Beckwith Castle

Daubigny shook his head in disbelief. "You're a coward!" he scoffed. "You're a bloody coward!"

Coward? Blanchard sat up sharply in his chair, his smirk instantly replaced by a frown. Daubigny knew nothing at all, clearly. "An insulting remark, sir, and one cast entirely without cause. I demand an apology."

Daubigny considered for a moment, looking at Blanchard through narrowed eyes. Well, perhaps now would not be the best time to be called out for satisfaction. Maybe later when they knew each other better.

"Very well, I withdraw my comment," he said primly.

"Good." Blanchard uttered his acceptance of the apology almost as though it pained him to do so. He then fell silent, contenting himself with reclaiming his nearly-forgotten beer mug and taking a long drink.

After a pause, judging the tense moment to have passed, he said, "Were it not for curfew, I might be perfectly happy to linger here all night."

Suddenly Daubigny noticed something. "You have two beers. Why do you have two beers?"

Ah. It had taken him long enough to notice. A smile crept slowly onto Blanchard's face. "It is the fruits of careful procurement," he replied casually, lifting his half-empty mug again. "I was overcharged, you see, and accordingly sought to balance the account."

"How'd you do that?" Daubigny looked at the bar to see how Blanchard could have managed to get a second mug. "Why didn't you get me one?"

"It would be improper to reveal my tricks," Blanchard said. "I didn't get you one because I wasn't aware you would've liked a second. But of course there isn't likely to be further success this evening, we are doomed to paying for additional drinks until another night."

"I believe I'll save my money," Daubigny said, swallowing off the last of his own drink. "And I think I'll go take a look at the village before curfew. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'll see you at the castle."

Dégreville had fallen silent, watching and listening intently throughout Daubigny and Blanchard's exchange. After the lieutenant left, the major rose from his seat.

"Goodnight, monsieur," he said to Blanchard, bowing politely. "Should you forget the way back to the castle, one of the locals will be happy to direct you."

And with that he breezed out into the dark street, walked a few paces after Daudigny, and stopped.

"It'll do no good walking that way," he called after the lieutenant, the mocking drawl once more in his voice. "That path only goes to the butcher's house."

He turned around and looked with irritation at Dégreville, trying to gauge whether or not the man was joking. Surely this was the way they had come...?

"Thank you," he replied with a civil nod. "But I will certainly wish to become acquainted with the butcher, and all other merchants of the village."

Blanchard simply lifted his mug in toast when the other two left the table. He was content to lounge at the table as long as he could. It was warm in the tavern and the beer wasn't so unpalatable.

[Continued from Along the wall]

Daubigny was quite chilled by the time he returned to the castle. There was still time before the curfew ended, and more time still before the evening meal, he was informed, so he returned to the room where he had left his bag.

"Daubigny!" Blanchard called out, sitting up with a little difficulty from his cot. "Took you long enough, did you get lost?"

"No. Or yes, possibly. I believe I took a detour by mistake." He looked around the room to see other men returning and spotted the one who had asked them to play cards earlier - Vernet, was it? "Excuse me, sir," he said as the man walked by. "What time is supper?"

Blanchard chuckled. "Good man," he said and tried to stand up from his cot.

Vernet stared at them unblinkingly. "Half an hour. Downstairs. Time for a game of cards."

"Cards!" Blanchard finally managed to wobble to his feet. "I'll be in for a hand. What are the stakes?"

Daubigny watched him wobble. "How many drinks did you have, man?"

How many? Blanchard teetered on his feet and thought about that. And thought about it. And just for good measure, thought about it some more.

"Four?"

"Four beers?"

"Ehm." Had it been only four? Somebody had given him at least one other mug after he had finished the two he'd gotten initially.

Blanchard shrugged. "Probably."

Daubigny rolled his eyes and held the man's arm as he stumbled. "I don't think you ought to play cards then. Maybe later," he added, looking to the unnerving Vernet.

Not play... cards? Blanchard hiccuped and blinked at Daubigny. Why were there two of him, suddenly? "Cards?"

Vernet gazed at him, showing no sign of any emotion. "Do you want to play cards?"