Time for Tea, 11th June

Vickery considered his reply. "I think the fact that you helped them escape and got their rifles back for them has gone some way to restoring his faith in you. Consider things from his perspective, though. He has helped train you, taught you about being a Rifleman, treated you as a friend, and then you are there, wearing French uniform, with freedom to move around, being accepted as one of the enemy. It would be only natural that he felt betrayed personally, would it not?"

"It would." Pye agreed. "Though I've been unable ter tell him, it has pained me ter know I needed t' lie to him..even if it would 'elp in t' end. Sir. He's my friend and me.. ment...." He paused trying to remember the correct word and when he thought he found it he said proudly: "Mentor. AN' I know I should be tellin' him that but...one o' t' hardest things was seeing him feelin' that way. I knew he was upset fer something he needn't be.. but it still felt wrong. Like... when I was tole that you were dead sir, but even when I knew that, being tole that you'd be disappointed made me wish this had not been necessary to do, wretched feelin' that one!"

"Mentor," Vickery said, confirming that Pye had indeed got the right word. "You do need to tell him yourself - and I will have a word with him first and make it clear that he needs to at least listen to what you have to say. I do not condone what you did - agree with it, I mean. But as I said earlier, I accept that there were extenuating circumstances that meant that you did something you would not have done if things had been otherwise than they were."

He had not realised at the time that the captured men had thought he had been killed, and he certainly had not realised how Pye would have taken that news. He was not quite sure how he had earned Pye's respect, or how deep that respect ran, but he was willing to accept it.

"I must confess that I was disappointed to hear about it, but I will not let one act tarnish my opinion of you too badly. If you can show me that it was indeed exceptional and unusual for you, there is no need to worry that you have somehow let me down."

"..Don't tell him he must lissen to me, sir. Then it won't be vol...then it won't be what he wants. He won't zactly lissen. Not like if he wanted it." Pye's face fell.

Vickery ought not to have said that he was disappointed. Pye could have taken an accusation which would have ended with a flogging rather than to hear that. He probably would have more easily accepted the noose though the latter he could not quite report about, afterwards.

"I did not want to des'ert!" He spoke with greater vehemence and vigour than he had meant to. "Sir.. I doned their uniform but wore it jus' like a piece o' fabric. I did it not for m'self's comfort. For all I care I could'a been on water only fer that duration o' time or on nothin!" Which for someone who valued food above many things, was quite the statement: ",.. if it saved me from.. from your disappointment." He looked sad and hurt. "It was a fool's plan but we ..we needed ter escape without t' need t' run. Ter get far 'fore they noticed an.. an t' know where we're going so we don' crash inter t' picquets .." He turned quiet just after that. He thought Vickery had understood, but instead he was disappointed and this ended the lad's merry mood.

"Voluntary," Vickery supplied. "All right, if that's what you want."

He looked up at Pye, and frowned a little. Obviously he had just said the wrong thing. He heard the lad out, and hastened to put things right.

"Zachary... I don't think you heard me quite right. I said I was a little disappointed to hear about it. I did not say that I was disappointed in you, personally, or in the result of your actions. In fact, in a way, it shows that you are starting to think like a Rifleman, to think of alternative ways of doing things rather than the most obvious. But I would rather not hear of my men putting on French uniform again, if possible, please."

"Voluntary." Well, he would do best to learn a few of those big words, if he wanted to use them again. Big, or somewhat less complicated, just as long as he did not make a fool of himself trying them out. "Yes. I want him.. to decide he wants to hear me. So it's not obl...Obligatory." Was that right? If he had been in a better mood he might have cared, but he was still shaken even if Vickery's words wished to ease the edge of what he had said earlier. Being called by his name, made him look up. he mulled over the answer for a while longer before addressing that.

"I won't wear it again, then." He nodded. "Not unless you would order me, sir." Which he doubted would happen, but he gave that option up so that somebody might not think he would refuse an order if such. "I...am glad you think it shows that.. that I think like a rifleman. I'd like that." His chick nuzzled up against the Vickery's coat, at full ease yet again.

Vickery nodded. "Obligatory, that's right. And I'm glad to hear it."

He looked back down at the chick, which was now nuzzling against his jacket. "No, there is nothing for you in there, all right?" He looked across at Pye, smiling. "In that case, we'll say nothing more about it, all right?"

"Yes, sir. That would be grand." His smile broadened. He knew there was much more work to be done with the other men, especially Cotton, but atleast the captain though it was no longer a matter that might mark his career poorly.

"Sir, t' French have some of their own, who know English and.. they ain't deserted. ..Not many though. Wot' I've seen. Most are daft of our language, but there's some that is not safe ter talk 'round if they's prisoners or summat. He shook his head at the chick. "If she bothers you sir, I'll take 'er. She doesn't like some people, but seems to right like t' others a lot!" The chick seemed to ignore their conversation, more busy in finding herself a comfortable spot and perhaps to discover a hidden stash that should have been saved only for her.

"Yes, that's quite likely - I daresay there are some Frenchmen who were prisoners in England during the last war or something like that," Vickery said, and looked back down at the chick. "I told you, I have nothing in there for you." He gently scooped the little ball of fluff up and handed her over to Pye.

"I think, however, with regard to your learning another language, you want to concentrate on those you'll hear every day, which will be German and possibly Portuguese. Although there's no harm in learning French, I just don't think you will be called on to use it so much."

"Portugese is like French, is it not?" Well, perhaps for that statement alone if there had been any Portuguese around, they would have hacked the lad to pieces. He took the protesting chick and placed it gently into his lap. The little beasty seemed to complain for a little while, but once she realised that nobody was paying attention to her, she settled down again, sulking.

"Sir, how many languages do you understand yesself?" He thought that the other man probably knew them all, but wanted to ask, just so.

"Not... really. Portuguese is more like Spanish than French," Vickery said, a little taken aback. He was trying not to smile at the thought; he had a feeling that if he were to smile openly, Pye would take affront.

He leaned back, considering. "I speak English, German and French and have a fair understanding of Portuguese, too."

"The Portuguese are more like t' Spanish." Pye murmured and smiled. Well if they were alike in language, they had to be alike in other ways too. He blinked and stared at Vickery.

"English, German, French, Portuguese? So that means a Spanish too." He looked stunned."That is... that is so many languages!" He made a note not to use any words he learned infront of Vickery. He was not completely sure which were good and which were really bad curses or what some of the things he was told truly meant.
"How did you learn so many?" He paused and decided Vickery was just smarter than everybody else too.

"I don't know Spanish the way I do Portuguese. We wintered in Lisbon, after all. I think several of the Riflemen can speak a bit of Portuguese now. It is only natural to pick up on a language when you are surrounded by people speaking that language, after all - that's why I expect you to end up speaking at least a bit of German."

He thought for a moment. "I learned English the same way you did. I had a German tutor before going to school, and learned French when at school. And as I say, we spent the winter in Lisbon, where I was billeted with a Portuguese family."

"It is. Though.. there's sumthing of a difference between knowing enough t' speak and knowing enough t' feed yourself." The lad smiled. He did not think everybody could learn as well as to hold a long conversation.

"So....you only learn that much if you have a tutor then, sir?" Not so happy about that.

Vickery shook his head. "Not at all, Zachary. That just happens to be how I learned. I picked up Portuguese because I had to - I was living in a house where the family with whom I was billeted couldn't speak English, so I had to try to learn Portuguese."

He shrugged. "It will be the same for you - the 60th have a German majority. I mean, most of the men in it are German. So you will hear people speaking German every day. It will be almost impossible not to learn at least some German, in that case."

"Sir.. wot' if I wanted t' learn more n' just a few words? Like wot' if I wanted to know so much as you do o' German. Sir... is it at all possible that sum'one like me could do that?" He doubted it but if Vickery said no, he would know for sure then.

"..I know...I know so far that Nein.. means no... n' .. Ja.. means yes. I head that much. AN'.. .I know that.. that essen.. I think it's essen... it means eat or maybe it means eating.. i'm not sure. Could be food..." He looked apologetic at his lack of knowledge.

"Of course it is. You're an intelligent enough young man, after all," Vickery replied. Being illiterate was no indicator of intelligence after all; Cotton had only recently started learning to read and write, and he was very intelligent, in Vickery's opinion.

He nodded. "Essen is to eat, yes." He smiled. "Du bist ein Jäger. You are a Rifleman."

Pye looked thoughtful for a moment. Du bist..You are.. ein then had to be a.. and if that was so, Jäger was rifleman. "Du bist ein....Captain , sir." Well, not as bad as it could have been. Eh?

"Haas.... is that rabbit, sir?" He tried to pronounce it well again, but was no longer sure of it. The kind compliment made the lad grin again, all of the earlier woes forgotten.

(OOC - perhaps this is a good place to point out that Sharpie doesn't speak German, and is learning this stuff from Pye's player... )

"Something like that. Only, you would say, Sie sind ein Hauptmann. But that's not bad, for a first attempt. Hase is wild rabbit, the sort you'd have in the pot out here." He smiled at the little ball of fluff in Pye's lap. "Here's another one for you. A chick, like yours, is ein Küken. Du hast einen Küken, you have a chick."

(ooc - now you're going to blame me if there's any mistakes, that's unfair! )

"Du hast ein..en Küken. " He nodded slowly. "So.. this is einen Küken? ..why not ein like before?" He hesitated. "Is German very complicated?.. Couse if English was easier why wouldn't they learn English rather than making us learn German?" He paused again, thought a moment. "I know another word.. but I don't think I may say it infront of a captain!"

(OOC - Of course I wouldn't blame you for my mistakes! That wouldn't be fair!)

Vickery paused, considering his answer. "It's how the grammar works. It changes depending on how you are using the noun - the naming-word. Chick, in this instance." He smiled. "Trust me, it's easier to learn it to use it than it is to work out why it goes the way it does. And nobody will think you're silly for making mistakes because they'll know you're learning. The same way that you wouldn't think one of the German riflemen silly when he makes a mistake in English, because he's learning it."

He chuckled. "Officers swear too, you know. Although we are more likely to say 'damn your eyes' than anything more... crude.."

Pye's cheeks coloured but he laughed all the same. "I knew you cursed, is' jus' some officers don't like their men t' curse at all an some don't want t' hear it." He leaned back as well, allowing the chick to sleep where she was lying quite comfortably.

"Do you swear, sir?.. I mean... a lot. More n' damn your eyes. When you're really upset." He dared to ask that, though again he felt somewhat unsure whether this would upset or offend the other man or not. "Do yer... let Gabe swear?"

"There are some officers who don't swear and don't like their men to swear, either. And there are some men who swear at the least little provocation, even if they are officers. It isn't particularly a gentlemanly thing to do, really." He chuckled. "And yes, I have been known to swear myself. Though generally only when badly hurt - I believe I swore at the surgeon when he doused the gash in my side with brandy. He was only doing his job, but it did take me rather by surprise, and it hurt like, well. A lot."

He shifted to get a little more comfortable. "I've never really heard Cotton swear, which isn't to say he's never done it. I don't think he's really the sort to swear a lot, no matter the company he is in at the time."

Pye nodded. This was the nicer sort of conversation that he much preffered. It was no talk about who was to blame for what, or who got in trouble, but rather a talk about other things. He relaxed some and managed another grin. "Sir..t' surgeons are not safe ter swear at. I think it goes even if yer an officer." Though at that he asked more in concern. "Are you doin' a'right now, sir?.. Wot' with the injury! We thought.. honest thought you were dead. It hit us somewhat terrible back in camp. Cotton too. You ought've seen him..Well.. He'd blood....he'd faint if he saw you then, but it would be from joy at knowing that he was wrong!"

He smiled and added quietly. "An... I know t' swear in French now.. so.. if we meet 'em. They can hear it from us!"

Vickery nodded. "I am fine now, thank you. I had a nasty gash in my side and was kicked in the head by a French horse. I think, all things considered, I was very lucky not to have been killed, although I had a head like a blacksmith's anvil and couldn't see straight for a couple of days afterwards."

And of course it would have hit Cotton hard. The Rifleman had nearly pounded him on the back when they'd got back to camp and he'd realised that the Captain wasn't dead after all.

"I'm not entirely convinced that swearing at the French is as effective as shooting at them," he said mildly, the picture making him grin.