13th June: Locusts and honey

Thank God. That had done it. Stubbins felt the musket knock against his good shoulder as it fell from lifeless hands. He was on his way down himself, however. A combination of the effort of his forward lunge and the growing feeling of being in a daze made his knees suddenly buckle.

He and the dead Frenchman fell nearly atop the other, with Stubbins landing with a breathless, relieved curse.

Freddie paled at the thought of returning to the camp and swallowed. Playing for a bit of time to work up his courage, he gathered up the French musket and the sabre, then delayed a bit more by checking the unconscious man for additional weapons.

Having finally run out of ideas, he then reluctantly hoisted the man's arm over his shoulder.

"Yes, we can go. But ... the Captain will be angry, true?"

He wasn't quite sure which Captain he meant by that himself.

"..Think he might be... but mebbe he won't mind after he sees this'un with us." He indicated the officer that he now helped to lift. In truth, he was not eager to get back either.

"....mebbe.. we could... make a detour." He was surprised at remembering such a word even. "..An'...'least get wot' we came out here for." He shrugged faintly. It was not something they could bribe the captain or captains with, but at the very least it would give them time to gather up the courage in returning. And maybe by the time they were back, the captain had forgotten they were missing after all.

If he noticed in the first place! He pulled the other arm over his shoulder so that the pair could now walk, just about slowed by the unconscious man. "..hm... next time, we don't knock t' bugger out... and we make him ter walk on his own." He muttered, with some effort.

Only half jesting, Freddie replied: "When we get the honey, then he has time to wake. It is vernünftig to get the honey."

Dragging a large, unconscious man along, keeping hold of your own weapons and looking out for another ambush proved quite exhausting.

"No one can say we deserted, when we bring back a French officer, true? And that hussar would vielleicht be dead by now."

"Nobody can accuse us of desertion." Pye nodded. They have only gone for the honey.. while not a very legal practice, it was not as bad as running. "I hope t' captain will see t' value of t' gift we's bringing him." He grinned and adjusted the hold of his own rifle, that hung from a sling that crossed his shoulder. "He'll like that sabre too, I would think."

He could only hope. "....Hmm.. he's darn bit heavier than I thought he would be." And with the poor things knocking heads to carry him forward he wondered if it would not be more sensible to make a sort of a stretcher, tie him to it, and drag him along. They could use the leather of their rifle's slings and then a good pair of thick logs.

He glanced at Friedrich. "...Shall we go fetch that sweet thing? Got just enough time." Well, if they were late now, they were late enough already.

Freddie nodded and determinatly hitched the Frogs arm more securely around his shoulder.

"But vielleicht we can bind him to a tree before we go up that hill with the honey? Or can we use him for ... cover from the bees?"

He didn't want to think about what would happen when they got back to camp for as long as possible.

"Is a Frog officer enough for two troopers? Who gets that rabbit?"

"We might do so." Or, the cover from the bees sounded quite the thing as well. He doubted though that Vickery would appreciate that a foreign officer had been treated in such a bad way. It did make him chuckle. "If'n t' captain don't even notice we weren't around, we jus' drop him somewhere ter be found by his own.. a'right?"

If they could sneak in, it was best not to have anything betray where they were. If it was too late however... he was their ticket to a better mood of their captain.

"..we need ter get t' rabbit too...." He spoke with sudden realisation. "well.. see if one got caught 'tleast. On our way back from t' honey. Aye?" Because if they did not do it now, there might not be a chance to do it later... at all.

That was a bit complicated for Freddie, but he thought that he had understood the most important things.

"Yes. Perhaps we have luck."

He didn't believe it. And even if no-one had noticed their absence, they would have to explain the missing ammunition, the hole in his shako and why the Frenchman would tell the Captain that he had been knocked down while fighting a rifleman.

With a final tug he dragged the officer's feet over a root, then dumped him not too gently on the ground, his back to a large tree.

Hestitantly, he suggested: "You take bullet and powder from me and say that you falled down by the river. Then only one of us gets flogged."

From the other side of the tree came a rumbling growl.

"We're goin' back together." Pye answered firmly. There was no way that he would have his friend suffer alone, for something that was just as well the fault of them both. Of course he would like that neither of them got into a pickle for it, but if they did, he was not abandoning the German.

Which was something of a surprise, considering he had quite distrusted the whole lot. "...Now, lets get to the...." He began, turning for the bees when he heard a low growl. His eyes widened and he backed away, cursing loudly. The damn beast! The bloody, flearidden monster!

It was the Angry Human. Again. Why was he always... the dog caught the scent of somebody else and was so surprised he paused in his warning growling. It had been a while since he'd been near anyone who smelled like that, but he'd know that scent anywhere. What was that doing so near the Great Mass of good humans?

The dog backed quickly away, his growl turning into a snarl, then a bark. This was Bad. Fortunately, the tree shielded him from anything the Angry Human and his companion might have thrown at him. The dog ran for it, not about to wait around for one of them to try hurting him.

Freddie, just having finished tying the French officer's feet together, looked with surprise at the dog, then at Pye.

"That is the dog from camp, true? Why did he bark?"

Giving the restraints a last tug, he jumped to his feet again and used his bayonet to slash down some branches from the nearest bush. As he offered some to Pye, he explained:

"Smoke, weißt Du noch?"

"I don't know.. but dogs are evil." Pye was so glad the dog turned tail and ran. He had not seen him well, but it was enough to hear him! Whatever seemed to have scared him off, suited Pye just fine. Just as soon as he figured it out, he would have that with him at all times so that the mutt would not dare come near him!

"Smoke, aye." Pye took the branches. He had decided to light them near the bee hive. "Come then." He motioned for the lad to follow. "I'll smoke 'em, you take the honey." Because he had not the slightest idea how to retrieve that with the bees all around.

As they crossed some distance he knelt down. Making a spark, adding some of the very dry bits, that would catch fire more easily, he tried it several times until the branch was lit and smoke rolled from it. He waited some more so that the fire caught on pretty well, and there was even more smoke before rising to his feet.

"Weisst du....is this.....you know? What is noch then?"

Freddie held another, smaller twig into the flames until it caught fire as well. He shrugged.

"I don't know. 'Weißt Du' is 'do you know', but 'noch' ... It is when you learned something and now know it ... noch. Or when you eat, and then you eat noch more."

He looked questioningly at Pye, unsure whether his attempt at explaining had helped in any way.

Taking the twig between his teeth, he then drew his bayonet once more and gestured Pye to a place to the right of the beehive. When he took a position on the left himself, the twig was now directly between him and the bees. His eyes were already streaming from the smoke, but he didn't seem to mind.

Around the stem in his mouth, he articulated: "Ready?"

Pye nodded. He got his own smoking stick ready to smoke out the bees and calm them, while they plundered their home. Whatever his fellow experienced friend would tell him, he follow and do. He grinned. They'd get honey! All their own even!

It made him quite forget that there might be a very angry, very upset Captain somewhere out there, because as luck would have it, he might just have checked the number of his men and realised that two were missing!

Carefully inserting his bayonet into the hive, Freddie proceeded in a circular motion. When he had finished, he drew back his bayonet, presenting a cone of honeycomb to Pye.

-

The bees had been irritated by the smoke at first, and still were somewhat drowsy, but now the whole hive was alarmed and the humming put on in strength.

Pye lifted his stick closer to the hive, blowing against the flame, so that the smoke that the fresh wood and leaf produced could enter the hive as thoroughly as it was able. He heard the buzzing increase, and though some of the bees appeared to still be rather under the influence of the heavy cloud of burning wood, it appeared they could still master enough strength to be upset.

"Got all we need?" He asked and turned to the Friedrich. "'couse the bees.. ain't looking happy to see us! You sure the smoke works even?"

Taking the honey of the bayonet with a piece of oiled paper, Freddie spat out the twig and grinned.

"Yes! Otherwise you be stinged dead. Run!"

Then he dahed off madly towards their prisoner.

Run? OH! Pye dropped his own stick, and followed in a equally senseless run down the slope and away from the bee hive. The two branches had luckily not enabled the surrounding area to catch fire, but landed atop a more rocky area. They still emitted some of the smoke, but the bees were now free of the greatest cloud of it, and were becoming quite aware of the grave attack that had happened to their hive.

Pye stopped. He was laughing quite heartily, and grinning so much that his face might have split, had it been possible. "Mission Sweet honey, completed." He exclaimed and nudged their unconscious Frenchman. "Now, lets get onto stage two......the Rabbit in t' a noose." He winked.


"..Freddie... next time we get to be attacked by an officer... let's pick one that's lighter than this one. Alright?" He laughed again and knelt to untie the man so that they could drag him along. He already knew where they were to go next, and then back to camp.

His mood was only dampened a little by that thought.

The French sous-lieutenant gave a pained groan and opend his eyes to blink at Pye. What the hell had happend? It took some moments until the green shape before his eyes floated into focus.

Then he said slurredly:

"You're s'possed t'be dead."

Having reached the tree some steps ahead of Pye, Freddie greeted him there with an eqally silly grin and joined in Pye's laughter, nearly doubling over with it. The thought of what was to come in camp made him only laugh even harder. It was all so unreal, somehow: Here they were, knowing what was waiting for them, having the scars on their backs, and still they didn't even contemplate going anywhere else.

The moment the Frog moved however, Freddie abruptly stopped laughing and angled his rifle at him. He didn't understand the French sentence, but it hadn't sounded pleasant, even though the man was clearly still half out of his senses.

"... Um." He understood the Frog to be awake. And that was about it. Whatever he said in French was as good as...wait.. he learned the word for dead. So, it was something to do with that state. But whether he was asking to be dead, whether he thought he was dead or whether he meant for Pye to be dead, well it was not something the lad wanted to dwell on.

"...Uppey.." He motioned with his hand, speaking English but with an accent he thought was very French and so the man should understand him. "Standey.. " He said and motioned with his own rifle. "toi.. walkay, oui?"

The Frenchman could be released from his bonds to the tree, but then he could walk. "We'll shoot you if you try to run." All English, and no accent this time.

The Frenchman shook his head, willing his senses to fix on the two young men before him. In heavily accented, but quite understandable English, he repeated:

"You should be dead. Both of you!"

He slowly did as the one with the nose-scar had told him and got unto his feet. They were wobbly, but would carry him. The question was rather whether a bit for freedom now was worth it. He had been in prison before, a few days more wouldn't hurt that much. And two rifles pointed at him weren't good chances, even for a good fighter. Slowly raising his arms, he said:

"I surrender!"

"Good. You surrender and you walk. Understood?.. Do you give..." He paused trying to remember what an officer could give, which made him unable to run. "...par......parole?.." An officer would give one such to another officer, but since the two lads did not exactly have an officer in their pocket this would have to do until they returned.

He briefly turned to Friedrich. "..roll that thing we got up in wot' you got, and then tuck it under your shako. A'right?" It would be safe there, and out of view.

The sous-lieutenant quickly thought. These were only kids. Was his parole binding then? And even if it was, would it bother him?

His mind produced a negative answer to that. If there was a decent chance, he would take it. If there wasn't, he wouldn't make his life unnecessarily hard.

"Good. You have my parole. Where do you take me?"