21st July, evening; Matters of importance

The dry Spanish day had given over to a dry Spanish evening. Relief from the merciless sun was slow in coming and the fine dust which billowed up at the slightest movement coated everything in a thin layer of greyish white. Avoiding it was impossible. Major Edmondson was loathe to let the merest speck of dust stain his otherwise spotless red coat and chose to make the short journey to the Rifles' bivouac protected by his riding cloak.

It was a damned shame that he was forced to make yet another foray into this company's midst. There had been numerous unfortunate reports regarding the conduct of Riflemen lately, however, and the task he was embarked upon could not realistically be delegated to any other. It came down to a matter of discipline and the impression Edmondson had formed suggested that this was a trait sorely lacking in these upstarts.

"You there," the major called abruptly, reining his horse to a sharp halt. The blank-faced drummer who'd been following him at a brisk trot likewise halted and stood to a quivering position of attention. Sweat wormed down the lad's face in steady trickles, smearing through the coating of dust. Perhaps pointedly, he wore his drill jacket instead of the usual red regimental, and in the place of a shako, he wore only a forage cap.

Edmondson ignored him for the moment, choosing instead to focus on the small knot of Riflemen nearby. "Your captain. At once."

Now what, Vickery thought wearily, once the message had been passed to him.

One of these days, he was going to make the visiting officers report to him, rather than answering some summons like a schoolboy sent to see the Headmaster.

And of course the visiting officer in question was still mounted. Whatever the man wanted, his chances of things going his way had just decreased that little bit more.

"Yes?" Vickery said, putting into the single word as much aristocratic snap as the younger son of Lord Saltash could possibly muster. He was not going to be pushed around by anybody, least of all by a sneering Guards officer.

"Hold my horse," Edmondson told the drummer, who moved at once to take a two-handed grip on the reins near the bridle. The major swung down from the saddle and came round to face this insolent pup of an officer.

"I should like a word. Your tent will suit?" It was given as a question, even though it was anything but.

Vickery bridled. To have this arrogant Guardsman practically invite himself into Vickery's own tent - or be refused and have the two of them discussing no doubt private business practically in public.

"Certainly," he said, indicating where his tent stood in solitary majesty among the bivouacked Riflemen.

"After you. Captain." He would not precede a junior officer anywhere.

Naturally - although it meant that Vickery would at least have the option of refusing to allow the man to sit in his own chair. He pulled his second chair out pointedly.

"Have a seat. Would you care for a drink - tea? Something stronger?"

He, too, had learned how to be painfully polite. It this Guardsman thought that Vickery was going to be a pushover, he had another think coming, as Vickery's old nurse would put it.

He took the precaution of sweeping off his cocked hat with just a little flourish as he entered the tent, lest it be knocked off his head. "I will accept some tea, thank you," Edmondson answered, before crossing to sit - just a little heavily - in the offered chair.

Then, not troubling himself to wait till after the requested drinks were served, he leapt straight to the reason for his needing to be here. "Perhaps you may enlighten me as to the nature of recent indiscretions committed by men in your company?"

Tea was arranged and served without interruption.

Vickery left his to cool for a moment; he was not going to sit here and pretend this was some pleasant morning call. And when the Guards officer spoke, he proved Vickery right.

"I beg your pardon." The words were a statement, Vickery's eyes were icy. "The internal discipline of my Company-" ever so slightly emphasising 'my' "-is between myself as its Company commander, and Major Davy, commanding the Sixtieth in this theatre of war."

"Except," countered Edmondson, "when said internal discipline results in the whole of my regiment being paraded to witness an execution."

"As the whole of my company would be paraded to witness an execution were it one of your men who had deserted," Vickery pointed out.

While this might be true, at a stretch, it only ignored the material point.

"I dare say that may have a measure of merit, were it not for other factors being involved. Particularly, it is my understanding that the man who deserted was, previously, at the heart of a number of overt disturbances. One of them involving one of my own men and a second involving a man of the Thirty-third."

Edmondson paused, as if to consider his words. "It is also my understanding that he and his companion were implicated in the near-murder of that man of the Thirty-third."