An Awkward Conversation, 10th June

Padstowe's eyebrows shot up.

"You know all about it, then?"

"I know a fair bit about it. I would not presume to say I know 'all' about it." He relented. "Don't forget that Cotton is my soldier-servant."

"Don't mistake my meaning," Padstowe said. He sighed, wincing at a brief stab of pain from his shoulder. "You were asking how I came about my injuries in Lisbon. The truth is, John, Maggie Cotton - as she is now - stuck in my mind because I believe her assailant to be one in the same with the man who beat me within an inch of my life."

"Ah," Vickery said, adjusting his position a little, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees so he could steeple his fingers. "I wonder what he has against Cotton, that he would set him up in the way that he did." Would he really do what he had, simply because Cotton had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Vickery had a nasty feeling that that was a question with an affirmative answer.

"And of course he would have made sure that the only ones who can swear to his identity are those who cannot do so because they cannot accuse a Sergeant."

He did not think, either, that Maggie would be willing to testify again, against anybody, after what had happened the last time.

Padstowe shot Vickery a sharp glance.

"You know who it was then?" he demanded.

"I am presuming it was the same man you warned me about, before we left Lisbon," Vickery replied dryly. "A Sergeant Hakeswill, if my memory serves me correctly."

Padstowe bowed his head and sighed, suddenly very tired. He could not recall when he had last eaten; certainly sometimes yesterday.

"Christ, John, it's all such a bloody mess!" he hissed. "Cotton should never have been flogged. How the hell did they make that charge stick?"

"I have no idea," Vickery replied. "It was he and Maggie who found the watch. He didn't even get a chance to tell me about before they found it on her." He still didn't know how Cotton had been flogged for intending to steal it - it flew in the face of everything just. "I believe he took the blame for it so that they would not bring her to trial. Though why anyone could think it was stealing to remove an item I never owned from my own baggage, I could not say."

He looked at Padstowe in concern. "Forgive me - should you like a drink, perhaps, Jonathan? Or something else, some food, maybe?"

"What? No, no thank you. I'll find something later." Hungry though he was and in need of an unbroken night's rest Padstowe could not allow himself to take food from another on campaign. He had already been gifted a mug of tea, after all. Any more and he might be in danger of inspiring pity in Vickery. "It just doesn't make sense! How could they accuse anyone of stealing a watch from you that had my name engraved in it? Surely you must have told them Cotton was innocent? They should have listened to you as his commanding officer."

"You think I didn't try?" He had tried, of course he had. "He was found with the watch in his possession, so naturally he must have stolen it. Quod erat demonstrandum*, as they say." He shrugged. "He was lucky enough to be taken down after the first fifty, and remitted the rest. And of course I do not believe the intention to steal was ever there... he is still in my service, after all."

*quod erat demonstrandum: Latin for Which was to be proved

Padstowe looked away. How could he have doubted for a moment that Vickery would do his utmost for Cotton? Of course he would; Cotton would not still be with him else.

"Forgive me," he said heavily, draining the last of his tea in one gulp. The few leaves that had found their way into his mug tasted unusually bitter and gritty in his mouth. "I have been uncharitable as far as you are concerned. The blame is mine entirely."

He smiled grimly to himself.

"Had I let Sharpe have his way that wretched Hakeswill would have been dead and buried before any of this would have happened. I should not have stopped him."

"There's nothing to forgive," Vickery replied, sitting back. "And you should not blame yourself for being jumped, or for anything else. You had warned me about the man and I was caught off-guard despite that warning." He sighed. "If I can help you in any way when it comes to getting rid of the odious wretch, please do not hesitate to ask."

Padstowe shook his head.

"No. I will not condone murder, but... I suppose in future we could make it our business not to get in Sharpe's way."

Who had mentioned anything about murder? Admittedly, the thought had crossed Vickery's mind. "There are some who would call it 'justice'," he observed. "And as for not getting in Sharpe's way, I believe men live longer if they do not get in his way. He and his sergeant make a formidable opposition, when roused."

Cotton had all but finished brushing Captain Padstowe's mare down by the time he was mostly restored to his usual good humour. He finished brushing the horse down, set the brush aside and stretched; his shoulders felt very stiff. Recollecting the package that Maggie had all but thrown at him, he went to retrieve it, and unwrapped it to find some cakes.

He sighed, glanced over at the two officers and dug out a couple of tin plates before dividing them up between the two, and crossed over to the officers.

"Beg pardon for interruptin' sir," he said, addressing Captain Vickery, "but Maggie give me these for you." He held the plates out, offering one to each captain.

"I'll have dinner on directly minute, too, if Captain Padstowe would like some," he added, slightly hesitantly this time.

Vickery took the offered plate and raised an eyebrow quizzically at Padstowe.

"I must not encroach any further on your hospitality," Padstowe said, though he eyed the cake Cotton was offering with more attention than it would usually be due. "I must report back."

It was one way of extracting himself from an awkward conversation, though he dearly wished he could talk to Vickery further. But what could he say? He had already nearly accused the captain of abandonning his batman to his punishment - would it be wise for him to dwell any further on the subject of his beating or Hakeswill?

Vickery raised his other eyebrow in disbelief. "Nonsense. You are hardly encroaching, and I cannot believe that the General would wish you to report on an empty stomach."

The trouble was, their conversation had been rather awkward up till now, and although Vickery would like to talk further with Padstowe - it was infrequently enough that he got to socialise with officers of his own rank, after all - he could not think of another subject to discuss. He wondered vaguely if that was another side-effect of the blow he had received.

"If nothing else, we could talk about the weather," he suggested wryly.

Padstowe hesitated a moment longer, weighing up the possible merits and disadvantages of staying where he was. It was perhaps the appeal to the his animal instinct of hunger, more than the prospect of companionship, that kept the captain seated. He took the plate from Cotton.

"If you are certain it would not be an imposition?" he said, courtesy prompting the question.

"My dear Captain, of course it would not be," Vickery said with a smile. "I daresay you have not had the chance of company lately, and I would welcome the company myself."

Not for a couple of weeks at least, Padstowe thought, as he gave Vickery an apologetic smile.

"I would not mind so much, yet I find that Bethany is not much of a conversationalist," he said. It was a weak joke, but it covered the gap well.

"Well, they do say that certain news comes straight from the horse's mouth," Vickery replied.

Padstowe paused midway through raising the cake to his mouth and looked at Vickery.

"Not even that this time," he said. "She neglected to warm me I was about to be jumped by a stray unit of Rifles."

"I must apologise for them," Vickery said, trying not to laugh at the mental picture Padstowe's words conjured up. "Rifles do like to appear at the strangest of times - and from the strangest of places. I hope they didn't rough you up too much?"

"I'll live," Padstowe said ruefully. His shoulder was still smarting terribly from the knock it had received, but he felt certain that there would be no lasting effect... at least he hoped so. He was not keen on asking a sawbones to find out. Then another event of that night came to him. "They also took a Frenchman prisoner, as I recall. Tell me, what happened to him?"

"I am not aware that there was a French prisoner," Vickery replied. "I can only presume that they thought it too risky to bring him with them, in that case."