7th July: Come along by horse

Edward took a moment to look over the horses, but no other seemed more suited to the task. However, getting Atkins down and onto another horse seemed not very adviseable, either.

"Take Atkin's horse or mine - I'll take yours. If somebody supports him from the other side, I think we barely need to move Mr. Atkins."

"Yes sir. Kenley." He considered for a moment then shook his head. The youth would not be strong enough, should Atkins' weight shift. He glanced around and nodded towards another man. "Forbes. Could you.."

"A'right. Move off' will ya." The man came alongside with Herrero. He took a firm grip on Atkins, having him lean a bit into it. Atkins winced, uttering a soft, quiet whimper. Willoughby was off rather swiftly, careful not to shove or bump against Atkins in the process. He waited hesitantly, once on the ground. He could not take either horse that belonged to an officer unless ordered to, but that meant he would not make the choice. Torrington had to.

Edward solved the problem for him by pressing the reins of his own horse, the fast Arabian he had bought from the gipsies, into Willoughby's hands before swinging into the saddle, and carefully settling Atkins against him.

"Godspeed, Willoughby. We'll follow as fast as possible. - Thank you Forbes, I have him."

"Stay safe, " Willoughby took hold of the reins and pulled himself into the saddle while the horse was already moving sideways. At first the mare danced a few steps backwards , then she dug her lean legs into the dirt , kicked dust behind her and they were off.

He picked the terrain ahead of them well enough for the speed at which they were riding. The last thing he wished is to return the mare to Torrington with a broken leg. It felt freeing in a way though he did not have time to think about it at that moment. He needed to get to the picquets as fast as he could and find a surgeon, to have him ready before the remaining party arrived. If he could, have someone meet them.

The others followed at a more sedate speed, though not precisly lingering either. Despite his fears, they seemed to have managed to loose the French for the moment, and reached the area where Torrington reckoned their piquet line must be unmolested.

Squinting his eyes against the sun, the engineer scanned the landscape, hoping that Willoughby had managed to organize a surgeon. The hand he pressed on Atkins' wound was slick with blood and he still could feel it slowly sipping out, but the cornet's skin felt clammy and cold now, and his breathing shallow and uneven.

"There sir,...t' surgeon i reckon..n'... that horse.. t' ..him." He pointed towards Willoughby. He and the surgeon were not more than a few steps away. The Hussar urged the other man to go faster, and waved when he saw Torrington.

Freddie, greatly daring, urged his horse to go faster so that he could dismount and help Torrington when they reached the surgeon.

The engineer looked very grateful and raised a hand to signal that they had seen. He looked around.

"You and you. Your horses seem to be in good shape still - you don't stop, but go on straight to the camp and report."

The hussars appointed for the task, broke away from the group, their horses picking up speed as they rode towards and later , past Willoughby and the surgeon.

Timothy had been glad the surgeon went quicker now. Telling him that an officer had been injured helped speed him up more than any wound would probably have. 

He rode up to Torrington and the remaining hussars with the two riflemen in tow. "..The surgeon, sir." He saluted. His horse seemed tired of running back and forth and sweat glistened on his dirtied fur, but he had persisted and would continue to do so, never the less. He blew how air from his nostrils , shook his head slightly and thumped a hoof against the floor, his chest rising and falling more visibly.

Atkins was eased of the horse.The surgeon went to work almost immediately, to give him what he could of the aid, before he had to be taken to camp. At final last the man needed no longer to sit hunched, though now he seemed much paler and weaker.

"...hope he survives, sir." Willoughby murmured as he stood by Torrington's horse.

Edward looked thoughtfully down at the young cornet, but then he nodded reassuringly.

"I see no reason why he shouldn't. The wound, while painful, seems to be clean, Mr. Atkins is young and healthy, and he will receive very good care."

The last was of course rather relative, but Edward was convinced that a few white lies were more beneficial than the truth here. He pulled out his hip-flask and offered it to Atkins again.

"Perhaps you might want to fortify yourself for the last leg back to the camp, Mr. Atkins?"

"...We should have.." Willoughby began but then shook his head. They should not have taken the peaceful surroundings for granted. If they had taken greater care, Atkins would not have been injured.

He observed the young officer as he took the flask and gave a short sip before the surgeon waved it away. He was shifted again, this time with the intent of bringing him into the camp and there to lying him out to be tended. "We.. will need your report as well, sir." Willoughby spoke, looking at Torrington.

"Certainly. I will accompany you to your officer. He should be informed of this rather unexpected adventure. I believe we can no longer be of any help here, Sir? Some men will of course be available to you to transport Mr. Atkins as comfortably as possible."

Torrington asked the surgeon, taking the reins of his horse again.

The surgeon shook his head waving at them. "Take whoever you want.. I  only need one more man. Then I'll have my lads take care of this."  He turned wholly to the patient then, talking to him and informing him of certain things that he would do and needed to.

Willoughby and the rest of the men, including Pye, all waited patiently, gazing at Torrington for further command.

Edward sighed and swung back onto his horse.

"Rottlaender, Pye, take our equipment back to my tent."

Before issuing his next order, he tried to catch Atkins' eye. If there was somebody the cornet preferred, he would of course have that soldier attend him, if practical.

Pye looked over at Rottlaender. "That's us! We're leaving!" He said excitedly. The officer was wounded and he hoped that they would not blame the riflemen for it.

Finally they could get off of the horses as well. What a relief. He could walk rather than have to cling to the horse. "Then we boil water for captain..so that if he's thirsty, he'll have it freshly prepared." He grinned at his friend. "..And..maybe food. I'm sure it's time for food."

Atkins did not seem particularly inclined to choose another of the men. He may have prefer for it not to be the rash Kenley, but as far as others went,.. one was as good as another. He winced and closed his eyes. He really just wanted to rest and the pain, that had now grown too a very unpleasant point, to go away.

Torrington looked amused.

"Thank you, Pye, but I would rather prefer if you would inform Captain Vickery. I will come as soon as possible, but it might be better if he doesn't hear of this third-hand."

Patting Trueno's neck, he added in a whisper:

"And you wouldn't want the hussars to claim all the glory, would you?"

Since Atkins seemed to have no preference, he motioned to one of the hussars who seemed to be fairly well-spoken and competent, and had the added advantage of being known by name to Torrington.

"Kerr, you stay with Mr. Atkins."

"Oh.." Pye did look a little disappointed, but was quick to regain his wits and smiled. "Yes sir, we'll call on him sir, and report what we'd seen...and ask him to see you too." He shifted in the saddle and then with some effort and a lot of hope the horse would do as he wished, nudged his sides and mumbled a few soft words of encouragement.

The big stallion was not at all averse to return home now, so he reacted rather enthusiastically. So enthusiastically, in fact, that it was rather difficult to make him do anything else ...

Freddie, slightly more comfortable on his horse, managed to take his leave a bit more stately, but only a few steps away he gave in to the horse and let it trot off happily behind the black stallion towards their corn.

Pye held onto the stallion grateful that the animal actually had a goal towards which it was going in such a hurry. He would have despaired, had the stallion decided to just ride off in one direction, never to return!

"Freddie, ..Freddie, is there a ..." He called, now more worried that the stallion may right to and past the point where they should stop, or that he might choose to run through the tents on the way there!

The big stallion had a very definite idea of what was supposed to happen once he reached camp again, and since his rider was not giving him any contrary signals, he happily trotted to where his fodder sack was, then stopped there, waiting for ... well, either Pye to get off or Freddie to come and take care of him, presumably.

Freddie didn't have to give his own horse any directions either - the gelding just followed. When they had reached the area set aside for the horses, he scrambled off.

"Uhm ... if you do the e-quip-ment into the Captain's tent, I can care for the horses, and we go to Captain Vickery both?", he suggested.

"Yeah, lets!" Pye was always happy to have Freddie tag along with him. Ever since he had become good friends with the boy, his opinion on German soldiers mightily improved... atleast if Freddie was to be judged. When he would learn the language properly, then he could just listen himself and know what they would discuss. He smiled , looking rather more relaxed now that the horse had stopped and he could slip off. He patted the horse and smiled. "I'll get you somethin' later. Promise. " He turned to his friend. "....Um....what do horses like over everything else, and where can i get it?" He was by then already starting to get the equipment.

"Trueno, he likes apples, and when you brush him", Freddie informed his friend, handing him a small, old and crumpled, but deliciously smelling one from his (now no longer so secret) stash in the chest where the horses' gear was kept.

"You just hold you hand out like this, and he will take it."

The stallion seemed to have smelled the fruit, for he snickered and bumped Pye with his large nose.

"Thank you!" He took the apple and turned to the horse. "Oi, no bumping me, or biting me..." He warned, though gently and offered the fruit, careful of his fingers." ...Oh..Freddie.. do yer think that hussar officer will live?"

Freddie looked surprised.

"Of course he will! He is an officer! And the Captain said he would be alright!"

"Oh.. alright." Pye lifted the heavy equipment and carried it from the stalion to Torrington's tent. There he placed them onto the officer's bed deciding that they were clean enough and delicate enough to deserve that. If it was the wrong place, Freddie would correct the err on time.

Returning , he made sure that he had taken all, including the paper as well, took that into the tent and then finally returned nodding. " ....are you ready?"