Rebuilding the Ruins; 26th June 1809

Vickery approached what was left of his tent, and sighed as he looked down at the lumpy canvas draped over the top of his camp equipage. "I think it's going to take some time to sort this out," he said, sighing ruefully at the sight of dusty hoofprints that marked the previously-white canvas. "I hope nothing is broken beyond repair."

How he had come out of that suffering no more than some rather painful bruising, he had not the faintest idea.

Trueno was still standing placidly at one corner of the tent, his nose in the folds of the canvas. Immediately suspicious, Edward took a firm grip on the reins and pulled the protesting stallion's head up. When he saw what had fascinated his horse that much, he bend down with an embarrassed chuckle and retrieved Vickery's elegant tea caddy - undamaged, but empty and smeared with saliva.

"I'm afraid another animal had seen fit to disturb your possessions ... And I do heartily apologize for it! I will of course make reparations."

Vickery blinked. There was an awkward pause as he registered what had happened, and then he started laughing. He had been much more worried about whether the ox might cause further damage than whether Torrington's horse would get at his store of sugar.

"i beg your pardon, but if the truth were known, I had completely forgotten about that. There were... more pressing concerns," he managed to say once he had got himself under better control. "Please do not concern yourself over it. Though the offer is appreciated." He wasn't even sure how much sugar had been left for the horse to get at, anyway.

Edward couldn't help but smile rather wryly himself.

"Please hold me to it. I'll take this blackguard away before he can do any more damage and send Rottlaender over. His drill should have been over some minutes ago."

He gave the tentsite a last frowning survey.

"Unfortunately I have promised to accompany the next patrol, as it will be going out to a street I want to inspect, but if you should need anything ..."

He shrugged, somewhat awkwardly, in the direction of his tent, before gathering the reins to mount his horse again.

"No, no, that is quite all right," Vickery replied. "Duty comes first, as of course it should. Hopefully, Rottlaender and Mrs Cotton and I should be able to set things here to rights without too much trouble. I shall doubtless see you later this evening." He held out his hand, smiling. "I would ask you to dinner, but that may not be possible this evening, unfortunately, as you can appreciate."

"Of course. Don't think about it - or, if you should want to join me instead, consider yourself invited."

Edward shook the proffered hand, then swung into the sattle. Turning the fretting horse, he tipped a finger to his head.

"Good luck!"

Freddie had returned from his drills rather hot and sweaty, but a quick duck in the river had remedied that, so that now he was his usual cheerful (if rather wet-haired) self again.

Captain Torrington put in a brief appearance, mostly getting geared up for his excursion (Freddie hoped that he being already on horseback didn't mean that he had had to wait for Freddie's return), but he also send Freddie over 'to assist Captain Vickery and Cotton in whatever way necessary'. That sounded ominous, and the young German would probably have felt very nervous, if it hadn't been for the definite twinkle in Captain Torrington's eyes, when he - from his vantage point on Trueno's back - looked over to Vickery's tent.

So he was more curious than nervous, and as soon as the Captain had gone, he carded his hair with all ten fingers to make them lay down in an orderly fashion and set off at a quick trot towards Captain Vickery's tent.

Once he had turned around the last corner, however, he stopped rather abruptly, his chin falling down, and only the intimidating presence of Captain Vickery made him draw himself up in something approaching the correct stance and reporting: "Rifleman Rottlaender, Sir! Captain Torrington schickt mich to help!"

Vickery turned at the sound of Rottländer's voice, and grinned. The lad's hair was soaking wet - the boys seemed to be making a habit of reporting when soaked through recently - and sticking up at all angles, despite the rifleman's attempts to neaten it up.

"Ah, Rottländer," he said, still smiling. "As you can see, my tent has suffered some... drastic redecoration. Perhaps you would be good enough to help set it to rights?"

Freddie was still gaping at the ... He believed 'topsy-turvy' was the word for this - if it really meant 'ein heilloses Durcheinander'. In his view of the world, such things were not supposed to happen to officers.

"Uh, ja, Sir! Natürlich, Sir!", he stammered finally - a few moments later than both proper attention to the words of an officer and general good manners allowed. The realization made him immediately blush.

He looked quickly around to see whether Cotton was somewhere about. He very much wished that the older rifleman was present, but unfortunately he couldn't see him. Which meant that he would have to do something on his own, and quickly - and pray that he didn't accidentally damage something even more. Cautiously approaching the flattened tent, he looked at it, then lifted an edge of what had formerly been the entrance.

"Hm, Sir, I should ... make the ... the woods on the side ... die Pflöcke ... loose and then roll the roof back?"

He made complicated gestures with his hands to illustrate what he proposed to do, looking like an eager puppy at Captain Vickery's face for approval.

"Speak in German, if you will find it easier," Vickery said, and nodded. "I do not know whether the tent has been damaged," he added, that possibility suddenly occurring to him. He couldn't recall hearing anything tear or snap, but he had been so startled by the canvas descending on him and then having something run right over the top of him that he hadn't really been able to pay much attention to anything else.

"Hopefully it should be easy enough to set to rights," he said, bending to take the brailing loops off the small pegs at what had been the base of one side.

Freddie tried to make sense of that last bit - Did it mean he should place the canvas on the right side? - while he quickly copied Vickery's actions on the other side of the tent. Once again blushing, he protested:

"No, Sir! You shouldn't ... let me ... That's no work for an officer!"

The sight of his Captain doing such menial work as pulling down a tent was the second shock of this day. It would have made the young German fall back on his native language even without the Captain's permission.

Vickery couldn't help raising an eyebrow in amusement at that, though if the truth were known, he would prefer for Rottländer and somebody else to do the work.

"It should be easy enough to pitch it again," he said, stepping back. "Although, with everything inside it, it may not be." He thought that the young German Rifleman might prefer it if he had another Rifleman to help, and looked around to see if anyone was available to give a hand.

Rottlaender dubiously looked at the heavy canvas, trying to figure out how he was to pull it back from the things beneath it without dragging it over them and possibly doing more damage to Vickery's possessions. Perhaps if he used a stake ... But it would be much better if Pye was here, and Cotton. He did have an idea for the other problem, though.

"Perhaps I can repitch it here, on the side, and then sort everything and put things under it - and when the place is clear, take a new tent, pitch it there, put all the things back. Then I could wash the tent and perhaps sew any tears?"

"I think, if there is any damage, it will have to be repaired later," Vickery replied, and smiled as Roper came hurrying over. He returned the rifleman's salute and nodded as the Rifleman indicated Rottländer, obviously asking permission to discuss proceedings with the lad.

"All right, best we work together here," the English Rifleman said cheerfully. "Reckon the Captain'll want to stop and make sure his things'll be all right, though." He hoped Rottländer would be all right with that and would understand that the Captain wasn't necessarily supervising him because he didn't trust him but that he was just concerned that his things may have been damaged in the charge.

Freddie smiled broadly, glad that another rifleman had come to help before Vickery would become impatient enough to try to help again. That the Captain was there wasn't unexpected, though - after all, without pressing duties, where else should he be at the moment, when even his chair to sit upon was inside? Freddie even considered whether he should perhaps take one of Torrington's chairs. Still contemplating that point, he pointed at the canvas that he had just detached from the poles.

"You take this ... end and I take this, and then we ...?" Rottlaender made the motions of gathering material together and lifting it over something. "Einverstanden?"

Roper grinned and nodded, stepping to one end of the erstwhile tent and stooping to take a firm grasp of the canvas.

Vickery himself wasn't above helping, especially as it concerned his tent and equipage, but obviously the younger Rifleman was uncomfortable with the very thought of that, and so he contented himself with merely observing and supervising the work.

"Ain't so hard, is it?" Roper said, careful to lift the canvas over the Captain's furniture and other possessions, rather than dragging it and risking damaging things further.

Freddie grinned.

"No. Hoffentlich it was auch not hard when it falled down. "

He didn't know yet that Vickery actually had been under it, but the thought of beautiful porcelain smashed alone was enough for Freddie. He gathered the last bit of canvas and lifted it free of a corner of the folding table, then respectfully stepped back and busied himself with rolling the canvas up. The Captain should have a moment to himself to survey the damage done to his things, in his opinion.

"Oh, dear..." Vickery breathed, unaware that he'd spoken aloud. He stepped forward and bent to pick up his pen from the grass. He considered himself fortunate to own a turned rosewood pen with a steel nib; it had been a gift from his sister, along with the elegant yet practical writing slope that lay on the grass. Fortunately, it did not appear that anything had broken, though the inkwell was a good deal emptier than it had been that morning.

It did not appear that anything had been broken, but any damage was likely to become apparent as things were picked up, dusted off and set back in their proper places.

Freddie hesitantly came closer again and picked up Captain Vickery's chair, swiping the seat with his cuff before placing it next to the officer.

"If you want to sit down, Sir ...", he offered shyly.

The officer nodded, placed the pen back in his writing slope and closed it, setting it down in the grass beside his chair. It felt a little pretentious to sit down and watch someone else do all the work; normally he was off doing something else, or was otherwise engaged while other people worked around him.

"Thank you, Friedrich," he replied, with a smile, trying to make the younger man feel a little more at ease. Proper respect due to his rank was one thing, but absolute awe and nervousness were something else entirely.

Freddie's face lit up with a glorious smile, and in his best formal manner and with a neat little bow, he pronounced carefully in English:

"You are very welcome, Sir!"

Next he turned the desk up again. Being large and in part rather spindly, it had suffered a bit more, but Freddie reckoned that it could easily be put to rights again. Having no idea how to actually do it properly, however, he very carefully folded it up and placed it on the ground.

Then he looked dubiously at the papers that had slipped from it, before picking up a few (one clearly showing the impression of a cloven hoof).

"What should we do with these, Sir?", he asked, looking around to check whether the wind had already blown some away.

Vickery held out his hand, unable to completely hide a wince as his bruises and stiff muscles made themselves known. "I'll take those," he replied, hoping that none of his letters and other papers had blown away. He could at least put them away in his writing desk to stop any more pieces of paper blowing away and getting lost.

"Yes, Sir!"

Freddie began to come to attention, realized that he still held the papers and was just about to snatch them away from Vickery again, stepped forward instead, and finally handed them over properly, but slightly confused.

Then he quickly darted around to gather together all the other papers. Actually, that was quite fun, with the constant challenge of a very slight breeze and the obstacles of the ruined tent, and Freddie gave his best, hugely grinning and hopping around.

"One ... two ... and three ... six ... and two ... eight ... and f...five ... ... thirteen!"

He was mumbling, slightly breathless. Captain Torrington had urged him to practice his numbers and was helping him to make sense of the rudimentary education the local reverend had tried to pass on in the orphanage.

Vickery folded the papers again before putting them away in his writing slope. He couldn't help overhearing some of Rottländer's mumbling as the lad worked to clear up the mess that had been Vickery's tent. After a moment he asked, in German, "Do you read numbers at all?" He thought that the lad couldn't read, but was not about to embarrass him by asking that. Numbers, though, were a different matter.

"Uhm ... not really. Not very much. I only can count on fingers a bit", Freddie mumbled, blushing. But then he added, confidingly: "But I practice now - Mylord Torrington says it's important to know numbers if I want to help him and he tries to teach me. Here, look, Sir, he made this for me!"

With a proud grin, he drew a folded bit of paper from his inner pocket and showed it to Vickery. On it were sketched several hands holding up fingers, and beneath them in Captain Torrington's clear hand the respective number. At the lower right corner another quick sketched showed Freddie and Pye, sitting on a fence, both holding their hands up to show the number seventeen.

"He says he will make another one for Pye, if he wants to learn."