29th June: A Spanish Dawn

The spot on the bank of the river had been chosen because it was flat, clear, and secluded. It was also hopefully far enough from any listening ears to guarantee privacy. A kingfisher darted into the water and returned to his perch with a fish, but it quickly flew off when footsteps approached.

"If they are going to murder each other, they could at least be on time for that," said Doctor Alain Cassel. The tree lacking a speech apparatus did not answer. He sighed and sat down on a fallen tree trunk, pulling a slim volume out of his jacket.

Alain Cassel was a small man in his forties. He had short dark brown hair peppered with white and brown eyes. He had a pointed chin and crooked nose, that looked like it was broken a couple of times.

Save for a brief argument, a weak attempt by Jarreau to convince him to remain in camp, they had spoken very little that morning, a preoccupied reticence which had stretched into a strained silence on the long trek out to the designated place.

The discovery that someone was already arrived ahead of them – not either of the officers with whom Leveque had spoken, nor, he suspected, was it Lt Prayon; a surgeon, perhaps, or some additional arbiter – did nothing to ease the tension. Jarreau offered the man a curt nod, but beyond that, seemed intent on keeping his distance, and his silence.

Leveque sighed inwardly. "Good morning, sir," he called, advancing to meet him. He was by nature a cheerful soul, but his manner now was entirely subdued.

Cassel looked up from his book, his face - a picture of vague irritation.

'Very inappropriate greeting just before a duel, don't you think? Though if you are the second and you secretly hate your friend, it may be a good morning for you if he gets shot. Of course, if you do hate him, he isn't really your friend, is he? But I suspect you are just being polite, which is not a bad thing. Perhaps if our duellists learnt to be polite, I would not have had to wake up an hour early." All this came out sounding more like a philosophical discourse than a rant.

Leveque looked stricken at the very suggestion. "I – I apologize, sir," he stammered, struggling to compose himself, his face crimson. "That was a remarkably stupid thing to say. Lieutenant René Leveque, 86e, your servant. And my principal, Lieutenant Jarreau of the same."

"Dr Alain Cassel," he shifted a little on the tree trunk, threw a bored glance at Jarreau and addressed himself to Leveque. "So, am I permitted to know what is all this in aid of? I was rather brusquely told last night that there may be a need for my services this morning and that is it."

The arrival of the other party was heralded by a discussion. The point under contest seemed to be who was to carry something, with one person declaring almost angrily that he could live perfectly well with being shot because carrying a case had tired him so much he couldn't hold his pistol straight, but not at all with surviving the duel, but being killed by the colonel for letting his captain get damaged in the process, and the other telling him curtly to stop fooling around and for heaven's sake take the situation a bit more seriously.

Fortunately all further replies Prayon might have thought to make were cut short when they cleared the bushes around the chosen ground and saw the others already assembled. Prayon did indeed live up to the gravity of the situation now by drawing himself up straight and falling silent, and Capitain Sourette, the large pistol case still clutched, stiffly bowed to the doctor and the other party.

"Dr. Cassel, M. Leveque. M. Jarreau, I presume. A very mixed pleasure to see you all here this morning."

'Oh, finally, everyone is here," Cassel said as he saw the others approach and before Leveque could give him an answer. "Now I can get the full picture of what is going on, Leveque. It will be interesting to compare the stories.'

Cassel rose as he said that, than exclaimed: "Ah! Sourette! Did I not work tirelessly on your split for three weeks?! Did I not coax your patella with the tenderest of touches back into its place? And what do you do, you traipse around, in near dark. Perhaps you will get shot by accident today, that will save me having to have you as a very ungrateful patient!"

"Next time a couple of fools want to blow each others brains out, I will tell them to do it in bright daylight!", the captain replied sarcastically, but in such a low voice only the doctor could hear.

"And get you to write my excuses from the whole proceedings. Instead of crooning over my spilled milk, can't you reason with them, Cassel? then you won't have to treat anybody, grateful or not, and we can all go for a proper breakfast!"

"Reasoning with fools is futile. I am waiting to be told the reason for this duel. If they are willing to be reasoned with, I shall try, but, Sourette, I promise nothing." Cassel slapped Captain's hand with his book very emphatically.

Leveque was by this time quite outnumbered and Jarreau moved to join him. "He wants to know the reason for the duels," Leveque told him in an undertone, indicating M. Cassel.

"What the devil is it to him?" Jarreau demanded rather less softly, but seeing the pained expression on Leveque's face, he turned in exasperation to the surgeon. "I insulted M. Prayon and I struck M. Saint-Hilaire. Will that satisfy your curiosity?"

"..That sums it up pretty much." Saint-Hilaire murmured, the bruise has darkened in the course of one day, but since the swelling was on the side that was blind , it really caused little bother.

He straightened a little. He knew that his was the second duel, should the quarrel not be solved sooner.

"No, young man, it will not. Surely you did not just wake up one morning and decided to go around insulting and hitting people. If you did, then you should be put into a special institution. I could recommend a place." Cassel was undaunted.

Jarreau stared at the man, a feeling like being cornered creeping steadily up and settling between his shoulder blades. But he was damned if he was going to make excuses for himself.

Rounding on Prayon he said flatly, "I didn't come here to talk."

"..Too bad... you could have apologised instead." Saint-Hilaire muttered under his breath. "But of course, some are incapable of doing something as intelligent.." His voice was low.

Sourette snorted.

"Doctor, please ... If you diagnose everybody who wakes up thinking about hitting people here as mad, you will have to commit half the army - and the British right along. A rather ignoble end for a war ..."

He sounded amused, but he instantly turned solemn again, shooting Saint-Hilaire a warning glance. Turning to Jarreau and Leveque, he said calmly, but with a certain formality:

"M. Leveque, since your principal so clearly sees the reason for this contretemps, perhaps we should once again try for a peaceful solution?"

He looked at Prayon, still silent and focused, and recieved a nod, then said softly:

"I'm sure M. Prayon would accept an apology, should your principal offer one, and I will use what influence I possess over my own principal to do the same."

Prayon frowned at that, and looked confused at Etienne.

More talking! Seething with helpless frustration, Jarreau opened his mouth to object, but broke off, startled as Leveque, with uncharacteristic ferocity, grabbed his arm, wrenched him round and attempted to drag him several paces off.

"Think. For God's sake," he pleaded in a whisper. "This is folly, You know it is!"

"I won't--"

"What," Leveque cut him off, "can you have said that's so damned important you can't take it back?"

"How the devil should I know?" Jarreau hissed back.

Leveque stared at him. "You don't know why he challenged you to a duel?"

"I didn't know he had challenged me, goddamnit."

"So...It could be a misunderstanding?" The hope in Leveque's voice made Jarreau want to hit something.

"I doubt that," he muttered after his friend's retreating back.

"Capitaine," Leveque began, approaching the other officer, "Would M. Prayon be willing to state specifically what insult offered by M. Jarreau brought about this... state of affairs?"

Sourette nodded.

"It certainly is a reasonable request, and I will urge M. Saint-Hilaire to work upon M. Prayon to comply with it immediately."

He laughed ruefully. Bastien's second was still Etienne.

With a slight bow, he turned and walked stifly to the man.

"You heard, Saint-Hilaire?", he asked softly.

Saint Hilaire observed Leveque up until the captain of the 17th approached him. His gaze shifted to him then."..He wants you to talk to lieutenant Bastien..." He hesitated. "...... alas I am his second....so I shall." He bowed his head. "Thank you, capitaine."

He turned to walk to Bastien. "...A moment, Lieutenant." He said, as if the other could not have heard anything said moments ago. It was all like a dance, everybody saw everybody and yet they pretended that the exchange could only be made by a previously coreographed movements or not at all.

The other turned his head and focused, as if he indeed had heard nothing of the exchange.

"Bastien, if you please. I would prefer to die not your lieutenant, but your friend."

"Yes , sir....yes Bastien." He corrected himself. "Though you are not going to die." He recounted the request that Leveque had given. "It seems our friend forgets that he has ever offended you.." He murmured. He did not have a good opinion at all of the man, but he would try to keep his commentary mostly to himself, for the benefit of Bastien.

"..Will you tell it, so that he may have the chance to apologise?" He asked softly, as friend to friend.

"He accused me of knowingly remaining at a wrong position to appease my 'damned ego'", Bastien replied succinctly.

"After smaller insults to the capability of the regiment in general and my ability to lead them. Which I would have forgotten by now if they hadn't immediately followed on one of his own men nearly shooting me by accident!"

Saint-Hilaire nodded. "May I recount it to his principal, or is there more to add?" He asked feeling that the slight had reached further than merely the lieutenant and in this the dislike of the man only grew. He glanced towards Leveque, but waited a little longer for Prayon's confirmation.

Bastien shook his head.

"All that was subsequently said can not be held to be of any consequence. We would not have spoken to each other from that point had not that lost Dutch patrol complicated matters."

"Understood. I will relay your answer to the second of Jarreau." He bowed his head then turned towards the two men. He repeated what he had been told, as if the other two were deaf, well if anything he considered Jarreau daft, little difference there.

"Is your principal willing to offer an apology." He then asked, glancing briefly at Jarreau.