A Company Court-Martial

Cotton felt Pye's fingers loosen their hold on his sleeve. He was going to feel that for a while. Roper returned the board to Sergeant Fischer, murmuring his thanks in German, before bending to pick the Punishment Book up. He tucked it under his arm and came to stand in front of Pye.

"No hard feelin's, I hope?" he said, unsure of whether to offer his hand or not.

Pye looked at Roper. He was yet again surprised how differently the riflemen acted. He had come to him after all, and asked him something he could not see many do. He shook his head and held his hand, albeit timidly. "..No hard feelings. Wos' your duty.." He said with a nod. He didn't blame Roper. If anything he could have been grateful to the riflemen. Cobbing beat flogging any day, even if it did hurt. "Sorry.. bout that Cotton." He did not mean to squeeze so tight.

Roper gave the offered hand a firm shake.

Cotton nodded at his friend. "There'll be a cup of tea for you, time you're done with that," he said, nodding at the book under his friend's arm. "C'mon, Zack, let's go have a cup o' tea an' bite to eat."

Pye stepped a bit awkwardly at first. The fabric felt surprisingly coarse at the moment. Almost as if he had gotten the worst deal in his life when he bought those trousers. "Comin'." He said though, and masked the discomfort behind a shy smile. ".....uh.... no hard feelings.. Gabe?"

"No hard feelin's. Jus' don't do it ag'in, that's all." Cotton smiled. "Anyhow. Tea. Here y'go." He hastily added boiling water from the kettle to the two mugs which were waiting near the fire. "Get that into you, you'll be fit as a flea in no time."

"Don't think you'll appreciate me as a flea. Gabe. Fit, or not." He took his mug and did as he usually had thought to do when a mug was in hand. He flopped himself down on the ground. Only before he had never had as much trouble as this time. With the height from which he had dropped, combined with the relaxed plop of weight, neither slowed now cushioned, he could've not found a worse place to do it.

He yelped in surprise and in pain, and spilled part of the tea as he was pushing himself up to the side. "Bloody, cursed!"

"Careful, there!" Pye had moved too quickly for Cotton to be able to stop him. "Here, you all right, mate?" He held out a hand to take Pye's mug back so the other Rifleman could sort himself out.

"..forgot." Pye held his mug to Cotton. When he was able to release it, he scrambled to his feet and stood rather. "..'bout that." He was red on the cheeks, though it might well have been out of shame at the spectacle. "..I think I'll stand, aye." He smiled sheepishly.

"It won't last long." He topped Pye's mug back up. "You didn't scald yourself, I hope?" He looked up at the sky. It seemed to be clear, but whether it would last, he didn't know.

"I know it won't. N' it's not so bad. Jus' I don't think I'm meant ter hop onto it just now." He was fortunate that the spilled tea did not land on his hands or face, but rather splashed harmlessly past him, for the most part. "Thankee." He said and held the mug for the tea to cool. "Think it's goin' ter rain?" He brought his thumb up to point at the sky.

"Rain? Might do. It has bin a bit of a mis'rable spring this year."

He wrapped his hands around his own mug, thinking that he would like to go back to the baggage and see how Newbury was getting on. He missed Maggie, too, and had thought that they would have more time together than just a couple of days.

"Gabe, I think I'll be fine." Pye hesitated. "If you have somewhere to be. I won't go anywhere, 'cept to feed my chick." He yawned. " So if you want summat time...'fore we are starting to get back..." He hesitated: "Which I wanted ter ask you about...when are we returnin' ter t' fighting?"

"Ain't got anywhere to be, mate," Cotton replied. "Well, not unless the captain sends me back up to the baggage train for some reason." He blew the steam off his tea. "Fightin'? Dunno. Recko the Frogs have had a bellyful of fightin' the way they'm runnin'. Can't be too sure they won't turn an' try to give us a bloody nose, though." He shrugged.

"You think they's got a chance not to run all t' way to Paris?" Wherever that was. He didn't know, but he hoped it was close. Chasing for months, even years after the French, would be rather tedious. And he would be hungry too, if that happened.

"No idea, mate. Be nice if it was over quick, though I dunno how it will be - we've bin fightin' the French for years, since I was in petticoats." He had a mouthful of tea. "I'd like to bring me kids up without worritin' 'bout them - or havin' them worry 'bout me. I just don't think it's so bit likely to happen, that's all."

"You'll be a good dad, Gabe. You show's it now. T' way yer carin' for Joe, n' me. Think your kids'll be alright, though I hope t' war'll be done for you by then. You'd deserve it." He smiled. "You n' yer lass. " He sipped from his mug. "I dun' mind fighting, but I hope yer get t' free of in soon." Once the war was over, he would have nothing, so perhaps for Pye, the war itself and the time the army needed him had become more of a life he could hope for. And he got used to it and hardly learned anything useful for a civilian, normal life.

"I dunno. It's kind of funny, thinkin' I'll be a dad one day." He sighed, content. "Y'know, I was only a nipper meself when the Frogs did for their King an' we went to war with 'em. I don't even 'member there not bein' a war on, y'know. There was a oak, a big old thing, in the hedge up at the top of the Long Meadow, when I was young. An' it wasn't long after that that a bunch of men came around - some folks said they was from the Royal Dockyard, at Chatham, an' they cut it down an' took it away, to be turned into part of a Navy ship."

He chuckled. "Left a vast great hole in that there hedgerow, it did. 'Member 'em puttin' in a fence across where it had been - one of the men planted an acorn there. Said if there'd bin an oak tree afore, there'd be one there again, one day."

"That's nice... I 'member m' life 'fore t' war.. couse well, I didn't know they'd done for any kind let alone a king. I didn' care fer it really. Just lived on n' off things..t' streets, then t' land." He smiled warmly at the memory. "'borrowed' things.. ter make a livin' .. ter live." He leaned back. "See.. that's why I'll always live like that. I dun' have t' know hows, like you. When t' war's over...n' if I'm no longer needed by t' army.. then.." He hesitated. "Then I'll be back on t' street. Maybe back home." Stealing of the same land, if it was possible.

"..is why I can't see to a lass either.., I'm not good at money,.. and I won't have any for long."

"You can allus learn skills, though. Not easy to teach farmin' things on the march, but summat like basket-makin' - or makin' anythin' useful. Folks'll buy that sort of thing an' that'll give you a bit o' money to live on, won't it? Don't have to go right back to how it was afore you 'listed, not if'n you'm willin' to learn a skill, y'know."

"I'm daft, Gabe. You said it yeself. How 'zactly do you think I could learn summat so complicated. Firin' a rifle.. that goes." He looked at Gabe. "But making a basket. That's art.. needs a mind. T' right mind!.. n' you lot already teach me so much... I'd be selfish , were I ter ask fer more." He shook his head.

"You... We was aireated when I said that - upset, like, I mean. It's only daft if folks don't think of the future, of what might happen." He shrugged. "You seen an oak tree ain't you?"

"..I've seen an oak tree sometime yes. I think at least. I've seen a tree, if that helps." He frowned. "I'm daft then, though..... you said thinkin' ahead.. I only think 'head enough not to be hungry. " He frowned. "..so that makes me daft.. still."

"Well, an oak tree don't start out bein' the size it is. Starts out small - you can fit an acorn in your pocket. But if there weren't any acorns planted, we wouldn't have any oak trees. You got to think ahead - what d'you want to do, or to have, or to be? An' what's the way o' gettin' there? Learn summat, mebbe. You don't have to be perfick at it when you'm learnin' it, do you? Everyone makes mistakes, you just got see what went wrong an' learn from that." He finished his tea and turned to throw the dregs away.

"Fer thinkin' ahead yer need more money.. Gabe. Fer learnin' yer need someone patient enough... Do you really think I ain't too old ter learn summat like that craft?.. N' anyway. I need money ter start off. Ter get t' material. I'll waste mine. I know. I ain't smart ter know who'll trick me n' who not!"

"You'm younger'n me, an' I'm learnin' me letters," Cotton pointed out. "Which is summat I'd've thought I was too old to do." He shook his head. "For summat like basket-makin', you can find the stuff you need out in the fields an' by the rivers without payin' for it."