lad this sort of roughed up before. Sheltered bastards.

"Rifleman Newbury 'portin', sir."

Cotton stuck to Newbury's side like glue until he was through the tent-flap, then glanced at Captain Vickery. He wasn't supposed to be in here just yet. Oops.

"Wait outside, Cotton," Vickery said in a low voice, to which command Cotton replied with a salute, and ducked hastily out again.

He shifted his own chair, glancing towards Colonel Trevor for permission, before addressing Newbury equally quietly. "Sit down here if you need to, Newbury."

"Yes sir." Newbury stepped carefully toward the chair, silently grateful for the nod from the redcoat colonel. The colonel's face did not so much as flicker with any expression, but the provost officer and the redcoat sitting next to him both stared openly.

Newbury set himself into the chair and removed his shako with equal care. Then he waited for further instruction.

Abruptly the tent-flap opened and Woodmarsh sauntered in. He took in the scene before him--a court-martial, it looked like--but he gave little thought to it. He had been told to report to Colonel Trevor, so that was what he had set out to do, nevermind what activity the colonel may have been engaged in. Anyway, Woodmarsh cared little about the plight of some scruffy-looking soliders, like the one in the green jacket sitting in a chair nearby. That man looked to be in a right state!

"Colonel Trevor," Woodmarsh said, addressing the man seated at the table, "Lieutenant Gareth Woodmarsh reporting."

Vickery clasped his hands behind his back, and opened his mouth to ask Newbury his first question. He had barely begun when the tent-flap was abruptly swept aside and a young-looking redcoat officer pushed his way in, seemingly ignoring the protests of the sentries outside.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at the Colonel. As far as he was aware, this young officer had nothing to do with the proceedings and even if he had, he should wait outside until called for.

For a moment, Trevor simply stared at the lieutenant who had invited himself in so summarily. But only for a moment.

"What do you mean, sir?" The colonel cried, his cheeks flushing red to match his jacket. "What damnable fool directed you to enter my tent in such a disgraceful manner? Speak, man!"

Woodmarsh blinked in surprise, more startled at the colonel's tone of voice than anything else. He did not feel the least bit of remorse for having interrupted the court-martial.

"I was told to report to you, sir, and no one else," he said, not sounding at all ashamed of himself. However, he did not wish to anger the colonel too badly, and so he added, "Pardon my interruption, sir."

"No one else..." the colonel quivered and for an instant Blackwood thought the man might burst an artery in his fury. "Have you no honour, sir?" Trevor had come to his feet now and one of the sentries advanced a step, as if believing the colonel would attempt to strike at the errant lieutenant.

"I shall speak to you later of this. For the present, as you are quite keen to report to me, you may stand there, across the tent, damn you, and do not trouble yourself to move - or to speak or even think, if indeed you are capable of it!"

Vickery closed his eyes for a moment, rather than be caught rolling them at the lieutenant's interruption. What kind of a damn fool walked right past a pair of sentries, into a senior officer's tent, interrupting God only knew what? If he had been one of Vickery's officers, he would get the rough side of the Captain's tongue and would never do such a damned idiotic thing again. It seemed the Colonel thought the same, judging by his words. Vickery hid a smile.

No honour? How dare the colonel accuse him of such a thing? All had he done was walk in on a court-martial for some foolish solider. How did that make him any less honourable? Woodmarsh would have gladly defended himself against the colonel's slanderous accusation, but the man seemed to be rather angry now, so perhaps it would be better for him to hold his tongue.

"Yes, sir. If you wish me to wait, then I shall." Woodmarsh said.

He saluted briefly, then relocated across the tent to the spot the colonel had indicated, fuming over having been made to look like a fool in front of the other officers and even worse, in front of some common soldiers.

The salute was ignored. Trevor was in no mood at all to observe pleasantries with an officer he already disliked. He remained on his feet, still red-faced. "Now," he said scathingly, doing his best to return his focus to the task at hand. "Captain Vickery. You may question your witness."

Vickery nodded. "Thank you, sir." He paused, gathering his thoughts again after being so rudely interrupted. "Rifleman Newbury, would you tell the court your version of the events of yesterday evening?"

Newbury had stayed sensibly quiet throughout the interruption, but now, given leave to speak, he did so.

"I saw three provosts down along the baggage train, sir, knockin' a camp follower around fair bad. Had her down on the ground, kickin' away at her, like. Our turnin' up stopped it. You was there, obviously, sir, askin' 'em what the devil they was about an' wantin' to know where their officer was. They said the lass, Jenny, 'd run from arrest, 'cause of some nicked bread or somethin'."

He paused and swallowed, trying to moisten his throat. At least his tongue was not troubling him. "They also said their officer was up some'res with the Thirty-third, so you left me back an' went off there to find him, sir. Soon's you were outta sight, one of 'em gave me a shove an' another tripped me up. That's when the kickin' started."