28th June, The missing dinner plate

"Yes, indeed. Muchas gracias, senor." Vickery took another couple of dollars out of his purse and handed them over. "Vaya con Dios, senor."

He turned to his two Riflemen. "Well, it seems that there is a thief in the Army. A redcoat - no, Pye, not a soldier of the 33rd."

Pye briefly froze when the man pointed at him and he did not know what they spoke of. "I did not steal it, he lies!" He said sharply, before even listening to what Vickery had to say, and more confused when the captain only indicated that it was not one from the 33rd. While he was formerly in the 33rd and could still feel offended that the man might have thought it was him, Vickery was not shouting for his arrest, nor placing any inquires about the whereabouts of the plate on him.

He hesitated. "Then a provost." He shot with confidence. Who else would want to go ahead and pester the riflemen than one of those twisted bastards that wanted nothing more but to see them all hang! Of course, provost's job was to prevent stealing and such, not to enforce it, but to Pye that was hardly proof that one of those men could not have done it.

'There's a thief in the army.' The most understated quote ever. One? Really? Not hundreds and thousands of thieves?

As soon as he had the coins, the vagabound scooped up his belongings and edged around Vickery to disappear into the bushes. Freddie, who had not understood much of what had been said, asked timidly:

"And what do we do now? What did he say?"

He looked at the sun and blanched.

"Mylord will come home soon and he will find the plate gone and the money, too, and ... and ... and then he will let me go and wil have me lashed and ..."

The words more and more became an unhappy, panicked mumble. It never occured to the young batman that Torrington upon coming home would not check his possessions and so would most likely first miss his servant and his coffee.

"Rottlaender... Friedrich. Do not worry. I will explain to Herr Hauptmann Torrington what has happened, and he will not blame either of you," Vickery said reassuringly, in the lad's own language. A though occurred to him - that cryptic reference to borrowing a 'glas'. "Although... Do you happen to have his telescope?"

Freddie looked down and shifted on his feet nervously, the tips of his ears burning.

"We only borrowed it! We thought we could spot the plate with it."

He somewhat sheepishly produced the instrument from behind his back and held it out to Vickery.

"Thank you," Vickery said, taking the instrument. He gave the lad a small smile. "It is usually better not to borrow something like this without asking, by the way," he said, and looked between the two lads. "Right, I think we had better go and speak to Captain Torrington, don't you?"

Freddie nodded, but he made a rather telling step to the side to let Vickery go first and hide behind his back.

"He is not going to eat you - either of you," Vickery said, privately amused at Rottlaender's using him for a shield.

Edward meanwhile had come back to camp rather irritated - his meeting had not really gone bad, and there was no point of discussion that could be blamed for his mood, but it had not really gone well either, and three hours of somewhat circular discussions made him wish for some tea, some soothing chatter and perhaps, if still available, a bisquit.

He was therefore rather disappointed when upon entering his tent he found none of these commodities available and furthermore his floor unaccountably slippery. He had to admit, though, that the opportunity to roundly curse his table and whatever that grey stuff was greatly alleviated his need to heap the same curses on his (probably less deserving, if he was honest) fellow officers.

Zachary moved infront of his friend. If the officer meant harm to his friend he would show him! Well, perhaps he would not exactly show him, because he was a common private and the man was an officer, but it often helped just to shield the person that was in danger and it would work. Pye's reasoning behind it was, that what one did not see, one could not get upset with. If not even that worked, his reasoning was just to make his friend feel safer.

He glanced at him and smiled faintly. "Captain usually.. can sort it out..though he yells too but.. promise he won't now.. an... if Torrington sir still wants ter get you in trouble.. .then I'll take t' blame an'....everything couse you shouldn't loose wot' you have. Nuh uh. You'm a fine batman and Torrington ought ter be really grateful to have you!"

He looked ahead and bit his lip. "...We ..perhaps shoud'a cleaned up 'fore we left..."

Vickery led the way back to camp, hoping that he had actually been telling the truth and that Torrington wouldn't blow up at the lads - who had, after all, been doing their best to repair damage that wasn't their fault.

"Torrington?" he enquired, hearing some rather ungentlemanly curses in his friend's voice emanating from within the Engineer's tent.

"Vickery?"

Edward reappeared, rubbing his elbow, but managing a small but real smile.

"Please tell me you came to invite me to tea - I do have some things to tell you, but unfortunately neither my tent nor my tea pot are quite ready for visitors at the moment."

Freddie, still not completely trusting that this would go over without hurt, had thought it best to fall back a bit, take light cover behind a nearby tent and let vickery sound out the terrain alone first ...

Vickery smiled tightly. "Indeed. I also have some things to tell you, and I fear that my news is not going to be very well received. You may appreciate the return of this, first, however."

He held out the telescope in its case.

Edward took the instrument with a puzzled expression.

"Certainly, if you no longer need it - has your own glass broken?"

"No, indeed." Vickery sighed. "I fear you have been the victim of a burglary by persons as yet unknown - I found Rottlaender and Pye trying to assume the role of the local establishment of Bow Street Runners and find who it was and the article he has appropriated. They took the liberty of borrowing your glass, although they did at least leave a note."

"A note?"

Edward had not seen any note - but then, he had hardly had time to properly view the papers he had send to the floor moments ago.

"What am I missing? And where <i>is</i> Rottländer? Don't tell me you allowed them to continue unsupervised."

While the thought to blame Freddie or Pye indeed never entered his brain, he was floundering just a little bit and tried to wrap his mind around a theft and all that it implied - and saw his chances for tea dwindling.

"Of course I didn't," Vickery said. "As far as I can make out, the only thing that was stolen was your silver serving tray. I do have a description of the fellow who took it, although I am uncertain how reliable that description may be."

He looked at his friend, concerned. "Would you like tea - or would you prefer something stronger? I can certainly muster up some wine or brandy, should you require something in that line to fortify yourself."

Torry hadn't eaten much, and stood too long in the sun, and was pretty sure that as tempting as it sounded, a glass of brandy would do him more harm than good. There was also the problem of his dinner plate, and while he had not yet realized that out here a missing dinner plate directly translated to him having no dinner plate anymore for the foreseeable future, he was intriqued by the challenge of the investigation. So he shook his head.

"Tempting, but unless you care to get closer aquinted with my woes than is polite or tolerable, a mug of tea will do just fine. Perhaps Cotton will take pity on me and give me a mug of the ... sorry, I forgot how they called it. But it certainly has the virtue of masking all other tastes in your mouth."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some movement, after a moment identified it as his usual supplier of tea, and asked casually:

"By the by, why are Rottländer and Pye trying to hide behind that tent there and watching me to make Fielding proud? Am I under suspiction for having stolen my own plate perhaps? Does the thief's description so resemble me?"

"I rather think they are afraid that you will think they're the culprits and want to have them hanged, drawn and quartered, despite reassurances to the contrary," Vickery said dryly.

Edward frowned.

"Do I have any reason to do so? I take it they have not actually taken the thing, nor let it laying around out in the open with a convenient sign?"

Vickery shook his head. "Well, I don't believe they took it themselves. As for the other, I think you will have to ask them that yourself. But over a cup of tea - would you really prefer smouch? It is very strong, after all."

"Whatever is most convenient at the moment - I have a feeling we should not tarry too long if we want to recover the dish. It must be rather inconvenient to carry it around in its original shape."

He turned towards the tent and called:

"Come out, you young fools - you are quite safe from me!"

Pye nudged Freddie lightly and indicated Torrington. "See, we're safe!" He put up a brave, confident face even if he had earlier doubted that the result would be such. He was not a complete disbeliever though. "Come! We're called. Better we run fast to them, make it clear we're eagerly helpfully willing!" He grinned and pulled his friend along, hoping that this was not a ruse to get them to a point where there was no escape possible.

Freddie followed his friend quickly, seeking safety in numbers. As soon as he had reached the officers, he immediately followed Pye's suggestion to appear helpful by blurting out:

"We weren't it! But we found the Vagabund who saw! Pye asked him questions! Do you want tea, Mylord? I'm sorry for not cleaning! But it was a ... track? Pye found out that the thief has Politur on his legs!"

He gripped his friend by the shoulder, rattling off his achievments as a detective proudly (and glossing over that Pye's 'questions' had been less than successful). Edward, trying to follow, only remarked weakly: "Bow Street Runners indeed ..."

Baron von Dornheim, had only recently obtained his commission and arrived in the Iberian. He had spend a few days whoring in Lisbon and attending the odd gala. Now, atop his chestnut brown horse Charlemagne, von Dornheim looked cool and calm as he approached the encampment of the 5/60th. von Dornheim wore his rifles uniform complete with the red piping but offset by sky blue epaulettes. He preferred his light brown Hessian boots with sky blue tassels to the top boots that many gentleman soldiers wore. His shako was disheveled and lacked any insignia or plume but was otherwise regulation.

von Dornheim rarely made an attempt to look especially presentable but today was different. He had freshly waxed his mustache, turning the corners up in the old Hessian style. His buttons and scabbard were freshly polished but his purse was as always rather light. He had traveled largely with a small group of reinforcements, provosts, and supplies. As his horse stopped he sighed, checking his dispatch pouch both for his orders and his bottle. While he spent a year of his youth in Scotland, he had grown quite fond of an amber whisky. He took a drink of the fiery but smooth whisky. He sighed again, checked his pocket watch and frowned. The pocket watch was one of the few true luxuries to make it out of the family estate in Dornheim. von Dornheim tucked the watch away and lit a cigar. Letting a sentry take the reigns and ignoring the salute, von Dornheim spoke quietly "Vhere is ze commanding officer?". The sentry shrugged and the Baron's eyes narrowed until the sentry gestured. Herr Baron had arrived.