Third night in camp

"Maggie, if you feel you can cope, I think you should be at the court-martial," Vickery said. "It will be held at the headquarters of the 62nd."

He gave her a reassuring smile and went to escort his Rifleman.

Maggie's voice calling his name nearly finished him off. She sounded so broken and desperate and... alone. He couldn't bear to turn around and see her face.

Vickery had paused to say something to her, but Cotton couldn't hear what. He was numb as they walked among the bivouacked soldiers, heading for the area marked out for the 62nd's camp.

Williams stood watching as Cotton submitted to being arrested before his court martial. There was nothing he could do about that, but as Cotton left he turned to Maggie. he had heard her begging for forgiveness - so just what did she have to do with it.

"All right, lass," he said. "We're going to need our wits about us, if Cotton's going to come out of this with a whole skin. He helped me when I was in trouble, and I'll do what I can for him. Tell me the worst."

She stared after Cotton with tears in her eyes but too stunned to cry. She barely heard what Williams was saying to her at first, but then she turned and looked up at him. "What? Oh, Private... Private Williams. He didn't do it, and it's my fault he's..."

"Well, of course he didn't do it, that's obvious to anyone," he said soothingly. "Only I don't quite know what he didn't do. And I doubt if it was your fault. Somewhere that bastard Hakeswill is involved, I'd stake my musket on it."

"Hakeswill." This was the first time she had heard his name mentioned in connection with the incident, and she suddenly looked thoughtful and earnest. "Gabe said... He said something about a sergeant taking a set against him, but I didn't know what he meant. But what does Sergeant Hakeswill have to do with any of it?"

"I don't know, lass, but he set me up, and I'll wager he's done the same for Cotton. It's ... Well, just say I annoyed him and Cotton backed me up. Get your man to tell you about it, but..." Williams thought and then grinned. "Lieutenant Sharpe! He's with your lot - well, close enough isn't he? Now, he knows all about Hakeswill."

She saw his grin and felt a small glimmer of hope. "Lieutenant Sharpe? Are you saying he might be able to help?"

Williams shrugged. "He's only a lieutenant, but - well, he won't take it amiss if we ask him to help. I tried to help him once."

He led the way towards the 95th's camping ground to look for Mr Sharpe.

"We only have an hour," Maggie said, hurrying to keep up with his long stride. "And Private Williams, thank you for helping me. Well, for helping Gabe." As they walked, she quickly explained about the events of the day - finding the watch, her encounter with Waldegrave - and backtracked to mention the disturbance during the previous night, backtracking even further to share what Vickery had just told her about Padstowe's attack. "And that was the night we were with you in the tavern. So Gabe couldn't have been the one to attack Padstowe, right? They'll see that, won't they?"

"Was that when the Captain was attacked? I don't know, and - if it's that bad, attacking an officer and robbing him..." Williams remembered his own trial and hissed between his teeth. "That's damned serious - sorry, miss, but it is serious. Or would be, if ... And the trial isn't our time limit - that's tomorrow morning. They're not going to let you or me speak up, unless they want us to. But the lieutenant, he can go straight to the colonel."

"Tomorrow morning?" She looked up at him, her face pale. "What do you mean?"

Williams swallowed, and looked sideways at her. She was pale but looked more determined than scared. "If this court finds him guilty, that's when he'll be... That's when they'll do the flogging, before the march begins. If that's the sentence. Well, it can't be any worse than that, see. And it might be better." But probably not. The 62nd were new to Portugal and had not yet earned a reputation. They might be a flogging regiment, or not. But theft was always treated seriously.

She raised a hand to her mouth, but she did not cry or falter. She simply nodded as they kept walking. It felt like a dream now, or a nightmare, but not a waking reality. Gabriel Cotton flogged for theft? Never that. She let out a shuddering breath when she finally remembered to breathe.

Sharpe leaned forward to throw another couple of sticks onto the fire, and poke back into it one that was threatening to escape and set the grass on fire. He looked up to see a redcoat approaching, accompanied by a woman. The soldier looked familiar somehow, as did the woman, and Sharpe had to think for a moment before remembering their names, then realised that he'd never heard the woman's, and he'd last seen her with Rifleman Cotton of the 60th. So what was she doing with Private Williams of the 27th?

"You two mislaid yersels?" he called cheerfully.

"Lieutenant Sharpe," Williams said with relief. "We're not lost, we were looking for you. This is Miss Maggie Evans - she's with Cotton of the 60th. And Cotton's in trouble."

Maggie gave the lieutenant a brief nod. Faced with an unknown officer in an uncertain situation, she was glad to have Williams beside her.

"All right, then. But why come to me about a rifleman of the 60th? That's Captain Vickery's company."

He sighed. "If it's going to be a long story, you'd best sit yourselves down. Carty, budge up and let the woman have a seat. I reckon there's enough tea left if you want a brew, an' all."

"We don't have much time," Maggie said, more to Williams than to Sharpe. "The trial's in an hour. Less than that, now."

"I think he's been set up, like I was. Only with more planning. He found Captain Padstowe's watch in Captain Vickery's baggage, and ..." Williams glanced at the woman, then back to Sharpe. "They're going to try him for stealing the watch, but I think Hakeswill set him up. You do know Captain Padstowe was robbed?"

Carty rapidly stood up so that the woman - Maggie, he remembered her name - could sit on the log by the fire. After what had happened the night before, he had been closely shadowing Lieutenant Sharpe: running to fetch him cups of tea or broth, washing out his cup and bowl for him and mutely sitting behind him by the fire. Sharpe, to his great credit, had tolerated this with little more than an embarassed grimace whenever Carty showed himself.

"And it's all my fault," Maggie added quietly.

Sharpe looked serious at the mention of Hakeswill. Maybe he should tell Sir Arthur that the evil bastard needed sorting out now, if not sooner. Sharpe's waiting for the right time and circumstances to bring him to justice looked like it had given him the chance he needed to hurt yet one more man. And not just the man; it looked as though Hakeswill had another victim in Maggie Evans, who looked anguished at the thought that her man might be flogged.

"Right, first things first. Maggie, you take this and get as much down as you can," he said, pressing his own newly-refilled mug of tea into her hands before turning to the redcoat.

"I take it Rifleman Cotton ain't the sort who'd usually be suspected of stealin' summat?"

"You've drunk with him, sir. I'd judge him as straight as a die. And I've known rogues in my time." Williams added: "And he's the officer's servant. You would not give that job to someone you could not trust."

"He would never," Maggie said vehemently. "Never ever. Sir. Never."