11th June: Returning with gifts

Abandoning the uncomfortable attention stance, Freddie darted to the kettle. Yes, there was still enough tea, and it was hot and strong.
He started to grin again, only half hearing that Pye offered wine: The captain of the company would drink his tea!

Only ... Freddie looked around for a suitable mug, somewhat at a loss in what an officer expected to get his tea served.

"Wine?" Vickery asked. "Certainly, if you don't mind sharing it. Otherwise I would be perfectly content with tea."

He looked from one Rifleman to the other. "So, if I may ask, what were you talking about just now? And relax, do, before you strain something!"

And young Rottländer had darted over to the kettle, before looking around, clearly at a loss. He held his tin mug out to the lad. "Here."

"Don' mind sharin' sir." Though he would not be able to mix wine with tea. Just would not do, to try that! "..we was....." He was quiet for a moment. "Talkin' about food a bit.. an'..'bout where we are from, sir." He glanced at the lad and grinned. "He's a batman, sir. Him."

While Pye talked to the captain, Freddie took the mug, whiped it and then filled, all with a reference as if in church.

He then presented it, handle first, to Vickery. "Bitte sehr, Herr Hauptmann." He wasn't sure what the English phrase was, but hoped that Vickery would recognize the intention.

Then he suddenly realized that Cotton had something about the captain liking sugar in his tea. For a moment panic flashed in his eyes. He had no sugar and didn't even know how to explain. "Entschuldigung ... wir haben keinen Zucker ... no sugar", he stammered, his colour returning to its previous beet red state.

He was glad that Pye had offered the wine. He pointed to it and asked uncertainly: "Should I ... the mug ... Möchten Sie die Tasse zurück?"

"Danke schön," Vickery replied, taking the offered cup. He continued in the same language, "No, that is all right without the sugar. Don't worry."

Rottländer was not the first of his men to get flustered when Vickery turned up, wanting nothing more than a friendly chat. He hoped that his habit of talking to his men would begin to reassure them that he was not looking for some excuse to have them up on a charge for some perceived fault or other.

He looked around for somewhere to sit, and perched on the fallen log. "How do you like being a batman, then?" he asked, reverting to English, but speaking slowly and clearly so that the Rifleman could understand him easier.

Realizing that the captain didn't intend to bite and would probably not be impressed by a batman who acted more like a headless hen, Freddie tried to calm himself. His fingers strayed to his rifle again, but he firmly suppressed the motion. The captain would probably think he would accidentally shoot him.

Gulping, Freddie tried for a coherent answer. "I ... like it very much ... Sir! Thank you! But I only cleaned Captain Torrington's horse now."

"Calm down," Cotton said, kneeling to put some more wood on the fire. "He ain't goin' to eat you." He straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"Well, that is a good start," Vickery acknowledged, blowing the steam off his tea, trying not to chuckle at Cotton's expression at the sight of his officer drinking smouch. "It's smouch, Cotton, it's as likely to kill me as it is to kill you."

"But, sir..." Cotton broke off, trying not to sigh, though he had to duck his head because he couldn't prevent himself from rolling his eyes, something Vickery shouldn't see him doing.

Pye observed the exchange quietly, lowering the arm that held their wine and sitting himself slowly back onto his spot. He was feeling a bit awkward. There were two batmen, one offier and one private.. one rifleman. THat was him. He felt rather out of place but at the same time, he had to think of the other pair as very similar to himself, only better paid and with extra duties and an access to the officer that very few had.

He shifted his attentions to his breadbag, slipping a few bread crumbs into it, and smiling at the shuffle that happened to lift the fabric just a little. There, one lass would not feel hungry!

On Cotton's words, Freddie sat down again close beside Pye. Having the other young rifleman beside him, who obviously didn't have Cotton's confidence in dealing with officers either, made the situation much less awkward.

Giving in to the impulse, Freddie once more cradled his rifle, his fingers checking the flintstone and brushing of any minute speck of dirt. Trying not to look too apparently interested, he watched the exchange between the captain and his batman. Cotton was respectful, yet not shy, and Vickery appeared to like it. Freddie thought that the best way for himself certainly would be to learn and emulate the other batman's behaviour. But then Cotton was not only a good batman, but also an exemplary soldier and a kind and wise man. He had nothing to feel uneasy about. Freddie doubted that he would ever achieve this degree of perfection.

Sensing that Pye's attention had shifted from the officer to his bag, he looked there. To his surprise, it appeared that the bag moved slightly. Pye seemed to have taken to carrying non-regulation articles around as well! Not knowing whether he was supposed to have seen this, he quickly turned back to his rifle again, but shifted a bit to block the bag from the captain's view.

Vickery leaned back a little, straightening his legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "How is your chick, Pye? I don't believe I have seen her recently." He turned to Rottländer. "Er hat ein Küken," he said in explanation.

It did not surprise Vickery that Rottländer, like Pye, was more than a bit nervous of him. He could only hope that as they got to know him a little, through conversations like this, they would grow less nervous of him and more confident in offering him their opinions when he asked them.

"How do you like being a Rifleman?" he asked, switching back to English, again being careful not to speak too fast for the lad. He naturally enunciated better than Cotton or Pye due to his upbringing, but he had to be careful not to speak too fast because that would make it harder than necessary for Rottländer to understand him, which was something he didn't want. There was no need to undermine the lad's confidence in learning English, after all.

Cotton poured himself a cup of tea, put the kettle back on the fire and sat down on Pye's other side. "Ain't no reason to be nervous of the Captain," he said, smiling. "Like I said, he don't bite. Leastways, I never seen him bite, anyway." And of the whole Company, Cotton himself was the one who would be most likely to witness any outbursts of the Captain's temper.

"Yes, thank you, Cotton," Vickery said.

"Beg pardon, sir," Cotton said, and winked at Rottländer. It probably wasn't a good idea, but the lad had to learn not to be nervous around the officer he was serving - officer or not, he was just a man, maybe with a nicer uniform and a title, but no less a man, and there was no need to be scared of any man.

Freddie began to feel almost comfortable now. For perhaps the first time he felt that he had understood an officers question perfectly and was able to answer it in English. Well, at least the most important bit.

"I like bein' a rifleman. Good company. I always do ... things." Realizing that this would probably give a wrong impression, he quickly amended: "Good things ... work ... Es ist nicht langweilig!", he blurted out.

"My chick." Pye murmured and brought his hand back from his breadbag and in it the small chick, which hopped happily off of his palm to run first to Vickery. Then, she turned about nand looked curiosly at the new rifleman. Pye was relaxed with it running free, as the captain knew of her presence and did not mind her being in possession. She was also much safer with him around as nobody would dare harm it.

Vickery smiled. "I am glad you don't find it boring," he said, speaking in English. He understood the lad's German, of course, but the best way to help him learn English and gain in confidence in speaking it, was to speak English to him, translating the lad's meaning when necessary, and only speaking in German when it was clear that that was the best way to get his meaning across.

He looked down as Pye's chick pecked at his boot. "Hello, there," he said, and watched as it ran off to investigate Cotton's shoe.

Freddie had to grin again as he saw the small chick. It seemed so carefree and happy. Still keeping half an eye on the Captain in case he should disapprove, he crouched down over his rifle. Copying the extended neck and tilted head of the bird, he made some clucking sounds, trying to elicit some reaction. When the chick tilted his head the other way, making it look rather doubtful, and hopped away, he laughed and said to Pye:

"It thinks I'm ..." He swirled a finger next to his head. "What is its name?"

Pye watched Friedrich a few moments then covered his mouth not to offend the boy, even when his impression, which did attract chick's attention very much if only to have her show a cold little sholder to the boy, made Pye hard pressed to surpress his laughter.

"I think she's.." The chick finally turned and chirped back, her beady eyes staring at Friedrich. She was torn perhaps between thinking the lad a bad man she needed to charge or run from, or a good lad, who had food for her and would be very thrilled to share it. She slowly made a few hops forward and then stopped again, chirping.

"Her name is Peggy." He answered after he realised that was what the boy had been asking. "Peggy, me chick, so Peggy Pye." He looked fondly at the little animal.

"Here, give her a bit of this," Cotton said, reaching into his bread-bag for a bit of grain which he passed to the young German lad. "She likes a bit o' feed, she does." He smiled down at the young bird. "Fearless little thing she is, an' all."

"Hullo, Peggy Pye!" Freddie gratefully accepted Cotton's grain and hunched down to appear as innocuous as possible. Softly clicking his tongue, he offered it on his flat hand to the small fluffy bird.

Peggy eyed his offering for a moment, chirping some kind of question, but then deigned to peck the grains.

Freddie looked up for a moment, delight dancing in his eyes. "Look, she eats! She is ein wunderschönes Kücken!" Then he crooned at the chick again, trying to coax her into climbing onto his hand.

Pye observed the other lad, amused by the way he acted towards his chick. Of course Peggy was more than delighted after a moment of pause, to eat. Good man, boy. Strange sounds from him, but he had food and that classed him among the ones she favoured. He did not look dangerous either and looked happy to feed her. That was as any good big human should do.

She chirped happily inbetween her eating, and then pecked on in delight again.

"She is what?" Pye asked a bit guardedly. He did not know what the word meant, but it was said in an excited manner. Surely it did not mean that he wanted to eat her, did it? Wunder.. wonder? He blinked again.

The chick hopped onto Friedrich's palm and continued her feeding, only glancing at Pye to see he was still there.

Vickery couldn't help chuckling at Rottländer's delighted expression. The lad was enthusiastic as ever, and the Captain hoped that his enthusiasm would one day be tempered with skill too.

"He said, she is a wonderful chick. Though it could mean beautiful, too," he translated for Pye, watching as the little fluff-ball hopped into Rottländer's hand to peck at the grain he was offering her.

Freddie slowly extended a finger, careful not to frighten Peggy, and lightly stroked her. The chick chirped again, but didn't try to escape.
At the Captains words, he looked up, hoping to learn another bit of English. Vickery obviously was rather fluent in German, with the same clear diction Freddie had heard the schoolteacher and the count use back home. He wondered how and why the captain had learned it.

As the captain, too, seemed willing to help with his English, he dared ask: "Wunderschön is beautiful?"

He did his best to look angelic and copy the pose and gestures of an elegant girl, although his performance was of course slightly hampered by the fact that he didn't want to disturb Peggy and had to leave his one hand motionless.

Peggy looked up at the man that shifted and moved, not much where she stood, but more where she could see him. What was he doing? This odd human gave food - good - but he acted rather strange!

She chirped in confusion and looked at Pye, who was trying not to burst out laughing. Better the lad does not show his impressions of officers infront of Vickery. As hilarious as those were, he thought that Captain Vickery would not be as appreciative of them. "You're right an actor." He mouthed instead and grinned. "Frie...Freddy."

Vickery nodded. "Beautiful, yes. Or wonderful." He had to put his cup of tea down before he could laugh at Rottländer's impression without spilling it; the lad was a talented mime, it seemed. He turned to the German lad. "Du hast sehr viel Talent, Rottländer," he said.

Freddie flushed at the captain's compliment, proud and embarrassed at the same time. "Danke! ... Thank you, Sir!", he quickly amended. He only prayed that the captain hadn't seen his and Pye's impressions of officers and that no-one would tell him. He had often done impressions at the orphanage to keep the younger children amused, but two or three unfortunate incidents had taught him that people seldom liked to see caricatures of their own kind, even if they themselves behaved very differently.

Ducking his head, he stroked the chick again. As she seemed to look at Pye, he carefully moved his hand closer to him and returned Pye's grin. He didn't know what an 'actor' might be and the 'right' didn't make too much sense to him either, but the tone had implied that it had been some kind of compliment as well. And Pye had called him by his nickname.

Waiting until the captain appeared to be looking somewhere else, he mouthed back: "Thank you!", putting his free hand on his heart and sketching an elaborate bow. "What is an 'actor'? ... Zachary?"

"Actor?" Pye whispered and leaned closer just a bit. "Is... is a person who plays a role. Like you did. Is someone else for people to see , like in a theatre, I think. " He spoke very slowly and tried to articulate each word well for the lad's benefit. "Acts.... acts like someone else.. that is why he is an Actor." Well, he did not know if the word really came from that relation but it did make more sense and it appeared easier to remember. The chick puffed her fluff a bit to make herself look rather bigger than before, but as she chirped, it sounded happy, and she settled down to just sit on Friedrich's palm, warm and comfortable.

"What do you call people who do that?" He asked quietly.