Day of the Flogging

He caught sight of a lass talking to an officer dressed in green (And ..i wrote something that was inbetween green and gin ... -.- ), who was seated firmly on the horse. Captain Vickery, he had to be, and no other. he slowed the horse into a trot and finally into a slow walk. He recognised the girl as Cotton's lass, seeing her only briefly on the day of the flogging, before he left, unwilling to witness the lashing. She was certainly the same girl who was heard screaming and crying.
With still some distance inbetween, for purposes of not disturbing them nor barging into conversation, he stopped and leaned down to pet his horse on his neck. He ran his fingers across the horse' furr and relaxed the length of his reins.

"Well, you were both very foolish, and I hope you realise that now." He sighed a little. "But it's over with now, all right?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, her heart burning in shame and nervousness. "Are you... are you going to replace Gabe as your batman? Only, please don't punish him again for something that wasn't even his fault, really. He would never steal your things! I can-- I understand if--" She paused, tongue-tied and reluctant. "I can go away. I can go away if you'd rather-- if you don't want-- if you'd rather not have me, with Cotton. Or in camp. But please keep him as your batman, sir! It would break his heart to lose his position."

She knew that what she was proposing would be an enormous sacrifice, but she felt that she owed it to Cotton. He had earned a good position and a good name for himself, and she had already tarnished it. She would not be his downfall if she could help it, even if it meant she had to release him. Even if it meant she had to walk four days back to Lisbon alone.

"You know he already volunteered to give it up?" He held up a hand to ward off her protests. "He said he didn't think it was right that I should keep a flogged soldier in my service." He smiled at her,a little sadly. "Well, I won't be keeping a flogged soldier in my service. I will be keeping Rifleman Cotton, who I am sure I could never replace. And you aren't leaving us, either, unless you want to break his heart?"

Her own heart was breaking until she realized what he was saying. "You're going to keep him then?" she breathed. "And you don't mind... me?" His use of the word "us" had not escaped her, though she wasn't exactly sure who it was supposed to refer to - himself and Cotton? The 60th rifles? The army in general? But at least she wouldn't be making own her way back to Lisbon.

"Maggie, you are on the strength. That means you are part of the Company just as much as Cotton is, until such time as you leave, or make a mistake so bad I have no choice but to send you packing."

He still had a hand on Brandy's neck. The horse whickered, as if agreeing.

"And what happened yesterday was not that mistake. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped. "But - I'm not on the strength, am I sir? I mean... I'm not married! And... I mean, I know I was on the strength with-- when Balstrode was corporal..."

"You can blame me for the fact you still are," Vickery said. "I made a bit of a mix-up and you never got taken off the strength.

He'd always liked Maggie, and he knew she'd found it hard enough to come to terms with Jem Balstrode's death, without having to cope with being struck off the strength for not being an official wife. And so many women remarried far too soon, because of the pressure the fear of being struck off put women under.

That made her guilt and shame all the worse. She hung her head and tried to think of an appropriate response. "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry." Sorry she had been such a disapointment, sorry she had let him down, sorry she had brought so much trouble in return for his private kindness. Feeling that perhaps that wasn't enough, she added "And thank you for everything you did for Gabriel."

"It wasn't enough, though." And he felt guilty himself about that. If he'd tried arguing a different way, maybe thing would have turned out differently.

"The important thing is to learn from our mistakes so we can do better next time, don't you think?"

She nodded silently, still looking at the ground.

"What's done is done, and can't be undone. What matters is what we do now. It's no good crying over spilt milk, as my nurse used to say."

"Yes, sir," she answered meekly.

"That's better. Now, how is Cotton doing, and will he mind an officer interfering in it?"

She offered a shy smile, relieved to talk about something else. "He's doing well, sir - at least, keeping his spirits up. I think he'd be glad to see you."

"You'll be good for him, Maggie," Vickery said. "Now, I will make my apologies and see how he is for myself, I think. Good morning, Miss Evans."

"Good morning, sir," she murmured politely, then breathed a sigh of relief when he had gone.

He's missed his chance again. The woman and the captain have ceased their talk and he moved on before he were able to talk with hm. his horse was pressed into a walk again, careful around the miss not to startle her or have her under his hooves. It wouldn't quite do if he had to explain that a lass had been trampled because he was late in reacting.

He spared a long glance at the girl, not in interest of a man towards a woman, but more in curiosity of one who wished to see what Cotton's dear prize had been. Maggie Evans, he didn't yet know of the name and hadn't quite met her in person.

Once past he spurred his horse into a trot, with little to mar his mood. He'd get a hold of captain Vickery allright, just a bit of patience on the getting.

Cotton looked up as Vickery entered. He looked down again, seemingly uncomfortable suddenly in the presence of the officer. Well, that was only to be expected, of course, Vickery thought.

"I... I'm sorry to be so much trouble for you, sir," he said in a low voice, not daring to meet Vickery's eyes. "An'... an' if'n you don't want me for your servant no more, I understand. I think Zeb Palmer'd do a good job. It wouldn't be the same, o' course, but he'd do a good job. 'Cause you shouldn't have to have a flogged man f'r your batman, sir. Ain't right." And men got turned out of their place for far less than that.

"Cotton," Vickery said, but the man seemed not to have heard him speak.

"An' if you kept me on, all the other officers'd think you was moonstruck, and wonder what you was at."

"Gabriel Cotton," Vickery said, more insistently, "I have no intention of turning you off. You've been punished already for a silly mistake and I see no reason to inflict any further punishment on you. Which turning you off would be."

Cotton looked up, hope appearing in his eyes. "You... you mean that?"

Vickery nodded. "I don't say things I don't mean, Cotton. You should know that by now." He sighed. "How's your back?"

"Still hurts, if I move too quick, sir. I don't know how long it'll take to heal, neither."

The officer reached into his pocket. "Here's a note for you, to say you're on light duties for the next week. That doesn't mean you can't march with us when you feel ready, but your pack will stay with my baggage until you think you can carry it again." He smiled and took his leave, leaving Cotton staring at the piece of paper, and with a lot to think about.

Now that Cotton's visitors were all gone, probably having to hurry back to their places to resume the march, Maggie ventured back into the wagon.

"You all right?" she asked, seeing the strange look on his face.

"I'm on light duties for a week... and I ain't goin' to lose me place. Oh, Maggie, I was so sure he was goin' to turn me off. Whoever heard of a flogged soldier bein' batman to an officer? 'Specially if he was flogged for thievin'."

"Sir.." He hoped this was the Vickery he was to find. Granted he did fit the description and he was a captain, as was said. Thankfully he had managed to take a good look at the man before he had entered and met with private Cotton, so that he now did not need to commit himself to more but a polite glance.

He saluted the man. For a brief moment he wondered if he would find this fellow to be as some of the Red coat officers, strict, petty, and eager to flog. Respectful of them and of him, should he be so though, he awaited recognition of the officer in question, so that he could pass lord Edrington's orders and message concerning the addition to Vickery's men.

Maggie smiled down at him. "I'm so glad, Gabe. See, he knows you aren't a thief." Her mind was still addled from her own talk with Captain Vickery. "He spoke to me too. Gabe, he says I'm on the strength! Even though I'm not... anyone important. I didn't know he had done that."

Vickery paused with one foot in Brandy's stirrup, about to mount up. He swung himself into the saddle before the horse got too restive. "Private? How can I help you?"

"Sir." He began, straightening in his saddle. "On his lordship's orders I am to inform you that I am to draw rations from you and that if there is a message for him, that I can deliver it." It didn't quite come out as fluently as he wished, but it was right to the point, as any officer would prefer, certainly when conversing with a private.

He hesitated then, and quickly he added, as if urgency had made him forget:".. Private Timothy Willoughby of 15th Hussars, at present the colonel's messenger." All right, you dealt with the riflemen the same way as you did with the other officers,.. yes?