11th June: Returning with gifts

Leaving the campfire of the 33rd brought unexpected results. A bottle in each hand was not something Pye thought he would be bringing back, even if there was some reason for celebration. Their successful escape, and to him, his new partner.

Still, the 33rd had proven kinder and now, with a grin rather broad on his face he approached his own camp. He passed a few of the Germans and made his way towards the English side. "Oi." Was what he said. "You lot." The Germans might have been welcome even if the bottles were only two, but he would not call them. He did not know any German anyhow." Got somethin'."

"What d'you got we'd want?" Zeb Palmber snorted, not looking up from the fire he was tending.

His brother, however, was frowning at the bottles in Pye's hands. "Where'd you get them?"

"Got a pair o' bottles you might want drinkin'." He glanced between the two Palmers. "Court...cor...cortisy of ..another reg' fer the escapees returnin' home." He hesitated. "..meaning, us lot." He had nearly said it was the 33rd and thought that mentioning that regiment without some better introduction could have the riflemen on edge. No need for that when drink was there!

Now Zeb looked up. Something to drink was hard to turn down, no matter who it came from. Hard, but not impossible.

"What other regiment?"

"T' One who's helped us fine in the past." Pye answered. "Want it, or not? It ain't poisoned." He showed the two bottles. "'s not plenty, but plenny enough, I hope." He smiled at that.

This had Jed frowning. "Them Coldstream?"

One of the Germans had stepped closer and was studying the two bottles with a critical eye. "Vine?"

Wine? Pye had wine? It certainly looked that way, from the two bottles he was holding. Two bottles wouldn't go too far among a whole Company, of course - if Pye even planned to share them.

"Don't matter what other regiment," he said, having caught Palmer's question.

"Don't it?" Zeb wrinkled his nose. "Dunno's I'd trust just anyone that ain't our lot."

"Them bottles look sealed to me," Cotton pointed out mildly. If Pye was willing to share, and Palmer wasn't willing to accept it, there'd be all the more for the rest of the riflemen.

Klepper snatched one of the bottles from Pye's hand. "Ve'll see," he said and opened the bottle without hesitation. He poured himself some, after apparently deciding against drinking straight from the bottle. His mug was empty in a heartbeat. "Is gut," he reported happily.

Pye had thought to offer he'd try first to proove it was not poisoned, as Cotton suggested it was not, but it appeared Klepper was more than willing to try that himself.

"'s for everyone." He said and glanced at the Palmers and Cotton, wishing those would have it first, since it was sort of in their name and for their celebrating success.

It seemed that Klepper's approval was all the others - the wary-eyed Palmers excepted - needed. Tin mugs appeared as if by magic, ready for a portion of wine to be poured.

He looked up from the fire he was sitting in front of at the mention of wine, standing he made his way over to the group, mug in hand.

"I heard vine ja? I can has some ja?"

He moved his lit pipe from one side of his mouth to the other as he eyed the two bottles Pye held.

He stood up from the fire when he saw some people gathering and talking about wine, he also found this a good time to learn some more people to know although he had bin here for some months he didn't know everybody he tended to keep to the germans.

he walked over next to hartmann and said "Guten abend Hartmann, wie geht es?"(Good evening Hartmann, hows it going?) giving him a friendly pad on the shoulder before looking at pye "Oh could one ask of a cup of that wine?" He asked politely looking at pye not knowing two bottles was on the round

A grin came onto Klepper's face and he grabbed the bottle back from Scheringer - whichever one of the two it was. "Ja," he confirmed in German, holding the bottle out to the two newest arrivals. "It is good wine, too."

"ah, Danke schön, Kamaraten!"(ah Thank you comrade) He said as he took the bottle and poored something into his mug before handing it to Hartmann. He then took a sip of the wine "indeed good wine" he replied in fluent english "thank you" he said before raising his cup a bit toward Klepper and Pye

He took the offered bottle before pouring some into his battered mug and handing the bottle on. He sniffed at the contents of his mug before shrugging and taking a sip and grinning.

"Ja, dis is goud. Danke Pye."

"Don't need to thank me." Pye looked very glad that the riflemen enjoyed the wine that he had brought them, though at the same time somewhat shy of it too. He kept one bottle still, knowing that he wanted to save some wine for the likes of his fellow escapees.

"Danke, that's what it means, don't it?... Thanks?" Even more timid now, thinking that he might have mistook the word though it just sounded so similar.

"You goin' to share th'other one?" Cotton asked, spying the bottle Pye was still holding. "Yeah, 'danke' means thanks. Same's 'bitte' means please, or it's all right." He shrugged. "Dunno how far a coupla bottles're goin' to go round, like." He wondered where Pye had got them from, but didn't want to ask in front of everyone else.

"Yes, I would. Would yer like one?" He offered the second bottle to Cotton. "S' fer you lot anyway." he might have one or half of a mug of it too, but no sooner than the others had had their taste. Now that they were not worried he did not need to offer his 'services' as the one who tastes to see if it's poisoned or not. Of course it was not, but just so!

"Aye, I'll take a bit," he replied, accepting the bottle. It was still corked, and he pulled the cork out before fishing for his tin cup and pouring some of the liquid into it. "Where'd you get it from?" he asked, kneeling so that he could put his cup down and re-cork the bottle before offering it back.

"Is it French, do you think?" Klepper asked of Hartmann and Falkenbeck, whichever thought to answer first. He was sure that it wasn't Portuguese wine, anyway. Another swallow from his cup cemented this thought.

"I tole 'em. Another regiment. S' one o' 'em I got friends in..but..they also just said it's summat we deserve couse of us managing to escape." Pye answered vaguely enough, but at the same time not making a single lie. He glanced at the Germans and wondered again why they could not all just speak English and any foreign language be damned. Well, he did know to say thank you and please, this he knew in French too. It was a strange thought that he did, but he sort of liked it too.

he smirked "die französisch würde niemals nennen diesen Wein... portugiese ich denke..."(The french would never call this wine... portuguese i think) before he took another sip of his cup, he wanted to enjoy this cause there wasn't gonna be enough for a 'second round'... "wo in Deutschland kommen Sie auf?" (where in germany do you come from?) he asked klepper and hartmann

Cotton's German wasn't good enough to translate what Falkenbeck had just said... something about the French not calling it wine. He shrugged.

"I've had worse. This's pretty good, not like some stuff - there was one tavern back in Lisbon, don't know if you 'member it - where they served stuff that just tasted of gnat's piss."