12th July, early morning; Surprises

The delay had not been long, but it had been enough for him to lose sight of Blanchard. Damnit. Hell. Paol quickened his pace. It was impossible not to feel as though he was running away. And he supposed that was what he was doing. That he happened to have a goal in mind didn't change that. She was right of course. Just as Rosy had been right last night.

A glimpse of familiar figure a short distance off towards the river brought him up short. "Rosy!" he called, breaking into a trot.

No. No. Not now. But there was no avoiding it, was there? He'd been spotted and he knew well enough that he'd have been pursued eventually. At least, Jérémie supposed tiredly, it wasn't Bright. Having to split his knuckles on the wretched Englishman's jaw a second time did not appeal to him in the slightest.

He glanced back but said nothing. Hadn't there been enough done today without unknowingly making it worse?

Paol slowed as he drew closer until he came to an awkward halt beside Jérémie. He had not, he was acutely aware, actually thought this far ahead. He hadn't any idea what to say, and though Rosy had been silent, his manner, Paol thought, was clear enough. This had been another mistake.

Cursing inwardly, he glanced over towards the river. Then down at his boots. At length he said lamely, "We'll be moving out soon."

They were. Happily.

"I take it you know, then," Jérémie said abruptly, unable to hold the question back.

"Know?" Paol frowned in confusion. "Know what?"

He should have recognised the warning in Paol's tone and expression, but he was not thinking as clearly as he probably should be.

"What Quentin said. Any of it. All of it." It almost didn't matter. The whole thing had been one long grievous insult. Paol had to know, however. He couldn't believe that Quentin would have passed up an opportunity to further the misery he'd already visited on Jérémie.

"Oh," he said slowly. "No. I don't know. And if I needed to know, you'd have told me. And Michel and Quentin can go to the devil." He fairly spat out the last few words. What did it matter what Quentin had said? Except that it obviously had Rosy tied up in knots. And that was really all that was relevant as far as he was concerned.

That was certainly not the response he had been expecting. It also proved instantly that he had just put himself into an even worse situation. Apparently that was possible. A minute before, he hadn't imagined such a thing.

"Shit," he muttered, scrubbing both hands over his face, partially in an effort to conceal the glowing pink of his cheeks. Maybe he should have told Paol - except that would have made the whole affair ten times worse right from the start.

Of course, Bright knew, somehow. Which meant... "Shit." That just about summed it up.

"Rosy, I don't--" No, that was essentially asking, and that was not what he was trying to do. He just... didn't understand. And even if he did, he suspected this was not a problem which could be solved by breaking things, and that was, after all, just about all he was good for. "C'mon," he said instead. "Let's get back."

What he should have done - what he should do, even - is show a little honesty. A little trust, for that matter. But those things felt quite beyond him just then.

"Sure," Jérémie said wearily, his shoulders sagging the barest bit. He would go back, just as far as the rest of the company. "Just... stay near the wagon later. When we stop again."

Why? The question was evident on his face, but he left it unvoiced and simply nodded. "I got first watch," he admitted, "But as soon as I'm off." The truth was he had first watch every night for the foreseeable future.

You won't be there? He had to stop himself from blurting it out. Of course Blanchard wouldn't be there. It was the last place Paol wanted to be after what had just happened, and it must be far worse for Rosy. But he couldn't admit that either.

He saw the expression, recognised it for what it was, and pretended he hadn't.

"Good. Thank you." It was about as much as he felt he could safely say.

Paol managed a smile and shrugged as if to say it was nothing. "C'mon," he said, starting slowly to walk.

Drums were beating now, summoning the men of the various regiments to their mustering places. Jérémie sighed and fell into step just behind Paol.

"It's going to be a long day."


Jérémie appears next here.