4th August, A-Hunting We Will Go

"I shall write to my father to request a couple of pups, and shall raise just that point with him," Vickery said with a grin, accepting the loaded weapon from Cotton as the men beat forward again. "I daresay he will appreciate my point of view; he served in America, you know, during their fight for independence."

"Your father was in the army as well?", Torrington asked, curious to learn a bit more about his friend's family.

"What reg ... Darn. Too slow."

Another bird had been flushed from its hiding place, and the engineer had reacted instantly, but he still hadn't got the hang of the long rifle and had difficulties to bring it up fast enough. Not sure of the range of the weapon and the trajectory, he did not want to waste a bullet on a long-distance shot and took the rifle down again. By the time he had his sight lined up, the bird had been well out of musket range, and from his understanding even for rifles it was a long shot.

"Funnily enough, he was with the 33rd," Vickery said, and indicated the weapon Torrington was carrying. "Those fire a lot further than muskets do. They're not shotguns, though, so accuracy's more important. Can't rely on pellets scattering, which would make it easier to hit something."

Another bird startled up and Vickery had his own rifle up ready for it.

"My grandfather was at Dettingen with the second King George," he said, waiting for the smoke to clear, unsure whether his had been a wasted shot or not.

"I can't see it ... must have gone down." Torrington motioned for their "human hounds" to search for the bird, which they gladly did - not without a few looks back to the officers, trying to judge whether it would be very obvious if the bird was mysteriously not found.

"So the military is in your blood then! Grandfather, father, son - all in major military campaigns, and all distinguishing themselves, I wager. Your brother never was in the military, though, wasn't he?"

"Oh, I believe it goes back further than that - my great-grandfather fought during the War of the Spanish Succession. The title was created for him after the Battle of Ramillies... though precisely what he did during the battle to be made a Viscount has been lost to the mists of time, be that only a hundred years or so," Vickery said with a grin, again exchanging an empty rifle for a loaded one.

"And I think there is nothing my brother would less like to do than to enlist. He need do nothing other than enjoy the pleasures of being the elder son, of course - he will inherit the title and the estate when our father dies."

"One of my great-grandfathers was at Ramilles as well - on the other side though, I'm afraid. Another one was in Vienna, trying to cope with the untimely death of the Emperor there - and, from what I heard, to compete with Prince Eugene's agents to buy every decent piece of art on the market. He brought home some very nice Roman marbles."

This time, Torrington kept the rifle at his shoulder, moving it in a slow arc in search of another bird.

"I had no notion you had French ancestry - or was the gentleman Bavarian?" Vickery said, likewise keeping his eye out for more birds.

He had noticed the absence of the second one he'd brought down, and informed the nearest men that he would at least like to see the results of his shooting before they were all claimed for someone else's dinner.

"French - actually, if you take a strictly mathematical view, I'm half French. My grandmother on my mother's side was French, and her husband half French, and my father's family has enough French influence to account for a quarter in him, too. We even had some property there, before the whole country was turned upside down - although my grandfather was perspicacious enough to sell most of it before it became impossible."

The engineer supressed a grin when a rifleman approached with a very sheepish face and the neatly hit bird.

"Thank you," he said to the Rifleman conversationally.

"It hardly counts, if it's as jumbled as all that," he told his fellow-officer. "I'm half-German, you know - and it isn't even mathematically-speaking, either. My mother is Hanoverian, the daughter of a Hanoverian Count."

The rifleman ducked back into the line as fast as possible, clearly glad that there was no verbal lashing, but rather thrown off balance by the deceptively friendly tone.

Torrington raised an eyebrown.

"Lady Saltash is German? So that is where your command of the language comes from?"

He suddenly frowned.

"They are part of that kingdom Boney created for his brother now, aren't they? Does she still have family there?"

"Indeed it is," Vickery replied, and sighed. "Yes, she does. I believe my grandparents - they're the Count and Countess of Alfeld - are still living there, as are two aunts and an uncle." He shrugged.

"I have never met them, and though my brother began a Grand Tour during the Peace, it was cut sadly short, so I do not think he ever met them, either. And it is much harder to send and receive letters now, thanks to Boney, although there are neutral cartels to carry such-like things, of course."

"Well, let us hope that we will soon manage to put an end to Boney - that brother of his won't last the month then."

A movement made him turn, but it had only been one of the beaters who had broken line, and he quickly aimed upward to prevent an accident.

"Are you planning on going there when ..."

This time, it really was a bird and he fired, this time actually with a decent chance of hitting it.

Torrington had spotted the bird before Vickery had this time, and the Rifles officer put up his weapon without even pulling the trigger.

"Good shot," he said, almost sure he had actually heard the thump of the bird hitting the ground. "And yes; I would dearly like to see more of Europe than just the wilds of Portugal and Spain, should I get the chance. What about yourself - do you think you will embark on a grand Tour of Europe once we finally cage the Corsican Ogre?"

"Thank you."

Torrington took the rifle down, and slowly and methodically began the process of reloading it. He took his time, and occassionally needed a moment to figure out how to go about the next step - standing still for a moment, to think things through, then implementing his plan in quick, precise movements.

"I very much hope to travel - I managed to do so for a short while after the Treaty of Amiens, with some of my fellow students, but we only realized how much more there was still to be seen. And I have never been even close to such countries as Sweden and Norway, despite their relative geographical closeness. And then there are always the sights my cousin is in raptures about: India, and the Antipodes, and the South Seas ... if it just was possible to reach them on horseback."

He looked at Vickery quizzically.

"And you? Any wish to see the Americas, perhaps, if your father fought there?"

Vickery shook his head. "I should like to see Italy, of course, and Greece, and maybe travel further East to the Holy Land. I think the Americas would be very interesting to visit - who knows how big they are, after all, and what untold secret they may hold?"

He glanced across at the Engineer. "I do not believe I have met anyone who expressed an interest to travel to Norway and Sweden. I think I should like to see Elsinore, but perhaps it would not be worth the travel when one has seen it?"

"Elsinore? Just don't get involved in swordfights there - or any dealings at the Kronborg. They tend to end rather badly. Although - it is there main military barrack now, isn't it? I know I read something about the renovations and refortifications somewhere."

He checked his rifle over, deemed it properly loaded and covertly looked at Cotton for confirmation.

"You know, if you are interested, we might go together after this is over. And perhaps to the Holy Land as well. I hadn't thought of it before, but now that you mention it, it certainly would be a worthy travel destination."